A subdivision of ACIDEMIC

Monday, September 28, 2015

CHARLIE'S ANGELS Season III: Episode Guide (1978-79)


Purists say that, like some crooked boxer, Charlies Angels took a dive in the third. It definitely kind of peters off after occasional flashes of the old magic, but we have to remember that in network TV, a season is over 20 episodes. The first eight to ten of them were often pretty well thought out, full of nice details and real emotions. By the last few, they were recycling old Mod Squad and Honey West plots and centering cases around singers so they could croon away the minutes. Who can blame them?

Kate Jackson left at the end, replaced for Season IV in a stunningly wrong move by high end London model Shelly Hack, with a terrible hair-do that looked like a 60s beehive had been knocked over going under a bridge. Way too skinny and posh for the mellow LA vibe, Hack (whom Cheryl Ladd resembled so closely they could be non-identical twins), even before the season ended, Hack too was gone.

But then - at the end of S4, during the last two-part finale, came the very cool and enchanting Tanya Roberts. Critics all say that if she came in on S4 instead of Hack then the show might still be running today. Roberts, man - those aquamarine purple eyes, that wry sultry crackle in her voice, those slim hips and willowy, tall shapely form-- man, that Roberts is as natural a fit for the Angels as the day is long. But really it may have been just too late. The show belonged in the 70s, like mood rings, huge medallions over black turtlenecks, and carpeted vans.

To that end, here's Season Three, episode-by-episode, in all its sporadically competent glory. This is the season wherein, even with Sabrina still in the mix, the Angels seemed to be forgetting how to do their job. Increasingly void of moxy, the girls often had to relie on convenient coincidental machinations and cross-cutting to see them through. Thanks to the wavering attention of overtaxed screenwriters like the "Selznick of Spelling"  Ernest Lakso, there's also no shortage of easy 'going nowhere slow' old hammy show biz types meandering around the edges of scenes, mugging indiscriminately for, presumably, SAG scale and the chance to get back under the studio roofs like the old times.

But there's still occasional glimmers of 70s charm and the slyly assertive feminism of the first season; Jill Monroe even comes back for a spell or two, looking dangerously thin but with one hell of an impressive tan. And today's Law and Order variations owe a rather large debt to this show and its contemporary and tawdrier later-in-the-evening ancestor, Police Woman. Tell your friends, pally.

49-50 - Angels in Vegas (Parts 1, 2) Sept. 1978
B

Sammy Davis Jr. must have had fun working with the Angels last season ("The Kidnapping of Sammy Davis Jr.") and told his Rat Pack about it, because here comes Dean Martin, strolling through real Vegas locations, showing card tricks to an unimpressed Scatman Crothers. Standing by various Tropicana wheels and craps tables while looking inscrutably focused (i.e. sober), Dino doesn't (or won't) see how shifty-eyed lounge singer Marty Cole (Bewitched's Dick Sargent) uses the casino hotel as a base for a lucrative prostitution/hidden camera/blackmail racket. Frank (Martin) won't believe any of his employees are dishonest. But he does thinks a bunch of recent 'accidents' are gaslighting tactics from a rival gambler. The last straw is when a blonde dancer--bedecked in a fur coat and Trans-Am she clearly never paid for--is followed by an ominous looking truck that runs her off the road. Beep Beep! 

Yet, according to Frank: "Las Vegas is a clean town." (Did a Vegas conglomerate make a deal with ABC?)

The Angels all go undercover: poor Bosley is made a parking attendant; Kris embeds herself as a singer with Marty Cole; Sabrina plays accountant, looking over the books for signs of skimming;  Kelly secures a spot in the Folies Bergere of 1978 (replacing the hit-and-run victim of the opener) and runs up against a catty rival for the top spot. Big mistake, sister! All sorts of things are revealed, like that Frank won the Tropicana in a crap game. What happened to the guy who lost it? "He is nowhere," Frank says. "He just walked through that door and shot himself right through the head." We learn Frank was in 'the Tank Corp' during the war (a reference maybe to the ill-fated Martin vehicle Anzio?) and we also glean he's a tad mule-headed when it comes to suspecting any of his employees, nearly all of whom are stealing him blind and working all sorts of shady scams. Oh Frank, Sabrina says, looking deep into his eyes and seeing the good man behind all the tired gambler schtick (he tells Sabrina she's suffering from "structured thinking," and makes a pass at her becauseL "I can tell you and I are going to get together,"  Sabrina is into it, adding "I might have known it before you did," G'head Sabrina! Hmm-mmmm -- it's pretty foxy link-up. His waxing on the poetry of dice games and coin flips proves more affecting than Sabrina presumes, even as she sees the decent, loyal man behind the glib archness ( ("somewhere underneath the glitz and the glamor must be a gentleman and a scholar.") Their hook-up proves way more affecting than some of the other tangents in this two-parter, such as who-- other than all the shady suspects he refuses to consider--might be out to put Frank out of business.

The Angels set up a "Command Center" in Frank's suite of Tropicana penthouse apartments. Downstairs, as part of her cover, Kris sings for Marty Cole to audition so we hear a stanza or two from her (real) album: "Take a chance and see / love will never be / foreplanned (?)" Great lyrics, m'Ladd (did you know she did the singing voice of Melanie on Josie and the Pussycats?). Marty thinks Kris looks just like his ex-wife, Leslie, which is funny since later this same season Kris will turn out to be the Lylah Clare-style ringer for some unrelated dead 20s starlet. Meanwhile Sabrina drops some feminism (or women's lib as it was called then) on Frank to make him reconsider his stringent no-prisoners approach to the fairer sex, in an echo of her hook-up with Tony Mann (the Hefner-style publisher/swinger) in season one.

Pros: Surprisingly adult references to prostitution and blackmail; Kelly looks hot in dancer tights (and loves to get the chance to show her high kicks) and she gets to come on strong to Vic Morrow as a rival casino owner suspect, scaring him mightily in the process. (He would be dead in just two years due to a helicopter accident on the set of the Twilight Zone movie, so savor his irreplaceable gravitas). As Frank, Dino gets some good poetic lines about luck and how to run a casino ("this is all very structured," he boozily tells Sabrina of the chaos). And if the girls thought it would be easy tricking secrets out of these  high rollers via their usual flirting,  think again!. There always pretty girls trying to get something out of them in Vegas, so it's not like the Angels have the usual clean field to ply their wiles in. Vic Morrow, for example, figures it all out real fast with the help of his flunky who remembers Kelly from the other casino (these guys never forget a face).

Cons: Scatman Crothers forgets that the first rule when being chased by a demon truck while walking your cat: get the hell out of the center of the road. Second rule: cats don't need to be walked. And especially don't do it at night in a back alley. Scat, what are you thinking?! The writers of this episode clearly have no knowledge of how casinos operate if a mysterious Asian gambler (James Hong!) can use a handheld computer right at the craps table, and play with crooked dice which Martin never thinks to swap out since he refuses to believe anyone is dishonest in this town (and earlier floated him $10K in credit when he was 90 in the hole). In real life, he wouldn't have held onto that casino for more than five minutes with that kind of permissive negligence! Earlier, a guy takes some potshots from an unmarked truck right in front of the Tropicana and there's no security or cop response other than three cute girls and a portly duffer ambling into the center lane of the front drive and then giving up. Similarly, Frank has all these guys conspiring against him from another casino--using a full spectrum of dirty tricks--and he's basically just some old naive chump who just hired three girls from LA to fight his battles for him, and that's it for an entire casino! No security, not even a doorman with a roll of quarters in his pocket. Frank just seems hopefully out of his depth, refusing to believe any evidence that contradicts his naive opinion of how honest everyone around him is. And worse still: Sabrina gets a perm! And the beginning includes another of those lazy sexist writer bits where the Angels all brassily announce the want to get new clothes and hairdos before heading to Vegas (including that awful perm) implying Townsend Agency is paying for it all. Maybe that's ok and I'm sexist just for thinking it's sexist?

Pros again (Part 2):
Surprise - the cliffhanger of Scatman's fate at the hands of Vic Morrow's injection of curari into his IV drip ends with his death! I love Scat but it's a ballsy move on the part of the show. Sabrina's hook-up with Frank (Dino) continues: a relationship only a talented resourceful brainy actress and a boozy laureate could conjure out of the slot machine din. Her nerdy younger girl ectomorph brains and his thirty years-older, shoot-from-the-hip cool make for an interesting, even touching, combination, as both are the sort of actors and characters who feel through their eyes but keep their composure and cool - i.e. they seem like they'd be a good match in a perfect world. Ladd gets to sing a second time. Bosley does a neat golf cart tumble. Kelly's buddy in the dance company is allowed to be like a whole foot or so taller, making their scenes together refreshingly awkward. Vic Morrow shares Dino's existentialist outlook ("hanging around you, a guy could lose his edge," notes Dino) and philosophy of gambling "It takes a nifty piece of driving to make that look like an accident," goads Kelly to Vic, drawing him out on the idea he may not have had. Sulky Marty Cole (Dick Seargant) proves one of the more quietly Lemmon-esque complex slimeballs in the series, skulking around Frank's perimeter because "he generally gets what he wants" (Marty doesn't, I guess).  In a bold stroke of synergy, the coda introduces Dan Tana, arriving as they depart -heralding the start of new ABC show Vegas. It's all connected. 

Cons: (Part 2):
Kris lets herself be led off away from the casino at night, without telling any of the girlfriends where she's going, which is absurdly stupid for anyone with any sort of law enforcement background, or anyone over the age of ten, for that matter. For me, I guess the key annoyance about this show in general is that angels' intelligence varies wildly from episode to episode, and they never grow from all their experience, leading them to walk into the same traps over and over and over. They get dumber as the series goes on! I have to keep repeating "it's only the 70s, it's only the 70s" remembering how little we worried about girls going off with shady guys back then. It was a mixture of trust, naivete, and hedonistic cool, all gone with the advent of home video and the sudden plethora of onscreen sexual violence, and all the other gristly stuff censors had protected us from since the dawn of media. 

51. Angel Come Home
B+

Jill returns. She's become a Formula 1 racer! Farrah does a fine guest star turn. We first see her wearing the same bathing suit she wears in that famous poster, with a flowing white skirt added, but her hair is a mess. She looks sick, rail thin and wearing way too much eyeliner. Seems her handsome racer fiancee Mark Carmony (Stephen Collins) is a suspect in a case of sabotage against a prototype model car created by an ambiguous but handsome Paul Farino (the sexy Horst Bucholtz), who's lured Jill to LA (or did he?) to talk her into driving his experimental baby in the local race. Mark lost a bunch of money betting on himself so may need to play dirty to get his own wheels in the mix, or something. Gambling - terrible habit, especially for drinkers. You can go double or nothing while drunk and then wake up hungover and somehow in debt past the point of human understanding. And not even remember what the bet was. 

Jill has terrible judgment in men. Mark tries to get all bossy and argue her out of racing for Paul Farino. Why was he at Paul's seedy LA racetrack anyway? Andrea Lassiter (Mrs. Dean Martin-at-the-time, Dolly Read) shows up as a race track groupie who still has the hots for Mark. Who's she working for, her own G-spot aside? With that flock of teeth in that frenzied smile and all that eyeliner she seems like some stalker of Farrah's look on that poster. She'd be right at home amidst the girls in Red Line 7000. In fact there's even a scene in a wood paneled and red tablecloth-covered tavern that looks just like the one in that film!

Pros: Bill Vint is great as a hipster mechanic. There's a Jackie Stewart cameo! The plot's clever enough and makes good use of the racetrack milieu and Jill's presence; she gets to really act in some scenes. Kris gets to run around on the beach looking cute and the bouncing around and yelping during their sororal reunion has a very nice 70s feel. Even Bosley comes off well this go-round, speaking in a gravelly voice and relaying unpleasant facts about Mark and Paul Farino with a rare genuinely detective-like air. And there's genuine suspense and a big chase climax.

Cons: It's hard to believe all these zillion dollar cars would just sit around untended right next to each other at a public track before a big race. 

Funny to think that --after all the brouhaha when she left, all the fans clamoring for her return--after this episode nobody wanted to see Farrah come back. Not only is Ladd a more engaging nuanced actress, she can work her angles, smize with the best of them, and she looks pretty damned fine in a low-cut black/purple evening dress at a party. Though she does seem to know how to channel her hot messiness into some palpable grief, our poor Farrah--hair a mess, eyeliner covering up a smizeless hungover stare--looks awash in tiredness that's possibly the result of anorexia, her failed film career (Saturn 3 still stalled), her failed marriage to Lee Majors, cancer, or all of the above. Hang in there baby, we want to say, it works if you work it so work you're worth it, and The Burning Bed cometh, ironically enough, to launch a whole second phase of your career as a cool, legitimately Emmy-worthy TV actress.

52. Angel on High
B

There's a great croaking-voiced hit man and once again the motive is refreshingly simple: greed and inheritances, and sins of fathers and corporations. A dumb air show stunt pilot (Michael Goodwin) is possible heir to two different fortunes but doesn't want to be tied down to either the boardroom or the mob dynasty. He only wants to fly! So noble. So dumb. What Angel could resist? By now the Angels have lost so many would-be pilot boyfriends and fiancees to either jail or airplane sabotage they should know their kisses carry steep jinx tolls. They should also learn to read cues from people's faces, and not to talk really loud in public about their secret plans, especially when they already know folks are spying on them. Even this far into the series Kris never fails to be stunned when some cute guy pulls a gun on her, as if hotness equals goodness just because the Angels themselves are both hot and good. How hard can it be? Baby, don't even go there.

Pros: The story evolves with a very clever cop show-style hook, commencing with the random second degree manslaughter hit of a church-going middle aged lady crossing the road by a distracted yokel with his girlfriend. "William Freeman brings the touch of warm nostalgia" to aviation history in his trusty bi-plane, so does--with its analog charm, measured pace, and relative lack of traumatic violence--this old chestnut of an episode. The romance between Bill Freeman and Kelly gets some weird cautionary implied-lesbian-jealousy from Sabrina! Jackson really knocks out some A-game termite bits this go-round.. By contrast, the whole dour judgmental mother thing paints a negative picture of Christian guilt (the mom wrecks the son's life because she's worried she has "bad blood" which is a bit like letting the car out of the barn after it's flown). There's a good bit with Sabrina goosing information out of a mobbed-up chairman of the board in NYC (and she even takes in stride a stray potshot or two). Even Smith does some fine acting when presented with the possibility to just fly away with a cute guy and leave her life behind --seriously --she's tempted! Her eyes soften and glisten a bit --she's really taken aback at the thought, eyes all glistening, showing that when she gets the chance, and the script treats her with some modicum of respect, Smith can bring it. Still elsewhere Kelly can come off quite stupid. It's a generally smart savvy episode so her 'but why?' refrain carries the echo of Cliff's Notes. When Freeman tells her he brought a picnic lunch she retorts "oh, that sounds nice." And she already went through the barrel rolls with the handsome biplane pilot. When she gonna learn? Sabrina worries she hasn't come down yet, and is worried she might crash and burn. "That's not the plan," Kelly answers. Kelly's the only Angel you have to remind that it "never is." But hey, I do like that at the end Freeman chooses his dumb plane over all the 'hooks' trying to get into him. Usually the Angels are doing the flying away...

