Poor Devil (1973)

          One of the cinematic rabbit holes I find most alluring is the one containing lost feature-length TV pilots from the ’70s. Sure, it’s fun to revisit the initial episodes of series that later became cult favorites or even iconic boob-tube mainstays, but it’s even more revealing to investigate concepts that almost became series. For instance, it’s astonishing the pilot episode of Poor Devil was actually filmed and exhibited. It’s a broad-as-a-barn comedy about a low-ranking demon who’s desperate to escape his mundane job in Hell, which involves stoking the fires of the underworld by literally shoveling coal into a furnace. The price of getting a promotion? Persuading a mortal to sell his soul. Yep. Had Poor Devil gone to series, every week, the show’s “hero” would presumably have lured some dumb putz into eternal damnation, and/or attempt to do so and suffer a crisis of conscience. Oh, and the project’s star was Sammy Davis Jr.

          In the pilot movie, which has a few moments of pith but never overcomes the innately untenable nature of the premise, the would-be “client” is Burnett (Jack Klugman), a department-store accountant. His wife wants nice things that he can’t afford; his smarmy supervisor, Dennis (Adam West), has the store’s top accounting job simply because he’s better at kissing ass; and Burnett has sunken so low as to attempt robbing the store one night. Meanwhile, ne’er-do-well demon Sammy (Davis) has spent centuries in torment after screwing up previous assignments, so he’s eager to impress Lucifer (Christopher Lee) by getting someone to sign a contract. Sammy talks his way into becoming Burnett’s handler, with the understanding that if he fails, his punishment will be hundreds more years of shoveling. The bulk of the pilot depicts Sammy’s attempts to fulfill Burnett’s every wish, per the terms of the contract, even though Burnett knows he can wrangle out of the deal if Sammy botches anything. Proving how the series premise was never going to work, Sammy deliberately screws up once he realizes that Burnett is too nice a guy for Hell.

          Nonetheless, Poor Devil has a colorful cast, and Davis does his best to sell the wackadoodle idea. He’s charming if perhaps a bit overzealous. Lee and West are fine if uncharacteristically restrained, and Klugman fares best of all, bouncing between comic anguish and exasperated one-liners. For instance, when Sammy magically appears in Burnett’s bedroom, Sammy helpfully explains, “I’m from down below.” Burnett’s response: “You’re from the Feldmans’ apartment?” Or, as Burnett says later, “I don’t wanna go to Hell—I haven’t even been to Europe yet!” You get the idea. By the by, this movie’s vision of the underworld has a very Austin Powers vibe, with lots of medallions and turtlenecks—apparently the road to Hell is paved with polyester.

Poor Devil: FUNKY

Quincy, M.E. (1976)

          There are certain TV shows for which I must confess inexplicable affection, and Quincy, M.E. is one of them. While certainly not a bad series—the receipt of 10 Emmy nominations during the show’s eight-year run indicates that it was a cut above the usual fare—Quincy, M.E. simply used a fresh gimmick to explore familiar murder-of-the-week terrain. The gimmick, of course, was forensic medicine, which is now commonplace on the small screen but which had not been the focus of a weekly TV show prior to 1978. Yet while the device of finding clues on corpses gave Quincy, M.E. novelty during its first few years, the real glue of the show was Jack Klugman’s delightfully cranky performance in the title role. Seemingly every week, the intrepid coroner lost his temper because someone failed to value human life as highly as the abrasive but saintly Dr. Quincy. Just as often, Klugman exclaimed some variation of the phrase, “It was murdah!” Good stuff.

          The show’s pilot movie, subtitled “Go Fight City Hall . . . to the Death,” provides 75 minutes of solid entertainment, with all of the show’s cast and tropes fully formed. When a woman is murdered on a Los Angeles beach, medical examiner Quincy finds perplexing clues, much to the consternation of hardnosed LAPD detective Lt. Frank Monahan (Garry Walberg), who’s all about closing cases quickly and therefore doesn’t have time for Quincy’s conspiracy theories. Yet the coroner is unstoppable when he detects something amiss at a murder scene, so Quincy connects the woman’s death to her job at City Hall, then finds a pattern linking the woman’s demise to the deaths of other City Hall employees. Quincy yells at people a lot, shaming them into supporting his investigation, and the pilot’s main running joke involves Quincy ditching his girlfriend, Lee (Lynette Mettey), in the middle of dates so he can pursue leads. Present and accounted for are series regulars Val Bisoglio, as Quincy’s bartender buddy, Danny; Robert Ito, as Quincy’s lab assistant, Sam; and John S. Ragin, as Quincy’s unctuous boss, Dr. Asten. (Pilot guest stars include Hollywood stalwarts Henry Darrow, Woodrow Parfrey, Hari Rhodes, and George Wyner.)

          Written by series creators Glen A. Larson and Lou Shaw, the pilot grinds through a few pedestrian sequences—including the requisite car chase—while also reaching unique high points like the scene in which Danny and Quincy get a prostitute drunk so she’ll stick her head into a noose for a medical experiment. If the mark of a good mystery show is the unconventional lengths to which the hero will go to answer difficult questions, this scene alone explains the appeal of Quincy, M.E. by combining Klugman’s mischievous charm with the character’s obsessive nature. Added bonus: The pilot contains the full scene from which producers extrapolated the show’s opening-credits vignette, featuring Quincy dissecting a corpse while police recruits faint.

Quincy, M.E.: GROOVY