THE NEW AVENGERS: 'THE MIDAS TOUCH'

 

A photo-still depicting Midas in his 'Masque of the Red Death'-lookalike costume from The Midas Touch episode of The New Avengers (© Brian Clemens/Albert Fennell/Robert Fuest/The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises Ltd/London Weekend – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Imagine a young man inoculated with every deadly disease known to humanity in a manner ensuring that he himself is immune to all of them and shows no outward sign of being such a horrific carrier, but also ensuring that anyone who touches or is touched by his bare skin is fated to die within minutes – of everything, suffering from and killed by all of the countless diseases with which the young man has been inoculated.

Imagine, still further, that the diabolical germ-warfare scientist responsible for this heinous feat, a Professor Turner (played by David Swift), is hiring the young man out to the highest bidder, to use him for whatever dreadful, murderous purpose the bidder chooses. In return, Turner is paid in gold – lots and lots of gold, to which he is totally addicted, like a small-screen Auric Goldfinger. The young man therefore serves not only as a veritable Grim Reaper, with his touch of death, but also as a veritable King Midas, with his deadly touch creating gold, literally, for Turner.

Little wonder, then, that Turner has dubbed the young man Midas. And now a princess is about to become the next unsuspecting victim of Midas and Turner – unless Steed, Gambit, and Purdy can stop them!

Yes indeed, this episode – 'The Midas Touch', directed by Robert Fuest – is my all-time favourite from the mid-1970s, 2-series British secret agent TV show The New Avengers, created by Brian Clemens and Albert Fennell, constituting an official direct sequel to the very popular 1960s show The Avengers, creatwd by Sydney Newman, with Patrick MacNee starring as the archetypal super-suave British secret agent John Steed in both of them, but ably assisted in this new incarnation by Purdy (Joanna Lumley) and Gambit (Gareth Hunt).

I watched 'The Midas Touch' on 28 August 2023, for the first time since it was originally screened almost 50 years ago, and it was just as good as I'd remembered. Here's Midas (played by Gilles Millinaire) in his usual form (below) and in his 'Masque of the Red Death'-lookalike costume (above). Vincent Price would have approved, I'm sure.

Click here to watch an excerpt from this episode's opening scene in which Midas makes his deadly debut at a costume party, dressed as the Red Death (inspred by the famous Edgar Allan Poe short story), to plunge his hands into the punch bowl from which all of the guests are innocently imbibing its now-lethal contents.

Finally: to view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Midas in his usual form ((© Brian Clemens/Albert Fennell/The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises Ltd/London Weekend – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

 

GEMINI MAN (1976 TV show)

 

Ben Murphy as the bedenimed biker and Intersect special agent Sam Casey, aka the Gemini Man, in Gemini Man (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Back in the 1970s, I watched virtually every sci-fi show on TV here in the UK, but somehow managed to miss Gemini Man, starring Ben Murphy (already known to me from the excellent comedy Western series Alias Smith and Jones, in which he played outlaw Kid Curry).

Directed by Michael Caffey, Alan Crosland Jr, and Alan J. Levy, originally screened in 1976 by NBC in the States ( by the BBC in the UK), and conceived as a modern-day take on the famous 1897 novel The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells, Gemini Man focuses upon US secret agent/bedenimed biker Sam Casey (played by Ben Murphy) who, following a near-fatal nuclear-related accident that rendered him invisible and life-saving surgery to reverse this dramatic effect, is able with the aid of a special DNA-stabilising wristwatch to remain visible. However, if he presses one of its special buttons, he can become invisible again, for up to 15 minutes every day – but for no more than 15 minutes every day, otherwise he would vanish forever and die.

