Nowadays, Roald Dahl is best remembered for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach and his other
novels for children, but there was a time when he was known exclusively for his
creepy little fables. Stories like “Lamb to the Slaughter” and “Man From the
South” and “Dip in the Pool” were all highly regarded for their bitingly ironic
endings.
In 1961, this reputation made Dahl an interesting fit for a
horror anthology show called ‘Way Out
(with the apostrophe, not sure why). The show was a quick-fix replacement for a
Jackie Gleason gameshow, You’re in the
Picture, which was such a disaster that Gleason apologized to the American
public and it was cancelled after a single episode. Anthology shows were relatively
easy to put together – you didn’t need to negotiate with a recurring star, you
could change gears on a weekly basis, and you could crib sets on the backlots.
Plus, people really liked The Twilight
Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents,
so it was a good solution for that unsightly gap on Friday nights.
Dahl would host in the hands-off manner of Alfred Hitchcock,
as well as contribute some of his stories for adaptation, most notably “William
and Mary” for the premiere.
The series ran for sixteen episodes, but it wasn’t a hit
with audiences. It’s not hard to see why, it’s a really weird show. It’s not
bad, but it’s weird. In the late ‘70s, Dahl would work on a more successful
television vehicle for his stories, ITV’s Tales
of the Unexpected. (Not to be confused with the American Quinn Martin
Production of the same name.) Meanwhile, ‘Way
Out would become an oddity, and a bit of a holy grail for a certain kind of
television fan.
Only five episodes are circulated in the general public. The
other eleven, still preserved, are only available to view at the Paley Center
for Media in New York. They’ve never been released on DVD, and of the five
episodes, what we have are bootlegs of bootlegs. For those of us who can’t get
out to New York, it’s a frustrating turn of events. It's also, incidentally why there aren't many screencaps for this episode. I figured nobody wanted to squint at grey blobs.
Today, we’re taking a look at one of the episodes not penned
by Dahl, “The Croaker.” It’s more lighthearted than the vindictive disembodied
brains and slowly melting faces the series usually went for, so it’s a fun
place to jump in. It was written by Phil Reisman Jr., who wrote two other episodes for 'Way Out and also created a show called I Spy. (Not the one you're thinking of, just something with the same title.)
Each episode started with Dahl’s image repeated over itself,
like a ghost trapped in a hall of mirrors. He would usually smoke, and almost
always give us instructions on how to better murder our spouses. Even when the
episode at hand was not primarily concerned with spouses murdering each other.
“How are you?” He
asks with a sly grin, “And how is your love life these days, you ladies?
Because whatever happens, you should always try to remember that men are not
nearly so preoccupied with the opposite sex as most women would like to think.
Above all, you see, man is a colossal egotist. Far more concerned with his own
self than he is with females.”
He has a very pleasant voice, light and natural, but he
talks very quickly compared to other hosts.
“It’s why women are always having to doll themselves up to
attract his attention. To me, the behaviour of the male human is very much like
that of the male frog. The frog, whenever he feels a trifle amorous, calls
his female by blowing out his dewlap and letting it go with a burp.”
(Thanks for coming into my life and making me double check
the spelling of dewlap, Roald Dahl.)
“The female comes hoppity-hop-hop over to his side, and
waits eagerly. But by then, the male has become so engrossed with the business
of blowing his horn, that he’s forgotten all about her. And she actually has to
nudge him, several times, before he turns to embrace her. That’s what happens
with frogs, but you see what I mean, don’t you?”
…yes?
Tonight’s play is all about frogs, which is a refreshing
change from the murder speeches, but I will say, his homicide instructions are
slightly more informative than his biology lessons.
Okay! The story itself starts with a little boy, played by
Richard Thomas who would later go on to star in The Waltons. The boy’s name is Jeremy Keeler, and he’s wandering
the lanes between idyllic suburban houses calling for a dog, Spot.
He notices that the French doors of a nearby house are open.
The yard looks a little overgrown, and a For Sale sign out front is shabby and
worn. With almost no hesitation, Jeremy goes straight in, calling for Spot and
whistling.
It’s obvious straight away that this isn’t a normal house.
