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Halloween, 2006:
I always struggle to find the perfect thing to end each year's Halloween Countdown, and though few will agree, this porridge is just right for me. Tales From The Darkside was a horror anthology series born in 1984, and though in the same genre as a Twlight Zone or a Tales From The Crypt, it was as different from those two shows as they were from each other.
While the episodes in the series had no outright connection to one another, there was a recurrent theme: Typically, we'd spend twenty minutes watching something that seemed almost like normal, everyday life, but in the closing moments, the tables would turn and we'd be left with something to think about that night as we walked the halls making sure every last light was on. There was a slow, deliberate darkness about the show that was unlike anything I'd ever seen, and aside from the sporadic "gag episode," when you were finished watching Tales From The Darkside, you felt...unsettled.
The opening credits played on this. The score was enough to make your skin crawl, as a creepy voice-over guy told of man's foolish ignorance of the lesser-seen "underworld" of our existence. To be honest, it didn't matter what the fuck the creepy voice-over guy was saying...it was all in how he said it. Could've been telling me to wash my socks; I still would've pissed. It was a visual assault, too. The opening credits made usually-gorgeous scenic shots of rivers and trees feel like the devil's new forms, setting the mood to make every episode -- even the bad ones -- capable of turning you inside out.
I became a regular watcher late in the game, and by then, its syndicated affiliates were giving it really oddball time slots. 5 PM Saturdays, 11:30 PM Wednesdays, things like that. I have such fond memories of catching episodes during points in the day where either nobody was home or everyone was asleep, forcing me to fend for myself against the half-working old television in my bedroom. The one with a "Rabbit" system on top of it. It didn't work; I just took the broken box from my parents because I liked the idea of an electronic device called "Rabbit." During and after each viewing, something felt wrong with the world. It was awesome to be a little kid and get fuel for such teen-level angst.
Today, a look back at my very favorite episode of Tales From The Darkside. Like my favorite episode of Amazing Stories, this is another case of me seeing an episode of a show once and only once, and still managing to remember each and every last thing about it nearly two decades later. Thanks to a friend, the episode is back in my lap again, and though I'm not going to think twice before turning any new corners, I can totally see why my shit was successfully fucked up upon watching it as a child.
"Anniversary Dinner" was a 1985 episode, but there's no way I was only six when I saw it. Tales From The Darkside languished in shittycation for years after its production halted, and I'd have to assume it was closer to 1988 or 1989 by the time it ruined my life. Ironically, this is one of the worst episodes to highlight if my goal is to sell you on the series -- it's not flashy, it's mundane by design, and to replicate a mood that so depended on haunting musical stings and human mannerisms in print is a losing battle. But I'll try, because I'm sick of writing about Count Chocula every year.
In the opening moments, we meet a cute elderly couple -- Henry and Elinor -- who live a simple, rural life and do simple, rural things. It almost feels like I'm spoiling things too early by even saying this, but there was no reason to suspect these nice folks of anything. You just figured, "Okay, nice old couple...they'll probably get ripped to shreds by some fly-by-night version of the Jersey Devil or something." Not so. "Anniversary Dinner" was a subtle beast.
You should recognize both the actors, or at least, you would if they weren't trapped in grainy three inch screencaps. Henry was played by Mario Roccuzzo, whose multi-decade career could nicely identify him as a "character actor" or meanly identify him as a "200 time bit player." Elinor (their spelling, not mine) was played by Alice Ghostley, hired not so much because God wanted me to make a Designing Women reference twenty years later, but because the casting agent thought it'd be so clever to hire a woman named "Ghostley" for a Tales From The Darkside episode. Considering that the story for this one is pretty ridiculous at its core, both actors did a really, really good job.
Here's the scoop: It's almost time for Henry and Elinor's 25th anniversary, and while they're happy to celebrate a fine life spent together, Elinor can't get over how much grander the occasion would be if only "the children" could be there. Elinor so misses "the children." She even desperately asks Henry if he thinks they could ever have more children. Henry winks it off, but notes that "stranger things have happened." Well, yeah, you could sort of guess where this is going, but as a tween without guidance, I totally took it at face value. Nice folks. Cute old couple. They just miss their kids. Yehup.
