"The Prince of Darkness Affair, Part II" (ep. 4/5)

The comic (Kathleen Freeman's Mom at the diner), the annoying (Annie), the implausible (the endless line of exact twin Aksoy brothers), and the exciting (the rocket hijacking, among other things) all mix in Part II.

Illya's reaction to Miss Annie, silently dumping her onto the receptionist, is perfect . . . and shows a lot more restraint than most people would have.

Bradford Dillman's narcissistic Sebastian is quite a creation.   Clipped speech, a rigid worldview, "people" (read: manipulative) skills, fury when the slightest thing goes wrong, and no loyalty whatever to anyone but Sebastian.  A cleanliness fetish too; note his gloves, and how he wipes off his microphone in Act IV.

Julie London's Mrs. Sebastian is on screen so little, you wonder why she's there.  I think in the film version, she and Solo have a longer scene in Act IV?  Smart of him to fake her into calling Sebastian so that they can trace the phone line.  More good detective work earlier:  Solo spots the maker of the closed-circuit system, and Illya runs the lead down.  Both scenes remind us of the powerful organization behind our heroes.

Solo looks realistically dirty and banged up after he bails from his Valiant.

This is the first time in a while we've seen Illya in turtleneck, as he slides deftly into the theatre audience.  I question the organization of the Third Way, though.  With as many disciples as we saw in the theatre, you'd think somebody would have let something slip during the run-up to the big bang.   The way to do it would be to have most of the faithful in the dark while they sent in their money, and have only a small inner circle who know what the real plan is.   And when the Command was checking Sebastian out, shouldn't the activities (and obviously immense funding) of the Third Way have aroused their suspicions before they ever recruited him?

Peculiar indeed to see Solo with white hair.  No wonder the team leader, who saw him back on that Aegean isle, didn't recognize him --!

Rather silly of the Feds to put the rocket at the very end of the train!  Director Boris Sagal handles the entire rocket theft sequence well, however, giving it a sort of "How the West Was Won" feel, helped by exciting martial music (used again in Act IV) as Sebastian's cult members load the rocket into their truck.

What are Solo and the Third Way men playing?  Poker?  My notes from the CBN days say "pinochle," though I have no idea why.

Priceless, the double take that Illya does when he recognizes the white-haired Solo.  Ditto for the exasperated look Solo gives the fourth Aksoy brother at the end.  ("Not another one??!!??")

Why did the rocket blow up in flight?  Because Waverly had its controlling computers destroyed?   Personally I think he should have ordered them all carted to Command HQ in Los Angeles for study.

Turkey released Hugh and Ali on U.N.C.L.E.'s say-so?

Verdict: Despite some (well, okay -- a lot of) dangling issues and questions, it's just the sort of "big," world-spanning, fast-paced story that makes a colorful movie -- with a truly great tag exchange (below) that in just three lines encapsulates the entire spirit of "The Man from U.N.C.L.E."

Memorable Lines:
Mom: "You're too late for breakfast.  And I ain't about to do any more cooking."
Solo (a murmur): "My misfortune."

Mom (grumbling): "'Turn on the set, Mom.'  'Keep a lookout in the back, Mom.'  'Keep `em covered, Mom.'"

Solo: "Anything new?"
Illya: "Not much.  A revolution in the Orient; a multi-million-dollar train robbery in England; five kidnapped scientists; and a plan to melt the polar icecap."
Solo: "Good.  I think I'll take the afternoon off."

"The Prince of Darkness Affair, Part I" (ep. 4/4)

This, Dean Hargrove’s first script since Season Two and his last for the series, is big and bold and energetic.  Bill Koenig tells us that this is the series' most expensive episode, and it shows.  As they used to say in the old Hollywood studio days, “It’s all up there on the screen.”

The teaser is a gem in the MfU “What the heck is going on here?” tradition, as Solo and Illya -- looking realistically rumpled, sweaty, and dirty, and carrying Special carbines -- swoop in by copter to a village “somewhere in East Africa.”  Yes, the pathways left by the thermal prism look oddly like red paint, but you can say that the “corrosive” chemical or physical reactions ignited by the prism leave a scarlet path instead of a charred black one.  Anyway, it’s striking and scary.

Next we bounce to Greece, where Solo has come to engage the services of safecracker Luther Sebastian.  The Third Way cult is important to the plot, as we will see. 

Nice to see Waverly spearheading the operation aboard the plane.  Clearly there isn’t time to drag Sebastian back to New York for briefing.

The subplot with Annie the Annoying is just that, though it does arise from U.N.C.L.E.’s involvement with Sebastian, and will provide Solo a complication later.  Unfortunately the scene with Azalea shooting Hassan isn’t played for the excitement it could have yielded.

Don’t you just love Sebastian standing prettily by, patting his face with his kerchief, while Illya does all the hard work of subduing the guards?  And don’t you just want to kick him, hard?  The night scenes, as they travel the desert and the high rocks toward the estate, are well done.  Good to hear the first-season music again during the minefield scene.

At Kharmusi’s, Solo changes from his banker grey pinstripe suit to a dark suit.  Where was his suitcase?  Perhaps after Azalea picked him up, they went back to the airport and got his things?

Sebastian’s safecracking scene reminds me strongly of an early episode of “It Takes a Thief,” in which Alexander Mundy lowers himself from a skylight to avoid floor alarms.