For starters, there’s an enormous taxidermy crocodile in the corner of the
living room. And an equally eye-catching aquarium full of algae and tadpoles –
the aquarium provides a really interesting shot of Jeremy inspecting the living
room as tadpoles seemingly swim around him.
The hallway is guarded by two massive palm trees, leaves
hanging down like curtains, and of course this is where Jeremy heads. He finds
a locked door, next to an old-fashioned desk and a second member of the
crocodilian family, this time a stuffed caiman.
Jeremy reaches out and puts a finger in the caiman’s mouth
as eerie music plays.
Suddenly, a pair of hands grab the boy and spin him around.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
Why, it’s character actor John McGiver! (He was in
everything, you know him when you see him.)
This time around, he’s not a friendly figure. He’s wearing
Coke bottle glasses, a strangely formal dressing jacket, and he’s shaking the
kid like a ragdoll as he barks questions.
For his part, young Jeremy is cool as a cucumber while he
rattles off his name, the dog’s name, and even this weirdly intense home
owner’s name. It’s Mr. Rana. Jeremy saw it on the sides of the boxes when the
moving van came a few days ago.
Mr. Rana asks the boy if he makes a habit out of breaking
into random houses instead of, you know, knocking. Jeremy says it’s the only
way to get inside, nobody ever lets him in on purpose. Where’s Mr. Rana hiding
the dog?
“What makes you think I have your dog?”
It’s not Jeremy’s dog. It belongs to the people next door,
and it went straight into Mr. Rana’s yard after Jeremy let it loose.
You see, Jeremy is a young entrepreneur. A businessman in
the making. He has a system where he encourages pets to run away, sometimes by
something as simple as leaving a gate open, and then he watches where they go.
And as soon as a reward is on the table, he takes them back to their owners.
When he grows up, he’ll make an excellent phone psychic.
While the kid is listing all the different types of birds
he’s lost by accident, Mr. Rana makes his way to a nearby drink tray, insisting
that he hasn’t seen the dog. He takes an eyedropper out of his pocket, and puts
a few drops of a mysterious liquid into one of the drinking glasses. It starts
to smoke ominously.
Okay.
I know this looks like it’s going to go a little Law & Order: SVU here, but stick
with it.
And, no, it’s not a step in the right direction when Mr.
Rana leans towards Jeremy with the glass of creeptastic water and says: “Little
boys are always thirsty.”
Jeremy notices right away that the water stinks. It reminds
him of a dirty pond, he says, thrusting the glass back towards Mr. Rana.
“It smells like a frog’s been in it,” Jeremy muses, not
disgustedly, but more like he’s trying to put his finger on the specific smell.
Huh. You know, with all this frog talk and Dahl’s speech
about frogs and men being similar creatures, Mr. Rana’s quirks – the strange
stooping hop to his gait, the eyes enlarged by the lens of his glasses, the
deep set frown that pushes his double chin towards his shoulders – seem more, I
don’t know, prominent? But it’s probably nothing.
Mr. Rana wants to know if Jeremy likes frogs.
Jeremy shrugs and says he doesn’t have anything against frogs, but the conversation is
cut short by a dog yelping behind that mysterious locked door.
Spot?! But Mr. Rana said he hadn’t seen any dog, and he seems so trustworthy!
Panicking, Mr. Rana asks if Jeremy has ever noticed that
certain species of frog make a barking noise just like a dog. (Frogs sound like
they’re belching their dewlaps, Mr. Rana. This was discussed before your
entrance.)
“You’ve discovered my secret,” Mr. Rana says, getting his
face really close to Jeremy’s, “I’m a frog fancier. Let’s keep that just
between the two of us, eh?”
Everything is exactly halfway between hilarious and
terrifying right now.
Jeremy, never missing a mercenary beat, rubs his fingers
together in the universal sign for money and holds out an expectant palm. Mr.
Rana gives him a quarter, and that seems to be enough.
So, let’s see, this episode was from 1963, so twenty-five
cents would be around two dollars today. In both time periods, Jeremy can buy a
bottle of soda for his silence.
Following through on seeming way more disturbing than he’ll
actually turn out to be, Mr. Rana stops Jeremy at the door and asks if he’d
like a source of steady income. Jeremy, having had a very safe childhood so
far, says he’s interested.
