The Unshakeables: Rob Petrie and The Walnuts from Space

 

A television show succeeds if it holds your attention for the time it’s on. But some episodes stay with you long after the credits roll. The emotions they generate do not dissipate for several minutes – sometimes several hours. And when you think about them months or even years later, you find the imprint they left on your mind remains as formidable as ever.

 

These are the “Unshakeables.”

 

You watch a comedy to laugh. And with our favorite classics we watch to spend some time in the company of familiar, likable characters, who can help us to relax and unwind after a hard day’s work.

 

But what happens when those characters stop acting like themselves – when they become something unsettling – even sinister?

 

That’s what happens in “It May Look Like a Walnut,” one of the most famous episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show. 

 

 

Written by series creator Carl Reiner, it has been chosen by both Reiner and Van Dyke among their favorite shows, and was selected to TV Guide’s list of the 100 best situation comedy episodes. A newsletter published for series fans that lasted 20 years was titled “The Walnut Times,” another indication of that installment’s enduring fame.

 

Putting sitcom characters in scary situations was nothing new, but viewers were conditioned to expect only comical frights.  Episodes like “Monkee See, Monkee Do” (The Monkees) and “My Master, The Ghostbreaker” (I Dream of Jeannie) were no more frightening than the average Scooby Doo mystery.

 

The Dick Van Dyke Show offered another example of this trope with “The Ghost of A. Chantz,” in which Rob, Laura, Buddy and Sally spend the night in a remote rural cabin that is rumored to be haunted.

 

But “It May Look Like a Walnut” delivered something more potent. Whether by design or merely through the committed performances of a talented cast, they crafted an episode that kept its audience off-balance for most of its running time, before building to a crescendo that must have unsettled more than a few viewers in its day – especially younger ones.

 

I know this to be true because I was one of those viewers. I can’t say for sure how old I was when I first watched the episode in syndication on WGN TV in Chicago, but I still remember how disconcerting it was to my young psyche. As an adult I can applaud its cleverness and creativity – but when I was a kid its impact was so profound that I avoided watching it again for years.

 

The story opens in the Petrie bedroom, where Laura is cowering under the covers to avoid seeing and hearing the science fiction film her husband is watching. Rob is scared as well but can’t turn away as invaders from the planet Twilo replace human beings with pod-people replicants, and rob survivors of their imaginations and their thumbs. They do this to prevent mankind from developing more weapons of mass destruction.

 

 

Rob shows a surprising sadistic streak as he describes all the scary moments to Laura,  who was doing her best to avoid those details. So he’s not surprised the next morning when he finds walnuts strewn across the living room floor, as walnuts played a critical role in Twilo’s plan for world domination. He figures she is getting revenge for scaring her, and takes it in good humor.

 

But then Laura keeps going – to the point where Rob begins to wonder if she could really be so vindictive. He experiences the same odd behavior at the office from Buddy and Sally. Are they all working together to play an elaborate and cruel practical joke? Is he having a nightmare? Or is the Twilo invasion actually happening?

 

 

Panicked, he returns home and into the episode’s most famous scene – when Laura slides out of the hall closet on a mountain of walnuts. And from there Rob finds nowhere to turn as he is surrounded by those he once knew and loved, stalking toward him with expressions of maniacal malevolence, until at last, mercifully, he wakes up from his nightmare.

 

Even now, having watched this episode at least a dozen times over the past 40 years, I approach that climactic scene gingerly, as it revives memories of how it once creeped me out. That’s why the Halloween season seemed like the right time to pay tribute to what was, for me, the original unshakeable, because of how shook I was the first time I saw it.

 

Was I the only one? I hope not, cause that would be pretty embarrassing. 

 

 

Comfort TV Court – Three Memorable Cases

 

Any successful situation comedy will likely feature at least one episode set in a courtroom. The reasons are obvious:

 

1. It’s a familiar setting even for the non-felons in the viewing audience.

 

2. Conflict between characters drives narrative and intensifies audience interest – the courtroom provides a fitting backdrop for such conflicts.

 

3. Courtrooms are serious places, and thus ideal to have their solemn procedures upended with comic situations.

I thought about doing a top ten list of courtroom shows, but there are so many examples of this trope that an occasional series of pieces seemed like a better option. So let’s begin with three cases on our docket today. All rise!