53. Angels in Springtime
B

You would think the Angels would be smart enough by now to not take an easily-locked steam bath in a ritzy spa wherein they already know someone's actively trying to kill them, but there's a great Lorre-eyed dyke masseuse involved and Kelly makes a reference to a past episode wherein she was hypnotized. Is she going to be ditzy enough to  be hypnotized again and resume her squeaking about "Beamish"? Whoa! Continuity?! Kelly even wreaks some delayed payback for her past season exploitation by almost breaking the offending doctor's arm. Mercedes McCambridge is the wheelchair-bound ex-Broadway hoofer presiding over the evil and very posh spa where murder and blackmail are afoot (the first victim: Marie Windsor!) "People are killed the world over by the combination of water and electricity," notes Charlie. Windor's niece, their client, doesn't believe it's an accident, but couldn't undercover into to a place like a lady spa as she has glasses and a nerdy vibe (she can recognize a Pope quote!). But auntie's memoirs are missing! As someone who had to go to a sinister spa to collect my mom's effects after she died, I really relate. "The sooner we solve it the sooner we escape," notes Sabrina to Kris after their dreary military-style indoctrination speech ("you will be more than servants, you will become their slaves."

cuz they may be lesbians
Pros: "It's a women's spa, Bosley. No men allowed." Once again Ladd effortlessly supplies the bulk of the sex appeal in a cute pink bathing suit as the exercise coordinator, almost getting into a tussle with the evil Zora ("a pretty little neck," she snarls to snoopy Kris, "I bet it would break easy!"); all the staff are super bitchy but since there are no men it's great to see, especially with the creepy lesbian vibe going on betwixt the doctor, the butch masseuse Zora (Nancy Motel Hell Parsons), and Ingrid the "Amazonian directress." You don't have to hear the cold doctor announce she must take Kelly's luggage away "it's for your own good" while trying to turn her butch to consider this must be John Waters' favorite episode, if he ever watched. Now that the closet is seen as the sickness rather than being gay, this great surreally abstraction cloud that used to fog the issue has all but dwindled to nothing!

Cons: Bosley never mentions the fee unless Charlie is comping an old friend. Considering the amount of people Charlie knows, it's a wonder they make any money at all. Either way, it's annoying. By the end, the spa's flat pink and white color scheme has grown wearying, like being trapped in my mom's house over Xmas. Mercedes' old broad sass gets wearying too ("as I was saying, about sex." It's like ugh okay we get it lady, you think you're the last of the red hot Auntie Mames -sex in general, let alone with a closeted sewing circle grand dame who gave Joan such a rough time for turning straight in Johnny Guitar). But just as wearying is that Kris is too blinded by hamminess and old lady sweetness to imagine Mercedes could knife her own best friend in the back over a man or a memoir. And that even after Nora threatens to break her neck if she goes into the gym. Kris goes for a nice steam... all by herself... and later while snooping through Windsor's room, lets herself get easily surprised and overpowered and nearly murdered by hot towel wrap.

In the last bit, Charlie is identified as Bottom-cum-donkey, cradled in the Anita Louise's arms via a still from Max Reinhart's 1935 version of Midsummer Night's Dream (it's actually Jimmy Cagney but... are we sure? Was Charlie wearing the head while Cagney did the singing?). And the client is saved from a life of dowdiness by Kelly's beauty treatment (she takes off her glasses and did her hair in a way that would--now--be considered a sure sign of dyke allegiance!)

54. Winning is for Losers
B+

Jamie Lee Curtis as a women's golf pro, back when she was still just Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis' daughter. Future Twin Peaks star (Laura Palmer's dad) Ray Wise, is a loner vet of the Travis Bickle variety, stalking her. Someone (else?) is taking potshots at her and there's probably a snake in her golf bag, or a bomb in the 18th hole, or a gator in the rough, or all three. What a line-up! Casey Casem does the match commentary and woos an older rival lady golfer (E.J. Peaker) whom he remembers crushing on in his youth. She'll do anything to win this tournament before she retires! ANYTHING! As the Ultimate Fan Guide notes "Ladd is an expert golfer in real life. Though she doesn’t get a chance to demonstrate her prowess in this episode, Ladd participates in various pro-am tournaments to help raise money for charity, including her own Cheryl Ladd Pro AM. Good for her, and she has some good actorly bits with Curtis - they're old friends ("Acapulco!") but a bad sign for the series she doesn't get to play. That no one ever really get to demonstrate their prowess on this show is a real sign of neglect. Still maybe it's for the best "Drop out of the tournament or you'll be dead by the final round!" reads a rock thrown in the window.

Pros: Still, Curtis shows a real human warmth and accessibility. Those huge eyes follow you around the room and her long toned arms make her a believable cool golf pro. Bosley and Peaker get some good older people moments as he tries to trick a confession out of her. Their mutual apology scene carries real actorly 70s-ness (when people could still apologize and have emotional moments without lapsing into uncool sentiment). Curtis' manger Gary Bisig is appropriately sleazy with Kelly ("that came out wrong") reminding us why the girls are effective detectives: they get the rubes to boast and try to impress them. Bisig rocks a great hick-gone-slicker accent. When Kelly points out Alice Cooper's a dude, he says "looks like I wandered into the chicken coop in my bare feet" --and he almost makes you believe he really talks like that, but his character is a moron. Almost. Survival tip: if a pair of cheap hoods give you a gun and tells you to kill someone and you don't want to, you shouldn't threaten to go to the cops after you give the gun back. 

Cons: Why wasn't this episode called "Angels in the Rough"?? Did the ABC censors nix the implication of nudity? The lady golf instructor teaching Charlie to putt ("sometimes you learn more just by watching" he says suggestively, to a groaning nation) is practically in the rough herself. While he fills in the exposition at the end via phone she swings away, once again showing the nation that--in grand Hefner tradition--a man might be middle-aged, mature and still get away with snarky lewdness without being judged a monster. That those days are gone is perhaps not all bad, but it behooves us to notice what we lost in the deal, for men are reversed now--sexually sensitive but frozen in a kind of adolescent consumer miasma even into their 50s (yo!). Charlie's jokes may veer on the puerile side of the green once in awhile, but he keeps learning new trades and traits, and has no problem learning the ropes from women half his age. And he's a man

But the Angels are frustratingly stupid a lot here. If they know a sniper's going to pop Jamie Lee, why the hell aren't they covering the high ground with binoculars instead of just standing there in the audience like ducks in the proverbial row, applauding politely, waiting for Kelly to notice the timely glint of a far-off muzzle barrel? The elaborate resolution involving a land grab doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense, either, that is if you follow the links through. So don't. Thinking about it goes against the Spelling grain, Just fall into the mellow groove, the classic bits of skullduggery and danger that keep you from changing channels during the commercial breaks. Now that the breaks are gone, the pace is kind of off, so adjust accordingly, All that's missing is the exploding golfball gag, ala Sherlock Jr.. But hey, the gator skulking in the rough makes up for it a whole bunch. And the snake is the icing on the cake! One should always keep serpents handy. WC Fields said that!

55. Haunted Angels
B

The 1970s were a hot time for ESP, telekinesis, reincarnation, and psychics. We had The Exorcist, Audrey Rose, Carrie, The Fury, TV movies like The Initiation of Sarah and ESP episodes of Wonder Woman and The Six Million Dollar Man. Ever the sponge of their zeitgeist moment, here Sabrina gets to play psychic at a cool ESP institute, but she's really just an occasionally good detective (with deductive powers of observation) and a sharp actress who knows how to whirl warmth and cool together and fake it like the best of them. But this is murder! And once again the most obvious solution is staring them dead in the face. Anyway, maybe there is such things as ghosts. A real feel for 70s supernatural trimmings makes this more than just Bosley's bridge partner wondering if the people she's giving money to are for real or not, which is important because otherwise, who would care? Swindlers got to eat, too. "I was very fond of Kathy... but I don't think you are ever going to find her killer.... in this world" says TV psychic Peter Russell (Peter Donat!) Eric (Joseph Hacker) is a psychic who touches Kris' arm and sees her in the Police Academy!  "and a gun!" It's a curse, really--he knows what it's like to die, and to die in Steve Gutenberg's presence. "You're right - it's no gift," realizes Kris.

Pros: The Angels and a good Bosley (low-key) all spend the dark and stormy night at the spooky mansion with some cool 70s wallpaper, cool theremin and synth figurations in the score during the creepy moments, that stock footage lightning shot/sound that Corman used in his Poe films, glass shattering; ominous nighttime exteriors, ghost voices, a priest who says "it's best not to think ill of the dead"; an old lady's shop getting rocked by an angry poltergeist, those cards with the stars and wavy lines used in ESP. tests, suspects peeping out from their door cracks, the 'real' psychic warning Kris off the 'staying the night' with the same concerned ambiguity Elisha Cook Jr. used to deliver, Add a really good scare from Sabrina and all that other malarkey if you want (and we do), but a real psychic is on hand to dazzle Bosley at the end... only in Hollywood, USA!

56. Pom-Pom Angels
C+

The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were momentarily huge, part of the whole NFL crossover prime time phenomenon, (now you're lucky to see a single female during the entire game and they tend way more toward the acrobatic than the sexy).  To get a sample of the cheerleader craze of the late-70s, just check out this melange of locker room small talk, pervy suspects, high kicks, and demeaning objectification of broads. Hey, the cheerleaders keep disappearing! Who's doing it?? Is it the plastic flower-bedecked agent (the irrepressible Fran Ryan), her horn-dog son ("kicked out of three seminaries"), a monosyllabic linebacker who talks about how (the vanished) Marianne was nice to him, or is it some unseen fan gone stalker? What about the douchebag manager who wants them to be high-kicking prostitutes after the game is over.  ("I gotta build these girls up from scratch!")

Pros: Lonny Chapman (Long John in The Witch who Came from the Sea!) is the publicity man who also follows the agent's pervy son around, making sure he doesn't mess with the merch --an ally, sort of! Ladd is especially fetching in her cheerleader outfit so you feel his pain; not to spoil it but I love the anti-Christian angle, as if religious zealotry and football are the entwined double helix heart of the flyover states. Charlie has a legitimate reason for making Kris and Kelly try out for the team "Dan Abner (the client) drinks a lot and talks a lot and if he should actually break Sabrina's cover I want people on the scene that even he doesn't know about." Pretty forward thinking Charlie. I also like that Sabrina feels bad and tells the two slammin' girls who should have had their gigs to come back in a week and she'll get them the jobs back. And I wish they would have stayed. My love for their style of shorts is ingrained from being a child agog at the girls in my junior high gym class. Don't blame the man, lady, blame the hormones, driving us crazy like bucking moose, clashing horns together to achieve dominance, not unlike football's line of scrimmage. 

Cons: There's a reason I never watched House of Whipcord. I hate to see loose women shorn of their hair and kept as captives, even if it's by crazed fundamentalists with no sexual agenda. It's bad enough they fell into such moral ruin, to be punished for it is too cruel and sad, like if Anna Christie's father arranged to have her shanghaied by The Magdalene Sisters. In fact, I turn to Charlie's Angels to get away from the very same pit in my stomach such vile, tragic subjects instill. Even worse, Kelly affects a terrible posh accent and Kris a terrible Atlanta one. Excruciating. 

Pros: Kris comes off as pretty smart: interrogating the pervy son while avoiding being molested by him - a very delicate hat trick Ladd handles perfectly. Kelly doesn't have much to do except high licks but I like her rapport with the seven foot tall linebacker looking for his missing girl and acting like he's taken one hit to the head too many. Bos comes to timely aid when Kelly is intimidated by a gigantic worried boyfriend. One of the teammates has a cool scratchy voice.

Cons: To each his own -but to this alcoholic sinner (who thinks cutting off a girl's beautiful long hair against her will is a crime against God) it's a very dour episode, replete with date rapey touches galore, and reflected in the weary and beleaguered eyes of the abducted 'sinners' which makes the laggard detective work of the Angels all the harder to endure.

Pros: Then again, Kris springs to action when the knife of cutting hair approacheth her golden locks. "I'm not gonna bow my head to you - or anybody else in this grease pit!" Then she doth kick the asses of God's chosen!

The Angels are already in heaven, shitass!

57. Angels Ahoy
B+

Angels: someone is running scams or smuggling or something on this ship because people who know too much vanish overboard. The owner suspects crooks are being smuggled, via his cruises, past the Feds. There's not a lot of bathing suit action but Sabrina has fun playing a mobbed-up broad on the run with a fake identity, see? She drops her h's - as in "I traveled tree tousand miles to see you" to Sanchez (Hector Elias) hanging out in the ship-themed bar. "Honey, this is a deluxe tour," says the dude when he tells her her new ID now costs fifty 'tousand' dollars. Bosley plays pingpong with Janice Paige as an 'older single's cruise' lady doing her "first everything" since her husband died a year ago ("it's a singles' cruise, Bosley, so you'll want to look sharp" Kris advises). She finds pingpong 'exhilarating' like Ms. Sludge in You Can't Cheat an Honest Man. For his part, Bos refers to himself as the 'Sultan of Slam.' Oh, Bos, Bos, Bos... Hey, "Welcome to the Southern Queen," says Kelly rocking the Julie clipboard.

Like all the best episodes it's set somewhere that's exotic with some new and different settings other than that tired wood-paneled, tablecloth and tacky carpet set that functions as everything from restaurants to hotel lobbies, to convention halls, to fashion shows, and so forth. Once again, Kris gels her hair out and woos a louche lounge singer. Kelly takes the gaffe when a crane almost drops on her (it comes nowhere near her actually, but she runs towards it so she can run away from it - what a trouper!) And there's a masquerade party with a Bergman-esque Death in attendance! Kris is Little Bo Peep! Wait, didn't she play that part before, in some toy factory episode, last season, and also wasn't that costume used in an adult film back in season one? It's not a complaint, Bos. I just like knowing. 

Cons: Kelly walks right into an obvious trap, going to a remote boiler room in answer to an anonymous note left at the desk. Why wouldn't she smell the oldest trick in the book to suss out an undercover journalist or cop? Good lord she's dumb sometimes and Kris never even thinks to send in Bos as a laggard back-up; and in the opener she sports a godawful lavender frock and then, later, a gaudy white toreador ruffles number. Oh the shame of it! There's always going to be remote boiler room stalkings in 70s detective shows, especially on an ocean liner. It's pretty bad, though, if you're on a ship where the boiler room can have a massive fire and it takes five minutes for any one to notice it, and no bells go off... ever. Sabrina wears yet another unflattering clown disguise. I can't tell you my other caveat with this episode without spoilers but knowing my stance on moral highground posturing... maybe you can guess?

Pros: On the other hand, Kelly's pretty fast-thinking and looks good in a cowboy costume. Kris-- fetching in a Bo Peep costume--saves the day, sex appeal-wise,.... again. In the best scene she almost leaves her shepherd's crook out when the bad guys come back into the room she's searching --suspense! Later she has a groovy maroon velour thing going on as she sashays around the agog lead singer/keyboardist (Peter Brown) in the lounge, making him believe he already slept with her a few years ago and forgot (easy to do, I assure you, with a musician). Since he "likes the sea air," it's a safe bet he enjoys having brain cells burnt away by the air's high salt content. Ladd is very at ease in these complex situations, she can be warm and seductive to a man without him running for the hills in terror (which can happen when a too-beautiful girl acts too-available too-soon to even the most experienced of debauched libertine cruise musicians) and shows she's able to handle more complex character stuff if it ever comes her way. 

Other percs: A nice tracking establishing shot of the costume party is clearly set up with some actual compositional care. That engine room looks like a real engine room; Sabrina rocks an awesome gum-cracking mob chick disguise. There's a nice pulpy poolside climax and a very shocking sudden appearance of a different cruise director after Kris overhears the plan to kill Kelly (but before they can tell her) Reasonable intelligence and consistency on the detective work seems to be back in play! Can it go on?

It can...

58/ Mother Angel
A-

Precocious youngster Samantha witnesses a murder while feeding a neighbor's Venus flytrap. Jill flies in to help; Samantha found Jill's # in her aunt's black book "sandwiched between about 25 men" and Jill gets all flustered, a sly adult innuendo it's easy to miss. "She's only dusting me with cookies to keep me out of the sherry" Sam says of her incredulous babysitter (Hermione Badderly!) Mrs. McNaughton.  Familiar 70s TV towhead Gary Collins is Mr. Buckley, the blonde bad guy up in the penthouse whom Samantha had a crush on before he murdered the neighbor, a woman he was having an affair with. Samantha "was jealous of their relationship," notes the matron. "She broke in and wrote something on the bedroom mirror that no one her age should even know about!" Being an old Shropshire-born Disney regular, it takes Baddely about five wry minutes to say that line, but Samantha is telling the truth. She broke in while feeding the Venus Flytrap and witnessed the murder. Uh-oh - but does Mr. Buckley know it was her? He's bound to, soon! Meanwhile Sabrina goes undercover as the maid (she packs the original off to Galway Bay) and Kelly poses as an indignant horticulture society matron.