Luckily, this is all about catching flies. Mr. Rana is
having a hard time finding enough for his many frogs to eat, and he’ll gladly
pay Jeremy for full jars of real flies. And if Jeremy starts knocking over
garbage cans at night so that the garbage sits until morning, then there would
be even more flies. A quarter for every full jar, and bonuses for creating a
more fly-filled neighbourhood.
It’s basically Jeremy’s dream job.
Also, he right away decides to start a mini-exterminator
business, where he “grows” flies in people’s yards and under their porches, and
then hires himself out to get rid of the flies. Delightful! Never change,
Jeremy! But maybe become more aware of the signs of child predators, okay?
Speaking of, Mr. Rana grabs Jeremy by the wrist and pulls
him over to the aquarium.
“You see that tadpole, there?” He asks softly. “That was
once a boy who tried to betray me.”
Oh, Mr. Rana. You're so normal!
After Jeremy safely leaves through the French doors, we hear
Spot barking again, just as frantic as before. Mr. Rana mixes his strange
formula in with a bowl of dog food, and disappears behind the mystery door,
promising Spot a dinner to remember.
Time to go and meet Spot’s constantly bickering owners, Fred
and Cora Tench. Cora is being played by Madeline Sherwood, who was always
amazing, and would later warm the hearts of TV audiences everywhere as Mother
Superior Placido on The Flying Nun.
Cora says she can’t find Spot anywhere, and her charming
husband replies that Spot is her dog
and her problem.
“He’s not my dog. Not after you trained him to growl every
time I come near him. He’s got your disposition, he’s your dog.”
Fred is being played by Rex Everheart, and his voice will
immediately sound familiar to Disney fans. He was Belle’s father, Maurice, in Beauty and the Beast.
He tells his wife that she and the dog look alike, too,
and when she tries to argue back at him, he makes barking noises.
Whatever happens to Fred is well earned.
Cora, it should be mentioned, isn’t exactly being the bigger
person here. Underneath her husband’s barking noises, you can hear her saying
that Spot always growls at treacherous slobs, and it’s not her fault if that’s
what Fred happens to be.
In the middle of this domestic squabble, Jeremy saunters in
from the kitchen door, casually mentioning that he knows where Spot is.
Annoyed at being spied on during a fight, Cora scolds Jeremy
for sneaking into her house, and reminds him that she said she’d call his
mother straight away the next time he did it. I have no idea why she didn’t
call his mother the first few times, as letting kids slide on actual
against-the-law crimes seems weird.
Jeremy just takes a seat on the couch, with a very casual:
“’Lo, Mr. Tench. ‘Lo, Mrs. Tench.”
(Totally unimportant side note, I often see the word Hello
written as ‘Lo when children are saying it, in order to convey offhanded
mumbling. But it always sounds weird to me, and whenever child actors are told
to do it, it’s very obvious that this is not how they usually say Hello. They
are clearly saying ‘Lo – with the apostrophe and the upper case L.)
Fred, winning as many sympathy points as he can, tells his
wife to stop yipping, calls Jeremy a little monster, and says that if the kid
tells him where the dog is, no questions will be asked.
Naturally, Jeremy says he’ll tell Fred whatever he needs to
know, for the bargain price of a quarter. I deeply admire this money grubbing
little punk, I really do.
Cora gets a little miffed at this price, but ultimately Spot
is worth twenty-five cents to the Tenches, so the silver crosses young Jeremy’s
palm. Immediately, the kid divulges that he saw Spot go into Mr. Rana’s house,
heard Spot barking behind a mysterious door, Mr. Rana is the weird guy who
moved in last week, and the dude collects frogs.
“Alright you little squint, you’ve been paid,” Fred gives
Jeremy a gentle shove towards the door, “Now go on down to the depot and play
on the tracks.”
Meanwhile, Cora is mortified that there’s some kind of frog
farm in their exclusive neighborhood.
The two of them bicker some more, mother-in-law jokes are
bandied about, and eventually it’s settled that Fred will go and talk to Mr.
Rana and get Spot back.
By the time he gets around to this, night has fallen.
Fred is wearing a sports coat, and folds his arms a little
nervously after he knocks on Mr. Rana’s door. He’s unpleasantly surprised when
the door opens promptly, and Mr. Rana is in front of him asking what he wants.