Case #1: Duggan vs. Brady

The Brady Bunch

 

“The Fender Benders” opens after a vehicle accident in a supermarket parking lot. Viewers don’t get to see the crash – the episode opens with Carol and passengers Marcia, Bobby and Cindy returned home in their station wagon, which now sports a dented fender.

 

What should have been settled amicably escalates into a small-claims court case when Mr. Duggan (Jackie Coogan) gives Mr. Brady an exorbitant bill for $295.11 to cover the cost of car repairs.

 

Complicating matters is the fact that Bobby and Cindy suspect the accident was their mom’s fault – though Cindy is a known tattletale and Bobby once idolized outlaw Jesse James, so neither make particularly reliable witnesses.

 

Highlights: Mike reenacts the accident in the Brady driveway to determine who was at fault; Duggan’s courtroom entrance in a neck brace; the verdict triggered by a clever ploy by Mike that delivers one of the more surprising and satisfying climaxes to a Brady episode. 

 

 

Who’s that Judge?

Robert Emhardt, who also played judges on several other TV series from this era, including Medical Center and Police Story. 

 

 

Case #2: Petrie vs. Wiley

The Dick Van Dyke Show

 

In “The Case of the Pillows,” the Petries sue door-to-door salesman Wiley for $80, the price they paid for four pillows that were supposedly made from eiderdown, but were actually filled with, in Rob’s words, “cheap, chopped chicken feathers.”  

 

Highlights: The judge’s growing exasperation at Rob’s bumbling attempt to play Perry Mason (“Would the introduction of an indication of a misrepresentation be a substantiation?”; Alvy Moore as Wiley – he’s best known as Mr. Kimball on Green Acres, but here gets to channel his inner Mr. Haney. 

 

 

At one point, the judge refers to Mr. Petrie as “Mr. Preston,” a  joke I didn’t get until years later, when I realized it was a reference to Lawrence Preston on The Defenders.

 

Who’s that Judge?

It’s veteran character actor Ed Begley, who won an Academy Award in Sweet Bird of Youth, and was brilliant as a legal professor in an episode of The Fugitive entitled “Man in a Chariot.”

 

 

Case #3: The People vs. Addams

The Addams Family

 

Grandmama is arrested for illegal fortune telling, and is defended by Gomez.

 

 

Highlights: just about everything once court is in session. “The Addams Family in Court” is a great showcase for John Astin, and the courtroom provides a perfect backdrop for his wild-eyed, grandiose flights of rhetorical non-sequiturs.

 

Introduced by Morticia as “The bar’s brightest light, Gomez “Loophole” Addams,” he proceeds to baffle and frustrate the judge with inspired nonsense worthy of the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges. This is definitely the funniest of the three cases on today’s docket. 

 

 

Who’s that Judge?

Hal Smith, aka Otis on The Andy Griffith Show and the Santa Claus that Cindy Brady asked to cure her mother’s laryngitis. He’s the perfect flustered straight man for Gomez, though it’s Morticia who finishes him off:

 

Judge: “In all my 30 years on the bench, I have never seen a more preposterous, idiotic, reprehensible display of court conduct.”

 

Morticia: “Well it did start that way, but you redeemed yourself.”

 

Until next time, court is adjourned.

When Bad Episodes Happen to Good TV Shows

I read online that the final season of Game of Thrones will not air until 2019. I don’t watch the show so I’ll not lose sleep over its delay.

But it did make me think of those who find today’s television, particularly the more adult-oriented fare on providers like HBO and Netflix, far superior to the formulaic shows of the past.

I may not share their enthusiasm, but when they tell me these shows are wonderful, I respond that they certainly ought to be, considering it takes them a year or two to come up with 6 or 8 episodes.

This is also why I’ve always thought it was unfair to disparage bad shows from Comfort TV series, when single seasons required as many as 36 original scripts to put into production.

Do bad episodes exist? You already know the answer. From “Lucy and the Monsters” (The Lucy Show) to “The Bewitchin’ Pool” (The Twilight Zone) to “Captain Sligo” (Gunsmoke), almost every television classic occasionally missed the mark, and like most people I skip those episodes when I pull out the DVDs. 

