Reviews

No actor who can't sing should take a role where he has to be dubbed. This role belonged to "the Original," Richard Kiley. Period. He was promised the role and the producers went back on their word. They deserved an embarrassment and they got it. If they had used the original Broadway cast they could have immortalized the film but they went for "movie stars," an all too common and fatal flaw. Reference The success of Robert Preston in "The Music Man" where the author, James Meredith stood firm and insisted on Preston who originated the role and the result was magic. It could have been the same with the brilliant, wonderful "Man of La Mancha." What an incredibly waster opportunity.

This film has more "fade to black" scene changes than a hacked TV episode on TV Land. And that's the good news. The soundtrack will drive you insane after the first ten seconds but if you turn the sound off you won't miss anything. Johnny Depp was brilliant, John Hurt was the best part of the film and the other actors were awful. None of them could decide what dialect to use and the dialect was cringe-worthy throughout. The theme "no one can live as a legend" must have been concocted by an ad man trying to sell this turkey. The best scene was with Johnny Depp and a stuffed fawn but the director did not have the skill to make it poignant. Just awful.

The only place this film failed was in the advertising, which probably represents a lack of vision into what "Ed Wood" metamorphosed into. What it isn't, is a comedy: viewers expecting a good laugh will go away disappointed. From start to finish, this brilliant work of art is a tragedy, so thoroughly overpowered by Martin Landau's inspired performance that there are more tears and bitter recriminations than smiles. Ed Wood, the self-destructive optimist may not have had the talent to survive in mainstream Hollywood, but he had the heart. His story is legend. And how many wannabe's wouldn't trade places with him? Being the "worst director of all time" is better than not being a director at all. Martin Landau gave dignity to a very beloved and underappreciated actor; Martin and Bela shared a soul for this film. One of the most inspired performances ever.

Richard Kiley originally turned down the role of Bohannan because he did not feel he could convincingly portray the charismatic seller of branch water and faith healing. After he was talked into taking the role, he rapidly made Bohannan his own, altering the character into a believable, almost tragic figure. Richard Kiley's character comes alive, allowing the actors who play opposite him and the audience to feel they are really participating in a miraculous depiction of events.

The original title of "Kitty's Love Affair" was "End of the Run." The story depicted a gunfighter who fell in love with Kitty and hoped that, by buying a ranch and settling down, he could encourage her to marry him. The original ending had the gunfighter (Richard Kiley) hanged. Unfortunately, John Mantley, the producer, decided that, yet again, Matt would save the day. Before Mr. Kiley was cast in the role of Will Stambridge, the writers (S.L. Kotar and J.E. Gessler) were told there could be no kissing scenes between the gunfighter and Miss Kitty because "Gunsmoke fans would never allow it." After Richard accepted the role, the script was altered to allow Will to kiss Kitty four times! This was the highest rated episode in the twenty year history of Gunsmoke.

The premise which inspired "Distant Signals" is guaranteed to ignite the inspiration of anyone who has loved the characters of a TV series. Mr. Smith (Lenny Von Dohlen), an otherworldly visitor, approaches the creator of a 1965 detective series (David Margulies) which was canceled in mid-season. This "fan" offers him $2 million - in gold - to write and direct six more episodes, including a vital series finale, which will remove the wandering hero from "limbo." Darren McGavin, with heartbreaking pathos, portrays the actor who is physically and metaphysically transformed from an aging dead-drunk bartender into his former self as a mythic star. This peculiarly "impossible," yet patently real idea glows with magic and life as an example of how a mere half hour installment of a small screen anthology can represent "the height of televisual art."