Quickly clearing his throat and trying to play the whole
thing off for laughs, Fred introduces himself and says that he and the wife
lost their dog, has Mr. Rana happened to see him?
Mr. Rana says no, which isn’t too much of a surprise, and
goes to close the door.
But Fred stops him. He has an idea of how to annoy Cora a
little, and it involves staying for a very long time at Mr. Rana’s and then
coming home totally Spotless. The way he’s talking, you can tell he lives to annoy his wife, it’s his whole
world for some reason.
Eager for a volunteer, Mr. Rana happily invites Fred inside.
Drinks are most certainly on the menu.
“I was hoping some of the neighbours would drop in,” Mr.
Rana muses, spiking a glass of whisky with his smoky concoction. Fred takes a
little tour of the oddities in the living room, peering into the aquarium with
a look of mild disgust.
Fred takes his glass, and gulps down half of it, no
questions asked.
If there’s one thing classic television teaches us, it’s
that you shouldn’t drink random beverages handed to you by oddballs. If there's a
second thing, it’s that if you try to cover up your mistakes with wacky hijinks,
it usually works out great and sometimes William Holden comes to visit.
Mr. Rana, again failing to get a sense of somebody else’s
personal bubble, leans in over Fred’s shoulder and explains that he’s never
been fond of dogs. He’s a frog man, and not in the Naval sense.
Fred asks if the aim of raising frogs is eating them, or
selling them to French restaurants.
“Sir,” Mr. Rana bristles, “I may be eccentric, but I am not depraved.”
Frogs are the most admirable creatures on the earth, turns
out. They’re inherently serene, spending half a year hibernating in mud, and
the other half sunning on a lily pad in quiet contemplation. Frogs are probably
ten times as happy as the world’s happiest man.
“You sold me, pal,” Fred toasts the rest of his glass and
knocks it back, “I wouldn’t mind being a frog myself!”
He belches a surprisingly froggy sounding belch, and excuses
himself. But the belching soon becomes uncontrollable. Next, his arms start
bouncing at the elbows, fists tucked in at his chest; and lastly, his legs
start squatting up and down at the knees.
Uh-oh. Fred’s looking very frog-like indeed…
At least he’ll be happy?
A few days later, Jeremy comes to visit Mr. Rana with a new
batch of flies. He finds the French doors ajar again, and lets himself in to
have a look around. This kid finds more ajar doors than a private eye in a film
noir. Also, if Mr. Rana weren’t purposefully trying to trap people into his
house to drink a crazy frog potion, I would say he was aiming to get robbed.
This time around, the mysterious door is opened. Naturally,
Jeremy goes straight for it as fast as he can without running. He peeks in, and
then he goes in.
The room is murky, humid and full of ferns, reeds, and other
plants. Spanish moss hangs from the roof, and the centerpiece is an enormous
pond, or swimming pool, or tank. Whatever you want to call it. Jeremy weaves
through the plants, clutching the jar and looking confusedly around. Perched on
a mossy stone pedestal is a great big frog, belching its heart out.
Jeremy goes over to the frog, as though he finds it
uncannily familiar, but Mr. Rana soon springs out of the foliage and grabs the
boy by the shoulders.
“Do you know what you’ve discovered?” He demands angrily.
“That your bedroom is a swamp?” Jeremy answers, earnestly
confused about the implications, “I think it’s real cool.”
Mr. Rana asks what the grown-ups in town will think when
Jeremy tells them, and Jeremy replies that they just won’t believe him. He’s a
known trouble maker, liar, and all around morally bankrupt kid. That’s some
fine strategic thinking, Jeremy.
Jeremy is the most dynamic villain I’ve seen in a while.
He also straight up asks the question on everyone’s mind:
“Mr. Rana, are you a frog?”
Instead of answering directly, Mr. Rana decides to air his
views on evolution. For starters, Darwin was an idiot – he believed that humans
started in the great pond, then evolved up past jellyfish, birds, amphibians, and
reptiles. (Guessing Mr. Rana hasn’t actually read anything by Darwin.)
Jeremy interrupts to mention that reptiles are his faves,
particularly snakes.