But I have no cause to complain about one or two clunkers. On the contrary, I’m amazed by the remarkable consistency in quality that these series maintained not just over one 24 or 36-episode season, but several.

Was the last season of Bewitched pretty lame and filled with retread stories? Sure, But prior to that the series delivered 228 mostly delightful episodes over seven years.

Did Family Affair misstep by adding the usually welcome Nancy Walker to the Davis household? I’m afraid so. But that final season also delivered gems like “Feat of Clay” and “The Unsinkable Mr. French.” 

And “Homicide and Old Lace” (The Avengers) somehow managed to make John Steed look both dull and silly. But it’s still fun to see Tara King as a blonde.

I remain in awe of what television writers accomplished in this era, on a schedule that seems miraculous today. You look at the “Written by” credit on every episode of I Love Lucy and see the same 4-5 names, over and over, show after show, for 180+ episodes. Try counting up all of the brilliant comedy moments they gave the show’s quartet of stars to play. 

How did Stirling Silliphant write 32 of the 39 (excellent) first-season Naked City episodes? How could Roswell Rogers write more than 100 Father Knows Best shows, all of which are as good or better than those submitted by anyone else? I’ve been a writer for 30 years; I know how challenging it can be to create any type of eloquent and effective prose, even something as simple as this blog. The imagination, inspiration and work ethic exhibited by these writers, directors and actors cannot be understated. 

But that still leaves us with the question of what to do with substandard moments of great shows.

First, let’s distinguish between episodes that just fall short, and those that fail in spectacular ways, since these can be enjoyed on their own terms. A Wonder Woman episode like “Screaming Javelins” is so wondrously bad that I’ve probably watched it more than some of the series’ best shows. 

As for the rest, skipping them is the easy solution. But every so often I challenge myself to find a way to make the viewing experience entertaining. One of my previous blogs explored this very challenge, when I offered five reasons to watch the infamous Star Trek episode “Spock’s Brain.”

Usually I succeed. But sometimes it cannot be done. Try as I might, through at least a half-dozen viewings, I find nothing to celebrate in “The Bad Old Days” from season one of The Dick Van Dyke Show. Its cruelty and atypical misogyny would be out of place in any Comfort TV show, but is particularly grating in a series that featured a woman in the workplace at a time when that was a rarity. “I don’t know what the hell we were doing,” Van Dyke told Vince Waldron in The Official Dick Van Dyke Show Book. “It didn’t work, and we all knew it.” 

But put that into perspective: “The Bad Old Days” was the 28^th show in a 30-show debut season. By then, the series had already aired such now-classic episodes as “My Blonde-Haired Brunette,” “Where Did I Come From?,” “The Curious Thing About Women” and the two-part introduction of Rob’s sleepwalking brother Stacy (Godspeed Jerry Van Dyke). The next four seasons brought us more than 125 more shows that are as fresh and funny today as they were 50 years ago.

So in a popular culture that couldn’t deliver three quality Superman films despite the perfect casting of Christopher Reeve, and spent hundreds of millions of dollars on hit-and-miss Star Wars prequels and sequels, I’ll continue to venerate a television medium that, from the 1950s through the 1980s, went about its business regardless of tight script deadlines and limited budgets, and turned out more quality product than other media achieved with more time and more money. 

It’s Not a Rip-Off – It’s an Homage

Classic TV fans are used to seeing certain stories told over and over across different situation comedies. Think about student-teacher crush episodes, or shows in which a character gets assigned to jury duty, or watching a stable household get turned upside down after a visit from an eccentric relative.

These recurring plots are somewhat derisively referred to as tropes. But Comfort TV fans enjoy their familiarity, and discovering how each show puts its own spin on a time-honored premise.

Occasionally, however, one comes across two episodes where the similarities are more precise. It could be a coincidence – or it could be a situation where a writer hopes no one will make the connection.

In its fifth and final season, The Dick Van Dyke Show presented an episode entitled “The Curse of the Petrie People” (1966), written by Dale McRaven and Carl Kleinschmitt. 

It opens at a party at the Petrie residence, where Rob’s parents present Laura with the “family heirloom” – a huge and hideous gold brooch in the shape of the United States. 

She dreads having to wear it, but to keep peace with her in-laws she agrees to do so – until it’s accidentally mangled in the garbage disposal. Mother Petrie expects to see it at a family dinner next week – what will Laura do?

