"The Concrete Overcoat Affair, Part I" (ep. 3/11)

We can thank Norman Felton, as we do on so many levels, for his vision of releasing U.N.C.L.E. two-parters as movies; without that, and the corresponding bump in the budget, a "big" episode such as this wouldn't have been possible.  It's an odd mix in places, this one, Peter Allan Fields's only script this year, and sometimes the pieces don't fit as smoothly as we'd like . . . but it works.

The opener to Act I, as the bandaged Solo and Illya make their way to Waverly's office, is iconic.  (I'll bet new staffers are continually startled by seeing damaged Enforcement guys limping in to work.)  Maybe I'm slow, but I suspect that the room where they meet Waverly is not his regular office, but a special map room -- perhaps something like Capt. Picard's "ready room."  We've seen it before, and though it has windows and a couch along the rear wall, it seems smaller than the regular office, which appears in Act III.

I love Janet Leigh's sparkling, sadistic masochist, Miss Diketon, she of the thigh knife and misplaced affection for Jack Palance's Strago.  It's in this story, too, that we have the famous brief torture scene, where Miss D. uses an ultrasonic whip (?) on the captured Illya.  In his "Man from U.N.C.L.E. Book," Jon Heitland describes Miss D. as being somewhat masculine, but to me there's nothing at all masculine about her.  Sick, yes; too sick even for Thrush, possibly; but masculine?  Heck no.

Strago is hard to figure: a twitching bundle of savage neuroses and anxieties, nauseated by Miss Diketon's attentions yet inflamed by Pia the Innocent, as we'll see in Part II.  (Disposing of a valuable trained man like Luger is rather wasteful of personnel, too, except that it impresses ex-Nazi Von Kronen.)  Sometimes Palance's performance slips over the edge; but he must have had a lot of fun on this one, since so many of his roles have been of the quiet dangerous type.

Calling their country-to-be "Thrushland" makes it sound like an amusement park.  ("Step right up, folks!  Ask the Ultimate Computer a question, any question!")

As in "Deadly Goddess," Solo avoids a shotgun wedding; but here, he is not simply relieved to escape, but worried for Pia.  Her branding as a "ruined" woman, he feels, is due to him, and he wants to go back, explain, and exonerate her.

He pronounces "gracias" with the Castilian "th," suggesting that he learned what Spanish he knows from actual Spaniards rather than in Latin America.  It also sounds like he tells Illya "cow" instead of "ciao" -- a gag?

The big joke here is that Pia's American uncles, the Stilletto Brothers, would all fit neatly into a Warner's 1938 gangster flick -- except that they're all 60 or more.  Eduardo Giannelli's "Fingers," in particular, has the true Mafioso flavor and could have stepped right out of "The Godfather" (which hadn't been written yet, of course).

Agreed, Nelson Riddle's music during the action at Strago's warehouse is far too "Batman"-like, as are a lot of moves (the "pineapple" bit, for example).  This is balanced by the point that the Stiletto Brothers, who could have been played strictly for laughs, are clearly professional and deadly.  Note Strago's warning about them to his men: ". . . During the Prohibition days, they could have and would have torn either one of you apart for the price of a cigar."

Verdict:  Sharply directed by Joseph Sargent, who helmed several Season One and Two classics, it moves fast, makes good use of complex sets and colorful locations (e.g., the parade and the well-realized village of Taforna), and lacks only a stronger hook to bring us to Part II.

Memorable Lines:
Strago (chastising Miss Diketon):  "The Uniform Code of Thrush Procedure states quite clearly that the relationship between a Thrush official and an employee must be kept on the highest level!"

Strago:  "I can't tell you, Doctor, how much we've been looking forward to your arrival."
Von Kronen:  "Ja.  They've been looking forward to my arrival in Nuremberg, too.  They're still looking."

Solo (sotto voce, on communicator, as Grandmama Monteri waves her shotgun):  "Illya, come in, little friend. . . ."
Illya:  "Yes, Napoleon.  How is your burgeoning romance?"
Solo:  "It threatens to burgeon too far."

Solo (to "Fingers" Stilletto, as they prepare for his wedding to Pia in Chicago):  "I'm not Italian, you know."
Stilletto:  "It's all right.  Try to be proud anyway."

"The Dippy Blonde Affair" (ep. 2/16)

Here we are, halfway through the second season, when the show was truly Must See TV for millions.  This Peter Allan Fields script (one imagines Robert Vaughn saying, "I say, Peter, why don't you write a story for my lady friend Joyce Jameson?" "I say, Robert, I think I will") is much better than you'd expect from the title, and mixes characterization and humor with a serious McGuffin.

