EATING RAOUL (1982)

Director: Paul Bartel

Writers: Paul Bartel, Richard Blackburn

Producer: Anne Kimmel

Cast: Paul Bartel, Mary Woronov, Robert Beltran, Susan Saiger, Garry Goodrow, Dan Barrows, Ed Begley, Jr., John Shearin, Buck Henry, John Paragon, Don Steele, Edie McClurg, Richard Blackburn, Darcy Pulliam, Ralph Brannan, Hamilton Camp, Billy Curtis, Allan Rich, Anna Mathias, Richard Paul

Paul and Mary Bland (Paul Bartel and Mary Woronov) are a financially strapped, asexual, married couple living in a Los Angeles, California apartment building that is crawling with swingers. When Paul kills one of the sex-crazed partiers (Garry Goodrow) trying to assault Mary, the Blands find a lot of money on the body that they could use toward a down payment on the country kitchen restaurant that they aspire to open. It occurs to them that killing and robbing perverts they think no one will miss could quickly finance their business startup. The Blands place sex fetish performance ads in a local paper to lure more victims to their apartment.

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Paul Bartel and Mary Woronov both had indie and underground film experience: In the 1960s, Bartel had directed his own experimental short films while Woronov appeared in famous multi-media artist Andy Warhol’s film projects. By the early ’70s, both Bartel and Woronov were working in low-budget feature films. They first worked together in the Bartel-directed Roger Corman production Death Race 2000 (1975). They would continue to collaborate in numerous films, both often playing roles together as an odd couple. Bartel decided that he and Woronov could play a couple that would be the main protagonists of a film. With that goal in mind, Bartel conceived the dark comedy Eating Raoul and gave the cult film audience the ultimate Bartel-Woronov movie.

As Paul and Mary Bland, Bartel and Woronov seem like the most reasonable people in a crass, hedonistic world. They have a lifestyle modeled after the squeaky-clean façade of 1950s media. In their apartment full of retro furniture and bric-a-brac, they sleep fully clothed in separate twin beds and are appalled by the rampant sexuality of the other tenants in their apartment building. Both at home and at work, the Blands are constantly confronted with lowbrow and debauched people.

While they are offended by this world full of crude horndogs, the Blands are just as amoral in their entrepreneurial pursuit. They feel justified killing because decent people like them are struggling, while those no-good swingers always seem to have plenty of money. Their only concern about the murders they commit is finding enough money in two weeks to make a bid on the property they want to buy for their restaurant.

The humor found in the behavior of the Blands is never at the expense of their staid character. They never relish their villainy or truly engage in the spirit of the sexual come-ons that setup their victims. Watching Mary Bland woodenly recite lines as she role plays contrasts hilariously with the rampant antics of her horny johns. Since the Bland couple agreed that Mary would never have to have sex with her clients before her fellow aspiring restauranteur Paul brains them with a frying pan, this is a case of the end justifies the means for the Blands; trickle-down economics be damned.

Soon after the Blands have new locks installed in their apartment, the shady locksmith, Raoul, breaks in at night and discovers the body of one of their recent victims. Rather than report this crime to the police, Raoul partners with the Blands. Raoul figures out more ways to profit from the Blands’ victims than just emptying their wallets.

Robert Beltran is best known for his role as Commander Chakotay on the television series Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001). As Raoul, he is the handsome and pushy presence that manages to prompt some promiscuity out of the prudish Mary Bland. This adds complications to the Blands’ scheme and relationship.

There are many other small parts played to hilarious, tasteless perfection. Garry Goodrow, John Shearin, Dan Barrows, Ed Begley, Jr., and Don Steele are awesomely obnoxious as swingers. John Paragon is one of my favorite characters as the loudmouth sex shop cashier who always speaks in a raised voice about the sexual aids the embarrassed Paul Bland must purchase for his new, moneymaking enterprise. Paragon also played “Breather,” the sweaty, bad joke-telling creep who frequently made phone calls to Cassandra Peterson’s Elvira during her Elvira’s Movie Macabre (1985–2011) horror-movie-hosting television show. Paragon would collaborate as a writer with Peterson for her Elvira feature films Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988) and Elvira’s Haunted Hills (2001).

The comedic edge in Eating Raoul is maintained by not lapsing into the physically surreal. All the humor is derived from the amoral behavior and/or the bad taste excesses of nearly all the characters. The character friction is between the couple with standards and a society that seems to have none. This still allows the film, as light as it is, to satirize the do-it-if-it-feels-good hangover of the sexual revolution, while also demonstrating that sexually uptight people can be even more amoral in their entrepreneurial ambitions.

