Chalk up another one for "all things are possible in this ol' world of ours." I am going to praise television in this post. Not all television, of course. Only classic television. I ask the reader not to quibble over what exactly is classic television, and why I should be the judge of it.
Let it suffice to recall the proverbial supreme court justice, who, when asked to define pornography, could only reply, "Well, maybe I can't define it, exactly. But I can recognize it when I see it." What is true of porn is even more true of "classics."
How did this strange new appreciation even happen? More classic television shows are available on DVDs, these days. I wouldn't watch them with commercials.
Perhaps it was listening to (director) Sidney Lumet's commentary track on the DVD of "Network." He reminisced about the early days of television, when shows were performed in front of live audiences, on stages in New York City. They had a deep reservoir of talented actors and writers to draw on. Then the TV industry moved to southern California, and the laugh track was invented.
Since I watch DVDs primarily to fall asleep, I decided that dialogue-intensive, low budget television was a better medium than eye-candy-intensive, high-production-value movies.
So then, which show do you choose first? Remember, 'classic' does not necessarily mean old, famous, or popular. I chose "The Rifleman," and was immediately pleased and impressed. It was one of the first shows to use a widowed father, with the obvious advantage of permitting plot possibilities. Chuck Connors had a rugged, athletic presence on the screen that exceeded most Hollywood western stars, who were usually un-tough 'pretty boys' with big hair.
The son, played by Johnny Crawford, was still young enough to be a cute kid; he was also the best boy-actor I know of, and a great horsemen. They gave this 11-year-old squirt a full-sized horse to ride. He had to practically high jump up to the stirrup. He could dismount when the horse was still moving.
I was overwhelmed by the moral decency in these episodes of "The Rifleman." Modern television shows are pure trash, by comparison. The "center held" in America in 1958. The politics was not as polarized. There was a certain amount of consensus about basic values that you could agree to, whether you were Democrat or Republican.
Today it only takes a code-word or two from somebody's mouth before you decide you have nothing to say to them.
The guest starts were amazingly versatile: Peter Whitney, Dabs Greer, Whit Bissell, and Royal Dano. I never before appreciated how the television program format has an advantage that movies lack: movies give so much screen time to the star, and yet, I typically enjoy the performance of the supporting actors more than that of the star.
Television inverts that: the so-called star becomes a bit bland due to his over-exposure, and he soon recedes to the background. The real star of each episode is the 'guest star.'
And then there are the women guest stars: Joanna Moore, Patricia Blair, Julie Adams, Patricia Barry, Christine White... all of them outrageously beautiful women in their thirties. Here again, television added 'value': such women would have been neglected by the movie industry, which is always trying to discover the next hot new starlet. But the female guest stars on television were better and more experienced actresses in their thirties.
At first I was surprised by "The Rifleman" being in black-and-white. But of course color television was not yet mainstream in 1958. I vaguely remember the famous opening shot and theme song of this classic show. It actually occurred a couple years before 'my time.' How ideal! Something that is only half-remembered is imbued with a glamor, romance, and nostalgia.
Let it suffice to recall the proverbial supreme court justice, who, when asked to define pornography, could only reply, "Well, maybe I can't define it, exactly. But I can recognize it when I see it." What is true of porn is even more true of "classics."
How did this strange new appreciation even happen? More classic television shows are available on DVDs, these days. I wouldn't watch them with commercials.
Perhaps it was listening to (director) Sidney Lumet's commentary track on the DVD of "Network." He reminisced about the early days of television, when shows were performed in front of live audiences, on stages in New York City. They had a deep reservoir of talented actors and writers to draw on. Then the TV industry moved to southern California, and the laugh track was invented.
Since I watch DVDs primarily to fall asleep, I decided that dialogue-intensive, low budget television was a better medium than eye-candy-intensive, high-production-value movies.
So then, which show do you choose first? Remember, 'classic' does not necessarily mean old, famous, or popular. I chose "The Rifleman," and was immediately pleased and impressed. It was one of the first shows to use a widowed father, with the obvious advantage of permitting plot possibilities. Chuck Connors had a rugged, athletic presence on the screen that exceeded most Hollywood western stars, who were usually un-tough 'pretty boys' with big hair.
The son, played by Johnny Crawford, was still young enough to be a cute kid; he was also the best boy-actor I know of, and a great horsemen. They gave this 11-year-old squirt a full-sized horse to ride. He had to practically high jump up to the stirrup. He could dismount when the horse was still moving.
I was overwhelmed by the moral decency in these episodes of "The Rifleman." Modern television shows are pure trash, by comparison. The "center held" in America in 1958. The politics was not as polarized. There was a certain amount of consensus about basic values that you could agree to, whether you were Democrat or Republican.
Today it only takes a code-word or two from somebody's mouth before you decide you have nothing to say to them.
The guest starts were amazingly versatile: Peter Whitney, Dabs Greer, Whit Bissell, and Royal Dano. I never before appreciated how the television program format has an advantage that movies lack: movies give so much screen time to the star, and yet, I typically enjoy the performance of the supporting actors more than that of the star.
Television inverts that: the so-called star becomes a bit bland due to his over-exposure, and he soon recedes to the background. The real star of each episode is the 'guest star.'
And then there are the women guest stars: Joanna Moore, Patricia Blair, Julie Adams, Patricia Barry, Christine White... all of them outrageously beautiful women in their thirties. Here again, television added 'value': such women would have been neglected by the movie industry, which is always trying to discover the next hot new starlet. But the female guest stars on television were better and more experienced actresses in their thirties.
At first I was surprised by "The Rifleman" being in black-and-white. But of course color television was not yet mainstream in 1958. I vaguely remember the famous opening shot and theme song of this classic show. It actually occurred a couple years before 'my time.' How ideal! Something that is only half-remembered is imbued with a glamor, romance, and nostalgia.
Comments
Some facts stranger than fiction. In the opening credits Chuck Conners fires 12 rounds in 5 seconds ( I have read that the 13th round was dubbed in). Considering all the hubbub about the AR-15 (which is not what the Orlando shooter was using) being an automatic (not so - every shot requires a trigger pull) it pales in comparison for a rate of fire. The sustained rate of fire for a AR-15 is roughly 12-15 rounds per minute. They tend to overheat and/or jam if you shoot too fast. It has been widely reported that the AR-15 jammed in the Aurora, CO shooting.
The Orlando shooter used a Sig Sauer MCX but the Media pundits don't know the difference between an automatic and a semi-automatic so you can not expect them to know the difference between manufactures. Everything to them is an assault rifle - which is also erroneous.
Chris
Don in Okla.