We open up with Solo and Illya leading a raid on the Thrush satrap on Long Island.  It's nice to see there are other Section II agents besides our heroes.  Solo even mentions the Intelligence section, which emphasizes again that they are not two lone agents but are backed by a large organization.  The teaser also involves Miss Jojo ("Muriel Goodman") Tyler deeply in the action, as she witnesses Pendleton's execution of Dr. Segal.  If not for the humor, the "ion weapon," and Pendleton's trick to feign death, this could have been an "Untouchables" story about a Capone Mob gun moll and Eliot Ness.

I love the scene with a rumpled Solo in Waverly's office just before dawn, reading off Jojo's record to her.  In fact I want to take that scene home with me.  Make that a double:  Add Illya and Waverly's interrogation of Pendleton.

The "ion projector" sounds like a concept that David McDaniel amplified and made his own (the Particle Accelerator Rifle) in his Ace novel "Hollow Crown."

Waverly actually smokes his billiard pipe.  He shows himself to be an expert psychologist when he maneuvers Jojo into helping them; he also shows he is not infallible when he honors Pendleton's "last request" and sends his body to the arms of Thrush.  (Good thing for him Waverly didn't order an autopsy to find out about the poison he used!)

Robert Strauss's Mr. Baldonado is an intriguing character.  ("I don't want to kill any more people.  I want to laugh!")  Unable, as he admits, to relate to women very well, he's compensated by achieving power and status within Thrush.  It's a bit hard to figure, his ditching the Thrush project for love of Jojo, but one can imagine his loneliness, and his delight at finding a woman who "look[s] at him twice with something other than nausea."  (Today we'd say he was having his mid-life crisis.)  To cover himself, he probably intended to throw any blame for the project's failure on Max and Eddie.

Solo could safely follow Baldonado and Max into the couturier's shop.  Neither of them had seen him -- only Pendleton and Jojo knew who he was.  On the other hand, for Illya to masquerade as the hearse driver without a disguise was not safe; Max and Eddie could have recognized him, as Max does later.

The super-tuning fork Illya uses twice to good advantage is a new toy from the labs, no doubt.  A nice alternative to the magnesium lock-melters we've seen.

I don't, however, care for the tag, with Jojo making out with Solo as Illya fights in the rain.  Yes, it's funny, and we can be sure that in PAF's next script Illya will get his own back.  But it's a little, ah, damp.  How about this: Jojo, eye always on the main chance, tries to double-cross Solo and Illya and help Baldonado.  They anticipate this, and outmaneuver her.  At the last we see, in Waverly's office, Jojo trying to work her wiles on Solo.  Just when we think he's going to fall for it, two cops show up to escort her back to jail on one of those old charges.  Solo does a tongue-in-cheek Sam Spade:  "I'll wait for you."  To which Jojo sneers.  The last we see of her is her struggles with the cops as they hustle her out.  And Solo pours a drink for himself and Illya, a la "Shark," and they clink glasses. . . .

Verdict: Sporting a certain charm, this one is not a classic, but it works well.

Memorable lines:
Solo (to Illya): ". . . I would suggest that you proceed, old bean, with alacrity."
(When was the last time you heard a TV character use a word like "alacrity"?)

Solo (to Illya, as he wrestles desperately with Pendleton, re: his last-second entrance): "It's about time.  What'd you do, walk all the way?"

Illya (getting the drop on the Thrushes): "And lesson number seven says, never run, skip, or jump when faced with an U.N.C.L.E. agent's gun."

Baldonado (levelly, to Max): "Coffins have been known to accommodate two people at the same time."

Illya: "Napoleon? I hate to bother you with trivia, but I think I'm about to get killed, and it struck me that perhaps you might want to say goodbye."

Illya (drenched and muddy, to a dry Solo wrapped in Jojo's arms; sourly): "We do work well together, don't we?"

"The Arabian Affair" (ep. 2/7)

Some argue that scripter Peter Allan Fields knew the characters and format (along with Dean Hargrove and Sam Rolfe himself) best of all the MfU writers.  Unfortunately this one is not a patch on his "Fiddlesticks" or even "Ultimate Computer."  The script as pitched must have sounded terrific, and great whacking chunks of it are quite good, with one of the funniest lines ever in the series (see the last quote below).  Somewhere, alas, it went off the rails.  And those fans who hate it when Solo and Illya work separately wouldn't like this one anyway.