John Dehner’s Dr. Kharmusi is smart -- he tumbles to Solo and Illya’s coordinated plan -- but rather creepy.  I get the impression that his conjugal relationship with Azalea is no longer, shall we say, complete (which might be part of why she turned to Sebastian) . . . and so Kharmusi finds young girls, such as his former students and Annie, much more fascinating than he should.  Note the intent way he grips Annie’s hand and stares into her eyes (and later, that look of sly triumph as he dies).  Brrrr. 

The moment at 42:15, when Solo and Illya encounter each other around a corner and then cross-shoot the pursuing guards, is a classic of the show’s style.

If the destroyer Waverly’s on has time to fire a torpedo to stop the oncoming vessel, wouldn’t it have time to get out of the path of said vessel?

Verdict:  Fast-moving, colorful, with an Innocent who turns out not to be and all the ingredients of solid U.N.C.L.E., it’s yet topped by a cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers.

Memorable Lines:
Solo (to Sebastian):  “You’re wanted in seventeen countries on charges of felonies.  Everything from grand theft --”
Sebastian:  ‘Oh, no, no, no.  Your bookkeeping is a little off.  It’s twenty-two countries.” 

Waverly (coldly, to Sebastian):  “Besides your ill manners, which I now observe at first hand, our computers have shown you to be a most efficient criminally oriented mind, with advanced degrees in engineering, physics, and chemistry.  Apparently you avoided the humanities.”

Illya:  “If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you go on ahead?”  (As Sebastian moves to do so) “I’ll meet you on the other side of the minefield.”
Sebastian (pauses, steps back)  “After you.”

Annie (eyeing Azalea):  “And you must be [Dr. Kharmusi’s] kind-hearted nurse.”

Kharmusi (about Azalea’s defection):  “I should have known never to trust a woman who is always on time.  It always indicates a much deeper problem.”

Sebastian (annoyed, to Annie):  “I don’t know who you are, but I have a feeling you probably deserve whatever happens to you.”

"The Indian Affairs Affair" (ep. 2/30)

Here we are at the close of Season Two, which fielded 30 episodes to Season One's 29.  I gather Dean Hargrove's "Indian Affairs" is considered yet another silly story, which it is. And yet, and yet . . .

. . . there's the skeleton of a serious plot here, poking out through the tongue-in-cheekiness.  Thrush's "transistorized" hydrogen bomb poses a real threat, and Mr. Yamaha could have been an effective if mannered villain.  (I suspect Hargrove made the mastermind Japanese as a sly dig about transistor radios from Japan.)  The kidnapping of the chief's daughter to insure his cooperation and that of his tribe is a good, if standard, Thrush ploy.  Solo's spiking of L.C. Carson's guns at the climax by seeing through the courier setup has the authentic U.N.C.L.E. flavor (though it could have been filmed more suspensefully).  Plus the idea of seasoned world travelers Solo and Illya dropping into the middle of yet another culture and finding themselves at sea would have been a hoot -- the kicker being that the culture exists right within the borders of the U.S.

Instead, in 50 minutes we get nearly every Hollywood cliché about American Indians, from "How!" and "scalped" to headbands on the braves, "Indian uprising," "redskins," "war dances," and the bigoted white man who calls Charisma "squaw."  Now, Hargrove is lampooning most of these clichés, of course.  The young Cardiak (!) braves use motorbikes instead of war ponies; they attack the circled vehicles, only these are cars instead of wagons, and the heroes are attacking the villains; and, in possibly the funniest bit, a brave threatens the staked-out Illya with giant red ants, only to be told there aren't any giant red ants to be found.

All this, however, loses ground when confronted with things like a brave using a cigar store Indian as cover to trail Solo like a Warner Brothers cartoon; and Illya, "disguised" as an Indian, looking more like Prince Valiant than like any of the Cardiaks.  We have to wonder why nobody in Thrush noticed Illya's blue eyes, too.  At least "Hombre," in this same period, explains Paul Newman's baby blues:  He plays a white raised by Apaches.

Good stuff: a guest appearance by the U.N.C.L.E. Special carbine; Solo's communicator dart; his thoughtful planting of a homer on Charisma (though deliberately allowing her to be kidnapped by

Thrush is too much); Illya's rattletrap loaner truck from the Tulsa office; and, as mentioned, Solo's outmaneuvering of Carson regarding the couriers and the bomb.

Diving through a closed window to rescue Charisma, while cool-looking, wasn't necessary, Mr. Solo.  There was an iron garden chair right there you could have used.  And Princess Charisma, there's only one proper response to a villain telling you a gun's not loaded:  Pull the trigger!

Yes, that guy playing Ralph, Carson's aide, who smiles beatifically in Act IV at the idea of burning their captives to death:  That's Nick Colasanto, known to us two decades hence as "Coach" on "Cheers."

Imagine, if you will, that Sam Rolfe had been producing, and he sent Hargrove's script back for a major rewrite.  Envision a story featuring the Navajo in New Mexico/Arizona, with our guys having to convince a clan on the Big Rez that they are there to help (picture Solo and Illya in a sweat-lodge ceremony!).  Yamaha as chief villain.  Illya the disguise master, with bronzed skin, contacts, jeans and boots, and a black wig, actually blending in with the Indians.  Solo, minus suit and tie, driving a battered pickup and masquerading as a BIA agent.  And a nail-biter of a climax, in which Solo or Illya, or both, must outguess Yamaha's moves regarding which briefcase has the bomb --!  Would have been neat, huh?