 

Sam Casey (Ben Murphy) and Dr Abby Lawrence (Katherine Crawford), from Gemini Man (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Sam is dubbed the Gemini Man by his boss Leonard Driscoll (William Sylvester), and, assisted by brilliant scientist Dr Abby Lawrence (Katherine Crawford) who invented his unique wristwatch, he is now able to undergo extra-special assignments for Intersect, the high-tech US government think tank where they all work, that no ordinary agent, lacking Sam's extraordinary, top-secret ability of invisibility, could possibly hope to accomplish.

I knew about this intriguing show, and had even seen the official Gemini Man hardback annual on sale at Christmas 1976-1977 (a copy of which I recently purchased, in excellent secondhand condition, and only four decades late!), following the show's TV screening earlier that year by the BBC. (Speaking of which: there was also a BBC-authorised Gemini Man colouring book on sale in 1976, not to mention a BBC-authorised Gemini Man fun sticker book, and even a Gemini Man LP album, released by Power Records, but I regret to say that I don't own any of these!)

 

Front and back covers of the Universal City Studios-authorized 1977 Gemini Man annual, and front cover of the BBC-authorised Gemini Man colouring book (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC/Universal City Studios, Inc./Brown Watson/BBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Yet for reasons entirely unknown to me, I never got around to watching any of its single season of eleven 50-minute episodes. Nor even its feature-length pilot episode. Perhaps it clashed with some other series that I or my parents were watching on another TV channel?

Tragically, however, Gemini Man was never repeated in the UK, so I never did get the chance to watch it – until 15 May 2020, that is, when to my surprise and delight I discovered that all eleven episodes of this show (plus the pilot, in which Driscoll is played not by William Sylvester but instead by Richard A. Dysart) were currently available to watch free of charge on YouTube!

 

Cover of the Gemini Man LP record (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC/Power Records – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

So I swiftly downloaded the full set as MP4 files, in case they were subsequently taken down from YouTube, which often happens. Now, after a mere 44 years' delay I could finally view them all, and at my leisure. I'd read that Gemini Man didn't get good reviews at the time (especially not in the States, explaining why only 5 episodes were screened there before the show was cancelled, whereas all eleven were screened in the UK), which almost guaranteed that I'd like it!

I also discovered and downloaded an official Gemini Man TV movie, Riding With Death, released in 1981, which consists of two Gemini Man episodes that had been deftly spliced together. These are Episode 1, entitled 'Smithereens', and Episode 10, entitled 'Buffalo Bill Rides Again', linked by the appearance in both of them (but in no others) of a C&W-singing trucker character named 'Buffalo' Bill Joe Hickens (played by real-life country singer Jim Stafford), who becomes friends with Sam after saving his life during 'Smithereen', with Sam duly returning the favour in 'Buffalo Bill Rides Again'. Interestingly, this movie also utilizes excerpts from a 1970 American science fiction film entitled Colossus: The Forbin Project, which I've reviewed here.

 

'Buffalo' Bill (Jim Stafford) and Sam Casey (Ben Murphy) in the Gemini Man TV movie Riding With Death (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

A couple of days later, on 17 May 2023, I watched the movie-length pilot episode downloaded from YouTube, which proved to be a source of great fun, and great nostalgia, taking me effortlessly back to 1976 when everything felt so much simpler, and nicer. It even drew to a close with a straightforward happy ending – no angst and hang-ups like we find in today's TV shows, instead simply offering some amusing, lighthearted sci fi & spying gimmickry not to be taken seriously, just enjoyed. True, the viewing quality wasn't brilliant but it was serviceable. Consequently, I knew that I was certainly going to enjoy the 11 normal-length episodes now – and sure enough, I did!

Such a shame, then, that Gemini Man has only ever achieved one official home viewing release – namely, a French DVD box set released by Elephant Films, containing the eleven episodes plus the pilot (but not the 1981 movie), with French-language cover descriptions but the original English audio tracks. I spotted three sets for sale on ebay on 19 May 2020, all brand-new but even the cheapest was a hefty £54.99, which I felt unable to justify purchasing, especially as I already had the YouTube versions. So I decided to stick with my downloads, at least for the time being, merci.