The thing that knocks my inner hamster off his wheel is the "vaporizer" threat.  Now its demonstration, as it turns the desert tribesman into molecules, is impressive.  Unfortunately it looks like a roomful of Mr. Bubble.  Besides, it's a slow weapon; as we see later, it expands less swiftly than a man can run.  How did Thrush plan to deploy it?  Much better, says I, if it had been a real, frightening threat -- say, a biological warfare lab hidden in the desert, where Thrush is developing new, more virulent strains of anthrax, bubonic plague, and influenza.  Then we'd have a real sense of danger.

The grand stuff is the background on Thrush:  the idea that they permanently, uh, "retire" their employees who survive to age 65 is clever.  (Aside from the secrets said employees won't be able to blab, Thrush would save millions in pension funds!)  Solo's plan to find a "nice, retiring Thrush gentleman" is ingenious.

On balance, most of the Solo scenes work quite well.  His bearding Lewin and his wife in their cozy little walk-up apartment, Lewin's fear that the U.N.C.L.E. agent is there to kill them, and his
convincing them of their fate, all click.  Solo's mini-raid on the satrap, however, is the sort of thing that leads Waverly to think Solo's days on this planet are numbered.  Why not just pick Lewin's brain about the deliveries to the project?  That would have led him to the right spot.  (Not as visually exciting, though, is it?  And his use of the exploding watch to blow open the kitchen door is sharp.)

Okay, let's get it over with and move on.  Phyllis Newman is horribly miscast as Sophie, and an Arabian tribeswoman wouldn't be named that anyway.  The fight between Sulador and Illya is spoiled by the silly "Dance of the Flaming Swords" music:  if you mute the sound, the scene is well-done.  On the other hand, Illya gets off some nifty "Taming of the Shrew" remarks; his use of the resemblance between himself and T.E. Lawrence is clever; and he really holds the stage as he narrates the story of "his father" to the tribe.  (How did Illya happen to have this history at his fingertips?  Perhaps he read up on the region in preparing for the mission.  Besides, the movie with Peter O'Toole was only three years back.)  

The tag scene, with Illya the "limping bunny" hobbling away from Sophie, is silly, as are the painted insert shots of Norman's plane.

On balance, the Arabia scenes weaken what could have been a solid episode.  If they had cast a different actress (remember Ina Balin?), and if the script had played it straight to make you believe in these people and their terror of a mysterious death coming out of the desert, it would have worked.

Verdict: Not one to show somebody new to the series. (But the script could have been fixed! It could have!)

Memorable lines:
Sulador (about the wounded Illya): "Look at that leg!"
Sophie: "So we cut off the leg. I sell him as is anyway, half price."

Solo (to Lewin and his wife): "Now, the moment one retires from Thrush, you not only cease to be an asset -- you become a distinct liability. . . .  I'm certain you'll find U.N.C.L.E.'s fringe benefits far superior."

Sophie: "Why did you take that bucket from me?"
Illya (exasperated): "To be polite, you silly little girl!  And before you open that nasty flapping little mouth of yours, I suggest you study up a bit on that trivial amenity called courtesy.  No wonder
you're still unmarried at your age!"

Illya (snapping at Sophie): "Why don't you take that sparsely furnished mind of yours, and go and join the other elderly unmarried women?"

Illya (pretending to be annoyed at Solo): "I should have known who it was when I saw you trip over your own feet."
Solo (fingers Illya's burnoose; lightly): "Gee, I wish I had a dress like that. . . ."

"The Foxes and Hounds Affair" (ep. 2/4)

Oddly, I have no memory of this one in its first run.  I well remember "Ultimate Computer" and "Discotheque," which bracket it -- and how could I have forgotten Vincent Price's turn as languid, poisonous Gallic Thrush Victor Marton?  "Foxes and Hounds," in addition to bringing us more of Peter Allan Fields's snappy dialogue, shows us once again Waverly the crafty spymaster; and also that Thrush has internal factions, rivalries, and politics like any corporation in our world.  (Of course, not many corporations today are vying for mind-reading machines.  I hope.)

The teaser immediately treats us to a background detail about Illya: that he was a "little boy in Kiev."  If he's about 31 at this point, that puts him smack in the middle of (to him) the Great Patriotic War.  We find that he's thinking, not about the cute girl in tights, but about "Monsieur Solo"!  Yet it seems to be the mention of Kiev that makes him snap at Merlin, "That's enough."  See everything this scene does: it tells us that the machine does indeed read minds, that Solo is not on this mission because he's on vacation, and introduces the Innocent, Mimi Doolittle.

