John Stanley
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Enduring
the Latest Spinoff |
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of the classic 1960s television show
By JOHN STANLEY
There was one TV show that I grooved on during the 1960s, and
I mean grooved. I anticipated it like no other program. It held
a strange fascination over me, and this is a story inspired by
that fascination.
When "Mission: Impossible" premiered on CBS in the fall of 1966, it was an instant one-hour hit series that carried a familiar movie genre--the well-planned caper performed by a team of subterfuge experts--into brilliantly conceived new territory. While we had seen this formula in such classics as "The Asphalt Jungle" and "Ocean's 11," the minds of creators/writers William Woodfield and Alan Balter gave it hip, flip new pizzaz, as did the catchy theme music by Lalo Schifrin. One show and I was hooked.
Woodfield and Balter, one of the best writing teams of '60s TV, had conceived of a highly top-secret government group called the Impossible Missions Force that was given sensitive assignments designed to eliminate major threats to the security of the United States. Each week a dictator, Mafia boss or some other nefarious, life-on-earth threatening villain was tricked by the IMF. Hence, the team would (1) steal the evil one's missile, atomic bomb or war machine or (2) set up the evil one for a big career fall, so he would lose face, power and anything else that he so dastardly coveted.
This was usually accomplished by a team leader (the original Mr. Briggs, played by Steven Hill now of "Law & Order," was replaced after 17 episodes by Peter Graves' Mr. Phelps), a femme fatale who preyed on villains' sexual weaknesses, an expert of disguises and face-changing masks, an electronics genius who was always crawling through tunnels and airducts to set up his surveillance equipment, and a strong-arm guy who did most of the heavy lifting.
Each episode started off with the team
leader privately receiving his assignment via 
tape recorder in some exotic location,
the message beginning: "Good Morning, Mr. [Briggs or Phelps].
Your mission, should you decide to accept it ...." and concluding
with: "As always, should you or any member of your I.M.
Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge
of your actions. This tape with self-destruct in five seconds
. . ." It was a way of carrying you into a world of spies
and misdirection and subterfuge, and I grooved on it from 1966
on.
"Out of the little black boxes come the dreams of the world," Peter Graves said of television in the early months of 1970, when he was at the height of his success as Phelps. "'Mission: Impossible,'" he told me at Paramount one day, "is a dream of making the impossible possible. The show is the Tiffany of TV; more care goes into its preparation, from script to post-production, than into any other series I've worked on. The stories are worked over scene by scene, step by step, to make certain the suspense never flags, and that some decorum of credibility is maintained. No matter how impossible the assignments may sound, the emphasis is on making it seem possible that the team can carry it out. And do it with enough flexibility for surprises and twists that the audiences won't expect." In short, said Graves, "it's one groovy series."
It was the second of two interviews I did with Graves, a rather bland actor whom I still admired because of his connection to "Mission: Impossible." More about the first interview later . . .
"Mission: Impossible" could best be summed up as a show that dealt in clever subterfuges, where the secret agents managed never to blow their cover or get out-and-out captured without having some trick up their sleeves for escape. If a headquarters or secret laboratory or top-security installation had to be broken into, it was done with a subtlety that would never tip off those being tricked or fooled. The enemy was never blasted with shotguns or sub-machine guns so the IMF could get what it needed. IMF studied a villain's weaknesses and fetishes and then exploited that knowledge to bring about his own downfall from within.
Ingenuity and cleverness were always the order of the day.
And that brings me to "Mission Impossible 2," the movie that is now blasting, exploding and careening its way across screens throughout America, making loud noises, calling attention to itself and behaving in public in a way that no self-respecting IMF member would have behaved.
In short, the sequel doesn't have an ounce
of ingenuity or cleverness in its perverted 
soul. Subtlety? Wham, bang, ker-plunk,
blam, this movie never heard of it, thank you.
Integrity is another word that you wouldn't want to apply to this vanity Tom Cruise production, because it has not a suggestion of integrity--not if you consider the movie's antecedents. This is genuinely a case of throwing away 99 per cent of the TV premise so Cruise can indulge himself and make a John Woo-style actioner, and do his inadequate imitation of any actor you can think of who's played James Bond since 1962.
Don't get me wrong. I love to woo Woo with critical sweet talk, because he's made some excellent action movies; in fact, his "Face/Off" remains one of my favorite action movies, what with the way he had good guys doing bad-guy acts and bad guys doing good-guy acts. I love perversity in my movies. And what action fan on This Island Earth doesn't admire Woo for his innovative style.
But in the case of "Face/Off" Woo had a brilliant script to work from. Brilliant compared to "Mission: Impossible 2." Somehow he was wooed into the fold without there ever being a real script. And Cruise must have had the Woo pulled over his eyes, blind to the fact that his movie fails to fulfill any of the original promises of the "Mission: Impossible" TV show. What makes all this even harder to believe, if your credulity has already been stretched, is that Robert Towne wrote the screenplay. At least that's what the screen credit says. Yeah, you read right. Towne, as in "Chinatown." Yeah, that's how far the mighty have fallen.