Fast-forward 22 years to “Present Imperfect,” an episode from the final season of The Facts of Life. 

In this story, written by Howard Leeds, Ben Starr and Jerry Mayer, Tootie receives a huge and hideous pendant from the grandmother of her fiancée, Jeff. She dreads having to wear it, but to keep peace with a future in-law she agrees to do so – until it’s accidentally mangled in a blender. Jeff’s grandmother will expect to see it later that day – what will Tootie do?

Of the two versions The Dick Van Dyke Show mined several more laughs out of the set-up, particularly in the scene when Laura and Millie go to a jewelry store and try to have the piece repaired (the jeweler, upon examining the remains of the America-shaped brooch: “Would you settle for Czechoslovakia?”).

By contrast, the Facts of Life version is uninspired, not surprising for a show that was running on fumes since Charlotte Rae left. Worse, its garish ‘80s fashions and hairstyles almost make the pendant look tasteful and understated by comparison.

Here’s another one: “That Shoplifter” was an episode of That Girl from its fifth and final season. Ann Marie is working in Dawson’s Department Store, as she’s between acting jobs. A man introduces himself as the store’s head of security and offers her a chance to pick up some extra money by posting as a shoplifter. The idea is to test the store’s salespeople, and assess whether they are observant enough to catch her. 

That sets up several amusing sequences of Ann cleverly stealing everything that’s not nailed down – until she discovers her accomplice is not who he claims.

It’s a clever idea from writer Arnold Horwitt, and you’d never guess where it turned up again. Would you believe The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show?

In “No Cash and Carry,” Pebbles takes a job at Gimbelstone’s Department Store. She is approached by a man who introduces himself as Fagenstone, the chief store detective. He wants her to test the store’s security by stealing as much as she can. Pebbles starts stealing, and Fagenstone happily drives away with the hot merchandise.

The first pair of similar shows could conceivably be explained as coincidence, though the plot point around which both revolve is specific enough to raise questions. But with the second pair, there is enough circumstantial evidence to imply appropriation. How fitting that it would happen with a story about stealing!

If I were prosecuting this case, I’d observe that both shows aired in 1971: “That Shoplifter” in February, “No Cash and Carry” in November. Both scripts include the same joke about Ann/Pebbles seeing her picture in the post office. Both also have friends telling them they can’t call the police because they’d never believe their story, resulting in an attempt to capture the phony store employee themselves.

True, Ann Marie never had to contend with Bad Luck Schleprock, but it’s stretching credibility to believe the same story wasn’t just transferred from Manhattan to Bedrock. 

So who (allegedly) wrote it? There’s no way to know – the same seven people received ‘story’ credit for every episode of The Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm Show. We’ve got a solid case, but our suspect remains at large.

Mary

In television there is only one Mary, like there will always be only one Lucy. And when these icons leave us, our sadness is lightened somewhat by the remarkable legacies they leave behind. 

With Mary Tyler Moore, that legacy is primarily comprised of 158 episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show and 168 episodes of The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Together these shows feature some of the finest situation comedy ensemble work the medium has ever seen or ever will see.

On The Dick Van Dyke Show she was the last one cast and the least experienced participant in a show that was both a classic family sitcom and a classic workplace sitcom. 

It’s a series that is now more than 50 years old but hasn’t aged at all. Replace Sally’s typewriter with a computer and the scenes in the Alan Brady Show writer’s room could take place today. Smart and sophisticated, but never too sophisticated for a master class in baggy-pants slapstick, the series remains one of the standards by which excellence in situation comedy should be measured.

It didn’t take long for Mary to find her place among such brilliant comedy veterans as Rose Marie, Morey Amsterdam and series creator Carl Reiner. Seemingly overnight she emerged as a gifted comedic actress in episodes such as “My Blonde-Haired Brunette,” “The Curious Thing About Women,” “The Life and Love of Joe Coogan” and “Pink Pills and Purple Parents” among many others.

I think of her most from this series in the Petries’ New Rochelle home, garbed in capri pants that generated controversy back in the day, both for the break in tradition of women wearing dresses on television, and for their form-fitting quality that gave male viewers one more reason to watch. 