 

The French Gemini Man complete DVD box set (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC/Elephant Films – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Fast forward to 21 May 2020, when after much procrastination during the previous few weeks I finally decided to dip my toes into the unknown waters of online trivia quizzes – but only ones that were free to enter, offered cash prizes, and only required a PayPal account (not bank details) to pay any winnings into. So, I entered one such quiz, and ten minutes later my PayPal account had gained £52.63 in winnings, and my DVD collection had duly gained the complete Gemini Man box set. I could get to like online quizzing!

So there is the story of how I made visible in my world at long last the invisible Gemini Man, but it still seems unbelievable to me that this show was originally screened 47 years ago, when I was only 16. Judging from the associated merchandise that was available for it back then, there were high hopes that this sci fi TV show would be a success. Yet although it wasn't, it deserved to be.

 

Sam Casey (Ben Murphy) with his Intersect boss Leonard Driscoll (William Sylvester) and scientist friend/helper Dr Abby Lawrence (Katherine Crawford) (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC/Universal City Studios, Inc. – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As noted earlier, all of the eleven 50-minute Gemini Man episodes, plus the feature-length pilot, and the 1981 TV movie Riding With Death, can currently be accessed on YouTube. So, click here, for example, if you'd like to view the pilot, here if you'd like to view the first of the 50-minute episodes, here if you'd like to view Riding With Death, and here if you'd like to call up all of the episodes in a single YouTube listing.

Finally: to view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Ben Murphy as Sam Casey, the Gemini Man (© Michael Caffey/Alan Crosland Jr/Alan J. Levy/Harve Bennett Productions/Universal Television/NBC/Universal City Studios, Inc. – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

ALEXANDER THE GREATEST

 

Publicity photo from Alexander the Greatest, depicting Gary Warren as Alexander Green on the left, with one of Alexander's friends on the right, and a splendiferous classic automobile regally occupying centre-stage (© Bernard Kops/Shaun O'Riordan/ATV/ITV – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Today, 1970s British child/youth actor Gary Warren is probably remembered only for two roles. Namely, as Cedric 'Owl Face' Collingford, a modern-day youngster who is friends with the anachronistic medieval wizard Catweazle (memorably played by Geoffrey Bayldon) in the second, 1971 series of the eponymous children's UK TV comedy show; and, above all else, as Peter Waterbury, the youngest of the three Railway Children in the timeless British period drama movie of the same title, released in 1970, which also starred Jenny Agutter, Sally Thomsett, Dinah Sheridan, and Bernard Cribbins.

However, as I originally mentioned in a 26 August 2023 post on Facebook, I also well remember and greatly enjoyed watching a third, slightly later, yet nowadays all but forgotten role of his, as the title character in a 1970s British TV sitcom entitled Alexander the Greatest, in which he played Alexander Green, a rebellious teenager (is there any other kind? lol).

Created by Bernard Kops, directed and produced by Shaun O'Riordan, running to two series collectively containing 13 half-hour episodes (6 in Series 1, 7 in Series 2), and screened by ATV for the ITV network in 1971-72, Alexander the Greatest focuses upon the comic trials and tribulations of the middle-class Greens, a Jewish family living in Golders Green, North London.

Much of these woes are of course caused directly or indirectly by their restless 16-year-old son Alexander, amusingly aided and abetted in a number of episodes by his bespectacled best mate, the unflatteringly-nicknamed Four Eyes (Spencer Banks).

(Spencer Banks, incidentally, is another former British child/youth star active in the early 1970s, appearing in everything from the very popular 1970/71 UK children's sci fi TV show Timeslip to Walt Disney's 1973 family comedy/crime movie Diamonds On Wheels, appearing in the latter alongside yet another 1970s British youth star, Peter Firth – aka Scooper in the much-loved, oft-repeated 1970 UK children's TV show Here Come The Double Deckers).