The plot of "Mission: Impossible 2" is impoverished, and only four times comes even close to elements from the TV series.
1. "The Receiving the Assignment" Sequence: In the first few minutes of the film, Cruise tips us off that this is going to be a cliffhanger by literally hanging from a cliff as IMF agent Ethan Hunt, the same character he played better in the first "Mission: Impossible" movie spinoff. Nothing dramatic or anything to be worried about in this opener. He's simply enjoying his vacation by scaling the perilous sides of an impossible mountain. In one scene he even flies through the air, performing impossible acrobatics. Finally, almost as an afterthought, a helicopter drops off a pair of sunglasses with a built-in message center. Wearing the glasses, Cruise gets the first part of his assignment via sound and via visual images within the electronic glasses. Told he has only six seconds before the message will self-destruct, Cruise makes a wisecrack and then throws away the glasses, the explosion falling just short of eviscerating him.
2. "The Briefing Sequence": In the TV series there was always one sequence in Phelps' cool apartment where each member of the team would be told certain information. In this sequence, since Hunt is the only member of "the team," he is shown receiving data and updates from his boss IMF official (Anthony Hopkins in an uncredited role). When you're as capable as Hunt--an expert in disguises, face-masks, explosions, weapons, electronics and anything else a plot requires--who needs a little help?
3. "The Break-In Sequence": In the film's only suspense sequence, Cruise controls himself long enough to break into a high-security laboratory in order to destroy an Eboli-based super flu virus known as Chimera. How he gets in is in the best traditions of the TV series, but once inside, he is discovered by the bad guys and the whole thing deteriorates into a messy shootout that allows Woo to be Woo, but which carries the movie one step further away from its heritage. So the whole thing becomes an anti-climax that set my teeth gnashing once again. This is simply not what "Mission: Impossible" is supposed to be about.
4. "The Theme Music": Once in a while, composer Hans Zimmer allows himself to use Lalo Schifrin's TV theme, just to remind us of the movie's origin, and believe me, we need to be reminded more frequently than Zimmer chooses.
But why go on about all the lost opportunites and failed plot devices and thrown-away characterizations. I hated the movie and I'm hating having to write about it. I'd much rather tell you about a more positive experience I had once, as an entertainment journalist, working for a big-city newspaper. It was that first interview with Peter Graves I mentioned earlier.
My assignment: Infiltrate Hollywood and dig up Peter Graves. As Graves himself might have responded: "Groovy, baby, groovy."
It happened back in 1967, when technology was still stuck in the Dark Ages of the 20th Century. No computers existed yet, so my assignment came about in an archaic fashion.
First, I dropped a dime into a slot in the coffee machine located just outside my journalistic office. An irregular whirring, not associated with coffee, sugar or cream, could be heard emanating from the machine, which actually vibrated enough that I could see it shaking. (I like my coffee well stirred, anyway.) A certain Dixie cup with a highly sensitive metallic coating around its bottom dropped into the open window of the machine.
The base of the cup, made of a grooved plastic, began revolving at 33 1/3rd. A miniaturized needle swung from the side of the cup down onto the bottom as I stepped into a nearby broom closet. An authoritative voice, none other than my city editor, boomed out with a certain you-better-take-it quality:
"Good morning, Mr. Stanley. I'm sorry you're not going to enjoy this cup of coffee. Your assignment, and I know you're going to accept it, is to infiltrate Desilu Studios in Hollywood. Your target: Peter Graves, star of 'Mission: Impossible.' The purpose of your mission, should you decide to accept it, ahem (cough): Crack his cover, expose him to our readers as nothing more than he really is: an actor who couldn't find enough fulfilling work in major movies so he's doing a role in a TV series. Your new cover identity will be that of a president of a local chapter of the worldwide Peter Graves Fan Club.
Peter Graves, Greg Morris, Peter Lupus, Martin Landau, Barbara Bain.
"In a moment your dime will be returned from the coffee machine. Under intense magnification you will find a dossier of Graves engraved on its side. As always, if you are exposed for what you really are, the publisher will disavow any knowledge of your presence in Hollywood, or that he's even ever heard of you. This coffee cup will self-destruct in five seconds."
As usual, I slid the coffee cup back into the open window, where it was drenched in a thick black liquid, not unlike the coffee the machine normally gave out. The cup, as if being eaten by acid, dissolved away in a minicloud of steam. I couldn't help but think, "Now that's a real cup of coffee!"
Later, under intense magnification, I studied the dossier:
PETER GRAVES. Real name: Peter Aurness. Birthplace: Minneapolis, Minn. Birth Date: March 18. Year: None of your business. Weight: 190 pounds. Eyes: Blue. Hair: Blond and wavy. Height: Tall. Age: See Year. Education: University of Minnesota (Drama major). Heritage: English/German/Norwegian.
