Darkroom
July 14th 2010 04:14
Darkroom was a short-lived anthology television series hosted by the legendary James Coburn (with the voice to die for) which ran for one season (seven episodes, sixteen stories). The red light dimmed on a series slightly out of time with its intended audience. The inclusion of two or three (but occasionally just the one) stories within a single episode, based on the format made famous by shows such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Night Gallery (both of which also included a host who introduced each tale), and of course, The Twilight Zone, Darkroom was intended to provide chilling, nightmarish scenarios already penned by famous authors, and including fresh tales of terror too.
At the eleventh hour the intended stories were abandoned (Roald Dahl’s Lamb to the Slaughter, John Collier’s Evening Primrose, W.W. Jacobs’ The Monkey Paw, and Alfred Bester’s Star Light, Star Bright were among them), and a entirely new series of original stories were created (some by Pyscho author Robert Bloch). All the tales lifted the technique honed by Dahl or an intriguing premise that ends with an ironic sting in the tail.
The show’s unique opening sequence featured a camera zooming close to the floor through a deserted house, up and down staircases, and into darkened, eerie rooms, eventually ending up at a closed door of a crawlspace under the stairs … the darkroom, all the while James Coburn’s deep, ominous voiceover taunted, “You are in a house. Maybe your own. Maybe one you’ve never been seen before. You feel it … something evil. You run, but there’s no escape. Nowhere to turn. You feel something beckoning you. Drawing you into the terror that awaits you in the darkroom!”
And then we’d be in the darkroom and James Coburn would turn off the red light, and slyly eye the camera, “Oh, it’s you,” he’d say, “Come, I want to show you something …” The photo he’d just printed would be the opening still of the episode’s first story. The pilot episode features two tales, one half-an-hour long, the other twenty minutes. The first, Closed Circuit, written by Alan Brennert and directed by Rick Rosenthal (who helmed Halloween II released the same year), is a prophetic nightmare of paranoia with a science fiction turn.
Greg Conway (Robert Webber) is a news anchorman who discovers (after the strange re-location of his colleague) much to his chagrin and disgust that the powers that be, a man named Bellamy (Richard Anderson), has decided ratings rule the roost and must dictate the future of broadcast and presentation. Therefore a new technology has been employed to provide viewers with perfect continuity and presenter stability, the truth will remain the truth. A computer image mimics Conway’s appearance and voice, therefore rendering the real Conway null and void. Well, almost. The real Conway must be kept alive and well to provide additional voice recordings for further mimicking. Seems the long-overdue holiday - Conway’s freedom – will remain a figment of his imagination, a promise broken, a nightmare sustained.
In the second tale of the pilot episode, Stay Tuned, We’ll Be Right Back, written by Simon Muntner and directed by Paul Lynch (who helmed Prom Night, released the year before), Charlie Miller (Lawrence Pressman) has bought his young son Kenny (Shane Butterworth) a crystal radio set, and Kenny is intrigued by the old music and announcements he’s picking up. After work, alte one night, Charlie decides to have a listen and much to his dark fascination he discovers the elementary broadcast contraption is receiving transmissions directly from 1942, the year his father died aboard the USS Bradley, after it was sunk by a German U-boat.
Charlie is determined to intervene with the fabric of time, convinced the transmission is a window into the past and there is the chance of changing the course of history and saving his dear departed father. Charlie’s wife Janet (Joanna Miles) is concerned, but Charlie’s dead set, with Morse code device and a book translating German at hand he taps away a message aimed at the U-boat in order to mislead them. He awakes at his desk, must have fallen asleep, his father (Bert Freed) rouses him from the adjacent room, a delicatessen with Deutschland insignia, where Charlie discovers much to his horror that he’s changed the course of history drastically; the Nazi’s won the war and now govern America.
Darkroom has barely been seen since its initial television run through late 1981 and early 1982, unavailable on VHS or DVD (until now). Despite its slightly wooden acting and TV-ratio format the cinematography is suitably moody, the tone suitably dark, and the score suitably creepy, and of course, James Coburn, suitably menacing, in his wryly enthralling way. Some of the actors that crop up in further episodes include Ronny Cox, Brian Dennehy, Samantha Eggar, Rue McLanahan, Lloyd Bochner, Billy Crystal, and Helen Hunt. And also of note; several episodes that were deemed “too intense” for television ended up within the rarely seen anthology movie Nightmares (1983).