Verdict: My notes from the CBN days say, "The plot is fairly serious -- it's the tone and the jokes that make it funny."  True . . . though it's neither serious enough nor funny enough to make it a classic.

Memorable lines:
Ralph: "Why can't you just talk to [your chief] over this phone?"
Illya (as a Cardiak Indian): "The voice can be recorded.  I have been personally tricked that way by the telephone company many times."

Illya (to Ralph, after a long series in "sign" language): "Would you like for me to repeat that?"

Illya: "Communicator dart.  Fired it through the window, I suppose."
Chief Highcloud: "Yes."
Illya: "My friend is always showing off."

"The Project Deephole Affair" (ep. 2/26)

This one has been a favorite of mine since the CBN days.  A crisp Dean Hargrove story that feels like a Season One, a real threat, fantastic villains (one of whom has a history with Solo!), and a refreshing male Innocent who is drawn into the story not only because he is a bystander, but also because he's a bit of a weasel.

A fast-moving teaser brings us to HQ's infirmary, where Illya, over Buzz's unconscious body, fills us in on Mr. Conway's sad history.  Jack Weston's Buzz is no criminal.  He's a "Guys and Dolls" figure, the horse player who is positive the next race will bring him the big payoff, who proves himself bright and brave when the chips are down . . . and yet doesn't change his ways once the adventure is over.

What I enjoy about Solo's plot to use Buzz as a decoy is that our guys are being proactive in leading Thrush down the garden path.  Is it unethical of them to drag Buzz into this?  Well, it's not as if Buzz turns himself in to the police when he finds the cash and fine clothes, and the "body" in the closet!  And, as Solo points out, they are protecting him by involving him.

The dynamic between Narcissus and sun-hating Marvin Elom (veteran character actor Leon Askin; you'll recognize him from "Hogan's Heroes") is interesting.  He drools over her; she clearly thinks of him as just a stepping-stone in her Thrush career.  For Narcissus, other people are only valuable as they enhance her image of herself.  You'd think anyone who is as obsessed with her own appearance as the Divine Miss N. wouldn't smoke.  Yellows the teeth, you know.

Narcissus brushes right by Illya at the SF airport.  He doesn't seem to know her (though she must know him, since later Thrush follows him to the garage rendezvous).  In that scene, though, Solo walks right by her!  He couldn't fail to recognize her; he dealt with her in Portofino in 1962.  Why wouldn't he mention her presence to Illya?

The "drone control" Narcissus uses to control the rental car with Buzz in it makes for an exciting sequence on the freeway.  Apparently Solo has encountered it before.  Or maybe the Command has similar devices? 

Another nice element here is the sense that Thrush has agents everywhere, at the garage and the seemingly-innocent lobby girl at the Elom Industries office building.  Not everyone is a Thrush, however; see the insurance guys who just happen to be in the elevator with Illya.  Thrush is not all-knowing or all-powerful, thank goodness.

Part of the earthquake footage must be from the 1964 Good Friday quake in Alaska; see "Anchorage" on one sign.  And Elom says his people created that carnage.  Brrr.  (I agree the drill isn't very convincing.  Maybe Elom & Co. are using quadrillenium drill bits instead of diamond.)

The quiet scene between Solo and Narcissus reminds me of Solo's tete-a-tete with Serena back in "Double."  But why does Narcissus agree to take Solo through the Elom security?  A line from Solo would have set it up:  "You'd best get me through.  If I fail, I won't be there to save your skin; Mr. Elom will think you betrayed him anyway; and missing your next pedicure appointment will be the least of your problems."  Personally I think he should clip her a good one on the jaw when she screams to alert Leon.

Verdict: One of the best adventures of Season Two, and on a level with many winners from Season One.

Memorable lines:
Illya (watching via video bug as Buzz awakes in the hotel room):  "Napoleon, I think it is time to deliver unto 'Dr. Remington' a change of apparel."

Solo: "How was the flight?"
Illya: "Second class."
Solo: "Snob."
(Free champagne on the flight?  It didn't look that second-class to me.  Illya's been spoiled by all this capitalist decadence!)

Buzz (as they drive on the San Francisco freeway):  "Isn't this a roundabout way of going downtown?"
Solo:  "I thought you might like to see our air pollution."

Buzz (exasperated):  "You've got a lot of nerve, y'know?"
Solo (serenely):  "Thank you."

Mr. Elom: "It's very appropriate that I use California, the land of sunshine -- where those disgusting people mechanically expose themselves to poisonous sunlight, in a foolish desire to fry their
skins brown."
(A villain with an emotional motive for his evil plot.  Neat!)

Buzz (dazedly, re: Solo and Illya): "Boy, they work fast."

Solo: "So you suppose [the finance company] will ever catch [Buzz]?"
Illya: "Probably.  Their manhunt procedures are modeled after ours, remember?"

"The Children's Day Affair" (ep. 2/12)

When this first aired, your intrepid correspondent had the measles, and spent the two weeks before Christmas 1965 in bed or on the living room couch.  But miss U.N.C.L.E.?  Jamais, mes enfants! This pleasant Dean Hargrove script has some tense sequences and darker edges, with the most warped villain duo since the Partridges in Season One, and builds to an exciting climax.