Pros: There's a good menacing (but not too menacing) scene between Buckley and Samantha (saved by the bell!). The climactic boat-to-dock escape and chase is a real keeper. The script's tight this time around, and Robert Davi (the chief villain in License to Kill) is one of the goons. Look fast for good old Mike Mazurki in the very beginning--he gets clobbered with a flower pot! Old coot John Steadman is the familiar cackling old timer at the auto yard. Samantha is played by Olivia Barash (if she looks familiar, maybe you saw her a few years later as Emilio Estevez's girlfriend/torturer in Repo Man!). Sabrina keeps serving Mr. Buckley belts of Scotch and then finishing the glasses herself (before dusting for prints). She also gets a great pole vault swing kick! Nice to see the Munro sisters' high-powered white and blue-striped Cobra back on the road, tearing shit up. Muscle cars were such a part of the 70s, the show boosts right up when we get to see the Angels on the road (which isn't always). 

Cons: Sabrina's Irish blarney accent is only partly successful. Sabrina and Jill both seem dangerously thin. Like anorexic thin. Damn you, Hollywood! Samantha's weird braids in the coda are kind of an ick. Jill also isn't very good at spotting a tail, even though it's the same perp who chased her around earlier in the episode. Pretty slipshod protection work, Jill. Howard Hawks would demand a rewrite.

Still -that's a ten episode run of strong episodes! Good work, Angels... alas, as so often happens in these cumbersome 20+ episode seasons, they start to run out of gas about the 10-12 episode mark.

59. Angel on my Mind
C

Uh-oh, another lazily recycled amnesia walk-about where one Angel walks around and is alternately comforted, helped and menaced by eccentric bit part characters. On the other hand: Curtis Harrington directed, so there's a modicum more surreal-damaged mind interiority than we'd expect. From the start, though, we're in trouble --it's the amnesia scenario they  dumped on us in season one all over again (god knows where it's been since, or before). Once again it seems like an easy way to write one or more of the leads out of an episode so they can make a film, have a baby, or nervous breakdown. This time Kris does the honors. She wanders down the beach wondering who she is --so at least it's pretty, and rich with rolling surf, attractive volleyballers, a very sexy young Jonathan Frakes, and no kids or stock types doing their tired salt-of-the-neighborhood street vendor bits (at least not as many).

Pros:  Cheryl Ladd's outpacing even Kate Jackson in the acting department this season. Jackson's almost an extra and seems to just be coasting, one eye on the door. In the obligatory helpful vendor role (there had to be at least one), Billy Barty hawks papers like old Angelo Rossitto used to in downtown Hollywood; Tom Spratley plays an old hobo on the beach like a slightly dimwitted cross between Mr. Rogers and the old hermit in Bride of Frankenstein, "You and I," he tells Kris, "could be friends." Yikes! Kris believably fights off three young purse-snatcher beach bums in one of the better close quarters tussles of the season. But then she fights off the main bad guy with a tree branch--even jumps down on him from the rocks at one point--but

Cons: - She never tries to take his gun. The Police Academy must teach you never to disarm your opponent once you have him at your mercy.

60. Angels Belong in Heaven
B-

A recently released jailbird friend of Charlie phones in to let him know someone's put a hit out on one of the Angels. Soap regular Tracy Brooks Swope plays Sally Miles, a close childhood friend of Kelly; her mom died, and "all of a sudden being faced with all that money and everything," she doesn't understand why she needs to move to a hotel while the Angels sort this out. When we finally learn her advice on whether she should trust her investing broker fiancee (Don Galloway) the picture begins to sort itself out. Nice detail with some lesbian rivalry implied between Tracy and Sabrina. John Voldstadt is a Russian driver who no speaks English that Kris thinks is following her. Bosley does some good flight manifest- insurance- found address book comparisons and we get a sample of just how much waiting around by phones people had to do in the age before cell phones. Lloyd Bochner is the hit man

Cons- They Angels are smart about navigating their cop friends' assets to get info on their hitman, but are very dumb in seeing if they're being followed by some well-dressed middle-aged goomba in a rented red town car. Seriously - you know someone's out to get you; you're driving your 'houseguest' to a hotel for her own safety, but you're not bothering to see if anyone is following you, watching your every move barely a few feet away? Kelly lets the hitman walk right up on her out in front of her suburban tract home and just sits there while he questions her, as passive as a little dove. Seriously, Charlie could have put a tail on the Angels to see who else is tailing them, and this would have been a ten minute episode tops. Bos lets himself be run off the road way too easily.

Pros: But it's still a good stunt, nice and low-key if that's your bag. Now that shows all have to outdo each other with wacky car chase stunts and crime show intensity, there's something to be said for the much more 'realistic level' of the Angels, where being run off the road and down a slight incline is pretty hair-raising and we feel their slight shock/disorientation. We have to kind of forget the last 40 years of soul-deadening TV violence and tune back into a realistic zone where there's actually the sense this shit happens, and it's more about acting and embodying these situations than wild CGI crazy. You just have to deal with the alternating smarts, how sometimes they're courageous and on the beam, sometimes they're dazed and not really cognizant of the danger they face. It's kind of like life, isn't it? "Kelly," says Sally, "you're so dear to me." After watching Kelly blast the hitman right through her front window, you might feel the same way.

61 Angels in the Stretch
C

It's the old swapping the thoroughbred winner with some near-identical backstretch falterer at the race track gambit (or the reverse), as seen in the Thin Man, Charlie Chan, the Marx Brothers, and Philo Vance. It's amazing anyone doesn't check these horses more often to make sure they're themselves. Sabrina poses as a feminist trainer. Kelly disappears into the wallpaper as a writer interested in track guy David Hedison; and Kris looks great in her cowgirl duds (they're not over-showy, but very smart), sizing up the drunken dimwit stable hand (James Gammon) with a cool look that would intimidate King Kong, or getting important tidbits from character actor Al Hopson as old Fred. .

Pros: Ladd really shines this go-round, she's clearly going to do well in a few years performing duets with Waylon Jennings. Some good dialogue "the official stud book should be so thorough," notes the grieving daughter of the dead horse race gambler who noticed something unusual and was killed as a result. hmmm! Joyce Jameson makes a cameo! The climax--with Kelly in a 30s black hat--surely is meant evoke the still inexplicably popular The Sting (1973).

Cons: Sabrina is pretty stupid to confide in John David Carson (Empire of the Ants), rockin' a terrible Irish accent as a dishonest on-the-take jockey even after he goes way overboard seeming shady. There's not too many people around by the track - I mean even for Spelling-Goldberg Productions, there's just no one around. You'd think there was only one horse, and only one jockey and one gambler in the whole damn world. Terrible 'horses' mouth' pun bit at the end with Bosley.

At least there's a horse race, if that's your scene and Ladd does look to the manor born. And both Carson and Hedison get a few stray moments to be gracious in defeat as they're ushered off-track.

62. Angels on Vacation
B

Uh oh, it's never a good sign when the Angels go to the country, as it means uppity hillbilly stereotypes, cowardly townsfolk looking out into the dusty street from behind screen doors, and in this case, a chilling Phenix City Story vibe as the mob overruns a small Arizona community to finagle a hostage swap for their recently captured boss man being brought out of the deep woods later that day. It takes the Angels half the episode to figure out that the town is being held hostage and is too terrified to talk or be cordial, instead they blithely chalk it all up to bad luck until you want to slap Bosley in the jowls. But there's a dope CB radio code bit between Kris and Jeanette "Welles' Lady Macbeth" Nolan, who plays the mayor and rocks a cool huge collared shirt ("I never saw a man couldn't handle yet" is her line before going into action). By the end you'll want to vote for her too.

Pros: WB's pre-code go-to two-bit hood-cum-Ed Wood regular, Lyle Talbot, is Tom Mills - he's almost unrecognizable with a weirdly sharpened nose and thick white beard but I'm glad he's there. It's nice to see all these old cowboy bit players getting a day's pay like 60s TV western boom is flarin' up again. And it's pretty heartening when a gaggle of old Arizona dames arm themselves with sticks and stones and set out to bash in a gunsel's brains out in the big climax. Also the coda is pretty good: Kris rocks some great black lame slacks and their banter is unusually fluid, and even feminist in a way that makes you look back and realize just how stealthily cool this show really is. Anyone who would call it 'jiggle TV' is themselves a sexist who thinks any show with beautiful women with great hair who spend their days solving crimes and going undercover in an array of fields without breaking their stride must surely do so in a bikini and a blank pout. This coda lets you know just how feminist the show is. Charlie may hire sexy instructors and make bad puns over the speaker phone, but he's also man who sends three pretty girls into highly dangerous and complex situations while he kicks back and collects the checks. You could say he's a kind of a pimp, or you could see that he trusts these girls to bring down big time gangsters singlehanded and never expects them to 'put out' or bake a cake or wipe a counter top. If ever you see an Angel in an apron it's so they can get a glass with a suspect's fingerprints.

Cons:  Kris delivers a terribly fake laugh during the long ride into town. For detectives, the Angels are terribly dense at times. Also - shouldn't they be pretty tired of roaming the Southwestern scrub after three seasons? It's pretty sad that it never occurs to them anything fishy is going on, even though it clearly is and they know full-well that a big time mobster is coming to this small town jail that same day, brought down from the forest by rangers, so the town should be buzzing with press and flown-in FBI heads. "Well I guess being mayor isn't easy," says Sabrina. "You're actually beginning to look stoop-shouldered from the weight of executing" Kelly teases Bos. Half episode is over and all they've done is let themselves get dopily herded around in circles. 

63. Counterfeit Angels
C

A trio of fake angels start robbing people by posing as the Angels. It's because a sleazy strip club impresario talent agent (Wynn Irwin) has a nightclub impressionist named Mickey Biggs (Mark Lonow) on the payroll, who can duplicate Charlie's voice really easily. "I remember him from that charity party," notes Charlie of his impression mastery "he sat at our table for awhile and was very chummy." Wow - that's all it took? The details of their clever ruse are meticulously explained, and it's kind of creepy and off-putting to see just how much like the real Angels these girls are, especially Kelly. Is Hillary Thompson actually Jaclyn Smith but in different make-up?

Pros: It's nice to have a genuinely menacing villain (Paul Cavonis)  for a change, though his addiction to pinball and video games seems kind of juvenile. Short, with a big schnoz and glasses, Cavonis is somehow truly terrifying. The girls have to get pro-active and Sabrina goes undercover as the replacement for the imitation of herself, noting with Brechtian acumen that she's going to "have to continue my imitation... of me"  When the detective tells Bosley "there's room for you in the trunk," after hauling off the other fake angels -- what planet are we even on?

Cons: Sabrina's double doesn't look that much like herself. The idea a bonded detective would lie to the cops to pursue a lead by misidentifying a perp is pretty shady. Also is the idea that no one in the bad guy's side of things would suspect the actual detectives might make moves to clear their names. Why a store owner would just automatically let a trio of girls start shoplifting and mulling over cash receipts - it's a pretty dumb use of their time. Why would Mr. Big abuse his thug bodyguard's trust by cheating him at video pong?  This is a huge black guy (Bubba Smith) who could put him away with a phone call or smash him through the floor. 

The use of video games and of counterfeit Angels both seems a bit too second-hand. Also if Charlie and his Angels are such a household word it doesn't bode well for their undercover options. Between that and the video games it's like their popularity is a bit too on-the-nose meta. Kelly's dumb to not follow the suspected agent of the crooks, to see where they're hiding out; instead she goes shopping. Ugh. We also suffer terrible Bogey, Hepburn, and Scarlett impressions.

Pros: The Angels shoot two crooked guards after they get the drop on them! Blam! So rare to see them just think fast and shoot first.  Bosley's Sidney Greenstreet is actually the best impression of them all; as is Sabrina's line that she's already been doing herself for two days. I bet she has.

64. Disco Angels
B

Though it's nice to hear "Disco Inferno" - the long version - over a melange of the then big craze, disco dancing - it's pretty sad that "Freddie's" (Peter MacLean) discoteque is just the same old wood panelling and shag rug Italian restaurant\ flatly-lighted basement bar everything else in the show happens in, though hey - they added some lights and a disco ball and an incoherent, croaking coked-up (presumably) DJ (Zalman King). The mustached manager talk about what a star he is, what raw talent! "All Riiiiight!"

Everyone at the Townsend Agency knows how to do the Hustle, or whatever disco dancing was back then --a kind of line dancing/aerobics/interpretive flailing hybrid -even the old dance instructor who boogies with Kris (who whirls like a dream - that hair! Her delighted genuinely-playful eyes!). Tito Vandis teaches disco to senior citizens but hates them, not without good reason, I'm sure. His son is the resident Tony Manero - i.e. he has big dreams! He rides the bus because he's saving every penny for law school. Meanwhile some giallo-esque black-gloved psycho is still knocking off homeless bums (gloved hands holding a belt advancing through the POV night). But why in hell does that fall under private detective responsibilty? Did one of the bums hire them for protection? Regardless, they're handling it by casing Freddie's day and night. It's gotta be Freddy's, cuz, as he tells an angel posing as a reporter, "Doing a disco feature without mentioning Freddie's is like writing about baseball without mentioning Babe Ruth," ("I think Hank Aaron holds that record," she first back). Sabrina tells Freddie's PR man straight out she's trying to tie the disco in with the murders, but he's too busy babbling about the scene-setting genius of their DJ. Good lord, but ABC and the Spelling machine are clueless about this new phenomenon sweeping the dance floors of the nation!

Zalman prepares his strangle-wangle magic
Pros: It's not surprising future softcore Showtime impresario and perennial doe-eyed, hawk-nosed, Sean Penn-y scowler Zalman (Blue Sunshine) King has a giant glossy of himself posted above his apartment bar, but dour narcissism in male actors often pays off, creep factor-wise, and man does it ever here as the Zal man pours funny/terrifying zest into his strangling gestures and his DJ rants have the mark of real improv lunacy. As with all King's acting work, his performance may be too intense, humorless, and legit insane to be 'entertaining' but he sure is memorable. . I wish they would link the then-de rigeur coke abuse to his schizophrenic rage displacement (he hates his perennially-disappointed father). We never seem him do coke or even do a telltale sniffle but he sure seems trying to do a burlesque of someone on it--"all riiiggght!" Not sure about the nerdy round glasses/natty bowtie look though --that was not hip, even in 1979. (Did the costume designer get the wrong note or was this King's own idea?). It's also obvious that, anytime there's a DJ suspect, chances are he's left a tape of his voice playing in the DJ booth so he can sneak out undetected and do his crimes. But that's OK. Shit is so classic it goes all the way around to being new again. 

Pros: Sabrina wears a groovy red shirt / black suit during one of the earlier scenes posing as a reporter deftly wrangling clues from the stressed PR guy. You gotta love sexy Shera Danese as the tall blonde Suzanne Somers/ Susan Anton mistress/secretary every disco episode demands. And she gets in a groovy hair-pulling catfight with Kris! The larger than usual array of suspects and eccentrics all interacting in real time in one place, over full-length disco songs, make it hum like an old Thin Man climax. There are heated exchanges like: "Marianne, will you please keep your voice down! I have a business to run!" / "Is that what you were doing at two o'clock in the morning?" There are so many different suspects with weird psychological motives (and fake alibi-swaps) we may feel like we're at a pitch meeting between Hitchcock, Freud and Mario Bava - and though those maestros have their moments, few things are creepier with less frills than the encounter between King and his steely-gazed dad ("Never mind, I'll go myself!"). King is so crazy your head spins and the ingenious use of pull-focus makes us feel like we're in some f---ed-up dream. We can't help but wonder if the murder rate shot way up once cocaine and disco exploded into the mainstream, inextricably bound together, bringing out all these latent psychoses. 

