Reflections on The Twilight Zone's "A Nice Place to Visit"

 

During this seemingly endless pandemic I’ve taken to watching the sermons of Bishop Robert Barron on YouTube.

 

A few weeks ago, he spoke at length about a painting in Paris’s Musee d’Orsay by Thomas Couture called “The Romans of the Decadence.” It shows a large crowd of people engaged in all sorts of carousing and debauchery; but at the center of the canvas is a woman who looks directly out toward the viewer, and seems utterly bored with the revelry that surrounds her.

 

The message, according to Bishop Barron, is that all of the pleasures this world can offer, wonderful and wicked, legal and illegal, will eventually not be enough to satisfy us. We were made for something greater.

 

To me, that sermon was a reminder of a classic TV episode that communicated  a similar message. “A Nice Place To Visit” aired on April 15, 1960, near the end of the first season of The Twilight Zone. 

 

 

As the show opens we meet Rocky Valentine (Larry Blyden), a career criminal in the midst of robbing a safe in a pawnshop. He is shot and killed by the police while trying to escape. Seemingly moments later, he wakes up and meets Mr. Pip (Sebastian Cabot), a debonair man in a white suit, who introduces himself as Rocky’s “guide.”

 

 

 

A clearly confused and suspicious Rocky is given a luxurious apartment, a new fancy wardrobe, and piles of cash. Taking stock of “the joint, the clothes, the booze,” he figures he must be in heaven, and Pip is his guardian angel. “Anything I want,” he says, gleefully rubbing his hands together, and it’s off to the casino. As beautiful women cheer him on, he tries roulette and the slot machines and he can’t lose. 

 

 

Still, Rocky is curious as to why he was allowed into Heaven: "I must have done something good that made up for all the other stuff.” Pip takes him to the Hall of Records to review his file, which provides no answers: Rocky has been a rat since he killed a dog at the age of six. But if God is fine with the decision, he figures he’s happy to keep living the good life. 

 

 

But one month later, Rocky finds that everything he used to enjoy now brings no pleasure at all. Even the prospect of robbing a bank fails to interest him, as he already knows he’ll get away with it.

 

“I don’t think I belong here,” he finally tells Pip. “If I have to stay here another day I’m going to go nuts! I don’t belong in heaven. I want to go to the other place.”

 

“Heaven?” Pip replies. “Whatever gave you the idea you were in Heaven, Mr. Valentine? This *is* the other place!”

 

And that cues up Rod Serling’s close: “A scared and angry little man who never got a break. Now he has everything he’s ever wanted. And he’s going to have to live with it for eternity…in the Twilight Zone.”

 

Did you guess the outcome when you first saw this episode? Whether you did or not, it’s the message that I find most interesting. And while The Twilight Zone routinely delved into provocative questions related to ethics and philosophy, it was not the only series from the Comfort TV era to contemplate the same set of circumstances described by Bishop Barron and painted by Couture. I can think of two other series, both among the era’s most popular situation comedies, which also explored this scenario.

 

Guesses? If not, I will humbly recommend my forthcoming book, out next month, which I’ll talk about more in my next blog.

 

As I write this, the Emmy Awards are being presented on ABC. I’m not watching – I haven’t watched in more than a decade. See previous Emmy-related blog entries for those reasons. But I do know a little about some of the shows deemed worthy of Emmy recognition. And I wonder what messages those shows are sending, or if that’s even a relevant question.

 

One might think that some lessons would remain pertinent in any era of entertainment. But if we could count on that being the case 50 years ago, or even 20 years ago, I’m not sure we can still count on it now. To illustrate I give you The Good Place, a recent Emmy-winning series that closed out its first season with a twist similar to the one in “A Nice Place to Visit.” But on that series, the inversion of good and bad destinations was not the end but a starting point, from which the show asked questions that never would have occurred to previous generations, such as whether “the good place” was really good for everyone. What times we live in.

 

Here is a look at the Couture painting:

 

 

The Twilight Zone: Wisdom From Willoughby

 

I have always believed that classic television shows can serve a higher purpose beyond the entertainment derived from them. Like any work of art worthy of our respect, they have something to teach us as well.

During its five seasons, The Twilight Zone presented dozens of issue-oriented stories, including some effective but occasionally heavy-handed allegories about war, racism and intolerance. For me it was the subtler stories that struck a deeper chord, none more so than “A Stop at Willoughby.”   

Fade up on Gart Williams, a media buyer in New York, sitting amongst other executives in a boardroom, anxiously tapping a pencil. He has just lost a major account, much to the chagrin of his oppressive boss: “This is a push-push-push business, Williams, all the way, all the time.” 

 

Gart leaves the office on the verge of a nervous breakdown that’s been building for a long time. Headed home he falls asleep on the train, but when he wakes he finds himself on a 19^th century rail coach. The snowy November evening has been replaced by bright summer sunshine, as the train stops at an idyllic small town called Willoughby, circa 1888. Gart wakes up, and dismisses the episode as a dream.

At home his pressures do not subside. “I’m tired, Janie. Tired and sick,” he says to his unsympathetic wife, who coldly ponders how she could have married such an over-sensitive loser. 

Back at work, the stress resumes unabated – angry clients, constantly ringing phones. The next night, he once again hears the conductor call “Next stop, Willoughby.” This time, he gets off the train.

This being The Twilight Zone, there’s an unexpected zing at the end. I’ll avoid spoilers for anyone who somehow missed this episode during the last 54 years.