Eating Raoul was a modest success and critically well received. Bartel and Woronov reprised their Bland characters for a cameo in the 1986 techno-horror film Chopping Mall. In 1989, a sequel to Eating Raoul, called Bland Ambition, was in the works by Bartel and his Eating Raoul co-writer, Richard Blackburn. Unfortunately, the production’s funding was dropped just before filming could begin. That’s a damned shame. I don’t know if Eating Raoul’s comedic special sauce could be reformulated for a sequel, but I was salivating to be served another course à la Bland.

MR. MOTO'S GAMBLE (1938)

Director: James Tinling

Writers: Charles Belden, Jerry Cady, based on the Mr. Moto character created by John P. Marquand

Producers: John Stone, Sol M. Wurtzel (uncredited)

Cast: Peter Lorre, Keye Luke, Maxie Rosenblum, Harold Huber, Lynn Bari, Dick Baldwin, Douglas Fowley, Jayne Regan, John Hamilton, George E. Stone, Bernard Nedell, Ward Bond, Charles Williams, Pierre Watkin, Lon Chaney, Jr., Paul Fix, Adrian Morris, (and uncredited cast) Olin Howard, Lester Dorr, Gladden James

Japanese sleuth Mr. Moto (Peter Lorre) is in San Francisco, California teaching a course in criminology. Among his pupils is Lee Chan (Keye Luke), the son of famed Honolulu, Hawaii Police Detective Charlie Chan. While Mr. Moto and Lee Chan attend a boxing match that will determine the next challenger to the current heavyweight champion, the knocked-out fighter dies. It is soon determined that the dead fighter (Russ Clark) was poisoned. As there were many heavy bets placed on the outcome of the fight, there is no shortage of suspects for Mr. Moto to sort through to help the police solve the case.

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This third film in the Mr. Moto series from the 20th Century-Fox studio has a rather convoluted production history. This was originally intended as an installment in Fox’s popular series of Charlie Chan detective films starring Warner Oland. Charlie Chan at the Ringside began filming in January of 1938. Oland was going through a contentious divorce and was becoming more disenchanted with the studio. Production was halted when Warner Oland left the set never to return, either due to illness or a temperamental act of rebellion. Unfortunately, Oland caught pneumonia and passed away on August 6th, 1938. Without their star to finish portraying the Chinese detective hero, the studio salvaged their investment in the unfinished film by changing it to feature another East Asian sleuth, namely Mr. Moto of their burgeoning series starring Peter Lorre.

Now retitled Mr. Moto’s Gamble, this film was a change of pace for the Moto series. There are no international criminal schemes to foil or globe-hopping intrigue for Moto to deal with here. This time around, Mr. Moto is concerned with solving a murder mystery. The repurposed plot is a Charlie Chan case that is slightly reconfigured to have Moto do all the detective work that Chan was originally intended to do. To accommodate this, Mr. Moto is introduced instructing a criminology course in San Francisco. In an early instance of popular culture series crossovers, none other than Lee Chan (Keye Luke), Charlie Chan’s number one son, is one of Moto’s pupils.

In the first two Mr. Moto films, we were not made immediately aware of Moto’s goals and ethics. He seemed polite and mild-mannered while employing devious and deadly means to achieve his objectives. With this entry in the series, it is immediately established that Mr. Moto is one of the good guys. As a respected international detective, Moto is not only teaching a criminology course, but he is also assisting the police on this case, just as Charlie Chan had in numerous films.

While the action and scope of the plot have been dialed down for Mr. Moto to pinch hit for Charlie Chan in a more conventional murder mystery, we are still in good hands with Peter Lorre as our hero. In addition to his intelligence and criminology expertise, Lorre’s Mr. Moto still displays his usual humility stating that he and others are amateurs in comparison to the absent detective Charlie Chan. I have always felt such mild-mannered grace on Moto’s part demonstrates his confidence in his abilities far more effectively than all the bad boy antics of many so-called heroes in modern films. Moto’s humble attitude also sets up his enemies, as well as the audience, to be surprised by his tactics.