Cons: It's pretty jarring when the killer has already bailed on the disco dance party and it's still daytime out -- I mean what the hell kind of disco is even open that early? And why would a burly middle-aged man worry about being followed in the middle of the day by a pervy nebbish like Zalman King and his lil' stranglin' belty-welt? It's like Brian Donlevy being scared of Woody Allen.

Still, For a season 3 episode it's unusually adult, especially when so thoroughly swathed in laser sound effects. Alll-riiigghhht! 

65-66 Terror on Skis
C

Part 1 - European intrigue and professional skiing have always paired well, so why not take the lift up to Vail, Colorado, for a wintry on-location two-parter? Nice idea! But wrong show, or at least the wrong writer (Ed Lakso's latter-season scripts always falter). Whether applauding in their cute ski outfits during Alpine jump competitions or being chased down mountains in a melange of stunt double action shots and blue screen, the Angels stay hopelessly outmaneuvered almost to the end. The bad guys are way more perceptive of the Angels than vice versa, alas- even sizing up the girls as armed. "I've learned that any woman who carries a gun is a matter of concern," intones one of the two deep-voiced old Italian villains (Cesare Danove and Rosanno Brazzi).  Romancing Kris while guarding a Kennedy-esque VIP who is also an avid skier (Dennis Cole, romancing Kelly) who won't be cowed by threats. FBI op Christopher George alone seems to be on the ball, not that it occurs to him either to look around in the crowd for people dressed in drab Eastern European colors, rather than the blazing red, white, and blue of everyone else's winter apparel, or even to check the hotel register. Instead, though the security team and the Angels outnumber the two old men and the one professional skiing son who's not all bad by at least 3-1, they're still easily outmaneuvered. Thank god no one on the other team knows how to shoot.

Pros: A lot of great masculine voices here (this being back when everyone smoked), with gravelly Christopher George front and center as gruff CIA op (he alone seems to be on the ball), and some very pretty Vail Colorado scenery.  If the chemistry between Smith and Cole seems real, know that they married the year before (they met on the set of the "Dancer in the Dark" episode the previous season, where he played a honeytrap dance instructor). There's a pretty thrilling ski chase climax and some great solar flare snow level Steadicam ski chases. At least the actors seem to be actually on skis and actually in the snow instead of standing in front of a rear projection... most of the time anyway. It's all relaxing, soothing stuff for a hot summer afternoon--if you don't pay too much attention to the plodding. 

Cons: There's some tacky 'ski ballet' and even 'ski mime' and some sexist commentary ("give the little lady a hand for trying!"). The Angels don't ever, not once, look behind them to see if someone is following them, even though they know in advance people are out to get them. The way a mysterious picture of Paolo the freestyle skier is fought over you'd think it was the roll of film in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  If he's trying to be anonymous, chasing down every random photographer, why the hell is he skiing professionally? The opening with the dimwitted CIA op "George Whales ("my closest friend" intones 'Chris George') clumsily flopping after Cesare Danova down the 'avalanche' slope, is pretty sad. That kind clunky set-up might work back in LA on normal cases with small time punks and out-of-their-depth security guards, but this situation is supposed to be 'big league' spy/terrorist/FBI kind of business. Bosley's weird imperious come-on to Cole's frumpy wallflower secretary  ("wear something in yellow.") is douche chilling. 

Part 2- Considering the amount of pointless snow shoot outs (snub pistols from a very long range, why even bother?) and stupidity (no one in the Angels posse even thinks to look around for the bad guys- who are literally right behind them the whole way), we don't even notice that, as usual, the flashbacks to part one from the previous week go on for like fifteen minutes. If you were a kid in the 70s, you're now old enough that this kind of leisurely slow and steady intrigue is very relaxing. Or should be. Unless, of course, you're expecting the good guys to win out via anything but dumb luck. 

So... once the smoke clears, what do we got? Two old Italians and their unwilling young ski stud outfoxing a dozen detectives and FBI agents? That doesn't make me feel safe. Why didn't the Angels think to follow Sabrina on her picnic to a remote cabin with their main suspect?. The bad guys certainly do--ahead every step of the way--they're listening in via a walky-talky as she makes cover-blowing slip after slip. It's so dumb as to defy description except as foofaraw leading up to an exciting ski chase and to get Sabrina and Paolo alone in a cabin while she talks him out of the gun. 

Pros: A big warm mug of cozy ambiance is there for the taking in the Angels'/FBI's de facto ski lodge hotel suite (and at least Chris George has a snifter or two). And the climax is pretty thrilling, even with all the incompetence of the good guys, and in the end the slow pace pays off with a bunch of almost--and/or maybe-happened on the sly--relationships: Bosley and the secretary, Paolo and Sabrina, Dennis Cole and Kelly, the FBI guy and Kris. The last two are the only ones who kiss goodbye on the lips, which is a nice touch and Ladd once again nails it. Cole and Smith get a pretty romantic dinner ("I take it as it comes," says Kelly, "and always give it my best shot") where  Bosley gets to teach the secretary to enjoy being a woman and not an "automated adding machine" and though it was so excruciating at first.  Sabrina gets in a good monologue talking Paolo down from the Sacco and Vincetti ledge and I'm a big fan of Chris George (I love him in El Dorado!).

Cons: I'm not a huge fan of Sabrina white fur hat (The sort of thing that makes even young women look like vain rich middle-aged divas in 60s spy movies). If we're not distracted enough, we can wind up getting mad at how sheerly dumb the Angels and FBI are - even working together (totaling nine people) as they routinely let a trio of Italian anarchists outfox them until the very ed ("except for Paolo, we don't know who they are and what they look like!"Dude why not watch Paolo and see who he talks to, right out there in the open, right in front of them, like two old Italian anarchists skulking amidst the 'crowd'? )  I can forgive this show just about any trespass, but sometimes, man oh man, it's almost insulting... I mean these two don't even change their conspicuously drab coats in between shooting at you and you still can't narrow it down? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!! And please god, no more ski mimes. 

Pros: I shouldn't let it bother me, but I mean, a decent writer should be able to get to all the ski-chase beats via a better plot framework, but hey those beats are pretty cool: snowmobiles, ski chases, avalanches, and stunning alpine scenery and there's nothing wrong with the Angels scoring with some worthy men, as long as they just "take it as it comes" meaning also not minding when it doesn't survive the credits. It was the 70s man, they didn't need to feel guilty. 


67. Angel in a Box
D+

Once again Kris Munroe is kidnapped and doesn't even try to stop the guy who whips out a gun, slowly, right by her karate hand, after she lets herself be led into an obvious trap. Geeze it's easy to get the drop on Kris. Some rich bossy Italian-American patriarch (perpetual Klingon John Collins) snips at her for some imagined or real offense, confusing her with her sister Jill when he recognizes the car (that Cobra, boy)
Hey, it will happen again in season 5! Jill really seems to draw old bitter nearsighted patriarchs out of the coded woodwork. While the Angels follow a false clue and end up snooping around some posh Malibu resort; Jill flies in from Canada to help get them exactly nowhere.

If you watch this show a lot you end up feeling a little sorry for Charlie by this point, late in season three, as his Angels retain zero accumulated experiential knowledge of the criminal mind. They started out really on top of things. Remember how rich and high tech they were in the pilot?  But here their first reaction to an attacker isn't self defense, it's docile confusion. Kelly has to doubt even the most perfunctory identification ("are you sure?") as if she really isn't in the mood to gallop after another suspect if it means they might end catch the crooks too soon. They even get knocked over by the old cleaning lady pushcart flying down the hallway trick. On the other hand, the motivation behind the abduction actually uses backstory of Jill's Italian racing adventures that includes a nigh-Tennessee Williams intimation of sensitive gayness (he liked to write "poetry") that's pretty rare, and show someone was actually trying for a few follow-throughs other than the passing down of Jill's badass '76 Cobra.

Pros: Farrah gets in a pretty good monologue about Collins' son--her old friend/boyfriend who died in a race after she left him--Eventually Sabrina remembers she's the 'smart' Angel. While the rest of them work on dotty accents and putter around the tennis courts, she wises up to the scene and sets up a thug for the old 'hood comes down on the head' trick, but ends up just clocking him instead. Cool that at least Bos is able to notice a tail on Sabrina's car and follow her.

Cons; It's pretty unrealistic that she can just knock out a 7-foot tall thug with the lamest of back-of-the-neck punches, yet the Munroe twins let themselves be led all docile around the room by a pair of dime store goombas; it's always a little too tense for me when one of the girls gets kidnapped, and then to watch them repeatedly blowing chances to escape (yet being kind of passive-rude and not eating the lunch provided - Charlie was never snippy when he was kidnapped in season two); all just so the generic plot points can click forward and the suspense ratchet to no real end beyond preventing you from getting up out of your chair to turn that dial. (this being the age before remotes, except for the very rich). 

Sabrina's French accent is pretty bad though maybe it's supposed to be, and there are way too many big soapy moments, the kind daytime serials use to eat up the time when they're short on other actors.

 Great climax, though. 

68. Teen Angels
C+

A trio of bitchy cool girls, led by the evil pouty-lipped Donna (Audrey Landers), sling drugs at ritzy Blackmoor 'college,' a middle-of-nowhere little school more like a high end boarding school for 'troubled' girls. A cute redhead (Deborah Richter) gets strangled for having 'stupid Victorian morality' and threatening to narc. Or is that not the motive? Donna tries to force her drugs down peoples' throats to get new customers (based on personal experience-- I can assure you there is never a shortage of customers for drugs at college).  After implying she can get the strangler to kill anyone who threatens to rat them out or even just say no, Donna tosses her feathered hair with haughty aplomb and blackmails her 'friends' into doing her bidding.  Yo, these rich hottie girls be slangin' so much drugs and booze at this school that they get it shipped regularly in a gigantic crate every month or week, courtesy the sleazy handyman (Victor Hoagland) seemingly in league with the Donnas. Not that it makes any sense to import booze and pills as if they all come from one warehouse, in fact this whole episode has such a lack of savvy about college drug dealing and underage alcohol procurement it makes Go Ask Alice seem like Rules of Attraction. 

Still, the girls' murder must be solved! Without blackening the school's hallowed zzzz. So  Kelly goes undercover and teaches an English class ("I'll never cheat again" swoons Bo [Lori Lethin] after Kelly gives her an inspiring talk. ("of course you will," sneers Donna). Sabrina teaches art and passively lets Donna bully Kris (undercover as a student) on the modeling dais; Bosley becomes a groom at the stable. What kind of college is this? Satan's School for Girls Annex? "Cheer up, Bosley, maybe the strangler will turn out to be a dark horse." Kill. Me. Now.

Cons: Hate to see Bosley acting like a snitch pointing out the crate to the driver; Donna's boorish behavior is more akin to high school bitchiness, and so over the top it's almost John Waters or Russ Meyer-level, albeit with too much 90210-prefiguring Spelling gloss rather than surreal oomph. Most of the episode is spent watching Donna act bitchy, hassling Kris about what she saw at the bus depot, to the point anyone with half a brain would have to shut her shit down. Then again, it's a pretty dimwitted go-round with no red herring suspects to eat up the hour. And the drugs shipment inventory is awfully stupid: "two bottles of booze, one bottle of happy pills, one bottle of downers," is one of the orders for one of the girls. I can guaranteed you the writer of that line had no idea what the actual effects were or brand/medical names of either of the pills mentioned. And what's up with adding booze. What is this, prohibition mach zwei? Man this seems like a great school as far as staying zonked, but no dealer sells booze. That's asking for trouble from two different direction.  Even without the bottles, that many pills should be enough to put that whole campus into a coma, and the profit margin for the booze can't be worth it as essentially a middle man between student and liquor store (in college we'd find older students to buy stuff for us, anyway). And no self-respecting dealer would keep all their product in a public place like a barn, and then set the barn on fire! Pretty sloppy, Donna. Also, a bucket brigade to put out a burning barn? Don't the firetrucks come out this far? Haven't the writers ever heard of firefighters? Lastly, the ease with which the killer abducts Kelly is pretty ridiculous. Insulting, even. Though if you're feeling generous you can presume Kelly is acting cowed and weak when the killer grabs her in order to lull him into a confession. That's pretty generous, though.

Pros: As a lifelong fan of Spelling's and Goldberg's 1973 TVM Satan's School for Girls, I'm willing to give anything remotely similar, i.e. almost all girls in the cast (i.e. no smirky boyfriends or tawdry leering), a free pass. In this case though, the one-note bitchiness from Donna takes up so much running time there's almost no room for anything else; Landers is just not over the top enough to make her bitchiness fun in a Russ Meyers/John Waters kind of way. The vibe is too dour to match the weird occult mix of Satanic art teachers, alcoholic head mistresses, freak-outs, wine parties, and midnight creeping that made Satan's School such a perfect late-night mix of cozy comfort and spooky suspense.  On the other hand, the climactic motorcycle vs. jeep chase around the lake is pretty damned great, with Kris leaping off the sidecar onto the fleeing perp! That's the way you do it, Angels!

Lots of great hair in this one, too.

69 -Marathon Angels
D

You would think marathon runners would be able to outrun or fight back against a pair of slovenly dudes with a snub nose .38 which as we all know has shit aim at a range farther than a few hundred feet. The Angels are pretty stupid too this time. A girl about to run a marathon is abducted in a van and then another runner is added, and chained up in a warehouse, and all the Angels can think of to find them is running the marathon in their places. The marathon must go on! Why not look around and notice the suspicious dudes hanging in a van right there in the parking lot? The fucking van with the girls is right there! But all four Angels are too busy hanging around indoors instead, slack-jawed, at the calisthenics bar. Yep, that's the way you find a kidnapper, Angels. 

In other words, it's one of those half-assed late-season episodes where we know way more of what's going down than the Angels and so we groan and twist while they miss even the most obvious clues, all just so they can hit all the marks we expect from the focus, the 'in craze' ("they call it 'jogging' and everyone's getting involved!") Even the idea that a girl would run right to upscale detectives to hire them to help solve a minutes-old murder instead of the cops signifies there's no semblance of good writing. nor is their a real understanding of marathons, police work, or even publicity stunts, making this the kind of lame "T&A" episode, the show was often accused of purveying by those who hadn't actually watched it. If they happened to only watch this one episode, they'd be right. This makes Baywatch seem like Raymond Chandler/

Pros: Danuta Wesley (left) is startlingly fetching as wavy blonde hair Germanic jaw mode as a ladies' gym owner, reminding us Susan Anton was big at the time (see: 1979 Golden Girl). And sure, I love all the skimpy blue-trimmed running outfis an the fetishized bondage shots of the girls posed coquettishly while handcuffed and gagged, but I'm not proud of it. Luckily there's also a female news correspondent covering the race to point out how sexist it all is, in case you haven't noticed,  or studied enough French media theory to know recognize recuperation in action.

Cons: One of those terrible royalty-free Dixieland silent film rags (big in 1979 because of The Sting) plays over and over and over every time we cut to the race in progress, which is constantly, so it's truly maddening. Kelly sees the guy in an unmarked van put on a mask but Kris dismisses her out of hand: "was it a Halloween mask?" Kelly points out the green van with two shady men in it, Kris still refuses to believe there's anything out of the ordinary ("a race like this attracts all kinds of guys"), so they don't start tailing it as immediately as they should. If they did I guess they'd run out of things to do to fill up the hour. This would feel padded even it was a half-hour. I wouldn't mind all the running, but that Dixieland rag, oh puh-leeze!

Seriously, by the end you want to track down the idiot who decided to use that infuriating ragtime riff over and over (ragtime was 'in' all through the 70s, due to the enduring--and in my opinion inexplicable-- popularity of 1973's The Sting) and slap the shit out of him (or her, let's not be sexist). 