At least Cantrell gets away with the translator.  Walk-on agents, like those hapless red-shirted Security guys in "Star Trek," usually get themselves dead by the end of Act I.  Wisely, Fields doesn't show us that he is probably killed when Belmont's men divert him and capture the translator in Act IV.  It would have ruined the light tone.

Marton's "automobile" is that quintessentially Gallic motorcar, the Citroen DS (nicknamed "Goddess," for its initials in French).

Clearly Illya and Waverly know that Thrush has Del Floria's under observation via that rotating fire hydrant, since Illya and the lady staffer play the scene together and dispatch Solo to JFK for the observers' benefit.

Next we meet the ferociously ambitious Thrush, Lucia Belmont (middle name "Cougar," no doubt), as she clashes with "that continental masterpiece," Marton.  Just watching Price and Patricia Medina trade barbs with such superb timing would make this episode a classic.

Solo seems out-of-character harsh with the cabbie ("Get thee gone, varlet!").  But he's operating in the dark, something I'm sure he hates.  No need to take it out on the cabbie, Mr. Solo, he's a fellow Command agent just following orders!  The Irish cop ("Napoleon, Waterloo is upon you!") calls Solo "Raffles," after E. W. Hornung's gentleman burglar.

How does Illya get out to the airport before Solo?  An U.N.C.L.E. 'copter?  I presume Illya uses the phone rather than his cig-case communicator to contact Waverly because whatever he has arranged to bollix up Solo's device is affecting his communicator too.

"The Loved One" Mortuary --!  Somebody was reading Evelyn Waugh.  That, or the movie of that name with Robert Morse had just come out.

Seeing Price and Leo G. Carroll together when Marton strolls into HQ hints at what it must have been like to see them as adversaries in Broadway's "Angel Street" (1941; later filmed as "Gaslight").  Waverly's crew, including the receptionist, are on the ball.  I suspect David McDaniel was inspired by this to have Ward Baldwin visit HQ in his last published Ace novel.

Waverly should never have told Illya about Cantrell's true destination unless he intended Illya to meet Cantrell.  A neat plot twist would have been if Waverly had planted this with Illya in case he was captured; the Thrushes thus go to New Jersey, while Cantrell lands at a field in upstate New York.  But this would have required some other way for Marton and Belmont to capture the translator so that it can be destroyed at the end.  Perhaps they have broken U.N.C.L.E.'s latest code, and send an emergency override to Cantrell, so he does land at Wadsworth.

Verdict:  Despite a bit more comedy in some scenes than necessary (see the melee at the climax), Price, Medina, and the regulars carry the whole thing off with such verve and style that we love it anyway.

Memorable lines:
Illya (to a frightened Mimi, as Marton's men break down the door):  "Innocence is not a bulletproof commodity, young lady!"

Waverly (to Illya, regarding keeping Solo in the dark about the mission): "Besides, it won't hurt Mr. Solo to be ignorant once in his life.  Good for the humility."

Solo (to Del Floria, as he begins to realize he's fallen into a rabbit hole): "Actually, I was just chasing around after my pet leprechaun."

Marton: "Miss Belmont: I have been patient.  I have withstood your inflammatory rudeness.  I have pointedly ignored your -- whatever it is that frustrated women become. . . ."
Belmont: " . . . Why, you pompous, facelifted boulevardier! . . .  I've worked too hard!"
Marton: "And you soon may be working equally as hard, lovely lady, over a hot stove in the kitchen of some lonely Thrush outpost -- making chicken soup for our sick and wounded."

Illya (to Mimi, disbelievingly): "You're a woman.  Haven't you had your basic training?"

Illya: "We could make one of our daring, resourceful, and nauseatingly punctual escapes . . . if only the door weren't locked."

"The Ultimate Computer Affair" (ep. 2/3)

This Peter Allan Fields story has a special memory for me.  My seventh grade English teacher hit us with one of those dreaded themes on a Monday in October 1965.  But this one wasn't bad, as themes go: "My Favorite Television Show."  Naturally I didn't have to hesitate even a second, and as  "Ultimate Computer" had just aired, I was able to write up all the details.  My teacher's only quibble: I hadn't explained what "Thrush" was.  Gee, I thought everybody knew that --!

This, the first story filmed in the second season, hits the ground running with a trademark what-the-heck-is-going-on-here teaser, with Illya as a scruffy street performer (he really plays that guitar!) who gets himself hauled off to prison.  From there the story leaps and twists on to a satisfying climax.