The need for Charlie Chan to be referenced at all is due to the inclusion of Chan’s son in the story. Keye Luke is very likable as he portrays Lee Chan’s typical youthful enthusiasm for crime-solving in this case of prizefighting homicide. As I recall, the master detective Charlie Chan would always try to reign in his well-meaning offspring’s rash actions, yet Lee always seemed to idolize his “pop.” It is amusing that, despite his father not being around, Lee is still contending with his father’s dismissive authority by pretending he went to San Francisco to study art instead of criminology.

Along with Lee Chan is his fellow criminology pupil and comedy relief figure, Horace “Knockout” Wellington. As played by former prize fighter Maxie Rosenbloom, Knockout is quite funny. His comedic role is immediately established as an ex-boxer and kleptomaniac taking criminology to help him solve cases of his own larceny, because he can’t remember who he steals from. Knockout becomes a handy plot device when he swipes an overcoat containing an important clue. Luke and Rosenbloom are a fun duo and play well off each other as they compete with Mr. Moto to solve the murder case. They would be the first of the comical cohorts to assist Moto in some of his adventures.

From the previous Thank You, Mr. Moto (1937), Jayne Regan returns to the series as a different and less central character, the spoiled rich girl Linda Benton trying to tempt aspiring boxer Bill Steele (Dick Baldwin) away from his gal, newspaper reporter Penny Kendall (Lynn Bari).

It is a nice touch that Bari’s Penny is concerned about the physical risks associated with her beau’s profession. We get reminders of how grueling and unglamorous the fight game can be.

Two Perry Whites are in the cast. John Hamilton is featured as Philip Benton, Linda Benton’s father and head of the corporation that owns the boxing arena. Hamilton was much more likably gruff as The Daily Planet newspaper editor Perry White in the 1950s Adventures of Superman television series (1952–58). Pierre Watkin, the first on-camera actor to play Perry White in the serials Superman (1948) and Atom Man vs. Superman (1950), has a bit part here as a district attorney.

Even if you don’t know his name, any vintage film fan will immediately recognize George E. Stone. He was a prolific character actor often turning up in old movies being sneaky, suspicious, or associating with the wrong crowd. Stone’s shifty screen persona was tempered a bit by his recurrent role as “The Runt,” the sidekick to the crime-solving hero Boston Blackie in a series from the Columbia Films studio. Here Stone plays Jerry Connors, the shady manager of murdered fighter Frankie Stanton.

Another hard-working actor at the time that would become quite a name was Ward Bond. Here he plays reigning heavyweight champion Biff Moran, who is scheduled to defend his title against Bill Steele. Bond was a USC college football teammate of John Wayne’s and would go on to co-star in plenty of The Duke’s films. Bond’s enormous filmography was capped off starring as Major Seth Adams in the Western television series Wagon Train (1957–61).

Keep your eyes peeled for Lon Chaney, Jr., allowed only two lines in his role as Joey, the intimidating-looking thug accompanying gambling gangster Nick Crowder (Douglas Fowley). After appearing in a ton of films as bit parts, supporting players, and occasional low-budget leads during the 1930s, Chaney was just one year away from his most acclaimed film role as Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1939). Of course, in the 1940s, Chaney would become a horror film staple for Universal Pictures.

Despite the unlucky hand dealt to 20th Century-Fox, their Mr. Moto’s Gamble must have paid off. The change of tone for this third Mr. Moto movie did not derail the popularity of the series. A fun cast helps this installment play well with its own distinctive charm. It is a fine example of the polished entertainments that the movie factories of classic Hollywood could crank out, even while improvising around unexpected production challenges.

COLOSSUS: THE FORBIN PROJECT (1970)

Director: Joseph Sargent

Writers: James Bridges adapting the 1966 novel Colossus by Dennis Feltham Jones

Producer: Stanley Chase

Cast: Eric Braeden, Susan Clark, Gordon Pinsent, William Schallert, Martin E. Brooks, Marion Ross, Georg Stanford Brown, Willard Sage, Alex Rodine, Dolph Sweet, Byron Morrow, James Hong, Sid McCoy, Paul Frees (Colossus voice), Leonid Rostoff, Robert Cornthwaite, Serge Tschernisch, Lew Brown, Tom Basham

Dr. Charles Forbin (Eric Braeden) is the creator of a supercomputer called Colossus. It independently controls the nuclear defenses of the United States. It has been created to demonstrate to the world that war is now futile because the swift and uncompromising logic of Colossus will retaliate against any aggression. Soon after the U.S. President’s (Gordon Pinsent) worldwide announcement of the activation of Colossus, the supercomputer detects another similar computer system in the Soviet Union and demands to be allowed to link with it. This is the first of the supercomputer’s commands that must be obeyed to keep it from firing nuclear missiles at human population centers.