Luckily it's almost redeemed by an awesome spin out driver-brake slam car whiparound gun flash from Sabrina at the end. Almost.

70 - Angels in Waiting
D- 

Bosley is having a tantrum. He feels they Angels take him for granted, so they play a game to see if they can find him, to test his hiding and their finding skills. What? Right off the bat we're on a very ill-conceived terrain. It's all a big fuss over who will have to do all the paperwork over a weekend. Paperwork? Seriously? Shouldn't Townsend Agency have an actual accountant considering all this money coming in? Anyway, it just happens James B. Sikking is playing hitman... again! This time - target: Bosley. I think? Mostly he just hangs around a restaurant with an unbearably loud accordion player. It's one of those contrived episodes where you can sneak over to your desk and write about how lame it is and not miss a thing. All hands off deck - Lakso at the helm!

Cons:  Most of the episode is spent cringing while watching Bosley wile the day away with smiling middle-aged-ish lady (Pat Crowley) while the loud accordion player irritates all concerned almost as much as the heavy, icky dialogue. We really don't want to hear Bosley have a midlife crisis, let alone see it. "All I know is that before I came here, something happened to me that was very pleasant - and suddenly I want to pursue it" he tells the girls after he first has to leave the restaurant. "And leave us here with three days paperwork?" says Sabrina indignantly. Jeeze, who gets bent out of shape over eye contact at a restaurant to the point they throw hissy fits if they have to leave. "It really would be a shame if you had to all the paperwork," Charlie consoles the Angels. He should be the one doing it, hiring a sexy accountant to sit on his lap, but there you go- the writers don't have time to think their lame ideas through. Meanwhile Bos and the lady friend are off at the Santa Monica Pier, that old reliable for when the show doesn't have much of  a script and one or more of the cast is off on vacation (I presume)."Someone took a few potshots at me," claims Bosley. "Bosley, what are you saying?" says the usual reliable Sabrina. Jeeze. It's hard to tell which is worse, Bosley's idiocy (that he's so naive and has such a breakdown so fast- you wonder if someone slipped him a roofie. You could be killing everyone he knows right in front of him and he'd still just be ga-ga and goo-goo over this girl he just met. "Bosley has developed an extreme case of self-reliance, Charlie," says Kelly - the episode's one good line.

Pros: And then when you're about to scream, someone does slip him a roofie. Thank goodness. Let this be a lesson to him. I do like the scenes of him staggering around the carousel like a drunk tripping lunatic. It's awesome the way Sabrina whips out a gun under the boardwalk and shields herself behind a beam all in one fluid motion. No one does cop whiparound gun flash like Kate, when she's finally allowed.

71 - Rosemary for Remembrance
C

In a riff on Legend of Lylah Care (1968), and Vertigo, Kris is a dead ringer for Rosemary, a dead starlet loved by two once-warring bootleggers, one of whom, Jake Garfield (Ramon Bieri), has just gotten out of prison. He's a broken man, haunted, and 'not prepared' for just how much Kris resembles her (the painting the old gangster stares at is obviously just a painted over photo of Ladd in a 30s gown with short flapper hair). While Kris snoops around his mansion, Kelly and Sabrina each get a scene or two interviewing suspect/witnesses. The flashback lets Cheryl Ladd adopt a nasal city knowingness to her voice, just a dash, as Rosemary. At least they don't dub her voice with some crazy European Italian lady's (though I loved that in Lylah!) The flashbacks are even shot with the same fog / smeared lens style employed by Aldrich. (and Curtis Harrington in similar films). A diamond necklace, a handsome chauffeur, and 'the Syndicate' are all factoring in mix, but the creepy factor is Jake confusing Kris and Rosemary (and Kris letting him, to a point, as they're trying to get him to remember where the money is, or who killed who and what did they do with the body, or something.  Jake wants everything to be "exactly the way it was" that fateful night in 1935." You won't have to be a detective to see how this all will shape up during the climactic denouement. You'll only have to know the plot of a certain redundantly-titled 1941 Monogram Lugosi movie.

On the other hand there are some good elements: Cheryl Ladd looks amazing. Once again she does the bulk of the work, but she's not suffering from amnesia or being taken hostage this time. After getting used to her short hair as Rosemary, when we come back out of the flashback and see her gorgeous 70s hair as Kris, we're like damn. Ladd owns this season - what a juxtaposition! You'd be forgiven for swooning, if you wanted to (I certainly did). She also actually thinks on her feet, knocking out the bad guy with a single swing of her purse, and looks good slinking around the mansion's hidden areas in sleek black-brown lame slacks.

Pros: Bosley is almost entirely different than he's been in the last two seasons. Is this a case of continuity since his little midlife crisis last episode has made him more of a gravitas badass and less of of clown. The script actually trusts us to understand what's implied when the diamond necklace shows up at the end of the third act rather than having to spell it out in big underlined italics. And there's a twist at the climax and some deadpan funny lines scattered around ("I was paid $5,000, well--- it was a lot of money in those days!") to make it all kind of worthwhile.

72. Angels Remembered
F (or N/A)

A clip show.. These things might not have been so bad in the era before VCRs, but now they just seem like money-savers (the more money the show makes, the less they spend on its budget, for some reason). On the other hand, if you look at how many episodes in a season (this is the 24th) you don't blame them for needing to put their feet up on the Townsend couch to shoot the shit, sip champagne and remember things (this was before VCRs so a lot of us hadn't seen these scenes anyway), We get the sexier (Kelly's belly dance for the 'bad' Arabs in the ice show episode, Kris' hot bikini in the Hawaii opener) and more action-packed moments (where the Angels nonchalant courage seems extra impressive, since it's all done for 'real' and not blue screen hollow). The main drag part is actually the ham-fisted way these clips are explained, via forced dialogue like "Sabrina, remember? You took him out on a picnic to cool him down and things got even hotter?" and "long as I live I'll always remember that look on Frank's face.." And Charlie handling the especially hackneyed dialogue like "Kelly, someone must have been looking out for you when you noticed that seatbelt had been cut." and "As tough as it's been sometimes you have to admit that some of the covers you used were interesting, to say the least." In addition to some of the best episode, they also include clips from the worst, such as "Antique Angels," "Circus of Terror" and "Angel on my Mind?" and some terribly unflattering close-ups from the one where Sabrina falls for that D.W. Cooper clone. We sure have had a lot of adventures, haven't we, Angels? And here's to many many more!

Pros: At the mention of the sky cult one from season two, Sabrina stick up for the UFO community ("I'm not so sure there aren't"). Big points for that.


And that's it, basically. Jackson left after this season and I never watched the Shelly Hack season, I was too burned up that they'd replace Kate with someone way too similar physically and stylistically to Cheryl Ladd (with her snobby Lauren Hutton airs), though the arrival of Tanya Roberts in the final two-parter is pretty great. Those aquamarine eyes, that crackly voice, that willowy slim-hipped but hardly unshapely shape, that hair, that height! The way her character starts out all NYC street-smart Deuce-savvy and ends up being formally asked to stay showed the show could still mix feminine warmth and genuine badassery with the finesse of an ace bartender. And if the first few episodes of the fifth season show were any indication, Roberts could have elevated the show back up to a cool realm. But Smith and Ladd started to seem worn out and bored, and the fashions were getting vulgar (the show always followed the trends, even over the cliff of tacky chintz, spandex, and 80s perms). Roberts looked so slamming in a bathing suit, they smartly moved the show to Hawaii, but even so, the show died after only a half a season. A few bathing suit and sunshine episodes in, they bounced back to LA and the same old hack plots (even the old hypnotism gag, above) but hey - maybe one day my love of this show will get so intense I'll venture into season four at long last. Watch this space!

Meanwhile - we can always Go back ack ack ck c k ...
to
SEASON ONE
SEASON TWO

Thursday, September 10, 2015

CHARLIE'S ANGELS Season TWO: Episode Guide (1977-1978)

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Why am I still--for a month or so, every few years-- into Charlie's Angels? Maybe part of it is that my dad wouldn't let me stay up late to watch it during the first season (and this was long before videotape), leaving me to consider each episode like some magic out-of-reach Tiffany's gold ring. It was their picture on the cover of TV Guide and article, and in my dad's Time, that lit up three chakras in my 10 year-old self's spine up like an electric eel. But by Season Two the time slot changed and my parents pushed back my bedtime, so now every week we watched it together, however, my obsession dimmed just a bit as it lost its forbidden mystique (and became much less 'adult'); and when Kate Jackson left after season three, so did my last remnant of interest.

But now, all these years later, CA is like a Rosebud just waiting for the right amount of sled-ready snow... for the first seasons still can grant me--and maybe you-- a warm prepubescent jouissance echo deep in a sacred place beyond the tediously conventional realm of post-pubescent hormonal desire sexuality and more towards a pre-differentiated self zone where romantic or courtly chaste devotion collides with a spiritual state of grace (1). Arron Spelling knew that the trick with 'the Angels' was to never ruin the spell for us by bringing some dumbass love interest, as they did in the movies (and the reboot), which totally missed that key point. Charlie = God; Angels = nuns; we the viewers = the holy ghost. Sex kicks the nuns out of their state of grace the way sunlight robs vampires of their shadow safety.

"Jousse" is for jouissance!

Moving on, let me take you back to 1977 and set the scene: I was still awash in love for the Angels. I was very much looking forward to this new time and season opener. And my obsessive desire and riveted attention was rewarded. This is the two-parter that still holds up as one of their best, suffused with an easy breezy feeling, it's so 70s I can taste my parent's Tom Collins's (we kids would make them for the adults; using the blender with powdered packets) that lime sting that busts my saliva glands --and all the others -- to electric life.

(special thanks to Charlie'sAngels76-81.com, from whom I've borrowed many of these images - hey at least I'm not ripping them out of Teen Beat while the 7-11 camera is looking the other way, but man I used to - all through the initial run of season 1 especially - less so by season 2, when they came out on Topps trading cards)


Eps. 23-24: Angels in Paradise
Grade: A

Every so often Charlie/Spelling rewarded the girls/actresses and crew by bringing them outside the dingy studios of LA. and off to a place like Hawaii (a great excuse for tans, toned limbs, and lithe swimwear). There's plenty of lush hotel lobbies, sun-kissed white beaches, local celebrities, Asian characters ' This time, having perhaps the whole summer to make the season open right, and wanting to make us forget about the missing Fawcett as fast as possible, they really delivered. "Angels in Paradise" finally gives us what the pilot, with its high-end clients and ritzy expense accounts, had seemed to promise: expensive location shoots, white beaches, surfing, Don Ho, a full-on luau, big cast, yacht hijacking, a sassy massage parlor receptionist, and lots of beach running.

We also get our first introduction to Farrah's replacement, Cheryl Ladd as Kris Munroe (Jill's sister) and it's collective love at first sight, not just for the Angels... but for a hopeful nation. Looking adorably like she's going to her first day at my elementary school in the same 'windbreaker' (then a new term) we kids were all wearing at the time, she was sweet and accessible while also being drop dead sexy, confident and capable. Completely 'getting' the weird mix of approachable innocence and hormone-triggering casual sexuality needed to keep multiple generations happy, she won us with her first warm, inclusive smile and aw-shucks shoulder hang. When, during the big mobster yacht hijacking climax, we see her in a brown bathing suit, all wet from sneaking aboard, conking the helmsmen, and steering back out of international waters, we're so thoroughly agog we've forgotten all about Farrah. 

Here's a secret I gleaned fro Huysmans' À rebours --adapted for these two episodes: Rub a dab of some cocoanut suntan oil under your nose, angle the couch by the window so you catch some late afternoon rays on your face, lean back and let "Angels in Paradise" lift you unto to them. You'll start to feel the waves. 

Pros: A complex plot finds Charlie kidnapped and then kidnapped from the kidnappers! First he's snatched mid-morning phone conference by the ice-cool surfer girl ruler of the Hawaii underworld, Queen Bee,  who wants the Angels to bust her easy-going surfer husband out of jail in exchange for his return. But before that can happen,  Charlie is stolen from her by a disgraced Italian mobster trying to take over the Honolulu rackets via his offshore  yacht (beyond the three mile limit) which means going up against the Queen Bee, operating beyond the touch. The Angels have no jurisdiction even if they find hiim! So now, after the Angels break out the easygoing surfer husband, they hold him as a hostage, and so forth. Kelly and Kris are quite in alluring bikinis and Sabrina looks tan and relaxed. Lots of scenes go down on the beach, the wind rippling the palm trees, waves crashing, everything is very chill. Charlie even sips cocktails with his kidnappers at the pool, just as the queen bee's husband knocks back beers with Bosley! 

Cons: Sabrina refuses one of Don Ho's specially made frozen Pina Coladas, even though (and not because) they're virgin. After she watched him make it for her! Sabrina, that was very rude!

Ep. 25-26 Angels on Ice
Grade: B-

Kris was pretty impressive in the previous two-parter, but that was in Hawaii in a cute brown bathing suit. This shit's on ice, and she's buried inside clown make-up and a goofball red nose. Not only that, she can't figure out the master plane for the impending assassination of a bunch of envoy Arabs coming to the big shows. Even though the show comes complete with fireworks, Uncle Sam, and a 21 gun salute, all on ice, (1976 was full of this Bicentennial kind of stuff), it takes her far too many minutes for us to remain impressed by her detective skills. 

But hey, did you know Arabs love ice shows? Maybe it's because they're from the desert. The rest of the "crowd" for this big Bicentennial celebration fits comfortably into a few bleachers in typical Spelling "spare all expense" approach. to set and setting. To compensate, some vaguely familiar old character actor drinks in the bushes and eats up the screen time with shameless mugging. in both episodes - he saw something - but it won't be easy to get a ham like that to divulge it without letting him do lots of schtick.

Pros: There's a great stretch where we follow Kelly, by herself, pursuing a lead. First, she hitches a ride on the back of Carlos Santana's chopper (!), to pursue a suspect, then disguises herself in a lime green bedlah and does a coy belly dance for some power lunching evil Arabs (one of whom is Timothy Carey!) at the local Middle Eastern eatery. If that's not enough, she then performs an awesome acrobatic escape from the women's room, reminding us that a lot of the show's appeal secretly comes from Jaclyn Smith--the only Angel who lasted all five seasons--whose curves could make young minds explode. "Angels on Ice" is is her two-parter --showing off her action skills, quick wit and lovely form in this extended solo jaunt-- just as "Angels in Paradise" was Ladd's. Now we see how all their skill sets and personas divide: Farrah's Jill was perky, athletic, fearless and quick-thinking; Kris is brave but ever cognizant of danger, warm and innocent, but no pushover; Sabrina is brainy, crafty, and a good shot but hesitant and second guessing; but it's Kelly, time and again, who rocks the show's demure sexual backbone. She can't convincingly belly dance but oh! Oh, that midriff.  There's also some great sardonic dialogue from Jim Backus (!) as an old doofus coach. My favorite: "being human is a terminal illness. We all deserve what we get when we get it."

Cons: Sabrina's extended "uh.. uh" stall after stealing a vegetable truck and plowing it into a cop car while carrying a gun without a license--this after she lets a perp in a gorilla mask throw her in a closet, never thinking to fight. back. C'mon Sabrina. You'd have never got out of the Academy being this incompetent! Worse, she then takes the vagrant (hammed beyond endurance by Edward Andrews) to a restaurant to buy him wine or something, never considering the olfactory nerves of the diners or that his half-assed WC Fields is unacceptable. All of it pads out what is really an episode and a half, rather than two-parter. So much mugging and dumb back-and-forth hamming. Kate, it's beneath you!

Phil Silvers is also around, doing his part, bringing New York Jew moxy as their client. Andrews is such a ham, Silvers feels low-key by contrast/

Luckily there's that Kelly sequence. Thank god for Kelly! And timely Carlos! And Arab Carey! 