The exposition in the first act is well done, cutting from Solo expounding to Sarah in Waverly's office, to the prison in Chacua, the Ultimate Computer, the safeguards around it, and the people involved; then back to New York HQ.  Better to show us than tell us, anytime.

A Thrush operative, disguised as a library guard, scans the entire contents of a valuable book without opening it.   A shame we can't do that yet.  This story seems to contradict Sam Rolfe's original notes in which the Ultimate Computer was already a factor in Thrush's operations.  Here it appears as if automation was a new path for Thrush.  Yes, I know, the Computer looks like a rather simple prop, and we never actually see it do anything.  But the very fact that it's compact and portable, in contrast to our world's room-sized punchcard-munchers of 1965, moves it into the realm of science fiction.  And in its red-lit cage, with that cyclopean eye glowing sullenly at us, it comes off as weirdly malevolent.  "And man shall not worship idols --"

Mr. Waverly's no mug; he knows what's what when he catches Solo and Sarah canoodling.  "Would you get me the Oliver file, Miss, ah, `Sugarpie'?"

Charlie Ruggles, the prison governor, is best known to us now as the leopard "expert" in "Bringing Up Baby" with Cary Grant and Kate Hepburn.  His Callahan is a raffish old goat who does his Thrushly duty, though he hates these newfangled computers -- and enjoys taking Cervantes the computer-worshiper to hell with him when the precious mechanical marvel is  destroyed.  And Judy Carne (later the "Sock-It-To-Me" girl on "Laugh-In") is perfection as officious but cute Innocent "Salty" Oliver.  (Gee, how'd she get that nickname . . .?)

I can't let Roger C. Carmel's performance, with its rattled-off Spanish and accented English, go without a serious tip of the hat.  During the `60s, if you wanted a solid yet flamboyant character actor, he was the man to get -- as Gene Roddenberry & Co. realized when they cast him the next year as Harry Mudd.

Illya really chomps on that cold cigarillo for all he's worth, even after he's abandoned his prisoner disguise.  Speaking of disguises, Solo's Philip Toomey (driving cap/straw fedora, double-breasted vest, bow tie, mustache) seems a bit of a wrong'un, the kind who tries a little too hard to be one of the fellows.  (Not the sort to be a member of any of my clubs, anyway.)  Well done on Solo's part.  Though I wonder, if he's established the character as a bowtie boy, why does he switch to the standard Solo four-in-hand when he goes snooping later?

The famous communicator pens debut here; this may be the pens' field test.  Feodore, the agent-in-place in Chacua, uses the old cigarette-case device.

Clearly, if Salty had known Solo would be killed instead of released, she'd have never agreed to stay with Cervantes.  So the lie he tells her, that both agents will be freed, does double duty: it kicks off the decoy plot, and will (he hopes) bring him "mi corazon."  Of course, sooner or later Callahan would have ordered her killed too; I suspect Cervantes was hoping it would be later.

How does Illya know about Salty?  He was already in the prison when Solo recruited her.  Or did Waverly outline this part of the plan to Illya, offscreen, at the beginning of the mission?

Verdict: With a fast-paced adventure featuring plausible danger and humor kept to the right places, U.N.C.L.E. strides confidently into its new season as the most famous TV show in the world.

Memorable lines:
Solo (to pretty staffer Sarah): "Suppose, my darling, you wanted to build a fortress.  You know, with guards, guns, maximum security . . . very secret, very impregnable . . . where would you put that kind of thing, that fortress?  Hmm?"
Sarah: "I don't know.  I never wanted to be impregnable."

Capt. Cervantes: "Up at dawn to watch the sunrise, plenty of hard work, and the fresh air.  Breakfast, of course, is Continental style.  Oh, yes.  If you try to escape we will sever the tendons behind your knees. . . .  We expect that over the course of the next, ah, seven years, our relationship will develop into a warm and lasting friendship."

Salty: "Grown men thrashing around like power-mad juveniles!  What kind of television do you people watch, anyway?"

Cervantes (re: Solo's queasy look after Cervantes has coldly shot one of his own men): "Well, after all, how do you think I got to be captain?"

Solo: "A Thrush doesn't change his feathers just to please a lady."

Illya: "I'm sunburned, blistered, grimy, and very, very hungry."
Solo: "I'm glad I don't have to take you out in public anywhere."

"The Girls of Nazarone Affair" (ep. 1/28)

The title of the 27th episode filmed is apparently a pun on the 1961 Gregory Peck WWII thriller "The Guns of Navarone."  Otherwise why such an unusual name for the "lady race-car driver"?  How the pun connects to the story I don't know, since there are no German soldiers, anti-aircraft guns, or impregnable fortresses to be seen -- and the "girls" of the story are Dr. Egret's, not Nazarone's.  It's a lightweight story with some oddly silly moments, but fun.