For Alexander has reached that tumultuous teenage time of life that all parents know so well, and dread so much, when he (over-)confidently believes that he knows everything about everything, and yearns to put his adolescent omniscience to the test out in the wider world far beyond Golders Green (fantasizing accordingly in best Billy Liar style) – much to the frustration and confusion of his long-suffering father Joe (Sydney Tafler), who works as a West End furrier in central London's Great Portland Street, and mother Fay (played by Libby Morris in Series 1, Stella Moray in Series 2), not to mention his troublesome sister Renata (Adrienne Posta).

The eponymous theme song to Alexander the Greatest, performed and co-written by the coincidentally-named Barry Green (a British singer/songwriter who subsequently swapped name shades to achieve several mid-1970s UK chart hits as Barry Blue), was very catchy – so much so, in fact, that although the show has never been repeated on TV for decades, I've always remembered its sing-along chorus.

(All 13 episodes of Alexander the Greatest do still exist, btw, but eleven of them now only in b/w form rather than in their original colour versions, which were wiped after their first TV screening.)

Moreover, I was both surprised and delighted to discover recently that not only had this theme song been released as a single (which I'd never even known about, probably because it failed to chart, sadly), but also it could be listened to on YouTube (click here to do so). So now, after more than 50 years, I've finally been able to re-familiarize myself with its verses too, not just its chorus!

Conversely, I have so far been unable to track down any excerpts, let alone complete episodes, of Alexander the Greatest anywhere online (not even the indefatigable YouTube contains any). Consequently, I am presently unable to provide in my customary fashion any clickable links to such here, other than the above one accessing this show's theme song, but if anyone reading this review can point me in the right direction with regard to any such clips or episodes, I'd be extremely grateful!

Finally: to view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Gary Warren, playing the cocky, achingly-cool (at least in his dreams!) Alexander Green, in Alexander the Greatest (© Bernard Kops/Shaun O'Riordan/ATV/ITV – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

CHICO AND THE MAN

Publicity poster for Chico and the Man (© James Komack/Peter Baldwin/Jack Donohue/The Komack Company Inc./Wolper Productions/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Two of my favourite American TV sitcoms of the 1970s that were screened here in the UK were CBS's Rhoda (a highly successful Mary Tyler Moore Show spin-off and starring Valerie Harper in the title role), which was often repeated here after its original run, and NBC's Chico and the Man, which wasn't. In fact, I never remember seeing Chico and the Man on TV here again after its initial four-season run during the mid-to-late 1970s.

This may be due to the tragic fact that its bright, up-and-coming, and extremely likeable young star Freddie Prinze, who played Chico (with Jack Albertson as the Man), committed suicide at the age of only 22, after launching his TV career in brilliant style and to immense acclaim just 3 years earlier at the tender age of 19 via a superb stand-up debut performance on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show (click here to watch it on YouTube).

 

Publicity photograph of Freddie Prinze and Jack Albertson to announce the 1974 premiere of Chico and the Man (Wikipedia/public domain)

Created and co-directed by James Komack, and launched in September 1974, Chico and the Man focuses upon a youthful and perpetually buoyant but highly-skilled Latino car mechanic, Chico Rodriguez, who doggedly persuades an old, intensely grouchy, crabby garage owner in downtown East Los Angeles named Ed Brown (the Man) to employ him and allow him to spruce up Ed's ramshackle garage, in which, like life itself, Ed has lost all interest since the passing of his beloved wife Margaret.

Their diametrically opposite characteristics and very frequent altercations provide much humour, as does the effervescence of Scatman Crothers playing regular supporting character Louie the garbage collector, plus Della Reese as Ed's neighbour and landlady Della Rogers who debuts in the third season. The show also sports a very catchy, upbeat theme song written and performed by José Feliciano (click here to listen to the full-length version on YouTube).

