Movies Made for Television 1964–2004 Volume 1 1964–1979 [1–1128] Alvin H. Marill The Scarecrow Press, Inc. Lanham, Maryland • Toronto • Oxford 2005 SCARECROW PRESS, INC. Published in the United States of America by Scarecrow Press, Inc. A wholly owned subsidiary of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.scarecrowpress.com PO Box 317 Oxford OX2 9RU, UK Copyright © 2005 by Alvin H. Marill All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Marill, Alvin H. Movies made for television, 1964–2004 / Alvin H. Marill. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 0-8108-5174-1 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Television mini-series—Catalogs. 2. Made-for-TV movies—Catalogs. I. Title. PN1992.8.F5M337 2005 791.45'75'09045—dc22 2005009027 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992. Manufactured in the United States of America. Contents Foreword by Leonard Maltin v Acknowledgments vii Introduction ix Movies Made for Television, 1964-1979 1 Chronological Listing of Titles, 1964-1979 249 About the Author 259 Foreword by Leonard Maltin When made-for-TV movies became a reality in the 1960s, some people refused to take them seriously, regarding them as little more than elongated television episodes. By the 1970s, telefilms began to attract top talent, on both sides of the camera, and tackled ground-breaking subject matter. Most TV movies were ephemeral, but some, like Brian’s Song and The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, managed to make a lasting impression on critics and audiences alike. Other milestone films like My Sweet Charlie, Katherine, The Day After, and An Early Frost stirred conversation across America, and in some cases even effected social change. In the 1980s and 1990s, as the “Big Three” broadcast networks pulled back from the production of prime-time movies, cable networks’ interest grew. Their freedom from broadcast constraints made it possible for them to offer writers, directors, and actors the chance to work on challenging, adult material, without interference or the need to pander to a youthful demographic. Experienced filmmakers like John Frankenheimer and Paul Mazursky, whose talents were being ignored in a movie industry eager to sign up the hottest music-video directors, were welcomed with open arms. The evolution of made-for-TV movies was now complete. In the heyday of network movies, scripts were geared to incorporate a series of mini-climaxes (for commercial interruptions) and filmmakers had to fight time and budget problems. By the time HBO commissioned Mike Nichols to bring Tony Kushner’s Angels in America to the small screen, the budget was a reported $60 million, and there was nary a compromise in sight. Thanks to home video and DVD, these films now have a chance to remain in the public consciousness for more than just one night. So, it would seem, TV movies have come of age. They demand respect on their own terms. There’s just one problem: keeping track of them. For many years, I included them in my annual paperback Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide. The man I turned to for reviews, credits, and reliable information on these films was Al Marill. Eventually, I was forced to drop telefilms from my book, mostly for reasons of space. Then Al’s indispensable book Movies Made for Television went out of print. Al continued to maintain his meticulous files, however. Even when it seemed as if there might not be a publisher willing to take on a massive reference work on made-for-TV movies, he kept accumulating information—keeping track of actors’ debuts, remakes, Emmy awards, and other related information that put these films into historical context. I am delighted that Scarecrow Press has stepped up to the plate and made Al Marill’s life’s work a reality—happy for Al, of course, but also happy for me and every other film researcher who needs an authoritative source for the least- documented aspect of modern filmmaking. Leonard Maltin March 2005 Acknowledgments Many thanks to the following for their invaluable assistance and cooperation in the completeness of this project – for this volume and the ones to follow through the decades: ABC-TV, CBS-TV, NBC-TV, HBO, Showtime, Lifetime, The Disney