Han Conried introduces the first episode of "Fractured Flickers" in front of a framed photograph of Theda Bara with a moustache painted over her face. He explains the premise of the show: old silent pictures are condensed, reedited and given wacky new soundtracks. He demonstrates by showing a scene from an old bullfighting picture ("Blood and Sand") and then showing it again in a "fractured" version. The original film has a wounded bullfighter dying in the arms of a second bullfighter, who revenges the guy by killing the bull that gored him. The fractured version adds cheap Mexican accents, goofy one-liners, an audience that tepidly shouts "Yay," and a change in the plot that has the second bullfighter accidentally stabbing the first.
Simple, right? Next we see a woman with a black veil over her face talking to a man in the park. The fractured soundtrack reveals that the woman is an advertising model sick of being typecast; the man is her agent. The punchline, which I won't reveal, is fractured enough without the soundtrack. God knows what was going in that film!
"The 39 Stoops" is next and has nothing to do with Hitchcock's "The 39 Steps." This is a comedy with Louise Fazenda and the Keystone Kops. Conried plays a rare recording of the director as he helms this particular film, which is set on a beach. It turns out none of the wacky situations on screen—from fish that turn up in stockings to motorboats that crash into houses—were planned by anyone: least of all the director, who wanted to make a spy picture.
Rose Marie, a vaudeville singer and comedienne best known for "The Dick Van Dyke Show," stops in for an interview. Conried asks her to sing, but she refuses, explaining that just for once she'd like to be herself, rather than a performer-on-demand. He immediately asks: "What do you think of film as a weapon in the Cold War?" It turns out she was being coy and wanted to sing after all; but Conried will have none of it. Soon she's belting out tunes, while he interrupts to ask her about current affairs.
Then Conried informs us that standards in male beauty have changed just as much as standards in female beauty, which explains how a fat Elmo Lincoln came to play the title role in "Tarzan of the Apes" (1918). The fractured version is "Tarfoot of the Apes" which gives us a giggling Lord of the Jungle; a Jane whose cheap perfume drives men crazy; and a native African tribe that dances the Charleston. Conried gave up guest spot on "Ding Dong School" for this?
A family out for a drive in their rickety horseless carriage provides the material for "Route 56," a parody of the TV series, "Route 66." The promo for this exciting new action show has the car crashing into everything in sight, including fences, chicken coops and the odd child or two.
Conried wraps up by quoting the immortal words of Dr. Denton: "That just about buttons it up for tonight." (If you don't get it, google "Dr. Dentons.")
Except for the canned laugh track, this is a delightfully screw-loose show, perfect for fans of "Bullwinkle, "Dudley Do-Right" and other cartoon series from Jay Ward Productions, which made "Fractured Flickers" their only venture into live action. But don't despair, cartoon fans. The delightfully goofy title sequences that open and close the show are animated.
Simple, right? Next we see a woman with a black veil over her face talking to a man in the park. The fractured soundtrack reveals that the woman is an advertising model sick of being typecast; the man is her agent. The punchline, which I won't reveal, is fractured enough without the soundtrack. God knows what was going in that film!
"The 39 Stoops" is next and has nothing to do with Hitchcock's "The 39 Steps." This is a comedy with Louise Fazenda and the Keystone Kops. Conried plays a rare recording of the director as he helms this particular film, which is set on a beach. It turns out none of the wacky situations on screen—from fish that turn up in stockings to motorboats that crash into houses—were planned by anyone: least of all the director, who wanted to make a spy picture.
Rose Marie, a vaudeville singer and comedienne best known for "The Dick Van Dyke Show," stops in for an interview. Conried asks her to sing, but she refuses, explaining that just for once she'd like to be herself, rather than a performer-on-demand. He immediately asks: "What do you think of film as a weapon in the Cold War?" It turns out she was being coy and wanted to sing after all; but Conried will have none of it. Soon she's belting out tunes, while he interrupts to ask her about current affairs.
Then Conried informs us that standards in male beauty have changed just as much as standards in female beauty, which explains how a fat Elmo Lincoln came to play the title role in "Tarzan of the Apes" (1918). The fractured version is "Tarfoot of the Apes" which gives us a giggling Lord of the Jungle; a Jane whose cheap perfume drives men crazy; and a native African tribe that dances the Charleston. Conried gave up guest spot on "Ding Dong School" for this?
A family out for a drive in their rickety horseless carriage provides the material for "Route 56," a parody of the TV series, "Route 66." The promo for this exciting new action show has the car crashing into everything in sight, including fences, chicken coops and the odd child or two.
Conried wraps up by quoting the immortal words of Dr. Denton: "That just about buttons it up for tonight." (If you don't get it, google "Dr. Dentons.")
Except for the canned laugh track, this is a delightfully screw-loose show, perfect for fans of "Bullwinkle, "Dudley Do-Right" and other cartoon series from Jay Ward Productions, which made "Fractured Flickers" their only venture into live action. But don't despair, cartoon fans. The delightfully goofy title sequences that open and close the show are animated.