The first act is quite solid, however.  Our heroes do good detective work examining Lavinia's hotel room for traces of Dr. Kellwin.  "Methylated cobrox" may not exist in our world, but it should.  Cobra venom dissolved in methyl alcohol, maybe?  It just sounds evil.

It's never stated, but was Dr. Kellwin himself the "something heavy" that Solo theorizes was raised from the balcony?  Isn't that a roundabout way to get your hostage out to your car?  And the gardenia vendor was paid off, then killed -- because he saw this?  Some unanswered questions here.

Part of the fun is that Solo and Illya really have to work at the case, having to tramp to garage after garage to track down the solenoid clue.  And they both look rather rumpled and weary, as anybody would after hitting fifteen garages in an afternoon.

Their scheme to retrieve the formula from Thrush is quite clever.  Naturally Dr. Egret wouldn't want a competitor in the market!  But if I were her, I'd suspect Solo and Illya's setup dialogue.  She probably had them sized up as U.N.C.L.E. agents, and would know they wouldn't discuss such matters where there could be microphones.

Transports of Delight: Nazarone's sports car looks like the famed AC Cobra roadster, one of the fastest cars of its time ("Hey, Little Cobra, don't you know you're gonna shut 'em down. . . .").  Mme. Streigau's elegant sedan is a top-of-the-line Mercedes 300SE “fintail," nicknamed that even at the time; Mercedes was aping, however mildly, the fins on American cars.  Very appropriate car for the Riviera.  And Lavinia's new car is the famous Jaguar E-Type or XKE (". . . there were plenty of Sting Rays and XKEs. . . .").  Were they as fast as an AC Cobra, though?  In the driving scenes, both cars look like they've been fired from colossal slingshots.

It occurs to me that even if the resurrection formula didn't work in the long run, Thrush could have sold it on the international black market as a short-term revenue-generating -- and deadly -- swindle.

The silly moments are confined, mostly, to the "fight" scenes between Solo and Nazarone ("You're not being very feminine!") and the girls at the clinic/garage.  Only Nazarone is shown to have super-strength, and both Solo and Illya outweigh the clinic girls and are masters of unarmed combat as well.  Was this supposed to be a startling role-reversal? Or to show how even our heroes would be handicapped by ingrained chivalry?

Solo's "What's up, doc?" to Dr. Baurel makes me wince every time I watch it.  Surely a man with such a gift for sarcasm and drollery as U.N.C.L.E.'s Chief Enforcement Agent could come up with something better than to quote Bugs Bunny?  (I suspect the line is there to round out the routine where he totes the flotation pad in front of him as concealment, which comes straight out of Warner's old cartoons, too.)

Why the squabble at the end?  I mean, Solo, after having reported the loss of the serum to Waverly, is understandably upset with Illya when he finds Illya has concealed the fact that the serum is a failure.   But why does Illya do this in the first place?  Some of the raillery between them (in Fields's scripts especially) is irritating.

Verdict: Not one of the gems of the first season, though it sustains its energy all the way through.

Memorable lines:
Lavinia (to Solo, holding up the Do Not Disturb sign): "Do glance at it from time to time.  Flash cards still work with children of all ages."

Solo (to Nazarone, re: Illya): "Tovarisch, here, always thinks he knows -- "

Nazarone (to Solo, at the clinic): "Signor, I neither know you nor like your face."
(How dare she not like Napoleon's face!  Da noive of some people!)

Solo (to Nazarone): "I am seeking to find out why you are not a mite more chilly than you are. . . .   Seems to me the last time I saw you, you were rather well-ventilated.  By a number of bullets."

Solo (to Baurel, clearing his throat after Nazarone chokes him without breaking a sweat): "What seems to be your patient's trouble?  Malnutrition, loss of energy, vitamin deficiency, or --?"

Illya (dourly, about Lavinia): "Bored, lonesome, and doggedly determined to enjoy every minute of it."

Lavinia (to Illya): "Oh, good.  One of you learned how to knock on a door."

Illya (about Nazarone and her supercar): "How do you suggest I stop that female rocket?"
Solo: "I don't know, maybe you should show her your legs!"

"The See-Paris-and-Die Affair" (ep. 1/22)

For some reason, I recall the title of this one (and the reappearance of the U.N.C.L.E. helicopter) from my original viewing in 1965.   Bill Koenig calls it "a fairly frothy romp," and it is, rather like a high-spirited mix of the first "Pink Panther" movies (which date from '63-`64) and "Mission: Impossible."  Here, as in "Vulcan," our heroes use an old girlfriend of their target to manipulate him -- but that's only part of their plan.