Channel, A&E, Turner Network Television, USA Networks, PBS, Universal City Studios, Time-Life Television, Viacom, Screen Gems, Quinn Martin Productions. Also a tip of the hat to Monty Arnold, John Behrens, Jim Butler, John Cocchi, Guy Giampapa, Vic Ghidalia, Jane Klain, Stephen Klain, Leonard Maltin, Jim Meyer, James Robert Parish, Vincent Terrace, Jerry Vermilye, Jon Young, the late Alan Barbour and Doug McClelland, and the staffs of the Theatre Collection of the Lincoln Center Library of the Performing Arts, the Academy of Television Arts and Science, The Museum of Television and Radio, and TV Guide – and of course my unfailing VCR with its always reliable pause button without which accurate credit compiling from the closing crawls would be well nigh impossible. Introduction Movies Made for Television in 2004 celebrates 40 full television seasons. As I wrote in the introduction in 1980 to the original (single) volume that chronicled the genre, the range was as esthetically and technically wide at the time as it would remain through the years since as any theatrical offerings – within its restricted time limits and a quarter of the budget – the equal of what is done on the big screen. On the high end, quality that represents television at its best; on the low, bread-and-butter fare generally several notches above standard weekly series episodes as contemporary counterparts of the fondly recalled theatrical “B” movie. In the beginning – the time frame covered in this first of several volumes – there were just the three networks plus assorted ad hoc syndicated ones. Cable television was a decade or two away. Thus the made-for-TV movie and the miniseries (defined for these purposes as an extended “movie” shown in three or more parts) were limited merely by “viewer sensibility” considerations and other guidelines that eliminated nudity, profanity and assorted explicit mayhem, and by the physical dimension of time allotments and the home receiver itself. These, of course, rather limited the film’s physical scope in regard to outdoor dramas and cast-of-thousands spectacles. Those escapist pieces of the early TV-movie days, generally with lots of close-ups of familiar television faces and themes that stayed generally in the mystery/crime/law-and-order rut, or situation comedy fluff motif, or fast-and- furious adventure plotting (Westerns as well as war dramas), ultimately gave way to more mature themes. Those were to include exploration of such topics as teenage suicide and alcoholism, single parenthood, homosexuality, battered children, problems of the aging and the aged, deadly diseases, wife beating, rape, urban terrorism, Vietnam, and the like. There are those who point to an earlier era of TV movies – specifically those made by ZIV and similar distributing outfits that offered a once-in-awhile film for syndication. Others mention original movies made specifically for “The Wonderful World of Disney” (and its predecessors going back to 1954). These are not included herein since they were made exclusively for showing on that anthology-style family-oriented show, never having been offered into normal syndication – although some received regular theatrical release overseas. A case often has been made for Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier (from Disney’s 1954-55 debut season) as being the first true “TV movie.” Actually it was a later theatrical release of three separate Davy Crockett adventures with Fess Parker and Buddy Ebsen, each airing at least one month apart. And what to make of special film productions made during the late 1960s: television showings in the U.S., and shown theatrically abroad of The Poppy Is Also a Flower, Carol for Another Christmas and Who Has Seen the Wind? Each seemingly has vanished into the nether. Although the genre, as it has come to be recognized, started off only tentatively once NBC and Universal Studios teamed up in 1964 for a series of movies that would be shown under the Project 120 umbrella title, the natural progression soon would be, because of time considerations, for “full-length” filmings of literary works by James Michener, Harold Robbins, Ernest Hemingway, Irwin Shaw, Thomas Wolfe, Irving Wallace and others. Books by bestselling authors, before