Rob and Laura at home gave us a glimpse into an idealized suburban lifestyle to which many of us still aspire. Who wouldn’t love to attend one of those delightful parties at 148 Bonnie Meadow Rd., where witty conversation is exchanged, and guests and hosts perform polished song-and-dance numbers in the living room? 

It was a tough act to follow, but when Mary returned to television, this time as a headliner, the series would equal its predecessor in quality and genre impact. Mary Richards was not the same as Laura Petrie – though memories of Laura prevented the new series from creating the character as a divorcee.

She was a single woman out on her own, entering the workforce at a time when that was still evolving from a novelty into a familiar lifestyle. Mary Richards became a feminist icon and that’s great – but it wouldn’t have mattered if the show weren’t funny as well. And it was. 

Mary Tyler Moore carried two valuable lessons from her first classic series into her second – building memorable home and workplace settings that could each inspire good stories, and the importance of being surrounded by a cast of characters that brought their own métier to the mix.

If you go back to the series now, as I’m sure so many of you will, you’ll see that while Mary gets top billing, most of the laughs are generated by those around her: Rhoda’s sass and Ted’s bumbling news broadcasts; Murray’s insults and Phyllis’s self-centeredness; Lou Grant’s bulldog bark and Sue Ann’s lascivious come-ons. 

Mary was the center around which these iconic characters circled, reacting with bemusement or disbelief or appreciation at their antics. But when she was called on to deliver a big comic moment, as in the series of mishaps leading up to her Teddy Award in “Put on a Happy Face” or the unforgettable funeral scene in “Chuckles Bites the Dust,” she always delivered. 

With any television show we can look back on famous moments and classic episodes. But with The Dick Van Dyke Show and The Mary Tyler Moore Show, what is more appropriately recalled is their remarkable consistency. Out of more than 300 combined episodes, you can count the ones that didn’t work on one hand.

There is so much more to remember with Mary – the other shows she headlined, her Oscar-nominated performance in Ordinary People, her early uncredited work on Richard Diamond, Private Eye and in memorable guest spots on Bachelor Father and Wanted: Dead or Alive, her Emmy Awards and the many other classic shows that carried the MTM Enterprises logo.

But for now we’ll celebrate her through her best work, and head back to our DVDs for one more “Oh, Rob,” and one more visit to the WJM newsroom. If you’re like me, one won’t be enough. How lucky we are to have so many shows to experience and enjoy whenever we wish.  

The Ten Funniest Situation Comedy Episodes By Decade: The 1960s

The 1960s was the last decade in which situation comedies favored idealized versions of American life. There would be send-ups of current events, from the British invasion to the spy craze, but the humor was always more sweet than cynical, mischievous instead of mean. That was probably a relief to many Americans as the turbulent decade progressed away from the staid status quo of the 1950s into an era of war, assassinations and political turmoil.  

These were the funniest sitcom episodes of the decade. As with the 1950s list, a two-show per series limit still applies – which sadly renders ineligible about 30 more episodes of Get Smart.

The Dick Van Dyke Show

“The Curious Thing About Women” (1962)

While this list is not a top-ten ranking, I wanted this episode to be first because for me it was not just another hilarious show in a brilliant series. Watching it first in syndication as a kid, and many times thereafter, my future career aspirations were inspired by the office scene where Rob, Sally and Buddy develop an unremarkable event (Laura opening Rob’s mail before he gets a chance to read it) into a classic comedy sketch. I can’t think of another scripted moment on TV where the abundant joy of creativity that writers occasionally experience was more perfectly expressed. The scenes with Mary Tyler Moore and the inflatable raft were pretty funny too. 

Bewitched

“The Joker is a Card” (1965)

“Yaga-Zoo-Zee, Yaga-Zoo-Zee, Yaga-Zoo-Zee-Zim!”

Paul Lynde makes his first appearance as Samantha’s practical joke-obsessed Uncle Arthur, and it’s one for the ages. Every moment he’s in this is perfect, especially when he offers to teach Darrin a spell to put Endora in her place. The payoff scene is as celebrated a moment as Bewitched ever produced. 

Get Smart

“Mr. Big” (1965)

Everything that made Get Smart one of the funniest series from any decade was already in place in its first episode, written by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry. You got your shoe phone, your Cone of Silence, and a villain sure to incite offense in humorless defenders of political correctness. 