Louis the garbage collector (Scatman Crothers), Chico Rodriguez (Freddie Prinze), and Ed 'The Man' Brown (Jack Albertson) in Chico and the Man (© James Komack/Peter Baldwin/Jack Donohue/The Komack Company Inc./Wolper Productions/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

However, Freddie's untimely death on 29 January 1977, having shot himself just a few hours previously after filming the 18th of Season 3's 21 episodes, meant that suddenly one of this show's two title characters was gone.

Rather than attempt to replace Freddie by casting another actor as Chico, it was written into the storyline of the 19th episode in Season 3 that Chico had gone off on a visit to Mexico. A fourth season, still with the same title despite no longer having Chico in it, was launched in September 1977, five months after the end of the third season in April of that year. It introduced a swathe of new characters to fill the huge chasm created by Freddie's passing (in one episode, Ed discloses that Chico has died, yet does not divulge any details), but without his ready charm it failed to interact with the audience. So in July 1978, at the end of that same season, the show was cancelled.

 

Photo-still from an episode of Chico and the Man, featuring Freddie Prinz as Chico and Jack Albertson as Ed Brown (the Man) (© James Komack/Peter Baldwin/Jack Donohue/The Komack Company Inc./Wolper Productions/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Apart from a single very expensive and hard to find Chico and the Man DVD released a while ago by Warner Bros that contains just a random handful of the 88 episodes in total that were screened on TV, this fine show, which is a wonderful showcase for Freddie's colossal talent for comedy, both sitcom and stand-up, has never been made available in home viewing format. Happily, just over 20 episodes are currently available to watch on YouTube, but I've long wanted to own and watch the full three seasons starring Freddie (the fourth is of little interest to me as without him it is virtually a completely different show).

Imagine my delight, therefore, when on 8 April 2023 I discovered not only that all 88 episodes are available to watch for free online at Archive.org but also that they can all be legally downloaded for personal viewing. So after more than 40 years I could finally rewatch Chico and the Man, which is precisely what I've been doing ever since, viewing at least one episode of those first three seasons whenever I've had a free evening to do so.

 

Another photo-still from an episode of Chico and the Man, featuring Freddie Prinz as Chico and Jack Albertson as Ed Brown (the Man) (© James Komack/Peter Baldwin/Jack Donohue/The Komack Company Inc./Wolper Productions/NBC – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

Naturally, I've been watching them in chronological order, beginning with the very first, pilot one, which sets up the entire scenario of the show, when Chico arrives at Ed's garage in search of employment, and it was just as engaging as I remembered it from four decades ago, making me very grateful that I can now finally revisit this superb show, and whenever I want to, after waiting to do so for such a very long time.

There is no doubt in my mind that had he lived, Freddie would have become one of the greatest entertainers of all time. But just as we do with James Dean and his trio of iconic movies (click here for my biographical review of Jimmy's all-too-brief but stellar on-screen career), thankfully we do still have various taped performances of Freddie's stand-up genius (including his Tonight Show appearances) readily available to view on YouTube and elsewhere. Moreover, I'm truly happy to have discovered and to report here that we can now also watch his peerless TV sitcom show Chico and the Man in its entirety at Archive.org (beginning with: https://archive.org/details/chico-the-man/Chico+%26+Man+S1E01+(Pilot).mp4).

 

Publicity photograph of Freddie Prinze at the pinnacle of his success (© and original source of this photograph is presently unknown to me despite detailed online searches for it made by me; I note that it currently appears here – reproduced, therefore, on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

But come on, NBC, isn't it high time that you made Freddie's one and only starring role in a TV series fully available commercially on DVD and/or Blu-Ray? You know it makes sense, and it would be a fitting, lasting tribute to a uniquely talented star whose incandescence illuminated our world for far too short a period.

Finally: to view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film/TV reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

Publicity photo of Freddie Prinze from 1975 as he guest-hosted The Tonight Show (Wikipedia/public domain)