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Perhaps the most prescient science fiction film ever made, and one whose speculated perils now seem all too imminent, Colossus: The Forbin Project bombed at the box office. It proved how tough it usually was to sell serious sci-fi to the movie-going public. It also proved how commercial success is often no indication of a film’s merit.

Nowadays, since computers are embedded into practically every aspect of civilization, one may think that the public would be more amenable to the message of such a film. I rather doubt that. The only time a sci-fi message passes with the mainstream masses, it is buried in a bunch of stuff that is there just to look cool (action, CGI effects, heroic bluster, snarky attitudes, etc). That is the only stuff that registers with most viewers, while the message, sincere or otherwise, is ignored. To push the uncomfortable consequences of sentient technology into perceptions of the blissfully conformist and stubbornly ignorant is an uphill battle. To anyone with an attention span, watching Colossus: The Forbin Project today feels like a coldy calculated kick in the crotch.

This film was smart not to depict the creator of Colossus as being mad or a megalomaniac. Dr. Charles Forbin is practically a superman. (Okay, he is not quite perfect; he uses gin instead of vodka for his martinis.) Forbin is brilliant, confident, calm, handsome, polite, and decisive, yet never strident. That is why this film’s scenario feels so uncomfortable. You could never find a more ideal human being to be the creator of a supercomputer that controls nuclear defense systems with the intent of making war obsolete, yet even Forbin fails to foresee the menace his creation becomes.

The message here is that sentient technology will not be contained and controlled by anyone, no matter how smart or well-intentioned that technology’s creator may be. Wake up, folks! The tech moguls gunning for each other in our Wild West of data-driven commerce are not as noble as Dr. Charles Forbin. Do you really think they will ever grapple with the AI control issues in their still-not-sufficiently-regulated vanity projects? If they are ever compelled to do so, will it be in time?

With his birth name of Hans Gudegast, Eric Braeden had starred as the ongoing German antagonist Capt. Hans Dietrich in the World War II television series The Rat Patrol (1966–68). He would become a frequent guest star in a multitude of episodes in other series throughout the ’60s and ’70s. For Colossus: The Forbin Project, Hans Gudegast was prompted to change his name to the less Germanic-sounding Eric Braeden. These days, Braeden is certainly best known as starring in the role of Victor Newman for the past 44 years in the long-running CBS television network soap opera The Young and the Restless (1973 to present).

Braeden’s performance as Dr. Charles Forbin is perfect for a man who seems heroic without ever trying to be. In fact, the Forbin character is something of a paradox; he is the one chiefly responsible for the Colossus supercomputer threatening all of mankind, yet he manages to keep us from hating him. His project’s aim was certainly a noble one, and he has the best chance of figuring out how to defeat the menace he has created. Braeden’s Forbin has us rooting for him because he always seems capable and respectable. It really says something about an actor’s presence when they can command your attention without histrionics and maintain our respect, despite his character’s ingenious, humanity-threatening blunder.

Initially, Forbin seems intrigued, rather than concerned, about his creation’s first indications of sentience. Perhaps Forbin’s chief flaw is that his scientific ego probably never allowed for the possibility that there could ever be any eventuality in his project that would be beyond his intelligence to cope with. His team of fellow computer scientists also seems merely surprised and awed by the independent behavior of their handiwork. Their feelings soon turn to dread when Colossus displays a do-it-or-else attitude backed up with nukes.

Once Colossus starts making demands, it is quickly apparent that it intends to assert control over all mankind. The supercomputer also still needs its creator, at least for a while. A series of video cameras throughout the Colossus compound and monitors displaying the text of Colossus’s queries and commands allow Forbin to converse with his brainchild. Colossus demands that Forbin become a virtual prisoner, who is kept to a strict daily schedule and under constant surveillance. Forbin must suffer such indignities as beginning his day with exercise at 7:00 a.m. (I don’t even have a pulse that early!), Colossus critiquing his martini mixology, and even being watched on the crapper. The most amusing moments in the movie are Braeden trying to cooly negotiate with his computerized warden for a few small human privileges.