The Lucy Show

“Lucy and Viv Build a Shower” (1963)

While Vivian Vance would remain with The Lucy Show for another two seasons, this episode features the final classic physical comedy sequence that she and Lucy would share. They worked so well together by this time that the shower scene was not even rehearsed before it was filmed. 

Green Acres

“Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You” (1965)

The first season of Green Acres features one long story arc as Oliver and Lisa Douglas leave New York for Hooterville, so Oliver can pursue his farm livin’ dreams. Every episode brings more surreal frustration; here, having just mastered the generator in the previous episode (“You can’t have a 2 with a 6”), he now finally gets his phone installed – at the top of a telephone pole outside his bedroom window. 

The Andy Griffith Show

“The Big House” (1963)

“Here at the rock we have two basic rules…the first rule is…obey all rules.”

Whether it’s Andy or Opie and Aunt Bee or Floyd or even Otis, whomever you meet in Mayberry will make you feel welcome. But if you’re looking for laughs, the episodes featuring Don Knotts’ as Barney Fife cannot be topped. In “The Big House,” the state police temporarily lodge two hold-up men in Mayberry’s jail, allowing Barney to play hard-boiled lawman. They promptly escape – not once but three times. 

Get Smart

“A Man Called Smart, Part 1” (1967)

Of course you’ll want to watch all three parts of this story, which was originally intended for theatrical release. But it’s the first installment that features a masterpiece of slapstick comedy starring Don Adams, a stretcher and a revolving door. Adams, whose distinct voice and catchphrases were a big part of the show’s success, never utters a word throughout the sequence, and still earns huge laughs. There is also an innovative opening chase scene that portends Adams’ association with Inspector Gadget. 

The Dick Van Dyke Show

“Coast-to-Coast Big Mouth” (1965)

The first episode of the show’s fifth and final season contains the most memorable of Carl Reiner’s always-welcome appearances as Alan Brady. The story has Laura going on a game show and getting tricked into revealing that Brady is bald. Rob’s horrified reaction is hilarious, but the highlight finds Laura trying to save her husband’s job. Her confrontation with Alan, as he sits glowering at his desk behind a display of now-useless hairpieces, remains one of the series’ best moments. 

The Beverly Hillbillies

“The Giant Jackrabbit” (1963)

This is probably the most famous episode out of nine seasons, and while I could make a good argument for a few other classics this is one time where I’m content to follow the crowd. The ‘A’ plot has Granny in full Wile E. Coyote mode, trying to trap a kangaroo she mistakes for a jackrabbit. The ‘B’ plot has the Clampetts trying to order food from a caterer – in the annals of funny one-sided phone conversations, this one is up there with the best of the master, Bob Newhart. 

Hogan’s Heroes

“Will the Real Adolf Please Stand Up?” (1966)

Hogan’s Heroes took the evil sting out of the German army through the bumbling antics of Col. Klink and Sgt. Schultz – but what would happen if the neutered Nazis ever met their fuhrer? Here, Sgt. Carter impersonates Hitler, to distract the commandant while Hogan smuggles secret plans to the underground. Larry Hovis creates the funniest take on one of history’s worst monsters since The Producers. 

Next: The 1970s

Classic TV Two-Part Episodes: Hits and Misses

 

Theoretically the two-part episode is an option that should be utilized only in conjunction with a major milestone in a series (births, deaths, new character introductions, weddings, big name guest star) or when a writer comes up with an idea that is so good, it deserves a little extra breathing room to be fully explored.

But think back over the hundreds of two-parters presented in the Comfort TV era – how many of them really needed more time to tell their stories?

Having conducted my own informal study, I would say the results are about 50/50. Too often, these shows were a marketing ploy to leverage the built-in ‘event’ status afforded to super-sized episodes. That’s why they were used so often to open or close a season.

When there is legitimate reason for a “continued next week” freeze-frame, the result is often one of the most memorable moments in a series – think “The Menagerie” on Star Trek, “Fearless Fonzarelli” on Happy Days or “Carnival of Thrills” on The Dukes of Hazzard.

And when there is not enough content to justify a second episode, we’re left with a story that might have worked as a single show, padded and stretched to fill out a longer running time.

This is a big topic and one that may be revisited in a future blog, but for now here are five examples of when TV got it right – and five underwhelming misses.