For the second week in a row, Solo and Illya drive a Mercedes.  Carlo Ferenti's loaner is a 190SL, the little 4-cylinder stablemate of the famous 300SL sports car with the "gullwing" doors.  Peculiar, however -- there's no windshield!  The posts are there, though.  Did the crew remove the glass to avoid reflections as they filmed?  Huck's car in Act III, I think, is an Aston-Martin DB2/4, of an older vintage than Bond's car in "Goldfinger"; anybody know?

Let's get right down to it.  Mother Yvonne Fear and Captain Jenks are deliciously twisted, with a complex relationship that would delight any abnormal psych student.  Jeanne Cooper's Mother Fear, as her name implies, has a dual nature.  She controls the men and boys at Ecole Figliano with an iron hand, thus "Fear."  With Jenks she is maternal, nurturing, soothing his little rages, cheering him on; and it works.  Jenks is effective and organized, able to set up the plot to kill the Section One leaders and the trick to find out where the conference is being held.  Creepily, when he refers to his earlier headmaster posts, he mentions "brutality trials" -- plural!  (We see, too, that Jenks doesn't only think of Yvonne in a maternal role. . . .)

As for Yvonne herself, I get the impression that even if Illya had told her the new conference location, she'd still have given him, and her strap, a workout.

Ricardo, the little hellion on the train, is a Thrush recruit, which fits with the acid-loaded "toy" gun.  Was it a prize for passing his tests for the school?  I retroactively demand a 9mm Luger for doing well on my SATs!

Susan Silo's Anna Paola is charming and refreshing: "To tell you the truth, I cannot stand children!"   It's hard to cite another fictional character who admits it, even today.

The entire "Solo vs. the nerve gas on the model trains" scene is a model of how to drive an audience right out of their collective skulls.  Film students should study it carefully.

In-jokes galore: The name "Captain Jenks" may be a nod to an old bluegrass tune, "I'm Captain Jenks of the Horse Marines/ I feed my men on corn and beans/ And often live beyond my means . . ."   Jenks's "Operation Penrod" refers to Booth Tarkington's 1914 novel about, you guessed it, an eleven-year-old boy.  And I know you caught the names of the blond Thrushes, "Tom" and "Huck."

I wish Illya had simply shot Mother Fear at the climax.  The cake bit, and Anna's gosh-awful, predictable line, just don't work for me.  If the story has a real flaw, it's the cutesy scene at the end.   A much darker ending would have brought out . . . well, let's have Solo and Illya tell us:

INTERIOR, GENEVA TRAIN; NIGHT
Illya (quietly): "Napoleon."
Solo: "Hm?"
Illya: "Has it occurred to you that those boys . . ."
Solo: "Yes?"
Illya: "They have been schooled at a most impressionable age in Thrush methods, Thrush lessons in sabotage, in terrorism, in assassination . . . in the culture of Thrush, if you will. Thrush is now their 'family.'  It may be impossible to rehabilitate them. There will always be something in them that will respond when Thrush calls.  And when they are old enough . . ."
Solo (after a long moment): "Let's just hope that if that day comes, Illya, you and I won't be out here in the field to deal with it."
(FREEZE AND BLUR-OUT; CREDITS)

Verdict: A fun story that could have provided a springboard for the "Return" movie.

Memorable lines (Illya shines this week):
Illya (reporting to Waverly): "There's not even an out-of-place elf in the forest."

Anna Paolo (to Solo, about Ricardo): "They say there is no such thing as a bad boy, and that is what I keep telling myself. Over, and over, and over."

Illya (to Capt. Jenks): "This school of yours is quite an innovation.  I imagine the class reunions would be quite fascinating."

Illya (levelly, to Mother Fear): "I must warn you, I don't have any guilt feelings for you to prey upon."

Mother Fear (as Jenks caresses her with his riding crop): "Not in front of the children --!"

"The Discotheque Affair" (ep. 2/5)

This one, a Dean Hargrove co-script, is the first of the new season to feel as if it needed another rewrite.  Solo’s Houdini trick in Act IV, plus Ray Danton as villain Vincent Carver, make it work fairly well, though not on the same level as “Foxes and Hounds.”

We open up with a delivery of Thrush ordnance to a garage.  Why does Mr. Carver (roaring up in his snazzy Barracuda, and with driving gloves, no less) deliver the bomb to the store at all?  Was it coincidence -- this particular Thrush front was due to be “dismantled” anyway?  Or had someone in the garage radioed him with an SOS?

The idea that the brownstone apartments belong to U.N.C.L.E. as part of their cover, and that they have tenants who pay rent, is genius.  It reinforces the idea that the Command, despite its high-flown technology and purposes, is restricted, like any other huge corporation, by the laws of economics. 

Carver’s discotheque is about as much like real ones as most in movies or TV of the time.  A real disco would be darker (more like the scene at the close of Act III), the go-go girls would wear miniskirts if not less, and the music would feature more Top 40 hits.  And Tiger Ed, as played by Harvey Lembeck (late of William Asher’s “Beach Party” movies), is really kind of embarrassing.

Carver is not.  Danton’s sleek Carver is the highlight of the episode; swaggering, super-confident, he seems amused by it all (“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”).  Watch his head-bob and body language in Act IV when he leaves Farina on guard, and you’ll swear he was channeling Cary Grant.

Hans Gudegast’s cool, controlled, prideful technician, Mr. Oakes, is another highlight; the clash of personalities and philosophies between him and Carver is sharp, and I wish Oakes had survived to be a worthy antagonist in another story.