and after the fact, that could not be done theatrically except in condensed form. Would Alex Haley’s landmark Roots have been effective trimmed to, say, three hours in a theatrical version? Could Michener’s Centennial (which would become the definitive miniseries of its time – in effect running longer than most regularly scheduled series) have been telescoped coherently for the wide screen? Or the rousing John Jakes Revolution War and, in another decade, Civil War sagas? Or the memorable Holocaust, which had in its cast the young, Emmy-winning Meryl Streep? Television has offered, since the mid 1960s, “complete” film versions of From Here to Eternity, Studs Lonigan, Tender Is the Night, and even Little Women and Black Beauty – what the movies (in the first three cases at least) couldn’t show in depth, as the network promotions for them stressed. And it offered an altered (reedited and resequenced) production of The Godfather, reassembled by its director Francis Ford Coppola, into a new, ten-hour x Introduction television film spread over several nights – though not chronicled herein because the original two movies from which it was expanded were made for theatrical showings. Only the most dedicated moviegoer would even consider sitting through a marathon showing of this length in a theater. There really has been no subject too big for television to pursue. Or is there a lack of “stars” – the majority homegrown and cultivated into instant identification the way movie personalities were groomed under the studio system of Hollywood’s halcyon days. Stardom in TV movies and stardom on the big screen, it has been noted, have not necessarily been equal. Elizabeth Montgomery was a huge star on TV; Elizabeth Taylor was not. (The former invariably garnered very big ratings in all of her many television movie projects, virtually of them non-comedic after her “Bewitched” days.) And there have been so many television stars who attracted big audiences to their small screen movies but who meant next to nothing on the big screen. Legendary comedienne Fanny Brice’s equally legendary quip about Esther Williams; screen importance in direct relationship to her wetness is easily paraphrased here: TV biggies of the time, from Richard Chamberlain to Mr. T or Gary Coleman or several of “Charlie’s Angels” on television are stars; in the movies, they ain’t. The making of TV movies, from the late 1960s onward, became vital for the apprenticeship offered to a whole generation of directors, a number of whom moved on to the big screen as important figures. Most notably, of course, there’s Steven Spielberg, onetime TV wunderkind. After doing series work as a brash young Universal contractee just out of his teens, Spielberg leaped to prominence originally by directing Joan Crawford in one segment of a multipart TV movie, Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. And then went on to the Gothic horror tale Something Evil with Sandy Dennis, the cult man-versus-machine thriller Duel, and the electronic journalism in the wake of Watergate chiller Savage. John Badham and Randal Kleiser also did their early film directing in TV movie before bursting onto the theatrical movie scene with two of the biggest grossing films of the 1970s, Saturday Night Live and Grease, respectively. Michael Crichton, surgeon-turned-novelist, made his directing debut with the made-for-TV Pursuit in 1972, and Peter Hyams, former jazz musician and Chicago television new anchorman, made his the same year with both Rolling Man and Goodnight My Love. And onetime “B” actor Lamont Johnson who moved behind the camera in TV during the 1950s directed such telefeatures during the 1970s as My Sweet Charlie, dealing with race relations, That Certain Summer (homosexuality), The Execution of Private Slovick (military desertion) and Fear on Trial (blacklisting). Other directors who did the bulk of their early work in television before moving on to big-screen careers (Sidney Lumet, Arthur Penn, Martin Ritt, John Frankenheimer, et al.) eventually would return to TV, and George Cukor, old guard Hollywood veteran, also would be enticed to television movies, as well as international figures like Franco Zeffirelli, John Schlesinger and Tony Richardson. The