Good: Family Ties: “The Real Thing”

Alex Keaton had no shortage of girlfriends in the first three seasons of Family Ties, but when he meets Ellen Reed early in season four, the show wanted to make sure we knew this was going to be different. Their opposites-attract romance, bolstered by the strains of Billy Vera’s “At This Moment,” was a major turning point for Alex and for Michael J. Fox, who is still married to the girl that played Ellen, Tracy Pollan. 

Bad: Charlie’s Angels: “Terror on Skis”

A typical Angels plot – protect a government agent from foreign radicals – is hampered by scene after scene of monotonous stock footage of people skiing during the day, at night, and in freestyle competitions. I had a little inside information on this one, having interviewed the episode’s writer, Ed Lakso, for my Charlie’s Angels book. He readily confessed to padding out the story to justify a location shoot in Vail, Colorado, because his wife wanted to go skiing. 

Good: The Dick Van Dyke Show: “I Am My Brother’s Keeper/The Sleeping Brother”

These episodes introduced Dick Van Dyke’s brother Jerry, playing Rob Petrie’s brother, Stacy. The bizarre plot has Stacy trying to break into show business but only being able to perform while he’s asleep (due to a rare, advanced form of sleepwalking). Despite that contrivance the shows are smart and funny, particularly during the cast performances at those Bonnie Meadow Rd. house parties that always made the suburbs looks so cool and sophisticated. 

Bad: Eight is Enough: “And Baby Makes Nine”

Flashbacks are a convenient way to stretch a story, but no two episodes abused that privilege more than the Season 5 opener of Eight is Enough. The saga of Susan’s difficult delivery of her baby not only offers numerous looks back at her romance with and marriage to Merle, it also reprises scenes that aired just ten minutes earlier in the same episode. Why not just play the theme song again while you’re at it?

Good: Get Smart: “A Man Called Smart”

The only thing tougher to pull off than a great two-part episode? A great three-part episode. But the laughs never fizzle in “A Man Called Smart,” an adventure originally conceived for theatrical release but re-cut for the series. One physical comedy sequence with a stretcher and a revolving door is as funny as anything that’s ever been on television. 

Bad: Mission: Impossible: “The Contender”

For all its many outstanding qualities, M:I never got a two-part episode right. I chose “The Contender” because the plot was particularly weak – capturing a guy who fixes prize fights seems beneath the IMF – but I also could have gone with “The Slave” or “The Council” or “The Controllers.” Viewers were accustomed to seeing the team solve any problem in an hour, and writers could never dream up any good reason for some missions to take longer.

Good: The Bionic Woman: “Doomsday is Tomorrow”

Where Mission: Impossible struggled with the two-part format, The Bionic Woman flourished. From the irresistible “Fembots in Las Vegas” to “Deadly Ringer,” the shows that earned Lindsay Wagner an Emmy, the series was always at its best with multi-episode storylines. My favorite is “Doomsday is Tomorrow,” in which Jaime must figure out how to shut off a computerized weapon (with a HAL 9000 voice) capable of destroying all life on earth. 

Bad: The Facts of Life: “Teenage Marriage”

So many shows have built two-part episodes around potential crises that cannot possibly come to pass, lest it mean the end of the series. Here, Mrs. Garrett and the Eastland girls try to prevent Jo from marrying her boyfriend. Had Nancy McKeon announced she was leaving the show, we might have bought into the conflict; but this was her first season, and we all knew she wasn’t going anywhere, extra episode or not.

Good: Little House on the Prairie: “I’ll Be Waving as You Drive Away”

The Ingalls family face their darkest hour when Mary loses her sight after a bout with scarlet fever. The scene where Charles must tell his daughter the diagnosis, while barely able to control his own heartbreak, is devastating. Mary attends a school for the blind, where she gradually comes to terms with her fate in a hopeful finale.  

Bad: Laverne & Shirley: “The Festival”

When a two-part episode is inspired by a road trip, it helps if we actually see the characters go somewhere. Here, Laverne, Shirley, Lenny, Squiggy, Frank and Edna all “travel” from Milwaukee to New York, but all they really do is visit a different part of the studio backlot. Not much fun to be had, unless you enjoy watching Penny Marshall climb a greased metal pole.