Kolchak: The Night Stalker - Bad Medicine

According to Sonoran Indian legend, a diablero is a brujo (sorcerer) who by way of black magic can transform himself into a variety of wild creatures, such as birds of prey, dogs, wolves, coyotes and more.

Last week we had a threat who was human - imbued with Satanic powers, yes, but human. Robert Palmer in The Devil's Platform was human in his ambition, in his cunning, and in his deliberation. Sorcerers likewise are human beings, but for all the characterization the diablero gets in Bad Medicine it had me wondering whether Richard Kiel was playing a man who could appear as an animal or an animal who could appear as a man.

Wealthy women in Chicago are beginning to die off. At first it looked like suicide, until a chauffer also adds his body to the count via a broken neck. He was clutching a black feather. Kolchak also witnesses firsthand a robbery in which a police dog is killed apparently by another dog (or coyote) and two guards turn their own guns on themselves. A man is seen in Native American garb, is chased to the roof from which he leaps, and vanishes into thin air*.

it's got the INS staff abuzz. Tony isn't convinced there's a story to be had. Were the early deaths suicides? His staff can't see eye to eye with him on that, or that it's reasonable that the wealthy have wanted to keep a low profile. Ron Updyke is sent to cover the funeral but is too sensitive to do the job. Miss Cowles thinks Carl is on to something with the deaths being suspicious. Meanwhile, Carl is chasing tangents about coyotes and some nut dressing up like an Indian. Vincenzo's having a hard time drawing it into coherence.

If Vincenzo thinks the story is a mess, I too think the story is a mixed bag. Medicine bag maybe. There's a useful pun somewhere but I can't make it work.

A friend recently commented that the INS gang reminds him of Barney Miller: a motley ensemble of well-drawn, distinct, quirky personalities that bounce lines off each other with delicious timing. He's absolutely right. For the third week in a row the writing feels organic to the characters, and perhaps even more confident as it handles the entire newsroom at once in multiple scenes. If only Monique had still been around, it would have been a full house and a full episode. Even a sarcastic young photo lab tech gets a good scene. Never mind the spooky stuff - If K:TNS were a sitcom that never strayed from this single set, I'd watch it loyally.

Since my friend pointed this out, it becomes obvious that the guest cast fits the comparison as well. barney Miller thrived by its regular cast, but were fed material through an endless stream of colorful strangers who filed through the precinct case by case - vivid and hilarious people fully rounded and played by veteran character actors of the era. Every week you'd see actors you'd seen a dozen times before. Alice Ghostley, for example, who shows up on TNS this week as the curator of a museum on Native American folklore. She plays the part straight, yet her reaction bubbles with humor beneath when the details turn too preposterous. Another amusing scene is Kolchak dealing with a strict dog owner and trying to soothe his own nerves by speaking German to a well-disciplined canine. This parade of eclectic irregulars for comic relief is part of K:TNS' niche. When it delivers on this score, applying the comedy with the lightest touch and emphasizing character over humor, it's worth seeing.

I wish I could say the rest of this episode holds up its end. Give credit for an interesting choice of villain, at least, and for looking outside the West's dominant faith for inspiration. How it's handled on the other hand...

Purely on a surface level, the attacks by the sorcerer are eerie in their details but not conducive to a traditionally spooky atmosphere. Richard Kiel plays the diablero, and his stony face and malevolent glare are plenty menacing. The spookiness comes from the use of sound: first an animal of one form or another trespasses on a scene, and it's vocalizations are treated with an electronic distortion that remains in the air; then when the brujo appears the score goes breathy over a relentless percussion. The victims are under a spell. This works for me, though I've seen the episode so many times that altogether it fails to make me feel a pervading chill and I'm not sure anymore how much it ever did. It does lead to an appreciably tense finale when Kolchak tries to put an end to the sorcerer but loses the one weapon that could render the sorcerer powerless. Even that, though is hobbled by unintended absurdity. Kolchak creeps up on the brujo who is intoning (in an electronically altered voice) an incantation that is surely meant to sound otherworldly. "EE-eye-ee-eye-ohhh, ee-eye-ee-eye-ohhh, OOOOH ee-eye-ee-eye-oh." Pretty much takes the piss out of the scene.

So too is the investigation aspect weak this week, as first Carl leaps to a number of conclusions that are dubious. Saving a great deal of time, Victor Jory appears unbidden as a Native American holy man who not only knows everything Kolchak needs to learn about diableros but even miraculously happens to know the very one terrorizing Chicago. That ought to be a good story, right? But we don't get it, and Carl hasn't the wit to ask. Diableros are a Southern legend, this one is pretty far afield. These are the beliefs of the people of the pueblos, the communities that lived in apartment-like multi-lever housing of adobe, often along cliffsides. Kolchak lights on a story Ron is working, conveniently dropped earlier in the script, of an unfinished highrise.

Here is where the greatest disappointment Bad Medicine lies. I'm reminded of a scene in Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent in which another journalist, played by Joel McCrae learns that he is being sent to Europe to discover whether war is going to break out. He asks his astonished editor whether it might be a good idea to interview Hitler. "He must have something on his mind." Don't you think this diablero must have something on his mind? That's a conversation I would love to have heard. Instead, Kolchak - and the script - treat him as a creature to be hunted down and killed. It's a fine line walked by the script, as the holy man informs us that this diablero is under a curse to "wander the centuries" seeking treasure, and only after amassing a magnificent fortune may he pass into the next world. So...is he or is he not still human? No, never mind that, is he or is he not still interesting as a character? And, troublingly, is Kolchak guilty of forgetting that a human being is owed the right to trial? When he confronted Robert Palmer, it was to thwart him not kill him. The metaphysical state of the diablero (human or spirit) is left purposely vague so that we won't raise that objection. I think it's a dodgy kinda dodge.


More than one opportunity is lost here. I imagine the producers felt that The Night Stalker was not a property they wanted to get political with, though by the Seventies most television was dealing with prejudice and resentments, and injustice toward the Native American population well acknowledged - meaning, not an issue likely to rile viewers. Never mind, I wouldn't have expected much on that count anyway...but there's a more damning loss here, and that's the dramatic one. Let the diablero speak for himself. Let the conflict challenge us. There's a story here! Or, to quote Kolchak from one of the movies, "This is news, Vincenzo, nyyeewwws!"

5 "pyoo--webb-loes", give or take wiring and ductwork.

Asides:

Eidth Cowles, last week referred to as "Miss Emily" (whom we know is the INS advice columnist) officially announces herself as Emily Cowles when she answers the phone. Gaffe: she drops the 's' from her own name.

*Where does that phrase come from, 'into thin air'? I guess vanishing into thick air is pretty mundane, isn't it? Like losing someone in a fog.