27 -Pretty Angels all in a Row
B

Some good old boys from Texas are scaring away the strongest competitors at the "Miss Hyacinth Pageant" so that a rich oilman's little baton-twirlin' darlin' can win. Contestant Marki Bey gets a tarantula in her bed and freaks out (she's a long way from Sugar Hill). Soon no one wants to compete, and the host worries someone is out to attack this hallowed "national institution." The Angels flip coins to see who will have to go undercover as Hyacinth contestants, but it's already in Ms. Jackson's contract to be excused from bathing suit duty, so Kelly and Jill will share the dubious honor. They're both serious ringers, so you best believe it's going to take more than tarantulas to get them out of the running.

Cons The climactic televised public event is packed--as in all these episodes--with a woefully small audience of under-directed extras scattered around in front of tacky 70s wallpaper and wood panelling, i.e. the shoddy ambience so beloved of this show's fans and Spelling's wallet. On the podium for the 'personality' portion, Kelly says she wants to go into brain surgery, but "keep up my dancing, no matter what." Oh please do!

Pros: I always like it when the stakes are low, since I watch these shows to calm down, to sink into the orange shag carpet womb of the 70s easy lovin' mellow good natured feel-good nostalgia and not have worry about anyone enduring vicious sexual assaults, pervy ugliness, unpunished misogyny, high-stakes vivid intensity and downer vibes. This episode, the first stand-alone of the season, is a pretty good example of low-risk narrative immersion as far as that goes. The two main bad guys--the big Texas goons--aren't so bad that they'd actually harm a woman; they just lock the frontrunner Hyacinth Girls (and un-bribable judges) in an auto garage 'til their little Texas petunia takes the prize. But of course the Angels know how to escape.

As do I, it seems.

28- Angel Flight
C

Angela--Sabrina's old college roommate--now works as an instructor at a stewardess school --and she's being terrorized via some black roses! Oh no! She's such a major cowerer--the total opposite of Sabrina--that you may root for the unseen caller/terrorizer, as if maybe forcing her to commit sabotage may help her stop her incessant cringing. Even after seeking the Angels' support she's still an easy victim of anyone with a dime and a bottle of black dye. Red herring comes in the form of a combative Asian-American stewardess student named Mai Ling (!) and a perverted building super.  But the real enemy is Angela herself. She ends up trying to freeze the Angels out when the killer starts making direct threats -- even though the mysterious tape she receives orders her to kill the pilot on her next training exercise! It seems like she's less afraid to commit cold-blooded murder than she is to just hang up the phone or press the 'stop' button.  You really just want Sabrina to slap the shit out of both Angela and--while she's at it--Angela's super snide sexist boyfriend --another herring! They deserve each other.

Would one could paint the whole episode black, grab one of those red herring and slap the shit out of everyone in it who's not an Angel.

Pros: Sabrina finally gets some time to chill out on the couch while mooning over Burt Reynolds in a (fake) Hollywood gossip magazine (there's some allusions to his then-infamous bear skin Playgirl 'spread.' Burt's not who we'd imagine Sabrina would go for, but Jackson really seems to shine best in these little bits of business, demonstrating her underused acting chops and gift for subtle comedy.

Cons: Alas she undoes any engendered good will by wearing an unflattering 80s-heralding cream colored blouse. I hate that blouse so much it prohibits me from posting a pic.

29. Circus of Terror
B-

Terror? This barely even has a circus, more like some offscreen animal and calliope noises in the background mix, and a cast of about five suspects ambling around in a shady plot to make the circus go bust or sell out. The circus is conveyed via untrampled grass (why there's no sawdust or even some sand instead is a mystery) and some shiny new tents that look like they were borrowed from the set's catering company. I don't think we see a single rube, or elephant, or acrobat. Bosley does get some woo pitched his way by a lady little person. And the sad-eyed "big in Eastern Europe" mime does tired Chaplin pathos; and a 'new' kind of gypsy romances Sabrina in a big top annex. Such a half-assed attempt to conjure a circus wouldn't be bad in itself (I can't bear seeing unhappy animals) except for the mime element. Thanks to the momentary popularity of the TV variety show Shields and Yarnell --mimes were almost cool.  Lou Reed even played one on his Coney Island Baby cover. I'm not afraid of clowns or enraged by mimes like some people but I am also no fan of either, nor any of the twee quirks or inevitable turns pathos.  Meanwhile someone has it in for the Angels. The other big thing is a plan to shoot Kelly mid-cycle jump (she's undercover as a daredevil cyclst, and kill Sabrina with a sword that's supposed to be made of rubber during her mime act; 

Cons include the worst pun ever (a weirdly half-assed attempt to counter TV critics' sexism charges, the Angels accuse Charlie of having a one-track mind when they hear he's learning engineering from a female engine driver-- KILL ME NOW). Thanks to his inane bawdy entendres, no one notices that Charlie keeps hiring young women to do all these professional jobs and services usually ascribed to men. He's a real man, unthreatened by women in a position of power, trusting in their ability to do male-associated jobs better than he can. Yet he's decried as sexist for it thanks to his lame puns. Oh Charlie.... 

part of the mime explosion of '76

Cons: Sabrina says she's wanted to be a clown since she was a little girl! Skeevy! Why didn't she say anything about it when poor Kris had to put on that dumb clown nose for the ice show a few weeks ago? Naturally Sabrina learns the ropes from a "master" mime (Charles Tyner) who--when he laughs--comes off like the nightmare reflection of Alan Alda.

Pros.  Kelly poses as an uppity motorcycle daredevil and looks smashing in a sexy olive green jumpsuit (above); Kris has knives thrown at her by a German suspect with a dueling scar. Sabrina does end up looking kind of CBGBs cool in her mime finery (like Lou Reed on the cover of his 1976 album Coney Island Baby - left) and Jackson does a great job of always seeming in the driver's seat during her dinner date with the handsome client, a younger generation of gypsy butting heads with his traditionalist father about circus-running ways (and things like hiring lady detectives, or cooking for one on a date) and the idea of a kind of underground railroad of Eastern European circus defectors is interestingly etched into the margins. Surprisingly, Sabrina ends up holding hands with the younger circus guy at the end, and it not needing to be commented on as central to the plot in any way.

30. Angel in Love
B-

Sabrina, how could you fall in love with a shaggy D.B. Cooper clone? Ah well, Jackson takes it as a  chance to do some real acting for a change as her character struggles to not let her newfound gooey feelings cloud her keen investigatory judgement. The Angels are investigating why so many people are dying (literally) while trying to find something hidden in a certain cabin at "Utopia West" - a very California encounter group-style sanctuary. Turns out it's just the kind of place where a guy like Sabrina's new lover, Doug, might stash some stolen millions under a cabin's floorboards. 

That's why you're there, Sabrina, to find the killer and recover the cash, not to get emotionally involved with a suspect!

For their covers: Kris teaches tai chi; Kelly drives the shuttle bus and Sabrina does her investigating journalist routine (an excuse to ask prying questions). Touching Doug's hand in a meditation exercise leads her to unexpected and unprofessional feelings!

Lucky for we smitten ten year-olds, all Angel romances end in death or arrest by the end of the episode. That's one of the key things Spelling does right (but the films and reboot do wrong): our Angels are chaste; they love no man but Charlie - and we're never jealous of him because we can't see his face, neither can they, therefore he becomes a figure unique in viewing psychology: he's not the viewer (there's no point of identification), but at the same time he's not-not the viewer either (we don''t see him as a rival). For us prepubescent boys, terrified of sex's mystery yet drawn to it like an irresistible magnet, the Angel's' weird sense of suspended chastity, assisted by their Eunuch Bosley and guided by their unseen power, comes as a sweet stay of sexual awareness execution, like a big window right in the middle of our father's head.

Pros: It's fitting and right that Sabrina would be the one to fall in love and resist the sketchy truth. The brainy are often neophytes when it comes to love. But it's clear she is making a concerted effort to maintain her objectivity (and Jackson the actress clearly relishes the chance to work on her 'antithetical interiority.').

It's also always fun seeing the Angels get into some then-relatively unknown California trends like meditation and yoga. The 70s encounter group stuff isn't presented in too much of a satiric context ("It's all right to touch after all, isn't it?" notes the encounter group teacher rather sweetly at the end of an exercise --an elegant mantra that nicely sums up my favorite decade.)

Cons: Bosely gets stuck at fat camp, and ends up sneaking in all sorts of meats and other gross things to pig out on after lights out. The Angels find a masked creep hiding in their closet, but they fight him like kids. Kris jumps on his back and Kelly swings ineffectual little girl punches. All that police academy training out the window! Two minutes later Kris is teaching tai chi! So, Kris, let me get this straight; you know tai chi--you've had extensive self defense and police training--and you couldn't have used some masked dork's own force against him in an off-the-hip flip? Or at the very least stomped on hi instep or kicked out his kneecap? Or was Spelling worried that might mean hiring a stunt woman? Or running out of things to do? 

31. Unidentified Flying Angels
B-

Ross "The Fake Oscar Levant" Martin (Wild Wild West) is Dr. Perine, a bunco UFO cult leader who's supposed to have spirited a rich old lady away to Venus. He really killed her because she dared point out it's too hot on Venus for a saucer to land. Jeeze, are all rich people so dumb that it's a killable offense to mention facts straight off the back of Quisp box? The UFOs (they show up outside the window on 'special evenings') are clearly effects process shots from Forbidden Planet. I bet you someone found the old reels in a box somewhere and quietly stole them. TV guest shot mainstay Dennis Cole is a corrupted astronaut with a checkered past. Dr. Perine uses him as a paid spokesperson and sometimes henchman. Kelly falls for him - in real life they ended up getting married!

Here, of course, he ends up arrested.

Pros: Kelly gets a real chance to shine, literally, as a silver-suited Venusian, in order to play havoc with the nerves of a jittery ectomorph cult member. And then later, she calmly straps herself in after her pilot lover-instructor saws through her seatbelt in the open air cockpit before doing long barrel rolls, then makes him land with a gun to the back of her head. "You just don't have the courage, Jim," Kelly tells him, calm and cool. "You never did." The tense, interesting, weird finale wraps the culprits up in many overlapping ways. The mundanity of actual detective work gets a nod with the crew flipping a coin to see who tails who. Bosley works two cons in one day. "Am I still in banking?" No, Kris answers with a kiss, "sugar-daddy." I always like it when the Angels use their seductive beauty to throw men off their game (guys naturally want to impress them, so talk big, and let slip shit they shouldn't), why else do they need to be so hot? When the writers remember to use what makes them different from other detective agencies, suddenly, the show makes sense.

Cons: Some of the above, but not all, helps compensate for the Angels' inability to fight well, or ever think to just shoot a perp in the leg if said perp lunges for their gun. Like her sister, Kris has a soft spot for dweeby guys. Kelly gets to fly in a Red Baron-type biplane with the astronaut, and be dined over cocktails... until he realizes who she is and tries to drop her out of her seat in a mid-flight loop-de-loop. If it all seems like a lot of work and expense when a simple dog walk could have solved the case in five minutes, well, that's show biz. And to reiterate: the idea of killing a wealthy member for having Astronomy 101 facts at her fingertips is also really stupid... even for this show.

32. Angels on the Air
B

Someone's trying to kill a lady reporter on an all-news radio station. The Angels take over a variety of undercover jobs, including the reporter's (since the suspects only know her by voice). This leads to a nice variety of suspects, lots of deranged listeners out there! So the Angels go off on their own a lot, exploring various avenues of Southern California fringe living, and it leads to a pretty solid climax.

Pros: Kelly gets ready to give a nice slapdown to "that wife-beater Quinlan"--who threatened the reporter in the past-- but he's already dead; she should slap down the hulking patriarchal bully of a Catholic priest who interrupts their sisterly support staring contest instead. There are two unusually interesting 70s-style macho dudes as suspects: Dwayne Hansen-- rabbit-huntin' hippie commune leader ("it's cosmic!"); and old Buck (Taylor Latcher), the Vietnam vet news chopper pilot who used to do the weather by himself and is now jealous they gave that plum to Sabrina (shades of Burgundy!). Now he just flies the plane while she talks (he drives crazily and tries to make her throw up - a less fatal version of a similar ride taken by Kelly last episode). Whatever happened to shit-heels like ole Buck? There used to be so many. Now the street poles look like Stretch Armstrong crucifixions. Not, admittedly, without good reason.

Cons: Sabrina should have taken some massive revenge against the macho shit-heel (with his fake Burt Reynolds laugh) but doesn't. On the other hand, he'll tell you this, lady, "after what I saw in 'Nam, I live and I let live."

Police Quiz: Here's a question for Kelly: a perp is chasing you in his car. After lots of cop show funk and K-turns, your car smashes up in the middle of a field. His car is still coming at you. Do you a) lean out the window and shoot at him? b) stay in the car and phone for back-up? c) leave the gun in the car and get out and go run across the open field so he can barrel right towards you?

Guess what Kelly does? It's as if the writers don't know how to write scenes where women rescue themselves instead of praying for a Kojack machina. Did the writer forget she was the detective, not the client? Why take the place of an endangered reporter if you're not even going defend yourself from attack? Even though she does chase down the perp in the end via a cross-track field race, she could have nabbed him right here and be done with it.

Overall, though, strong stuff, especially with two of the male suspects being such male chauvinist shitheels. As the pilot, Latcher's pretty good, like he's angling for the TV B-version of Burt Reynolds and Paul Newman (about 50/50). And Kris has got a recipe for rabbit stew that would curl Dwayne Hansen's toes ("I'm a blood-boilin' man and yer settin' my karma on fire!") After one of his jealous main babes unmasks her, though, he shouts: "you're a big disappointment, Matilda, or whatever your name is! That hog yer ridin' is rented! RENTED!"

33. Angel Baby
A

A juvenile delinquent turned soldier--whom Kelly rehabilitated while working her old rookie beat-- gets in hot water when he goes AWOL to find out what happened to his missing girlfriend. He calls Kelly for help, and the trail leads to a mysterious rest home / clinic for unwed mothers (secretly a black market / high-end adoption agency). Sabrina goes undercover as a bitchy rich woman shopping for the right expecting mother; Kris Munroe gets a few big, great scenes as one of the undercover mothers. She shoots her very first suspect! It's one of the show's truest, best moments! I likw how the Ultimate Charlie's Angels Guide puts it:
Rookie Kris faces her first “line of fire” situation: a dramatic shootout with a cold-blooded killer. Though Kris wins the showdown, the shock of realizing she had to shoot someone to do her job overwhelms her, to the point where she has to be comforted by Sabrina. It’s a sensitive moment very well done, and made all the more effective by the element of surprise. “Instead of making it a light, Angel moment, they made it a real moment” said Cheryl Ladd. 
I also like the line where she's meant to breed with a stud Nordic swinger (to produce blonde babies, which have a higher resale value), and he says, once they're alone in their hotel room and the champagne is getting cold, 'it's not like I should feel cheap. If I just met you, I'd be up here for free, right?" and Kris gives him a very confident look and says, "Don't you believe it." It's beautifully said, a line that could mean many things but with Ladd's unyielding stare it's obvious she's sized this guy up as a good guy easily confused by the need for money and the impetus of 70s 'swinging'. Oh if I'd have only understood what she meant, or seen this episode, before I went on my own unpaid one-night stand rampage back in 1990 (and then again in '09). Even Tommy (Edward Winter) gives a nice performance, and Jean Allison is subtly devastating as a previous pregnant victim's grieving mom.

34. Angels in the Wings
D

A 'jinxed' movie musical in rehearsal hires the Angels before anything 'worse' happens. There's a fake Julie Andrews reviving a never-finished film version of a musical she wrote years back with her ex-husband, a chronic gambler songwriter/producer who calls the idea of a musical about a formerly married couple who are still fighting, starring a formerly married couple who are still fighting, "juvenile." Don't you mean "meta," chummmmmp? It's always about 'puttin' on a show' in a life imitates art kinda way, isn't it, Lylah? Not that the rehersal is going well to begin with, but there's something strange about this one song, sung on this one staircase, that seems to trigger a half-baked Phantom of the Opera composite in the wings to strike... and again. But oh, man, does he take his time. Suspects include: the bickering couple's long-suffering son (he worries they'll kill each other if they get back together); and a loan shark out to get paid or break legs. 