Leaving the body of Mr. Sherman, the inspector, behind the wall in Sandy’s apartment was foolish if Oakes’s eavesdropping project was intended to be long-term.  Eventually the corpse would betray itself (as it does), Waverly would investigate, and thus endeth the project.  A short-term goal -- say, if they expected a particular piece of information to come across in the next three days -- would have posed no problem, except that Waverly, once he realized what Thrush had been up to, would increase security on the entire block.  Better if Tiger Ed, say, is in charge, shoots Sherman and tucks his body behind the wall, and then we see Carver and Oakes are furious at him for spoiling the project.

Nice Touch Dept.:  Solo must carry his watch in his pocket while his left hand is in the cast; dead Sherman’s shoestring poking out from the wall; Illya plays bass with the band, and questions Sandy in his “interrogation” outfit of tinted hornrims, open shirt, and shoulder holster; the Thrush records being concealed as literal 45 rpm records; the hint of a long-standing relationship between Carver and Farina; Solo does not get free in time to keep the fire from starting; and he must tuck his left hand into his waistband to support it after he’s freed it from the cast.

If Solo’s plan is to get Sandy into the club, did they kill the bug to get Carver to make that move?  A line about this when Solo is with Illya in the car would have been nice.  But then why does Solo stop the workmen?  They could have let Oakes get it back on line, then supplied Thrush with all sorts of disinformation.  As it’s written here, Thrush would know very shortly that the failure of the bug means U.N.C.L.E. is on to them.

Yes, I’m sure that slipping out of a cast is close to impossible -- the doctor has to cut it off, right? -- but Hargrove & Stadd set it up with Solo’s “My cast has taken quite a beating tonight.”  And Vaughn makes it look difficult, if not painful.

Why does Carver, as he says, leave the records to be destroyed?  That’s almost as bad as letting U.N.C.L.E. have them!  Central will not be pleased.  And  he should have had an exit line when Waverly grabs his cane.

Verdict:  Clever in places, sloppy in others, it nonetheless gives us a sparkling villain (who even announces what “a heel” he is) and highlights the determination of our heroes.

Memorable lines:
Solo (opening the register, to the vacuum-cleaner store customer who wants her money back, after he has put a sleep dart into the Thrush behind the counter):  “There’s your refund. . . .”

Carver (jauntily, inspecting the freshly–painted wall behind which his men have stashed Mr. Sherman):  “Well, if nothing else, we’re neat.”

Farina (drunkenly, as she is freed from the buzzsaw by Solo):  “I’ve had a rotten life --!”

Illya (indicating Solo’s arm still in its sling, after Waverly has detailed him to investigate a Prague motion-picture studio):  “You mean, after all this, and what with your arm, don’t you think you’d better stay here for a while?”
Solo:  “What, and give up show business?”

"Alexander the Greater Affair, Part II" (ep. 2/2)

As it should be, Part II is more exciting than Part I.  The opening scene, with Farrell of Budget Control complaining to Waverly about the costs Solo and Illya are running up, is a classic example of how U.N.C.L.E. differed from anything else in the spy genre in the Sixties.  Imagine M hearing complaints from the Ministry of Defense that Agent 007 was straining the budget.  No; only MfU could get away with that.  The scene also explains neatly how Solo, Illya, and Tracy got to Minos in the first place, and how they get away again: they flew a Command `copter!

The escape in the throne room is neatly done (though it was a darn good thing Mr. Parviz neglected to take a couple of turns around Solo's ankles while roping him to the altar).  It harkens back to the cliffhangers in the old Saturday afternoon movie serials that writer Dean Hargrove no doubt grew up on.  Nice touch, that the end of the rope is still burning as Solo loops it around the marble statue.

It's nice to see how proactive Tracey "Eye on the Main Chance" Alexander is -- that our heroes don't have to maneuver her into helping them; she's all for it.  Of course, a million bucks is a great motivator.  More important, we see Waverly dismiss the unethical idea of maneuvering her into putting herself in danger.

I like that charcoal brown sportcoat Solo wears at HQ in Act I.   It's probably the same coat, with the same dark brown slacks, we saw in black-and-white several times in Season One.  His office is a lot better equipped, computer- and monitor-wise, than the last time we saw it, in "Never-Never."

The names of Alexander's Asian conspirators and of the Prince -- Bon Phouma, Man-Phang, and Phanong -- echo such famous names of our world's mid-Sixties as Prince Souvanna Phouma of Laos.

"One Spy Too Many" contains a post-coital scene between a wolfish Alexander and Princess Nicole that was cut for the broadcast version.  This works better than merely hearing Nicole off screen as Alexander leaves.  Come to think of it, a definitive version of OSTM could be spliced together, retaining this scene, plus the one in the film where Parviz picks up a roaring Alexander at the quarry, but also including the rescue of Alexander's parents.   (And deleting all the Maude Waverly interludes, please. As much as I love watching Yvonne Craig, those bits, and the "explanation" at the end of the film, aren't needed.)

Watch me blink in disbelief as Mr. Parviz gets his toenails painted (!) at the Grecian Urn, while watching the girls on closed-circuit television.  So that's how he relaxes.  Interesting detail: He uses a cordless remote, just as we have today, to control the TV set.  Did such remotes even exist in our world then?

Cal Bolder's Ingo is very articulate, not the muscle-bound dummy a lesser writer would have given us (and who would have been played by Richard Kiel or Ted Cassidy).  I'm not sure I believe that the 175 or 200 pounds Solo loads on the bench press machine would keep him trapped for long, though.