compendium of made for television movies and miniseries that follows, along with a complete filmography of their credited actors and their directors (plus network and premiere date as well as a very brief story line, notes of interest where called for, and Emmy information) requires some ground rules. This volume covers productions made between 1964 and 1979. Companion volumes cover the succeeding decades. The titles are alphabetically arranged, with the chronological listing at the end of each volume. TV movies, for the purpose of these books are those made to fill 90-minute and two hours and more time slots. Many of these subsequently have been released theatrically abroad, and selected ones, such as the esteemed Brian’s Song and My Sweet Charlie received test movie theatre engagements since their premieres. (The 1979 theatrical features Battlestar Galactica and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century actually were pared-down versions of the initial episode of each of the two TV space series.) A dozen or so others from Universal, most of them TV movie remakes of earlier theatrical films (The Plainsman, Beau Geste, The Paleface (newly titled The Shakiest Gun in the West) and others were diverted instead to movie houses. Another shunted to theatres, ironically, was the very first movie project for NBC’s Project 120 series: Don Siegel’s somewhat violent (for the time) version of Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers, starring, among others, Ronald Reagan in his last job as an actor – playing a crime boss not above slapping around Angie Dickinson. Telefeatures, for the purpose of these volumes, are English language films produced as separate entities – not as episodes of continuing series – thus eliminating segments, for instance, of Columbo, The Name of the Game, How the West Was Won, and others. (Aside from the two TV movie pilots to the Columbo series, the lighthearted mysteries in it through the years ranged from titles of weekly umbrella series to stand-alone features, then back to a continuing part of a series, with Peter Falk playing the lead role on and off for more than 35 years.) Films made initially for British television, generally premiering in the U.S. as part of PBS’ Masterpiece Theatre and Great Performances, are not chronicled or, in later years, direct-to-video movies that receive their initial showings on television. 1... 11th Victim (CBS, 11/6/1979, 120 mins). A news anchorwoman from the Midwest comes to Hollywood to learn the truth about the death of her sister, the 11th victim of a killer preying on aspiring actresses, and finds herself possibly the next one on his list despite the help of an overworked cop. The film takes uncredited inspiration from the real-life Hillside strangler case that then was the bane of the Los Angeles Police Department and subsequently was solved. Production Companies Marty Katz Productions, Paramount Network Television. Director Jonathan Kaplan. Producer Martin Katz. Teleplay Kenneth A Friedman. Photography Charles G Arnold. Music Michel Colombier. Editor O Nicholas Brown. Art Director James E Newport. Cast Bess Armstrong (Jill Kelso), Max Gail (Andrew Spencer), Harold Gould (Benny Barnet), Pamela Ludwig (Sally Taylor), Eric Burdon (Spider), David Hayward (Red Brody), Annazette Chase (Cathy), John Hancock (Captain Long), Dick Miller (Investigator Nick), Marilyn Jones (Cindy Lee), Michael Cavanaugh (Steve), Harry Northup (Officer Thorpe), Alfred Dennis (Ed Little), Tara Strohmeier (Katy), Michelle Downey (Amy), Vicki LeMere (Janie), Edward Bell (Disc jockey), Kasi Lemmons (Hostage), Bill Burton (Suspect), Bill Stout (Reporter), Inez Pedroza (Reporter), Nathan Roberts (Reporter), Patty Ecker (Reporter), Mike Batula (Reporter), Fernando Escandon (Reporter). 2... 