Pros: The two hilarious hired legbreakers hanging around the set play things somewhere between Spats Colombo's thugs from Some Like it Hot and Lee Marvin and Clu Gallagher in The Killers. And Cheryl Ladd can actually sing.

Cons: This is one of those where the Angels don't do much. Vast stretches of time are eaten up with tacky songs and interminable stretches of what we in the Vaudeville trade (and this is before your time, sweetheart), what we in the Vaudeville trade (and we've been in the trade such a very long time, you and I, haven't we, sweetheart?), call... well, what you--or even I.... baby.... on some rainy night... if I couldn't find a hat or rubbers--could I, I mean would you, I mean, sweetheart? Yes, this is what we might call "patter" in the show business, baby. You know what patter is, don't you, baby? It's slowing your lines down, adding pauses, repeating lines in different ways, and stretching words out for as much screen time as you can grab. It's a lazy way to pad running times and turn a one-line walk-on into a bid for Oscar glory. Usually it means either the script ran way too short or the director didn't have the heart to yell cut.

Con-Cons: Showing how dumb she can be about the screen trade--especially for someone who supposedly lives and works in LA--Kelly thinks it's genuinely macabre that the cinematographer kept the camera rolling during, and after, the fatal 'accident' (a real detective would think it suspect if they didn't). No matter what happens or doesn't happen, the torch ballads keep coming, with lyrics like "you plus me/ now one's a lonely number / must we be?" The Angels all dance around in spangly 20s-30s costumes and the irritable yawns come like rain upon anyone not enamored of slow-tempo show biz 'standards' scraped out of the bottom of cobwebbed filing cabinets by old timer Brill Building hacks.

35. Magic Fire
C-

A dangerous serial arsonist is striking along the same theatrical circuit as a couple of magicians, one of whom uses fire tricks in his act. What are the odds? Kris is menaced (as above) with a fiery shower. Soo scary! She was almost nowhere near it, but I can imagine the idea would go over big when discussed at fourth grade recess (a lot of us weren't sold on the idea of the shower vs. the bath (the knobs being too high) but would have been all over the idea of Ladd, in terrible danger and a towel, looking for a brave boy to turn off a faucet).

Pros: Kris is pretty on the ball this time around, using her intentionally lame mind-reading act as an excuse for reading some shady audience member's driver's license; Sabrina snoops effectively (but then lets herself get tied up too easy just so she can have a hair-raising Peril of Pauline rescue); Kelly uses her wiles to solicit trade secrets from a terrible magician with an even worse toupee. There's some footage shot at LA's premiere conjuring spot, The Magic Castle.

Cons: The rest of the action occurs on the same lame, half-finished, wood-paneled sets it always does. Sabrina uses a terrible French accent in her fashion designer disguise --a new low. Bosley poses as a magician and he, too, clowns without pity. Kelly pretends to know some mystical Paradol chamber secret and people buy into it waayy too easily. The concept underlying the big crime trick (how the arsonist can start fires when not even in the same town) relies on a lot of wild assumptions, like that you could break in and swap someone's phone out of their office and they wouldn't notice, and then no one would call them on it for weeks or days until you're safely away with an alibi, and that no fire investigato would come ever to investigate any strange freak blaze after it happened ever because if he did he'd notice within seconds where the fire originated and how it was triggered. The funny thing is, it's not dissimilar to how Iraq insurgents use cell phones to activate bombs today (as in Hurt Locker) only reverse direction. So the writers had a prescient idea, they just didn't deign to think it through, as usual.

36. Sammy Davis Jr. Kidnap Caper
C+

A kidnapper pretends to be drunk so he can spill water on Sammy. Sammy splits to the men's room to dab himself down. It's a trap! Masked thugs attack Sammy! A real drunk thinks Sammy's Flip Wilson. The drunk doesn't notice the kidnappers but shoos them away anyway. Sammy's there for the 'hospital fund" because they "need all the help they can get." He thinks having Kris as a bodyguard is "groovy, man." Yeah, but she's barely taller than you are, Sammy! And she proves pretty conclusively she's also incompetent. Not to mention all three of them together are pretty ineffectual against a van full of gigantic black men. Why not try some mace or something, ladies? Just this once? It's either guns --which they don't use-- or dumb luck, when it comes to protecting clients. What confidence they must instill!

Pros: "98 pounds of police-trained dynamite," notes Sammy of Kelly, though she doesn't exactly earn that description. Whatever training she had, she must have passed just because she's so hot her instructor just mindlessly gave her an A. There's no real need for anything on the kidnappers' part, they're just there cuz a bad guy is needed, but one must applaud their idea of repeating their attempt. "No one in their right mind would expect anyone to bungle a kidnapping so bad and then try again," says the ringleader. And adds "if there are security people, waste 'em." Tough talk makes it extra worrisome the Angels are so unarmed and incompetent. Meanwhile there's a cat named Brubaker, a professional Sammy lookalike (played by Mr. Davis Jr.) way more interesting than the original. Brubaker comes to drive one of Sammy's cars: "I don't need no Irish person to help me drive this car!" - Oh we know.

Cons: Sammy Davis Jr. has a drawn-out, weird acting style that seems to play up his natural confusion when not onstage before a devoted crowd. There's about a minute of dead air in the amount of empty beats between his sentences. His 'cocoa-brown beauty' of a wife (real life wife Altovese) seems to appear largely to stress her non-whiteness (and reminds us that Davis was briefly kidnapped by Sammy Cohn to scare him off his dating Kim Novak- an allusion that hangs like a fetid cloth over the proceedings). Bosley is a certified idiot here as the chauffeur, completely unaware there's a Sammy imitator around (at a lookalike contest no less). As I say, it's a lot of contrivance to make a dopey idea work. Why not start with a good idea and make that work? Don't say it's never been done neither!

37. Angels on Horseback
B

Bosley on horseback is the comedy aspect (he mugs horrendously - a major low in the series) and we learn how far the Angels have fallen when Charlie gives Bosley shit for expensing an $85 rolfing session after getting rider's cramps ("I told you to get a soft horse!" declares Charlie). Not only that but Charlie stops them from being about to go on a beach vacation--they're in their bathing suits and everything--to send them to some middle-of-nowhere dude ranch. How you get to this swanky tourist spot? First you fly in to a dinky airport and then its an all-night drive to the ranch. What the hell? Where is this place, Patagonia?

Pros: Cheryl Ladd is on her A-game, and seems alive to the limitless potential of her face: gazing at Bosley with a beaming motherly glow; gazing at her quarry with the unstoppable momentum of an Atlantic City call girl coming onto a sloshed high roller; and gazing at the bad guys with an inflexible 'hear-no-bullshit' kind of tough love. Perennial sniper James B. Sikking is a mysterious figure around whom much intrigue goeth; Kelly rocks a sexually liberated woman schtick but no one's buying it---not this time--and we learn why when her inner prude comes out, making sure a key mob moll witness knows she's "no lady," Most of all, the Angels get to ride, boldly ride....

Cons: It's disheartening that bad guys get the drop on Sabrina again, and she doesn't exactly seize any of her chances to escape. As my dad never tired of telling me while watching westerns, it's nearly impossible to hit your target from atop a galloping horse, so just ride off in a different direction and be free. Bosley's mugging (it's like he's trying to do bad so they don't use the footage) is terrifyingly broad --cross-eyed, tongue-out, the works.

...  Otherwise, it's a diverting mix of fad (country and western must have been 'in' at the moment) and sleuthing,  where they cut through acres of potential crap dialogue by just leveling with their suspects early on, and where even a remote dude ranch looks identical to everywhere else the Angels visit in their 'travels' -- a divine fusion of LA desert scrub, stables, wood-paneled bungalows, and a parking lot. Who wouldn't fly to a remote airport and then drive all night to be at a place like this?

I would not change it.

38. Game, Set, Death
B+

The game: women's tennis. The death: caused maybe by a Bobby Riggs-type mad at a Billie Jean King type (thanks to the at-the-time notorious battle of the sexes tennis match - this show kept its finger on the pop culture pulse!). In high California style, the crowds at the prestigious 'Hermosa Cup' tournament range anywhere from five to seven extras milling around in collapsable bleachers. For the #1 show in America, Spelling spared no expense... as in none of the expenses associated with a real show -- sparing Spelling's wallet. And the same goes for Bosley, who's too cheap with the Angels' budget to even buy Kelly a decent tennis racket, even going on and on about how everything has to be returned. Oh Bos, that's sooo fun. Still, she and Kris both look damn good in those high-riding lame gym shorts, the type all the girls wore at the time at the gym in the 70s, accentuating their pubic crest and turning boys into men with every jump shot.

Pros: The celestial Tiffany Bolling shows up as a spiritual yogi/feminist on the circuit (she'd have made a dynamite Angel! If only...) who advises Kelly about being 'off-pose' and that the key to promoting your inner self is 'the asanas' (it may be a lesbian come on). She's a suspect until she gets a rattlesnake in her bag, but still blames the Angels for the bad vibes. It's funny that meditation and yoga were still 'fringe' and 'eccentric' back then, especially in LA. But at least it's being mentioned and shown to have effective medical value. It illuminates the way that most new things are first held up to open ridicule, then as signs of flakiness, then healthy holistic alternative, then medical fact, and finally enforced by law. That last part is still decades away, until yoga and meditation are mandatory class subjects in high school, and mushrooms ubiquitous in hospices. I can't wait. Good tense final talk down work from Sabrina. Gotta love there's finally a balding suspects who doesn't wear a toupee (he's got that long fringe), a sign of things to come. The 'female jock' motif is always welcome, showing a real reason for the Angels to exist in the first place and to examine changes in the country and its media as women's lib runs headlong into the craze for cheerleaders and 'Monday Night Football.' There's also some extempore banter re: Bosley's date with an ugly-sexy singles suspect, jettisoned during the initial investigation but not forgotten!

39. Hours of Desperation
B-

Sabrina wears a high explosive belt that a sleazy guy will set off if Kris and Kelly don't recover his stolen loot. Wait, why? Suspenseful in a tradition I don't particularly care for, I still respect it as an interesting 'one-off' in a kind of Suddenly key.

Pros - some nicly twisty synthesizer suspense music in addition to the usual echo-driven flutes and oboe sustains. An interesting climax with Sabrina diving into a cold pond and then--as she has in the past--getting lots of attention from the other Angels as she sit with her feet in a hot tub by the office fireplace. I must wonder if it's her tendency towards this kind of covert lesbian attention-mongering that made me so enamored of sick days

Cons- The home invasion thing is pretty cliche and the opposite of what I come to the show for, i.e. to calm down and rest my jets with groovy clothes, childhood '70s babysitter fixation' crushes, and a complete absence of real tension or sexual abuse; the idea that a hospital would just admit a guy who was shot in the back and not alert the police, then allow him to escape without even seeing his I.D. is offensive.

40 - Diamond in the Rough
D-

Dan O'Herlihy (the druid mask designer in Halloween III) is Freddy the Fox, a dapper jewel thief trying to go straight ala Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief. But instead of traipsing around the gorgeous Riviera, the Angels head to 'the Caribbean' to steal a big gem from a rich Arab. I hear "'the Caribbean' is great this time of year." Better hurry! The blackjack dealer and hot water cop from "The Big Tap-Out" are after Freddy (they think he has the gem--he doesn't - so the Angels need to steal it to prove it, or something).

Pros: Sid Haig! There's a black maid too -- Bosley (posing as a butler) dines with her to share recipes and slyly solicit gossip.

Cons: Sabrina's pathetic attempt to pass undercover as a snob involves donning a terrible satin bow-tie blouse and speaking in a horribly fake posh accent (when she remembers). Bosley too seems like he's just hamming it up hoping to wear us down, hoping we change the channel so he can trundle off to bed; his posh accent is amongst the worst in small screen herstory. They all seem like bad actors playing characters who think they're able to assume all sorts of disguises but can't even play themselves with anything but cocktail conviction. O'Herlihy is up for the challenge but his Freddy the Fox makes lame jokes like "they didn't call me Freddy the Fox because of my fox-trot." Kill me.

The angels make some dumb, dumb, dumb blunders like giving up their real identity because Kris likes some boy (in a plot twist as regular on ABC as could be, having been used on the Bionic Woman over and over), and wearing all black when stealing a jewel in broad daylight. You might as well wear striped pajamas and a black eye mask. Once again there's the idea that not only does real life experience not matter in the writer's pool, but neither does art direction for the producer. It was a hit show but none of the money is onscreen, except in the Ferrari dept, which I suspect is the kind of thing Spelling and Goldberg were buying for themselves with advertising revenue, and then ordering the writers to factor them into the show so they could get a tax deduction. The rest of the time, as in the supposedly rich Arab's pad, everything is just the same lame backyard LA smog. These rich Arabs don't even have a fucking pool! "He's not exactly handsome," notes Kris of their Arab suspect "you can even say he's ugly." She doesn't mention she knows about race cars due to her sister Jill which would be good writing (did the writers even see earlier seasons?).

41-Angels in the Backfield
C

This is the one with the female football teams. I remember seeing it during it's original airing, way back when I was too young (11-12) to be judgmental. The 'Ducks' hire the Angels because, though they totally suck, someone is trying to sabotage the team. But why? Why is the better team cheating eight ways to Sunday? Is there gambling going on? Heaven forfend.

Pros - Kelly busts "judo" on some opposing dyke fullback named Grinelda. "Julia Smith, with a Y" (Patch Mackenzie) is the rival team owner (in the "same sorority" as Grinelda) who makes a thinly veiled come-on to Sabrina in the form of paying her triple price to switch to the Panthers. Sabrina may have 'switched' awhile ago, according to my favorite new piece on the subliminal lesbian relationship between Kelly and Sabrina but she's still got integrity. "She's a tough lady," notes Gary Wood, the hobbled ex-player suspect flirting with Kelly. She likes winning; she drives a motorcycle (a pair of them threatens one of the Ducks during scrimmage); and she's won everything she ever tried. She dresses well and has a rockin' haircut like my fifth grade teacher. Why do I always have massive crushes on lesbian team owners?

Cons - Some pretty stupid stuff going on, not least of which is Kelly letting herself get intimidated by two idiots trying to kick her in the shins while racing past on motorcycles with their legs sticking out. It's about the easiest thing in the world to dodge a motorcycle, just turn around like a bullfighter, and or grab one of them by the arm when they ride past and let centrifugal force unthrone them. Kelly jumps up on a car and shakes back her tresses like she's ready to drop kick, but then doesn't do shit. The idea of an exhibition game for female football played at 'the Coliseum' is kind of dopey, especially since inside it's just that same Spelling LA scrub high school track field. (We learn it was "donated") And it doesn't help the cause of women's lib that this women's football team is totally ridiculous - why do they bother having a girl named Pokey, ultra clumsy and dyslexic as she is, as a halfback? Is this second string junior varsity or what? It's a disgrace to women's football everywhere!

On the other hand we do learn about dyslexia, which in 1978 was not a household word.

L.Q. Jones is Dan Jarvis, the older ex-NFL guy with ever-present beer as token of his masculinity who treats his team-captain daughter with sighs of embarrassment, playing the same character he played in "Bullseye" last season. It's a groaningly cliche type of dated macho, even for Spelling. "These girls ought to be spending their time in the kitchen," he actually declares. Gary Wood is another type, less sexist but more self-pitying, sulking that he's less than a man because of his old football injury Kelly infers he's a quitter and that it's not true he's not still a man. "It's true if I say it is, I I feel it" he says. Wow. What woman could resist? And how can even the weakest of kicks fail to knock over such easy targets even as they're being lured into complacency. At least the Angels seem to have things under control when they're not cowering from bikers or dyke fullbacks. "Mr. Jarvis -- you don't need any help making a fool of yourself," Sabrina tells the dad.