Mr. Rana flinches at the mention of the frog’s natural
enemy, but continues his speech. Darwin didn’t realize that the amphibians were
the highest form of life, and after progressing to their level, humans
regressed. We’ve been slipping backwards, further and further from our slimy
ultimate state.
“All things beyond the frog are just mutations of the frog.”
Cool. Yeah. That sounds… scientific.
Anyway, the end result of all of this theorizing is that Mr.
Rana believes the world is slowly turning back into a swamp, and when the great
swamp returns, the frogs will rule the world. Until then, man must serve the
frogs and, one by one, become them.
And by serving them, never cheat the frogs. Apparently,
Jeremy’s jar of “flies” are thirty percent raisins. Mr. Rana angrily turns the
boy out, shouting that if he’s not going to take his job of procuring food for
the overlords seriously, then he’ll get no more quarters from Mr. Rana!
Speaking of Spot and Fred, surely Cora must have noticed
that all the members of her household are steadily disappearing?
She has. What’s more, she’s brought the police into the
matter, by way of Sgt. McGoogin, who somewhat ironically has what I consider to
be the name best suited to a frog. (Even though Rana is a genus of frog, it
just doesn’t sound froggy enough to
me.) The young officer reads out the description Cora gave him, while she files
her nails, curled up in the corner of her sofa.
The description is of a slack-jawed, yellow spotted dog who
drools uncontrollably.
McGoogin says he needs a description of Fred now, and Cora
tells him that was the description of
Fred.
“How do you think it looks to have my husband just up and
walk out on me? If I’d seen this coming, I would’ve done it to him,” Cora
shakes her head.
There’s a Missing Person report out on Fred, and McGoogin
already interviewed who he calls “the weirdo next door” but says that Mr. Rana,
although the last person to see Fred, said that everything was pretty normal.
Fred was talking about how happy his life was going to be, and the only thing
that seemed to make him uncomfortable was a froggy throat.
Cora argues that people as irritating as her husband are
incapable of disappearing without a trace.
McGoogin promises her they’ll keep doing the best they can,
and as he gets up to leave, Jeremy appears from the kitchen again. Just
sneaking in and out of houses like a criminal. McGoogin starts in on him
immediately, citing other illegal entries, his truancy record, and recent
reports that the kid has been breeding
flies, which McGoogin is pretty sure is some kind of Health Code violation.
Jeremy ignores his rap sheet, and tries to tell the officer
that Mr. Tench has been turned into a frog. He does this very calmly, and
matter-of-factly, totally unlike a kid in a Goosebumps book. Yet the officer
remains unconvinced. Incredulous, even.
He tells Jeremy to get out of the Tench house, stay out
unless he’s invited in, and stop wasting police time with his crazy reverse
fairy tales.
The three of them all leave through the French doors (both
houses are flipped versions of each other in layout), with McGoogin saying
he’ll check the hospitals again.
Cora heads back inside, and immediately hears a strange
noise.
Like a wind up spring.
Or a croaking frog.
She finds Fred the Frog sitting in his living room chair,
blinking at her with his amphibian eyes. Fred jumps. Cora jumps, too, then
throws her shoe at him and tells him that he must be one of the pets from next
door. She warns him to stay put, and runs across the yards to go get Mr. Rana.
Fred follows her, and when Mr. Rana opens the door, he finds
a shrieking Cora demanding that he do something about the frog.
Mr. Rana quickly scoops up Fred and hurries into the pond
room, careful to keep the door closed behind him. Once Fred is safely back with
Spot, Mr. Rana returns to the living room to deal with Cora.
Cora is practically hyperventilating in his armchair,
apologizing for being so easily frightened by the frog, and explained that
she’s all wound up because her dog disappeared, and also some stuff is going on
with her husband, it’s not important. Can she have a drink? Just to help her
calm down. Something very light, only half and half.
Of course, you can, Cora.
The eyedropper comes out, the drink is mixed complete with
frog serum, and soon it’s in Cora’s hand.
She takes a sip.
As she starts to calm down, she tells Mr. Rana that his
house is “like a hollow log, but comfortable, you know?”
She starts to hiccup in an extraordinarily frog-like manner.