The entire sequence with Illya being pursued by the farm machines, ducking into the mudhole, being wrapped up in bandages, etc., makes me wince at the thought of getting that filthy.   I picture David reading the script, and shaking his head: "You wanted to be an actor. . . ."

During Solo's struggle with Kavon, he at one point is closer to Kavon's silenced pistol than Kavon is.  Why not grab it?  (Picture for the Illya fangirls!)

Alexander's decoy ploy is clever, designed to give him just enough time to murder the president.  I wonder when Tracey could have written her message in lipstick on the window of the limo without being observed by Alexander or Parviz, though.

I'm surprised at the Washington Command office.  They didn't post anybody outside the embassy to head off Alexander, and didn't take away the keys to his Imperial.  Poor tactics!  Heads are gonna roll, baby!

In the action sequence when Solo leaps from the Jag to the plane, Vaughn and director Sargent keep it from looking easy.  I hate flying in planes, much less the idea of leaving one in flight, so I have no idea, but would it be humanly possible to squirm into a parachute pack while in free fall, as Solo does?  And could the plane have reached a high enough altitude that he'd have time to do that?

Verdict: A slam-bang season opener, with high energy, notably exciting music including the cool new theme arrangement, and a great turn by Torn as Alexander the (would-be) Greater.

Memorable lines:
Alexander (to Mr. Kavon): "I shouldn't have any trouble using [the generals'] country as my personal power base.  From there I can subvert all of Asia. . . .  Where the devil did I put the keys to my sports car?"

Parviz: "How did you get out of your tomb?"
Tracey (beckons him closer. In a confidential voice): "Well, you see, there was this lamp, and we rubbed it three times --"

Ingo (clapping Solo on the shoulders): "I know what your problem is!"
Solo (uneasily): "Is it that easy to tell?"

Illya (mummified): "Well, I suppose I'll just have to find myself a new tailor."

Wedding Guest (re: the bride's scream as she no doubt discovers Mr. Parviz's staring corpse next to her in the car): "I knew it wouldn't last."

"Alexander the Greater Affair, Part I" (ep. 2/1)

Hola!  Wow!

Pardon the exclamations.  It's a reflection of how I excited I was at age 12 (having just passed through the chaos of Hurricane Betsy in September 1965) when the new season of U.N.C.L.E. premiered.

This, Dean Hargrove’s third script and the show’s first two-parter and color episode, is fast-moving, bouncing from New York to Athens, from Alexander’s estate to his rock quarry, and then to a tomb in Minos.  It sports intriguing set pieces like the living chess game and the wild cliffhanger at the end.  To me, however, the color adds life to the sets, but detracts from the plausibility overall by giving the story an almost comic-book aspect.

Alexander’s twin notions, that of conquering the world a la Alexander of Macedon, and also wanting to violate the Ten Commandments, don’t seem to be related.   Alexander wasn’t Jewish (though Alexander was, and is, highly thought of in the Jewish world).  You could say, “Well, Alexander has a goal -- world domination -- and a hobby -- violating the Decalogue.”  But Alex tells us the two plans are part of one whole for him; the second isn’t just a pastime.

That said, the Commandment business provides a good mystery thread.  We don’t see Alexander break all 10.  We see 8 when he steals the will gas, 7 (adultery) and 10 (coveting your neighbor’s wife) are implied with Princess Nicole, and 5 is done, shockingly, when we see how he has dishonored his parents.  In the scene with Tracey in his den, he burns something before a colorful idol, which bears the number 2 above it: With this he’s breaking “Thou shalt make no graven images,” and “Thou shalt have no god before me.”  We can presume Alexander has given false witness plenty of times in his business and private life.  Killing would bring it up to 8.  If he manages to take the name of the Lord God in vain and does it on a Saturday or Sunday, he’s done.

His theft of the will gas from the Army isn’t very convincing (though the machinations of Mr. Parviz, in the footage for “One Spy Too Many,” at least take the Army’s security responses into account).  Even in those long-gone pre-Homeland Security days, wouldn’t they have searched Alexander’s briefcase?  How was he going to explain an oxygen mask and three silvery pressurized canisters -- tell them he had asthma?  Much better if the site had been an independent laboratory, with much lower security.  The Army could have sent along an observer, perhaps a young Army Intelligence officer, who suspects Alexander.  When his superiors say there’s no proof, he goes to U.N.C.L.E.  In Waverly’s office, he could tell them about the theft and show pictures he’d shot with a microcamera, and then we’d be off to the races.

In Tracey’s attorney’s office, Solo handles his gun as if it were a toy or an afterthought.  Worse than that, the script has him draw it at Alexander’s party and twist the flash arrestor into the nose of the unarmed Prince.  Horribly unprofessional.  If nothing else, it would tend to promote an image of U.N.C.L.E. agents as thugs.

David Sheiner’s Mr. Parviz is scary.  You get the impression that he is tightly wrapped, too tightly, and if things get beyond him, like a deep-sea fish brought to the surface, he’ll explode.

Except for Squire Partridge, Alexander is the first antagonist to have been married.  At least I don’t think any of them mentioned a spouse or ex-spouse.  Hard to imagine Capt. Shark having a wife back home in Boca Raton or Vancouver.

“Tranquilizer mist” (in OSTM, “aphrodisiac mist”) set up to spray in Alexander’s boudoir?  Creepy.  Something tells me, if he lived today, he’d have directed one of his chemical companies to develop a proprietary version of roofies.