In 25 minutes, “A Stop at Willoughby” paints a complete and perfectly rendered portrait of a man who spent the better part of his life doing something for which he had neither affinity nor desire. He sublimated his true self to pursue a lifestyle that was never important to him, to achieve prosperity that brought no satisfaction. Now he’s at the end of his tether and willing to grasp at any lifeline, no matter how fantastic. 

I can’t prove it but I am certain that when this show first aired, someone living Gart Williams’ life for real decided to hop off their self-destructive carousel, and to start spending more time doing what he or she loved. Hopefully, after a half-century of syndication and videocassette and DVD releases, many others have been similarly inspired to recalibrate their priorities.

The demands on Gart Williams’ time were stifling to him – and this was in 1960! How much faster is life moving now? How many other electronic devices are commanding our attention, not only in the office but at home and in the car and even when we’re supposed to be with our friends and families?

If anything, the lesson of “A Stop at Willoughby” is needed now more than ever: We are more than our jobs, or at least we are supposed to be. And if the world insists on moving at a certain speed, we don’t always have to keep up with it. It’s a lesson we are never too young or too old to learn.

Unfortunately, many of us have to make compromises, if not for ourselves than for those we love. But we don’t have to be compromised. We can find the proper balance between work and family, one that results in peace of mind and a soul-deep contentment.

This blog is one of my stops at Willoughby. It’s something that will never pay my mortgage, but I do it because it makes me happy.

Find your Willoughby. Even if you can’t live there, make sure you visit often enough to take a piece of it with you wherever you go.

(Dis)Comfort TV: Classic Halloween #1

 Sometime around 1995, Halloween hijacked the month of October. Last year, with the exception on one Munsters vs. Addams piece, Comfort TV sat out this annual tradition. But this year I’ve caught the spirit and will be offering recommendations on some classic Halloween episodes and some off-the-wall holiday specials.

This week, let’s take a look at five Comfort TV episodes that, while not specifically Halloween-themed, were still more frightening than a Miley Cyrus video.

“Living Doll”

The Twilight Zone

Choosing just one episode of The Twilight Zone for a piece on unsettling television is like trying to choose the worst episode of Small Wonder. There are just too many exceptional nominees. But even among such classic stories as “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” “Long Distance Call,” “The After Hours,” “Twenty Two” and “Eye of the Beholder,” the TZ story that lingered longest in my memory was “Living Doll.” Telly Savales played the abusive stepfather to a little girl who had a doll named Talky Tina. And Tina did not like Telly.

Do we need spoilers for a 50 year-old episode? If you haven’t seen it but are familiar with the Child’s Play movies, you probably have some idea where the story is going. Savales’s heightened desperation, an ominous Bernard Herrmann score and the voice of June Foray as Tina create an escalating mood of tension that plays with the viewer’s loyalties. We enjoy watching the mean old stepdad get his, but the zinger at the end of the episode suggests that Tina may have already chosen her next victim.

“Twilight Town”

Bonanza

As the title suggests, “Twilight Town,” seems inspired by The Twilight Zone. The episode opens with Little Joe (Michael Landon) being knocked unconscious by a horse thief, and wandering into the mysterious town of Martinville. At first, he thinks the town long abandoned, but gradually Joe discovers he is not alone. After being nursed back to health, he is urged to become Martinville’s new sheriff.

The scares come not from quick cuts to frightening images, but from the slow realization of being trapped in a nightmare, in which everything seems normal on the surface but not quite right if you look a little closer. The climax seems to provide a logical explanation for what happens to Joe, but then there’s a little twist at the end that blurs the line between what’s real and imaginary.

“Fright Night”

The Brady Bunch

Whether it was building houses of cards, or Greg running against Marsha for class president, the “boys vs. the girls” episodes of The Brady Bunch usually ranked among the series’ best. Here, a ghost in the backyard frightens Jan and Cindy. They later discover that their brothers created it. The three very lovely girls plot their revenge and the usual hijinks ensue.

Maybe some suspension of disbelief is required to believe that the cellophane ghost rising from the trunk could really be that terrifying. But the attic sequence is certainly fun, and there’s an amusing climax when all six kids put their differences aside and team up to scare Alice. Also, watch for Maureen McCormick’s amusingly unsuccessful attempt to pronounce the word “werewolves.” 

“The Ghost of A. Chantz”

The Dick Van Dyke Show

A reservation glitch at a mountain cabin lands Rob, Laura, Buddy and Sally in the same isolated cottage for one night, and strange things start to happen. Some of the scares are surprisingly intense for a breezy sitcom, particularly the sinister faces that appear in the mirrors.

Morey Amsterdam plays the Lou Costello role to perfection, and the mystery is resolved in an unexpected and satisfying manner. 

“Assignment #1”

Sapphire and Steel

There were just six episodes, aired between 1979 and 1982, but the British sci-fi series Sapphire and Steel still retains a loyal cult following, and has just been released for a second time on DVD. David McCallum and Joanna Lumley, both better known for other TV roles, play inter-dimensional agents assigned to correct any unnatural breaks in the timeline.

In the atmospheric first episode, Sapphire (Lumley) and Steel (McCallum) arrive at a remote 18^th century farmhouse to help two children whose parents have disappeared. The story unfolds over six half-hour episodes in which the two leads remain stubbornly enigmatic, and even brusque with the frightened kids they are ostensibly there to aid. The story is deliberately paced, which is usually a polite way of saying ‘slow.’ But if you have the patience for Jon Pertwee era Doctor Who, and don’t mind rudimentary visual effects in the service of intriguing stories and characters, the eerie, foreboding tone that emanates from this tale will draw you under its spell. 

Next week, I’ll look at five memorable episodes that were directly inspired by All Hallow’s Eve.