However, Forbin is a genius and manages to secure the most precious privilege of all: sex. He tells the computer that men require it for their emotional stability. Above all, sex must be allowed privacy. Under very strict conditions (spontaneity be damned), Colossus grants his creator scheduled, unmonitored bedroom time to unload his hard drive. Fortunately, the beautiful Dr. Cleo Markham (Susan Clark) is a computer technician on Forbin’s team willing to pose as his mistress for visits four times per week. In the hope of continuing to plot against Colossus, just prior to Forbin being put under the computer’s surveillance, he had arranged with Dr. Markham to cum and go as his outside world contact to secretly pass information between the sheets. Smooth, Forbin, smoooooth!

It is fun seeing previously platonic coworkers Forbin and Markham, under the surveillance of Colossus, trying to playact during their first “conjugal visit” as if they have already been involved in a long affair. This could become the world’s most nerve-wracking first date, yet Forbin and Markham seem to be trying to enjoy it and can appreciate the absurdity of this tricky situation that they have had to arrange.

That lightness of tone does not last for long. The consequences of Colossus and its demands escalate to domination of the whole world. I think the change from the original novel’s future setting to the 1970 film’s contemporary era is a wise one. This does not give the viewer any relief from serious consideration of a science fiction concept by relegating it to pure fantasy or a concern that can’t affect us anytime soon. Both nuclear weapons and computer technology were already prevalent and impacting the course of civilization.

Colossus: The Forbin Project refuses to stroke us with the comforting notion of humanity’s superiority (love, duty, spontaneity, creativity, and all that jazz) always winning out over unfeeling machine logic. The few people back in 1970 that watched this film didn’t walk out of the theater comforted by a neatly tied up Hollywood conclusion. They were still left to ponder the awful dilemma that the film’s story proposes. We have much less time today to ponder that dilemma. Oh hell, now I really need one of my perfect martinis!

THE NIGHT STRANGLER (1973)

Director: Dan Curtis

Writer: Richard Matheson (based on characters created in Jeff Rice’s novel The Kolchak Papers)

Producer: Dan Curtis

Cast: Darren McGavin, Jo Ann Pflug, Simon Oakland, Scott Brady, Wally Cox, Margaret Hamilton, John Carradine, Nina Wayne, Al Lewis, Ivor Francis, Richard Anderson, Virginia Peters, Kate Murtagh, Diane Shalet, Anne Randall, Francoise Burnheim, Regina Parton.

Veteran reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) relocates in Seattle, Washington looking for work. He runs into the newspaper editor he used to work for in Las Vegas, Tony Vincenzo (Simon Oakland), and gets hired. As Kolchak’s luck would have it, he is soon investigating a series of murders just as strange as those he reported on back in Las Vegas. Women are being strangled by a killer who leaves traces of rotted flesh on their throats and extracts blood from the base of their skulls. Once again, Kolchak runs afoul of the authorities who don’t want to accept the incredible sounding facts he uncovers about the crimes.

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The Night Strangler is the equally entertaining sequel to the ratings blockbuster telefilm The Night Stalker (1972). Once again, the theme of journalism oppression by the authorities is as prevalent as the horror. Both Dan Curtis and Richard Matheson are involved again. This time producer Curtis also directs. Matheson’s script is an original story using the two characters of newspaper reporter Carl Kolchak and his exasperated editor, Tony Vincenzo, from the previous film that was based on a Jeff Rice novel. Rice, in turn, would write a novelization of this sequel film.

Some may feel that The Night Strangler is something of a rehash of The Night Stalker, but it has an energy all its own. It is loaded with funny and distinctive characters, most of whom Kolchak can’t help rubbing the wrong way. This leads to many bust-out-loud-laughing moments, yet the humor is never at the expense of the horror. We are still fully invested in the setting and situations Carl Kolchak is investigating.

Speaking of setting, that is often as important as character and motivation in a good horror tale. Like the earlier film, The Night Strangler takes place in a city not often dealt with, especially on television back in the ’70s. Seattle provides not only a different locale, but screenwriter Matheson delves into a strange-but-true bit of its history to add another layer of mystery and the bizarre to his story; it is an essential part of the killer’s character.

The main concept for this film’s menace seems to have a strong precedent in the Hammer Films horror movie The Man Who Could Cheat Death (1959), which was a remake of Paramount Pictures’ The Man in Half Moon Street (1945). Matheson’s story brings plenty of other elements into this film to keep it fresh and exciting, and his use of the Seattle Underground is a great idea.