And I do mean extraordinarily, the sounds she makes are hilariously perfect. If
there’s was an award for steadily turning into a frog, no performance would
ever top this one. It’s amazing.
Soon, she’s on her feet, hobbling around on one shoe with a
noticeable little hop, explaining that she actually doesn’t have anything
against frogs. It’s just unexpected frogs, and, she thinks, that one particular
frog she found in her living room. Oh, she didn’t like that one particular frog.
He reminded her of somebody. Can’t put her finger on who.
You know what was funny? Finding a frog in her husband’s
chair, right after Jeremy Keeler told her that Mr. Rana had transformed Fred
into a frog!
“How would you even do that?” She slurs between croaking
hiccups, “with a little magic wand?”
Wands are obsolete, Rana tells us. It’s all chemical
concoctions now. Potions.
It smells a touch like pond water, but it’s easily hidden by
mixing it with something stronger. Like whiskey.
Realization dawns on Cora, as her hiccups turn into bona
fide frog croaks, and come faster and faster. Ominous music swells as we fade out, and fade back in onto
the For Sale sign that had been outside Mr. Rana’s house. It’s now in the yard
of the Tench place.
The pond room at Mr. Rana’s is, ahem, hopping with activity.
He now has several frogs, and is calling out their names as he tosses them
flies. A fly for Fred, a fly for Cora, and at the very end, a fly for Mr. Rana.
He grabs one of the juiciest ones out of the jar, and pops it into his mouth.
Time enough for one last visit from Jeremy, who sneaks
through the mystery door like it’s nothing.
It’s been a couple of months since Jeremy came by with
flies, and Mr. Rana is disappointed. The two of them had been talking about Jeremy
setting up a lemonade stand at the train station, so that he could catch the
thirsty commuters. Of course, it would be lemonade with a faint hint of pond
scum, but as long as Jeremy got his quarters, what was he to care?
Jeremy explains that he’s been busily working on a project
of his own.
He’s been studying what Mr. Rana’s been doing to people,
trying to find out how exactly it was done. And, he figured it out. Sort of.
See, Jeremy just couldn’t bring himself to believe that an animal so low on the food chain was the zenith of evolution. It just didn’t
make sense. His formula had a slightly different goal than turning people into frogs.
He started his own lemonade stand, so he could experiment on
his customers. Why, just this morning Sgt. McGoogin came by and bought a drink.
Jeremy smiles as he pulls a very sinister looking snake from
his pocket. It coils up around his hand, and Mr. Rana shrieks in terror.
“You’ll like it here, Sgt. McGoogin,” Jeremy tells the snake
warmly, “And when the world turns back into a great big jungle, all the snakes
will have plenty to eat, on account of there being so many frogs.”
Awesome work, Snake Overlord Jeremy.
And that closes out the story, but not the episode, because
it’s time for Roald Dahl to come back and ask us a vital thematic question:
“Are frogs happier than people?”
He says we can’t be sure,
but the price of human legs is usually higher than that of frog’s legs.
Especially in restaurants.
*Two corrections were made to this post. I erroneously implied that the I Spy show created by Phil Reisman was the I Spy show, and I had the publication info for "Royal Jelly" wrong because I trusted Wikipedia when the official Roald Dahl website let me down. Never trust Wikipedia. Also, shout out to Mike Doran for pointing those two out and helping us all become better TV bloggers.
Mitchell Hadley sent me; I am a full-time pest.
ReplyDeleteI go around correcting people's errors (mainly of the unintentional variety), as here:
- The I Spy series that was created by Phil Reisman Jr was a short-lived syndicated show from 1955, an anthology hosted by Raymond Massey.
(The Culp/Cosby I Spy was created by Morton Fine and David Friedkin.)
- Roald Dahl's story "Royal Jelly" was written and published in 1957, probably in the New Yorker (I'm not sure, but most of Dahl's short stories had their first American publication there).
The story (unconfirmed) is that Dahl wanted to do it on 'Way Out, but CBS freaked. The British series, for Granada, did a version in the '70s, which I've got on DVD (a bit edited, I'm afraid).
I recall that Twilight Zone magazine from the '80s; they were big on classic reprints.
This is my first time here, so I haven't had time to look at your other posts; consider yourself warned.
All fixed! Thanks for your help!
ReplyDelete