Darkroom - The Complete Series DVD (2-disc with wonderful original “Pressbook” notes) is courtesy of Madman Entertainment, many thanks!
Here’s the opening sequence:
At the eleventh hour the intended stories were abandoned (Roald Dahl’s Lamb to the Slaughter, John Collier’s Evening Primrose, W.W. Jacobs’ The Monkey Paw, and Alfred Bester’s Star Light, Star Bright were among them), and a entirely new series of original stories were created (some by Pyscho author Robert Bloch). All the tales lifted the technique honed by Dahl or an intriguing premise that ends with an ironic sting in the tail.
The show’s unique opening sequence featured a camera zooming close to the floor through a deserted house, up and down staircases, and into darkened, eerie rooms, eventually ending up at a closed door of a crawlspace under the stairs … the darkroom, all the while James Coburn’s deep, ominous voiceover taunted, “You are in a house. Maybe your own. Maybe one you’ve never been seen before. You feel it … something evil. You run, but there’s no escape. Nowhere to turn. You feel something beckoning you. Drawing you into the terror that awaits you in the darkroom!”
And then we’d be in the darkroom and James Coburn would turn off the red light, and slyly eye the camera, “Oh, it’s you,” he’d say, “Come, I want to show you something …” The photo he’d just printed would be the opening still of the episode’s first story. The pilot episode features two tales, one half-an-hour long, the other twenty minutes. The first, Closed Circuit, written by Alan Brennert and directed by Rick Rosenthal (who helmed Halloween II released the same year), is a prophetic nightmare of paranoia with a science fiction turn.
Greg Conway (Robert Webber) is a news anchorman who discovers (after the strange re-location of his colleague) much to his chagrin and disgust that the powers that be, a man named Bellamy (Richard Anderson), has decided ratings rule the roost and must dictate the future of broadcast and presentation. Therefore a new technology has been employed to provide viewers with perfect continuity and presenter stability, the truth will remain the truth. A computer image mimics Conway’s appearance and voice, therefore rendering the real Conway null and void. Well, almost. The real Conway must be kept alive and well to provide additional voice recordings for further mimicking. Seems the long-overdue holiday - Conway’s freedom – will remain a figment of his imagination, a promise broken, a nightmare sustained.
In the second tale of the pilot episode, Stay Tuned, We’ll Be Right Back, written by Simon Muntner and directed by Paul Lynch (who helmed Prom Night, released the year before), Charlie Miller (Lawrence Pressman) has bought his young son Kenny (Shane Butterworth) a crystal radio set, and Kenny is intrigued by the old music and announcements he’s picking up. After work, alte one night, Charlie decides to have a listen and much to his dark fascination he discovers the elementary broadcast contraption is receiving transmissions directly from 1942, the year his father died aboard the USS Bradley, after it was sunk by a German U-boat.
Charlie is determined to intervene with the fabric of time, convinced the transmission is a window into the past and there is the chance of changing the course of history and saving his dear departed father. Charlie’s wife Janet (Joanna Miles) is concerned, but Charlie’s dead set, with Morse code device and a book translating German at hand he taps away a message aimed at the U-boat in order to mislead them. He awakes at his desk, must have fallen asleep, his father (Bert Freed) rouses him from the adjacent room, a delicatessen with Deutschland insignia, where Charlie discovers much to his horror that he’s changed the course of history drastically; the Nazi’s won the war and now govern America.
Darkroom has barely been seen since its initial television run through late 1981 and early 1982, unavailable on VHS or DVD (until now). Despite its slightly wooden acting and TV-ratio format the cinematography is suitably moody, the tone suitably dark, and the score suitably creepy, and of course, James Coburn, suitably menacing, in his wryly enthralling way. Some of the actors that crop up in further episodes include Ronny Cox, Brian Dennehy, Samantha Eggar, Rue McLanahan, Lloyd Bochner, Billy Crystal, and Helen Hunt. And also of note; several episodes that were deemed “too intense” for television ended up within the rarely seen anthology movie Nightmares (1983).
Darkroom - The Complete Series DVD (2-disc with wonderful original “Pressbook” notes) is courtesy of Madman Entertainment, many thanks!
Here’s the opening sequence:
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