21 Hours at Munich (ABC, 11/7/1976, 120 mins). A dramatization of the events surrounding the 1972 Olympics massacre when eight Arab terrorists killed 11 Israeli athletes. A well-made, thoughtful film (adapted from Serge Groussard’s book, “The Blood of Israel”) that had the dubious distinction of premiering opposite the initial TV showing of “Gone With the Wind,” gathering virtually no audience, but receiving an Emmy Award nomination as the Outstanding Drama Special of the 1976-77 season and another for editor Ronald J. Fagan. Production Companies Moonlight Productions, Filmways. Director William A Graham. Executive Producer Edward S Feldman. Producers Frank von Zerneck, Robert Greenwald. Teleplay Edward Hume, Howard Fast. Based on a Book by Serge Groussard. Photography Jost Vacano. Music Laurence Rosenthal. Editor Ronald J Fagan. Art Director Herta Pischinger. Titles Phill Norman. Cast William Holden (Chief of Police Manfred Schreiber), Shirley Knight (Annaliese Graes), Franco Nero (Issa), Richard Basehart (Chancellor Willy Brandt), Anthony Quayle (Gen. Zvi Zamir), Noel William (Interior Minister Bruno Merk), Georg Marischka (Hans Dietrich Genscher), Paul Smith (Israeli Gutfreund), Martin Gilat (Moshe Weinberger), Else Quecke (Golda Meir), Michael Degen (Mohamed Kadiff), James Hurley (Avery Brundage), Djamchid Soheli, Walter Kohut, Jan Niklas, Ernst Lenart, Osman Ragheb, Franz Rudnick, Heinz Feldhaus, David Hess, Erik Falk, Bernhard Melcer, Herbert Fox, Wilfried Von Aacken, Abraham Gabison, Ullrich Haupt, Carmelo Celso, Sammy Kazian, Franz Gunther Geider, Julio Pinheiro, Reto Feurer, Joachim Eisler, Dan Van Husen. 3... The 3,000 Mile Chase (NBC, 6/16/1977, 120 mins). A professional courier’s efforts to deliver a key witness cross- country to a New York court appearance comes under attack by professional gunmen in this pilot film for a prospective series for veteran actor Glenn Ford. Production Companies Roy Huggins Productions, Universal Television. Director Russ Mayberry. Executive Producer Roy Huggins. Producer Jo Swerling Jr. Teleplay Philip DeGuere. Based on a Story by Roy Huggins. Photography Charles G. Arnold. Music Elmer Bernstein. Editors Larry D. Lester, Lawrence J Vallario. Art Director Mark Mansbridge. Associate Producer Dorothy J. Bailey. Cast Cliff DeYoung (Matthew Considine/Marty Scanlon), Glenn Ford (Paul Dvorak/Leonard Staveck), Blair Brown (Rachel Kane), David Spielberg (Frank Oberon), Priscilla Pointer (Emma Dvorak), Brendan Dillon (Ambrose Finn), Lane Allan (Livingston), John Zenda (Inspector), Carmen Argenziano (Santeen), Tom Bower (Richette), Roger Aaron Brown (Prosecutor), Titos Vandis (Vince Leone), Marc Alaimo (Burrell), Michael J London (Jacoby), Stephen Coit (Stenhardt), Abraham Alvarez (Bathes), Tanya Swerling (Princess Y), Hugh Gillin (Jimbo), June Whitley Taylor (Mrs. Campbell), Shug Fisher (Biker), Michael Mancini (Quinn), Don Maxwell (Seldon), Jerry Hardin (Manager), Richard Lepore (DA), Michael Dan Wagner (Judge). 2 Movies Made for Television 4... The 500-Pound Jerk (CBS, 1/2/1973, 90 mins). An ad-man’s dreams of grooming a gentle hillbilly giant into an overnight weight-lifting champion, have him win a gold medal, and then endorse a breakfast cereal are shattered when his protégé falls in love with a petite Russian gymnast and almost ignites an international incident. Production Companies David L. Wolper Productions, Warner Bros Television. Director William Kronick. Executive Producer David L. Wolper. Producer Stan Margulies. Teleplay James Henerson. Photography Herbert Raditschnig. Music Neal Hefti. Editor James T. Heckert. Cast James Franciscus (Gil Davenport), Hope Lange (Karen Walsh), Alex Karras (Hughie Rae Feather), Claudia Butenuth (Natalya), Rick Parse (Mickey), Heinz Viertaler (Lermontov), Victor Spinetti (Martin Bloore), Ralph Wolter (Glabov), Howard Cosell (Himself). 5... The Abduction of Saint Anne (ABC, 1/21/1975, 90 mins). A cynical detective and a Roman Catholic bishop from the Vatican team up to investigate the reported miraculous powers of a beautiful 17-year-old girl being held captive in the home of her father, an ailing syndicate kingpin, whose associates will stop at nothing to keep her imprisoned. Subsequently titled “They’ve Kidnapped Anne Benedict.” Based on the 1972 novel “The Issue of the Bishop’s Blood” by Thomas Patrick McMahon. Production Company Quinn Martin Productions. Director Harry Falk. Executive Producer Quinn Martin. Producer John Wilder. Supervising Producer Russell Stoneham. Teleplay Edward Hume. Based on a Novel by Thomas Patrick McMahon. Photography Jack Swain. Music George Duning. Editor Walter A Hannemann. Art Director James Martin Bachman. Cast Robert Wagner (Dave Hatcher), E G Marshall (Bishop Francis Paul Logan), Lloyd Nolan (Carl Gentry), Kathleen Quinlan (Anne Benedict), William Windom (Ted Morrisey), James Gregory (Pete Haggerty), A Martinez (Angel Montoya), Ruth McDevitt (Sister Patrick), Alfred Ryder (Frank Benedict), George McCallister (Wayne Putnam), Tony Young (Vanjack), Martha Scott (Mother Michael), Victor Mohica (Father Rubacava), Patrick Conway (Sheriff Townsend), Roy Jenson (Woody), Milton Selzer (Dr. Simon Roth), Rodolfo Hoyos (Jose Montoya), John Zaremba (Cardinal), Vic Perrin (Doctor). 