Occupations: Soldier, door-to-door salesman, cab driver, band musician, radio announcer (in that order). First Hollywood movie, in 1950: "Rogue River." Best Movie with Robert Wagner: "Beneath the 12-Mile Reef." Best Film with Robert Mitchum: "Night of the Hunter." Only John Ford Film: "The Long Gray Line." Littlest Known Fact: He's the brother of James Arness, star of "Gunsmoke."
Current Role: James Phelps, who heads the
ingenious infiltration team on "Mission: Impossible."
Qualifications for Current Role: Played the dirty Nazi spy rat
Price in "Stalag 17" (1952) with director Otto Preminger
whipping him with a riding crop to give a stronger performance.
Spied for the Confederacy in "The Raid" (1954) with
Lee Marvin. Wears tweed suits in the style of Alexander Waverly,
assignment chief of the spy organization U.N.C.L.E.; was adept
as a child at taking cookies from jars without his mother getting
wise.
Tendencies: Usually underplays parts. Shows preference for low-budget Western or cheap adventure roles. Occasional lowbrow science-fiction ("Killers From Space"). Makes more TV than films, having starred in two other series: "Whiplash" (1960 syndicated Australian Western) and "Court-Martial" (1966 ABC series).
The following is the report I filed upon my return from Hollywood:
No. 842-6789-43
Subject: Peter Graves
Method: Studio Penetration
Clearance: Top Confidential
17 Dec 67
Penetrated Desilu Studios security police without incident by waving autograph book/Peter Graves fan club card under unsuspecting noses. Moved unobserved through studio back streets to McFadden (where tenement house exteriors are shot), pausing to look at theater marquee under which John Payne/Maureen O'Hara held hands when studio still RKO.
Saw crowd/camera around sinister black limousine at curb. Proceeded cautiously. Saw what looked like Barbara Bain, series femme fatale. Knew getting close to target subject. Approached Bain/feigned interest in sultry character Cinnamon Carter, asking for autograph to maintain cover/commenting on techniques of seduction-sultriness-other forms sexual activation.
Rubbing slapped face, next discovered beautiful woman on corner, surrounded by extras/crew members. Moved in introduce self/make provocative suggestions. Discovered woman Martin Landau, series disguise expert Rollin Hand. Commented favorably on deceptive drag costume/moved on.
Saw technician fiddling with electronic gear/asked if grip or electrician's best boy. Frowning man revealed as Greg Morrison, who plays electronics expert Barney Collier in the series. Moved away from corner, deciding getting nowhere fast. Heard noises from second story flat near parked limousine and went up fire escape. Peered through window into room overlooking street and saw tall man in heavy pancake make-up--blonde, wavy hair, 190 pounds, English/German/Norwegian descent.
Deduction: Heavily disguised member of cast trying to look like Peter Graves.
Wrong. Really Peter Graves.
Climbed through window and introduced self, chuckling at clever deception. (Third time '67 fallen for standard disguised-to-look-like-self-to-throw-off-other-agent trick.)
Told Graves I was fan club president, chief of many adulators. Narrowed eyes suspicion, examined card apprehension. Finally seemed satisfied but furtively glanced around. "Can't talk here," he said. "Meet me in the commissary in 15 minutes. And come alone."
In commissary, Graves sitting with back against wall corner table. Eyed fellow lunchers warily. Checked to make sure salt shaker wasn't bugged. Threw handful of pepper over shoulder. What did I want? Explained need for facts take back fan club. Many adulators eagerly awaiting first-hand word. Talked fast, worked actor's ego, used Pat-on-Back Technique. Lulled Graves false confidence. Revealed following:
James Arness, brother, met him L.A. train station 1949/told him get out town, not big enough both. Said Arness: "Return Minneapolis." Peter bull-headed. Told brother %^&(@@/mind own *&(#$! business, me sticking tinseltown. Proved wise decision: Soon got part in "Rogue River" modern-day adventure flick. Followed by "Fort Defiance" (1951)/sci-fier "Red Planet Mars" (1952). Also "Violent Saturday" with Lee Marvin. Eventually better parts than brother. Now town big enough both.
Encountered no problems taking over role from Steven Hill, who quit show religious reasons. Stepped into Phelps as if born play. Said main goal in life do good job Phelps. Strong pride in work, wanted make show work. No other parts beyond that. Too busy. All energy channeled into single task. One-track mind. Bull-headed dedication. Oh yeah, good pay.
Graves interrupted by studio security police who enter commissary/look around. Graves ducked down out of sight until officers leave. Said get back work earn good pay. Left by side door. Me left by front.
Decided main gate was being too closely watch so slipped over bungalow wall, pausing overhear executives trying "Star Trek" plot ideas by floating paper rocketships back/forth across desk. Reached street safely, resumed mild-mannered guise.
SUMMATION:
Peter Graves nice guy. Engages in soft sell. No pretenses about acting. Doesn't even want to play Shakespeare. Knows his limitations. Seems contented playing spies, cowboys, square-jawed sci-fi heroes. Estimate subject will continue in this capacity.
Mission: Accomplished.
© 2000 by John Stanley
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