We see Solo pointedly inspect Mr. Kavon’s limp, from which he concludes that the man’s shuffle means he might have been in prison.  To me it seems more like a limp than a shuffle.  And then Solo tells us that he jammed the firing pin in Kavon’s “revolver” (it’s actually an automatic).  Hard to swallow that, even for him -- for most of the scene his hands are full of flashlight and gun!  Better if Kavon simply reaches into his pocket to find no gun, and Solo draws the little pistol from his pocket and says, “I took the opportunity to relieve you of this.”

My other objection to the cliffhanger scene, and the script as a whole, is that it gives Illya nothing to do.  It’s Solo who checkmates Alexander, recognizes the mineral composition of the tablets, and explains the numbers as relating to the Ten Commandments.  Solo-phile though I be, I think it's silly to have Illya along and yet only let him be Tonto to Solo’s Lone Ranger.

Verdict: Despite plot holes and inconsistencies, it provides our heroes with an appropriately larger-than-life villain and larger-than-life obstacles.  (I imagine Solo murmuring, “They never told us about razor pendulums in Survival School --“)
Memorable lines:
Solo (Gun in hand, slamming open the door to Tracey’s attorney’s office):  “I have an appointment.”

Solo:  “I’m with the U.N.C.L.E.”
Tracey (apologetically):  “Oh, my favorite charity.”

Tracey (gushing over Illya):  “You’re not . . . Count Kuryakin, by any chance? . . .  You must be thirsty after that long flight in from . . . the Balkans, isn’t it?”
Illya:  “From America.  I own a chain of radio stations in Oklahoma.”

Illya (as Solo tumbles into the throne room):  “I see you found your way here safely.”
Solo:  “I couldn’t miss it.  It was the only temple on the block.”

Mr. Kavon (as he and Alexander depart for Washington):  “And you know how awkward it is to get space without a reservation.”

Mr. Parviz (re: the razor pendulum):  “It’s a new steel process.  I get 15 to 20 times more use out of each one of these blades.”

"The Gazebo in the Maze Affair" (ep. 1/27)

This one displays the fine Hollywood hand of co-writer Dean Hargrove.  While the tongue-in-cheek humor makes it resemble a second-season episode, it never crosses the line into silliness, thanks to Hargrove's deft lines, and to George Sanders and Jeanette Nolan as a modern Thane of Cawdor and his Lady Macbeth who've survived to enjoy murder and mayhem in their golden years.

Folie a deux incarnate: Both Partridges, despite their upper-crust English manners, are truly nuttier than twin fruitcakes.  Edith is flirtatious and kittenish with Solo and Illya . . . but watch the schizophrenic sparkle in her eye when she levels and fires that shotgun, stretches Solo on the rack, and waves that red-hot poker in Peggy's face.  Emory seems rather squeamish at his wife's torture hobbies, and thus less dangerous -- until his paranoia/sexual obsession with Peggy shows its teeth ("And don't think I don't know what you've been trying to do to me"; "Flaunting yourself about the place, trying to catch my fancy").  One imagines Edith and Emory playing dice of a winter's evening, dice made from the knucklebones of someone who fell victim to the wolf out in the maze, and chuckling over the memories. ("Oh, Emory, didn't he scream when Lupus got him!"  "Poor breeding, my dear Edith.  It always tells.")

Solo's previous encounter with Partridge was in 1958?  Presumably Solo was not yet Chief Enforcement Agent, not at ca. 26.  Perhaps it was one of his first big assignments -- team leader, perhaps, explaining Partridge's vendetta against him specifically.  Since Illya does not recognize Partridge, perhaps he wasn't on that mission.  But how does Partridge know him? 

Also, Partridge scoops up Illya just outside Command HQ in New York, and sends his tiny-tree-and-bird message to Del Floria's.   Obviously he knows it's the agents' entrance.   Though I suppose that once Thrush knew, it would hardly be a secret in the criminal world any more.

Edith's references to "that awful rainforest business" make me think she was relatively sane until then, and whatever they went through in escaping drove her completely `round the bend.

The black-and-white photography adds immeasurably to the tone and atmosphere, doesn't it?  Color would make it seem much more cartoon-like.  (Somehow, though, it still reminds me of a '60s-era "Batman" comic, where the Penguin/Joker/Riddler has captured Robin to lure Batman into his revenge trap. . . .)

No, that's not Robert Shaw playing Jenkins, the wolfkeeper/darts champ -- though he does remind me of Captain Quint from "Jaws."

Solo points out that his overseas call to Waverly "has to bounce off the Telstar satellite."  (According to Wikipedia, due to high-altitude nuclear testing, Telstar I [launched in 1962] went out of service in
February of 1963 -- though more Telstars were in service by 1964.)  The problem with the scene is that you'd think Solo would insert a code phrase to warn Waverly that he is operating under enemy control.

Why do the chair's entrapping arms spring out when Solo knocks Jenkins into it -- yet earlier, Partridge had to press a button on the table to activate it?

Bill Koenig has mentioned that Illya's "Bon appetit" line was used in several James Bond movies after this.  So we have a case of the original property drawing inspiration from a property it inspired!

After being rescued by Solo, why does Illya leave Solo in the lurch to explain to Mr. Waverly?  I could see it if Solo had embarrassed him or stuck him with some unpleasant duty.  Or was Hargrove, in a bit of inside humor, playing off the scene in Fields's "See-Paris-and-Die" where Solo sticks Illya with the thankless legwork?