6... Act of Violence (CBS, 11/10/1979, 120 mins). Elizabeth Montgomery continued her dramatic gallery of resourceful put-upon women, here playing a liberal-minded, divorced newswriter who is the victim of a brutal mugging. Robbed of her confidence, she finds her life cloaked in fear and paranoia, causing her to reevaluate her lifelong beliefs. Original title: “The Victim: An Anatomy of a Mugging.” Production Companies Emmet G. Lavery Jr. Productions, Paramount Network Television. Director Paul Wendkos. Producer Emmet G. Lavery Jr. Teleplay Robert Collins. Based on a Story by James Caughlin. Photography Charles W. Short. Music Paul Chihara. Editor Harry Keller. Art Director James G. Hulsey. Cast Elizabeth Montgomery (Catherine McSweeney), James Sloyan (Tony Bonelli), Sean Frye (Jamie), Roy Poole (Catherine’s father), Biff McGuire (Tom Sullivan), Michael Goodwin (Michael), Dolph Sweet (Detective O’Brien), Linden Chiles (Lloyd), Ed Bernard (Clayton), Tom Rosqui (Police commander), Grand L. Bush (Stoneblood), Victor Millan (Detective Ramirez), Church Ortiz (1st mugger), Fredric Cook (Locksmith), Kate Zentall (Association woman), Ruth Manning (Rich woman), Ben Gerard (Man like Michael), Glenn Kaplan (Film editor), Gary Veney (Leonard), Don Cervantes (2nd mugger), Gregory Norman Cruz (3rd mugger), Sandy Champion (Policeman), Minnie G. Lindsey, Matthew Faison, Hettie Lynne Hurtes, Bill Deiz, Larry McCormick. 7... The Adventures of Don Quixote (CBS, 4/23/1973, 120 mins). An atmospheric dramatization of Cervantes’ 17th- century tale of the self-proclaimed Spanish knight who travels the countryside with his squire, tilting at windmills as if they were dragons and trying to reform a bawdy peasant girl. This was the first of a series of co-productions and trade-offs between Universal- TV and the British Broadcasting Corporation. This was the tenth filming of the classic novel, following closely on the heels of the movie version of the musical “Man of La Mancha.” Some months later came a filmed ballet adaptation with Nureyev. Production Companies BBC-TV Productions, Universal Television. Director Alvin Rakoff. Producer Gerald Savory. Teleplay Hugh Whitemore. Based on the Novel by Miguel Cervantes. Based on the Translation by J.M. Cohen. Photography Peter Bartlett. Music Michel Legrand. Editor Dave King. Cast Rex Harrison (Don Quixote), Frank Finlay (Sancho Panza), Rosemary Leach (Dulcinea), Robert Eddison (The Duke), Bernard Hepton (Village priest), Paul Whitsun-Jones (Innkeeper), Murray Melvin (Traveling Barber), Roger Delgado (The Monk), Ronald Lacey (The Barber), Gwen Nelson (The Housekeeper), Francoise Pascal, Brian Spink, John Hollis, Waiter Sparrow, Jon Mattoche, Michael Golden, Brian Coburn, Athol Coats. 8... The Adventures of Nick Carter (NBC, 2/20/1972, 90 mins). Nick Carter (played by Robert Conrad) learns that a fellow private eye’s death is tied into the disappearance of a wealthy playboy’s wife, and he hunts for the killer among the social register as well as the dregs of 1912 New York. Pilot to a prospective series. Production Company Universal Television. Director Paul Krasny. Executive Producer Richard Irving. Producer Stan Kallis. Teleplay Ken Pettus. Photography Alric Edens. Music John Andrew Tartaglia. Editor Robert F Shugrue. Art Director Henry Bumstead. Associate Producer Arthur D. Hilton. Costumes Burton Miller. Cast Robert Conrad (Nick Carter), Shelley Winters (Bess Tucker), Broderick Crawford (Otis Duncan), Neville Brand (Capt. Dan Keller), Pernell Roberts (Neal Duncan), Pat O’Brien (Hallelujah Harry), Sean Garrison (Lloyd Deams), Laraine Stephens (Joyce Jordan), Dean Stockwell (Freddy Duncan), Brooke Bundy (Roxy O’Rourke), Jaye P Morgan (Plush Horse singer),