In short, there's way more than a welcome shred of tough love, here, and platitudes about equal playing fields seem wrong coming from a stunning girl like Kelly, with her perfect hair, flawless make-up and spoon feeding obvious psychological answers to damaged macho types.

Still, that was the 70s, after all. People were in touch with their feelings for the first time, maybe ever, maybe never again. And the Angels once again proved they could mix all three- excelling at any sport, foiling the bad guys, and teaching homespun shitheels a thing or two about caring and then almost undo it all by lapsing into gender norms by using Charlie's admiration and concern for their bruises into an excuse for an agency-funded shopping trip.

42 - Sandcastle Murders
B

A beachside strangler stalks women around the beach where Kris lives (Jill's old apartment). Our old friend Steve Sandor is a well-muscled guy with binoculars who peeps at hotties on the beach. "I thought you were gonna come by and sell me those cosmetics," says Kris to Betsy (Melody Thomas Scott), a shaky ex-junkie Kris helped go straight back when Kris was a rookie cop on a beat. The waves go crash and the next day Betsy's dead in a sandcastle and we know we've crossed a line in Angel town, things are a touch darker than usual.  A cross-eyed towhead lifeguard sends Kris and Kelly up the beach to a swanky high rise of a Janet Starlin-style cosmetics mogul (Melissa Converse). Her sleazy boyfriend, Larry Fallon (the peerless Jason Evers!) is another sleazy suspect.  Alan Feinstein is back from playing a corrupt D.A. last season, this time he's Dave, the rent-a-cop on patrol (His boss, the condescending sheriff, hates Charlie Townsend for his success -they used to work a beat together) but there's a catch with him seducing Kris; he can't stop lamenting how little cash he earns being a beach security officer. He has to live above a merry-go-round, for god's sake! The indignity! The successful cosmetic's line owned by that woman in the high rise seems to mock him. . Call it "angel instinct," Charlie, but he's not the guy. Oh No? 

Pros: Sabrina disguises herself as a limping homeless lady to case the merry-go-round; she's on her A-game figuring out the complicated (if familiar) motive behind the murders. And what a cast of sleazy suspects! Sandor of the Bonnie's Kids, Evers of the The Thing that Couldn't Die, and Alan Feinstein of evoking Wayne Rogers and Anthony Franciosa at the same time. When the Angels suggest to Converse she might be next, she dismisses them as lunatics and there's a great little bit of actorly modulation as she starts making apologies for her estranged husband's violent outbursts. TV movies of the Week were not strangers to the world of spousal abuse, but the way Converse tries to rationalize it all away is still startling and well done.

Cons: The Angels arrange an easy trap for the killer but fail Police Strategy 101, preferring to all pop out from the same source of cover at the key moment, shouting "freeze!" rather than closing in on all sides, blocking each exit, like even we kids knew how to do when playing backyard war. I mean, come on -a little imagination and you could still have a decent chase.  Also -why do the Angels feel slighted for not getting police protection for Kris? She's supposed to be a detective. She's got a gun, for god's sake! What she needs is a dog. Living on the beach is frickin' no day at the... frickin'... circus. A dog would ripped off Sandor's hand when he tried to break in, like Col. Kane done did in in Ninth Configuration

But the worst thing of all, maybe even in the whole series, is the sickeningly jovial merry-go-round coda. Good gracious. I've nothing against merry-go-rounds sitting around on rather forlorn looking California piers (Santa Monica before the earthquake?) but this kind of treacle offended us even as children.


43. Angel Blues 
A

I know right? So much crap this season. But then episodes like this come along which remind me why I started this episode guide in the first place. This time the angels move briskly in an elaborate taxi tail that leads them to all the shady cokeheads that an Amy Winehouse-Janet Joplin-but-country-rock type (or thereabouts) visited the night she was killed (just feet away from her waiting intervention) via the old 'hot shot'. The bad guys are sleazy--"any guy with some coke or smack who tells her what she wants to hear," and "she picked up tabs for a lot of guys like me, know what I mean?" There's wood panelling and lots of cool 70s cars (peep the 'Sambo's' sign!). Not only does Kelly notice her tail (a rarity in the lamer episodes) she does some aggressive driving and gets behind him, and changes cars and everything! Like real detectives! Damn! Why can't every episode be this badass?

The best aspect is the short time period: the whole thing goes down in one long afternoon of tailing, being tailed, getting shot at and pulling weird scams to get the truth out of sleazy cokeheads and syndicate-connected music publishing rights stealers. Amy's song is called "Tripping to the Morning" and it's funny the Angels pretend to love it while condemning the drugs no doubt used to deliver it. Even weirder, dig the hand-painted record cover her manager has. It looks like it's still wet! The script by Edward Lakso shows he could still deliver if he was in the mood. "What a waste," notes Kelly of Amy's death. They only have on real song of hers to listen to, but whatever: "she really only used cocaine, Charlie, not heroin." So 70s to think that's somehow better.

Cons: It's hard to believe Charlie would be that big of a fan of one lame ersatz country song that was "his favorite singer's" entire oeuvre. The grieving dad does some good acting but Bess Gatewood as Amy is even better. She's almost too good, too raw. She brings so much teary, beat-up pain that you're like wait, this isn't fun! Then she's dead, though, so it's okay. She's at peace.

To think the angels could still be this adult, sophisticated, smart, cool, and able to best dudes in hand-to-hand combat--believably--then make them lie down face first in the mud while doing freezes of their stash to identify if its heroin, coke, or laundry detergent, when next week they'd be dressing up like Mother Goose characters -- is to want to weep.


44. Mother Goose is Running for His Life
B+

The inside job 'crazy toy company sabotage' plot is an old hat trick of the British series The Avengers, and Spelling's old show Honey West but whatever, if it ain't broke, re-gift it to some new needy youngster. Shh - toyz-iss like ze peeple!!!1

Pros: I like that "Mother" Goose is a guy. That he's not called that because he's a den mother to a family of drag queens is too bad, but to forgive? Divine. As is a crazy toy designer who wants to make tiny guillotines and a game where kids run over pedestrians for points ("They actually get rid of their little aggressions this way."). Even so, a mobster and his 'fake Richard Harris' Brit wiretapper steal the show prettily handily and have a scene that looks like it was filmed in a real English pub as opposed to the usual wood panelling and tawdry chairs. "Don't bandy names around, Luv." Sabrina has a cute sweater poncho and a sexy slit-skirt silver silk dress. She's supposed to be a Hong Kong heiress. Kris gets to play mannequin as a Pippi Longstocking frozen in place at night to watch the goings-on. She rocks it!

In other words it's a relaxing go-round, the Angel's safety and competence are never in doubt.  It's a nice touch that they bug the bugger. That's Bobbie Jordan not Marg Helgenberger as the girl who makes trouble for Kelly, though you coulda fooled me.

45- Little Angels of the Night
D

About as far thematically from the Goose as you can get, this has the girls all move into a single women-only apartment complex occupied mostly by prostitutes; a little guido pizza guy, Freddie, harasses them when he makes deliveries (isn't there any place else they can call?) At the same time a strangler of prostitutes is loose in the area. He's already killed two in the same building. Coincidence? Someone in the writing department certainly was asleep, or awake on too much cocaine (but it's okay Charlie, it's not heroin), either way - it's pretty adult for a series that was by now veering all over the place as far as those themes were concerned (junkie country stars one week, Mother Goose the next, strangled hookers after that). Going undercover as hookers and moving into the building provides challenges, as the Angels are unduly sexy, they could drive down the prices of the merely human competition, and it's funny to hear the three of them come up with excuses why they can't service clients: "darn, it's a shame [they] have to miss it." The whole pizza guy thing is a little too porn movie on-the-nose to not cause a little R-ratings nervousness. "Relax, I ain't gonna bite you," Freddie says. Right.

Cons: The pizza restaurant owner has a terrible toupee, and the whole goombah thing leaves a bad taste; pizza always photographs terribly under 70s analog TV lighting. The Angels are supposed to be monitoring the building as security, but with Lakso's pen contriving situations, no woman is safe. Kelly holds her gun like it's a condom she just found on the beach, preferring to cowers in the corner when the killer runs past her in the stairwell. A shrink comes to the pool and offers 'misplaced aggression' as a possible motive. "Is there any chance this killer might get tired of killing and quit?" they ask. I'm as feminist as they come but even I want to reach in and so bitch-slapping over that one. 

And then they talk one of the girls, Bonnie, into staying in the building, as if she'd be safer under their protection. Why? Because no killer can survive all your cowering and lack of cohesive strategy? More idiocy: The flimsiest of excuses brings Kris--looking mad gorgeous in an orange bikini--out to a yacht bobbing around in the dock, alone.. knowing less than a ten year-old about the importance of leaving a note. 

Unless you're a stone cold idiot you may climb the walls wondering why there seems to be only one restaurant in all of Los Angeles, so that even an ex-lover of the owner has no choice but to bring her dates there just because it's 'on her way home.' Or why these dopey girls keep ordering pizza from these schmucky little rapist delivery guy and then being surprised when he keeps trying to rape them. Or why the Angels keep letting him get away without lifting a finger to stop him, and almost refusing to believe it's him - even after he's ID-ed and then refusing to do even the most rudimentary of police work, or exhibiting an idea what that might be. It's kind of embarrassing how helpless they've gotten, how paltry the budget -or how little we get to see them at the pool.

Pros: There's a pool - although only one scene at it, Kelly is pretty foxy in a bikini; and then later Kris is very fond of those super sexy runner's shorts so popular in the 70s, which show off her dynamite tan, which helps compensate for her diminutive size and total inability to fight or think straight. 

Too bad the paltriness of the sets and ugliness of the pizza give it all a dime store porno vibe that makes the objectification of her nubile body almost aggressively tawdry. There's a moment when they realize the real killer made a slip, but two seconds later they're leaving him alone with the only blonde in their group (and it's not part of a trap). Any normal detective would lose all credibility and probably their license, which would be for the good of any future client dumb enough to trust them.         

46. The Jade Trap
B-

Dirk Benedict (Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica) returns (he was a corrupt vice cop shaking down massage parlors in Season One)! This time he's a gigolo romancing a rich middle-aged widow. When she tries to dump him, he shoots her (she promised him a boat!). A dapper jewel thief ("old wealth" whose money faded when the patriarch died and the brokerage went bust)in the next room overhears the shot. Dirk frames him for the murder. His elderly security exchange-working mom needs the Angels to clear him as he's no killer, just a harmless jewel thief who only targets rich, insured old ladies his mom scopes out in advance (she works for the safe maker). It all goes down at the redundantly-named SeaWave, an older rich folks-catering coast-side hotel, which--if you can't guess--looks a lot like all the other dumpy sets in the series, with more plastic flowers, wicker chairs, nautical accents, and an older class of traipsing extras.

Pros:  In case you can't tell, this is the Tennessee Williams episode of the season -- young rough trade and the older queens who lurve them! I like the idea of a debauched mom (Lureen Tuttle!) of old money pimping her eye candy jewel thief son (Barry Bostwick!) outm in order to commit robberies (all insured and rich) and saying lines like "would you consider me too Freudian if I dragged my son away?"); add the sulky rentboy nonsense of Dirk's boat bum and the rent boy decadence of it all comes through real fine. There's a nice literal cliffhanger with Sabrina all in black scaling down the building and evil Dirk cutting the line thinking it's the guy who witnessed his murder (Dirk's wild eyes as he cuts the line are what ABC prime time cop shows is all about).

Cons: Kelly and Kris each sport terribly hammy accents - Kris's is Swedish, in the vein of the Swedish Chef drunkenly reading for Anna Christie. Kelly's is a Southern kahnnned-ness of strAYngers type. Oof. \ A shamelessly hammy Bosley as a jade auctioneer (or 'yade' as Kris calls it) outdoes them both. It's pretty stupid they need a whole jade auction to set the 'trap' and that Bosley would lose track of things in the heat of the moment and sell the McGuffin to some third party. A totally lame bit with Charlie hiring an English maid and not sure about dunking his cruller or whatever, is so misplaced and insipid we feel sorry for everyone involved. 

47. Angels on the Run
C

Ed Lasko and his wife wrote this, and by now you know I think of Lasko as uneven, overextended, but not always a hack. When his name's attached to something that's actually good, though, you have to wonder if he's just recycling some old Mod Squad script of his, you know, from back when he gave a damn and maybe didn't have to come up with a script a week?  This time he's basing things off his wife's story about a diner waitress who sees shady guy throw a package into the back of a truck. The truck's driver is the husband of a country singer named Laura Cantrell (Belinda Balaski). The crooks abduct the driver because I guess their package went missing. How dare you not have the package we tossed in the back of your trailer without you noticing!? Lots of McGuffin nonsense--suspenseful at times but not memorable--as everyone scrambles after that box. Whose got it? Whooose got it? Maybe it' you! 

Cons; It can't be a good sign when the "Lasko Trio" is playing at the cocktail lounge. Why would the cops let a guy step out of his car with a package under his arm when the reason they stopped his car is they're looking for a guy with a package? Bosley grumbles about paperwork to Charlie during a work call then belabors every line of half-baked schtick with a bubbling chicken delivery lady who got his order wrong ("breasts!" "it says legs here!") while Charlie is on the phone ("I am talking to Mrs. Chicken.") Good lord, they should all be embarrassed.  (the girl--played by Judy Landers--is cute but gave her breasts to "The cobbler on Pico boulevard" she actually does a better acting job with this trite shit than Doyle, that's for sure. Even Cantrell has to utter shitty lines like "when he pulls stuff like that I don't know whether to spank him or make love to him." There's some bad news signs of the 80s fashion in the terrible uniform pastel lavender leisure suit Sabrina wears and the pink sweater worn by Kelly, and the godawful 1982 beach condo decorated by your mom-style decor. 

Ugh - even Sabrina's grasshopper and Kelly's performance dress are depressing 80s mom pastels. It's depressing to think of the ease in which a trio of thugs can kidnap a detective right out from under the nose of the three detective friends and they instantly lose them in pursuit. The bartender at least remembers one of them had a limp. Dude, Kelly is doomed. The show is almost over and it's only just dawning on them that maybe the package was something that had been stolen. Big progress! Charlie, I've been thinking, maybe the package was some kind of box, or parcel! 

Pros: The crooks are cool and mean: Alex Courtney, talking through clenched teeth with a thousand yard stare; a young Bill Duke (Predator) in shades (above, carrying Kelly); and Craig T. Nelson! There are cool witnesses/suspects too: Maurice Sneed plays a mining machine repairman who lays down a decent gambling reference-bedecked line of patter as we watch the system in action. Cantrell's husband likes to satisfy his married women's topsoil demands with extra topping; Elaine Joyce--stunning in jean shorts-- is one of the satisfied ladies, and threatens Sabrina with a tractor claw. The climax has the whole gang whipping out guns and judo chops and Sabrina rubs one of the bad guy faces in the dirt while looking like a scarecrow. 

You take what you can get. There may be dumb jokes with Charlie at the end, but there's a sitar playing. Shit like that...

And it's nowhere near as bad as this next one... the last in the season. God almighty... 


48. Antique Angels
F
Ugh... an excuse for a bunch of antique cars to get a good dusting, and to hear some lame royalty-free Dixieland. Include me out. They'd have been better wrapping up with a 'clips' episode. Instead this almost feels like a special where Sabrina might auction antique car rides where you pretend to chase the Keystone cops for local charities.
--

Oh... why Tanya.. did they wait until season 5 to bring you in?

ONWARDS to SEASON 3 (1978-9)
or
BACKWARDS to SEASON 1 (1976-7)



1. NOTES
PS - Rereading this years later I realized this descripton could match California itself (The CA initial threw me).