First published in 1950, Richard Matheson was a very innovative and influential writer of fantasy stories. His horror tales often placed a menace in the contemporary settings and times of his readers. This made his stories more relatable and potentially unsettling for his audience. Matheson’s prolific output would also include screenplays for films and television. Many of the best-remembered episodes of TV’s The Twilight Zone (1959–64) were scripted by Matheson. He wrote most of director Roger Corman’s film adaptations of Edgar Allan Poe stories in the 1960s. In the ’70s, Matheson scripted two important movies that helped ensure popularity and respect for the burgeoning made-for-TV film medium: Duel (1971—based on Matheson’s short story and directed by Steven Spielberg in his feature film debut) and the first Carl Kolchak adventure, The Night Stalker.

Producer Dan Curtis admired Richard Matheson’s writing, but he had once offended the writer when offering an option to make a film based on a Matheson story. Matheson had resented such a low-figure bid for his work. That earlier Curtis production never materialized, but when the opportunity for Curtis to produce The Night Stalker arrived, he had a tough time overcoming Matheson’s grudge to get his “favorite writer” to do the screenplay. Once they got past that initial acrimony, Curtis and Matheson became cordial and would collaborate on more ’70s telefilms.

The Night Strangler repeats the narrative hook of the dedicated journalist tracking down another weird serial killer. Both writer Matheson and producer-director Curtis must have felt that more overt humor would keep the sequel from appearing formulaic. Matheson had already proven his merit writing for laughs in the horror comedies The Raven (1963) and The Comedy of Terrors (1963). While the first Kolchak film was laced with cynicism and humor, Matheson’s original screenplay for this sequel has even more amusing characters collaborating or clashing with our newshawk hero. Since all this humor arises from character quirks, egos, and conflicting agendas, it does not diminish the threat and intrigue of the horror being investigated. Dan Curtis’s direction still enhances the creep factor and delivers some fine jump scares.

Jo Ann Pflug co-stars as Carl Kolchak’s belly dancer friend and psychology undergrad, Louise Harper. She is another sexy and appealing lady that our reporter hero manages to hook up with, and she becomes much more involved in Kolchak’s investigations than his last girlfriend. Pflug would also star in the next year’s Curits-Matheson TV terror, Scream of the Wolf (1974).

Scott Brady plays Police Captain Roscoe Schubert, Kolchak’s most immediate obstacle to his latest journalistic crusade. Schubert actually seems quite reasonable if inflexible; however, he is driven to rage by Kolchak’s pushy antics.

Horror movie stalwart John Carradine is Llewellyn Crossbinder, the stuffy and domineering publisher of Kolchak’s newspaper, The Seattle Daily Chronicle.

Wally Cox (TV’s Mr. Peepers—1952–55) is The Chronicle’s meek and forgotten researcher, Titus Berry, and he proves to be a great help to Kolchak’s investigations.

Margaret Hamilton (The Wicked Witch of the West in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz) has a cameo as the cranky Professor Crabwell who gives Kolchak some ideas about the killer’s motivation.

Al Lewis (Grandpa in The Munsters TV series—1964–66) portrays a vagrant living in the Seattle Underground.

Richard Anderson, best known as Oscar Goldman in both The Six Million Dollar Man (1973–78) and The Bionic Woman (1976–78) TV series, brings fanatical intensity and a touch of madness to his brief role of Dr. Richard Malcolm.

Dan Curtis’s frequent music composer, Robert Cobert, returns with a revamped theme from The Night Stalker. Cobert also contributes other jazzy and creepy pieces that perfectly suit this contemporary urban horror story.

This second Carl Kolchak television movie was also quite successful, and plans were made for a third film that was to be called The Night Killers. Richard Matheson collaborated on that script with William F. Nolan, another writer who would also provide creepy scripts for future Dan Curtis productions. That third Kolchak feature film was never made, but on Friday the 13th in September of 1974, Kolchak: The Night Stalker debuted as a twenty-episode television series. Curtis and Matheson were not involved in the weekly show, as they both felt that the Kolchak concept was played out. Darren McGavin would not only star in the ongoing series; he was also the co-producer. The series was a ratings flop in its day, but it was great, spooky fun and has developed a devoted cult following over the years. It influenced Chris Carter when he created the television series The X-Files (1993–2002, 2016–18).

The 1970s were the heyday of made-for-television movies. There were many in the horror genre that deserve to be made available again. Of them all, the Carl Kolchak adventures The Night Stalker and The Night Strangler are the most deserving of classic status. Those two films are all-time favorites of mine and must-see for true horror buffs.