Project Gutenberg has a 1919 text called "Marse Henry," by Henry Watterson, who writes in Volume 2, Chapter III: "'See Naples and die,' say the Italians. 'See Paris and live,' say the French."  Of course the title here could also have been a play on a travel slogan of the early `60s.  "See Paris and Live!" sounds like the kind of thing Pan Am or TWA would have done.

The Van Schreeten cousins are supposed to be Dutch, and more than once Josef uses the Dutch term mijnheer ("mister"). Nice touch.

Max says that his emissary will seek out Mary in NY.  Instead we see Solo "recruiting" her by stuffing her in a cab – a high-handed move (see below), and one that would get him arrested today.  We should have seen Max's man making the offer.  Then Solo could enter and explain what is really behind it.  Nor am I ever sure why Mary agrees to work with Solo at all, other than his bribe of the marvelous makeover at HQ.

Puzzler: Early in Act I, it's dark in NY, but light in Paris.  Since Mary was leaving in the dark, I think it must have been about 6 am there, which means it was about 12 noon in Paris.  Rather late for the streets of the City of Light to be so empty, n'est ce pas?  If it had been 6 am in Paris, fine, but why was Mary leaving at midnight?

Illya really is painted as the hapless sidekick in this one, isn't he?  Solo refers to his "repulsive countenance," he fails to imagine that the diamonds could be in the furniture, gets knocked out, and then is stuck with a thankless legwork job at the end by Solo.

In his French cop act Solo gives the name "Inspector Javert," a reference to the policeman who hunts Jean Valjean.  Good thing Josef never read "Les Miserables."  Solo’s "Javert" seems rather like Inspector Clouseau -- he's supposed to be a Frenchman speaking English with a thick French accent, which (as with Peter Sellers' bumbling cop) is part of the joke.  But he uses phrases like vitement ("quickly"?) and "this grassy snake," which does sound like a French speaker's attempt at the English idiom "snake in the grass."  Josef and Corio are not fooled, however.  Was that part of Solo and Illya's plan?

For some reason I've always pictured Philip II of Spain (he of the ill-fated Armada) as looking like Kevin Hagen, who plays Krolik.

Mary recognizes Illya on the street outside the train station, but we never saw them meet.  Also, when Solo is escaping, why wouldn't she tell the French sergeant that he's with U.N.C.L.E.?

How could Corio hide from Max in the dining car?  And if you say he came in after they were seated and sat behind Max, Mary should have recognized him; they'd worked together at Max's club.

Darned high-handed of Solo (again!) to swipe a police car!  And then a private citizen's convertible!  Of course no one was hurt, and he was desperate to follow the train.  On the other hand, setting fire to the farmer's hay wagon --!  I hope the Command reimbursed the poor guy!

Scripters Fields and Stark lead up well to the climax; the passage of time from day to night is well done.

To settle a helicopter atop a moving truck takes tremendous skill, I'd expect.  We saw Solo flying the U.N.C.L.E. 'copter in "Finny Foot," but I think this is Illya's debut as a pilot.  (Come to think of it, the story could be subtitled "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.")  But why does settling the `copter on the truck make the truck driver stop?

Verdict: Despite some unanswered questions and plot holes, it's still more exciting than a simple plot summary would indicate, with the humor in the right places.  And it's rather neat that Solo and Illya are not always in control of the situation, as they often seem to be.

Memorable lines:
Illya (to Solo): "So now you can indulge yourself in your nefarious flair for the dramatic."

Solo (grimly): "T-H-R . . ."
Illya (just as grimly): ". . . U-S-H."

Illya (glaring at Solo over his gigantic sandwich): "Must you put ketchup and mustard on everything?"

Solo (as "Inspector Javert," to the hapless Illya): "We go to sweat you a little bit, eh, pussycat?"

Solo (to the police sergeant, as he appropriates the police car): "In no way do I represent American foreign policy, monsieur!"

Solo (over the barrel of his gun, to Corio): "For such a despicable fellow you have an amazingly accurate memory."

Mary: "Napoleon?  [Corio's] going to kill us anyway, isn't he?"
Solo (nods ruefully): "Unfortunately, Thrush's handbook bears no similarity whatever to that of the Boy Scouts of America."