Verdict: A great romp.

Memorable lines:
Edith (re: Illya): "He was very sort of physical looking, in an unusual way."

Illya (examining the dungeon): "Every home should have a recreation room."

Jenkins (re: the snarling wolf inches from Illya): "Would you like for me to open the gate?"
Illya: "No, that's not necessary, thank you.  I'll consider myself captured."

Illya (to the chained skeleton next to him): "You expecting anyone?"

Illya (dryly, to Solo): "I see you've come to rescue me."
Solo (testing his chains): "Wait'll you hear my plan --"

Illya (re: the madness of the Partridges): "I believe they have March hares in the garden, too."
(Which suggests that Illya, as part of his English lessons, read and possibly even enjoyed Lewis Carroll.  One imagines his English teacher in the U.S.S.R. saying, "A capitalist fantasy, but entertaining. . . .")

Solo (to Waverly, about Partridge): "Now I think it's time to give him the bird."
(If that was the crude slang then that it is now, how did they get that past the censors???)

Solo (realizing he has neglected to tell Waverly to cancel his trip to Eastsnout): "I forgot to turn off the bath water. . . ."

"The Never-Never Affair" (ep. 1/25)

With this story and "Love," next week, we have two of the major highlights of the season and the series.  As Jon Heitland puts it in his "Man from U.N.C.L.E. Book," writer Dean Hargrove “had hit upon a blend of adventure and humor where the latter did not detract from the former.”  Like "Mad, Mad Tea Party" and "Four-Steps," this one plays out in one day and delivers a sense of snug peril, like a classic Sherlock Holmes story, while clicking on every level.

Why the title?  Is it to suggest Mandy's dream of exciting espionage, a glamorous "Never-Never Land"?  Or to suggest her vow to herself after this adventure, "Never, never again"?

Cesar Romero's Victor Gervais is a master of sarcasm.  He certainly believes in ostentation, doesn't he?  An elegant vest, gold rings, watch, and bracelet, and a massive dark Rolls-Royce.  No wonder Thrush looks attractive to some people.  Good thing Thrush never showed up at Career Day at my high school; I knew lots of folks who'd have been tempted.

Mandy Stevenson is introduced just as an Innocent should be, showing her normal dull workaday life before her involvement with U.N.C.L.E. intrigue begins.  (The difference here, of course, is that her workaday life is already involved with U.N.C.L.E.!)  Barbara Feldon is terrific, from her gawky but charming start (hey, I like the sexy librarian type.  So sue me) to her realization that this is not a game and her level-headed handling of it.  She isn't fearless, but courageous and realistic ("The moment I give [Gervais] the microdot, he's going to kill me anyway"). 

In another wonderful detail, the phone in Mandy’s control room doesn’t ring -- it whistles with the communicator tone!

Truly Iconic Illya Moment:  when he hitches a ride without permission on the lady's Volkswagen bug, then reaches down through the sunroof to tell her, "This is my stop, thank you --!" 

"Air Cooled" was a big selling point for theatres, bars, and restaurants even as late as 1965.  The creepy, shadowy theatre battle is justly famous.  One wonders, however, how Waverly's going to explain all this to the NYPD and to Mayor Wagner.  ("Alexander, we just can't have this sort of thing in my city!")

The fantastic fight in the garage really uses the set, doesn't it?  All the way up to the classic climax, Solo looks uncharacteristically, and believably, weary and rumpled. 

One quibble, though.  Why doesn’t Waverly send someone to the tobacconist on E. 76th Street to intercept Mandy there?  A line or two of dialogue would have addressed this.  Solo:  “We know she’s going to the tobacconist; I’ll go directly there --“  Illya:  “No, the area is swarming with Thrush agents.  We can’t be sure she hasn’t already been spotted.  I’ll go and act as decoy . . .”, etc.

The “Mandy gets the microdot” concept is a little confusing, too, until you re-watch it.  Solo tells her to pick up Waverly’s “dangerous” humidor and deliver it.  Then she tells her friend Baker in the lab that she’s Waverly’s special courier, and he (offscreen) gives her the microdot.  True, Solo tells her that the man at the tobacco shop will put something into the humidor.  But we should have seen Baker show her the microdot, and then we should have seen Mandy jump to the conclusion that the microdot is what will get placed in the humidor.  (In our world, I think Mr. Baker would find himself reassigned to northern Finland or Antarctica!)

Verdict:  A-Plus in every way.

Memorable lines:
Solo (as he and Illya kneel in the movie theatre over the dead Thrush sniper):  "Too bad.  He'll never know how it came out."

Mandy:  "And let me warn you, I don't crack under pressure."
Gervais:  "Not at all?"
Mandy [swallowing]:  "Not . . . noticeably, no."

Solo (re: Illya's loosening the distributor cap as a pretext to get into the Thrush garage):  "You're a smart Russian."

Illya (leaning close):  "How did you manage [the trick shot that stopped Gervais]?"
Solo:  "Smart American."

Gervais (re: Solo's threat to shoot him, aiming via the mirror):  "Do you really think you can fire accurately that way?"
Solo (levelly):  "Oh, I hate to count how many times I've done it."

Waverly (re: Mandy’s clever hiding place for the microdot):  “Most inventive, I must say.  Wouldn’t you think so, Mr. Solo?”
Solo:  “Da, da, da . . .”
(Implying that Mandy is yet another “smart Russian”?)