"The Fiddlesticks Affair" (ep. 1/16)

Here we are, just past the halfway mark in the first season, and "Fiddlesticks" is a top-notch story in a season which has hardly seen two stories at all similar to each other.  I imagine Bruce Geller watching this one in January of '65 and murmuring to himself, "Yes!  That's just what my series should be like --!"

Of course there had been heist stories on film before.  "Five Against the House" (1955) features a casino robbery, and "Rififi" (1955) and "Topkapi" (1964) focus on jewel heists. The difference here is that Solo and Illya are law officers, not criminals.  Plus this is one of the rare MfU stories in which they take the initiative against Thrush, rather than merely reacting to the supranation's moves.  Fifty-five mil may not seem like much to us today, but it translates to something like $350,000,000 in 2006 dollars.  Still, it seems paltry for a sum intended to bankroll all of Thrush's activities in the Western Hemisphere.

In the `80s CBN cut the scene between Solo and Illya on the plane, and for years I thought they already had their innocent and their safecracker lined up somehow.  It seems improvident for them to wait until they reach the resort to look for a girl to help them with their diversion.  Wouldn't it make more sense to draft a female Command agent like the lady on the plane and in place at Vulcan's soiree, back in "Vulcan"?  But then there would have been no innocent (Rudolph could hardly be honored with that term), and it would have been a team of pros like the Impossible Missions Force.

Speaking of Rudolph, Dan O'Herlihy's performance is a gem.  Rudolph is raffish, cowardly, untrustworthy, proud of his skills, and hugely amused at Solo's distress in the vault.  He would have made an excellent return guest character: still on the run from Thrush and therefore vulnerable to Solo and Illya again -- or perhaps, after a year of hiding from the Hierarchy, exasperated and willing to help our heroes strike again at his tormentors.  (Heck, Rudolph'd make a fascinating antihero on his own.)

CBN also cut that bristly little scene at the lagoon between Solo and Illya.   Illya almost appears to be jealous of Solo getting the girl, even though the "getting" is only in the line of duty. I t's a peculiar scene, and begins a tradition, especially in Peter Allan Fields scripts, I think, of having the two snipe at each other almost like a long-married couple.  Their exchanges in "Terbuf" -- for instance, when Illya kids Solo, "It's a handicap, isn't it?  Being so obviously American" -- work much better.  On the other hand, we see how worried Solo is about Illya when, in the vault, he realizes he will not be able to deactivate the explosives before Illya begins to cut through.

As we saw in "Giuco Piano," Solo and Illya focus on the job, excluding Susan from their world of planning.  (Does anybody else think that Marlyn Mason looks kind of like Shelley Fabares of "The Donna Reed Show"?)

The suspense, accentuated by the superb Lalo Schifrin music (was Bruce Geller inspired by this episode to use him to score M: I?), is ratcheted up by two simple techniques.  Not only does Solo not know every hazard they have to face and so must improvise, but chance takes a hand as well, delaying Illya because his sparker cannot light his torch and his torch will not stay lit.  Again much like early M: I.

You might wonder why Illya is able to kick his torched panel loose so easily.  Well, he had 14 pounds of air pressure per square inch pushing on it from his side, and very little pressure on the vault side.

A neat character touch, that Anton Korbel keeps his teeth clenched on his stogie even while on his back on the floor.  Somehow, though, his name doesn't fit a guy who looks and talks as if he should be running a bookie joint in Queens.

Verdict: With sparkling dialog on top of exciting plot, one of the most memorable stories of the entire series, showing that the production, writing, and acting teams have really hit their stride.

Great Lines:
Illya: "Into the valley of Thrush rode the six hundred."
(Clearly Illya is familiar with Tennyson; and just as clearly the audience was expected to recognize the original line)

Solo: "Never in the history of the American drama has the cavalry been late."

Solo: "If you touch the wall before I throw the switch [to turn off the explosives], I will hear a very loud noise, and you will be scattered all over the Caribbean."
Illya (fatalistically): "Well, a good agent should be in many places at once."

Illya: "A deceptively easy beginning . . . to a frightening series of hazards."

Rudolph (aghast, to Solo): "Are you insane?"
Solo: "I don't, ah, think so." (To Illya) "Are you insane?"
Illya (pulling on his flippers): "No, but I'm chilly."

Solo (to a reluctant Rudolph): "You're supposed to follow instructions. That's all ye know on earth and all ye need to know." 

Rudolph: "This is Thrush, you blockhead! You will never pull it off!"
Solo (levelly): "Well, that's unfortunate for you, Rudolph. Because you're going to go in front of me. And where I step, you will have stepped first; and where I die, you will have died first."