Later that day, Elinor sits out on the porch, knitting or something, when she spots a ruffian and his not-ruffian girlfriend emerging from their orchard. Even though they're in their thirties, these are troubled teens from the wrong side of the tracks. The rude boyfriend gets in a spat with the old folks, but Elinor takes pity on young Sybil, who clearly rides with the wolf only as a last resort. Before the kids scamper off with camping backpacks large enough to put 4x4s inside (seriously, those bags were fucking huge), she tells Cybil that she's welcome back anytime should her man maketh with the slapping and/or name-calling.
In the next scene, Elinor and Henry are back in the kitchen, with Elinor now more child-obsessed than ever after meeting Sybil. "Do you think she'll come back? Doesn't she remind you of one of the children?" Henry feels bad for his poor, longing wife, and even though he doesn't expect some random kid to come back into their lives, he keeps the hope alive: "You know, I hope she does come back." I love reviewing old television episodes for shows that aren't out on DVD. I can paraphrase everything and never get caught.
It's a miracle in the old folks' house when Sybil indeed returns. Turns out she's a runaway; she hasn't seen her parents in two years, she has no place to go, nothing to do, and blah blah blah...next thing you know, she's practically adopted by Elinor and Henry, and they're all too happy to have her. Henry puts up a tough front, but Elinor assures Sybil that the fact that the grumpy old guy is letting her stay at all is a glowing testimonial.
These early scenes are so feel-good. Everyone's so happy. Cute little Elinor with her fake daughter, foxy Sybil with her fake parents/grandparents/whatever, and Henry with his trucker hat. They could've ended the story here and had a great Lifetime Television interstitial.
After settling in, Sybil's invited access to the folks' hidden playroom, and the ominous music we hear as she's literally dragged in by Henry warns us of mischief and murder. But hey, look, there's no mischief or murder -- it's just a normal (and pretty kickass) little den, with music, wood paneling and a rockin' hot tub. Elinor and Henry plead with Sybil to GET IN THAT TUB right away, because they built it for "the children" way back when and haven't had a chance to let anyone enjoy its steamy goodness for years.
They cut to a commercial here, with the happy family being a happy family, and the whole thing was just so engaging because we hadn't seen ANYTHING fucked up yet. Not a one. It's not like I didn't know what I watching. This was Tales From The Darkside, not a pilot for Sybil Makes The Grade or something. The fact that nothing weird was going on just told me that something REALLY weird was going to happen later. For them to go this route, there had to be a payoff big enough to warrant one of those oversized novelty checks. C'mon, Ed McMahon...cut yourself and throw blood at me. Tell me you're named Dead McMahon.
Back from commercials and a little while later, Sybil sits with her saviors on the porch, gabbing about nothing in particular, before Henry starts ranting and raving about their local butcher. Now, Henry was firmly established as a kind but crotchety old dude from the opening moments, but this particular soliloquy seemed a tad...off. He's pissed at the butcher for his cruel and painful methods of slaughtering animals, citing that to kill an animal that fears you only spoils its meat. Sybil kind of shrugs off the warning signals that he's a psycho and that she should feed his Frankenstein, because after all, it's the same girl who went camping with an amalgam of every bad punk kid from every bad 80's movie only to move in with two complete and total strangers who do nothing but obsess about "the children." I woulda thought Henry and Elinor were sweet on the surface too, but there was enough bullshit in front of the curtain to have kept me from taking the guest room. Plus, moth ball smell, gross.
The next morning, the oldies take off into town to collect all the trimmings for their big anniversary dinner, and of course, Sybil's invited. When they're gone, she can't keep from rummaging through that swank playroom again, and just as she starts nosing her way into a mysteriously locked cabinet, the bats come home and Henry absolutely freaks the fuck out. "What're you doing?! Who do you think you are?! These are my private things!" You know the drill. Elinor smoothes the situation off-camera, and the next thing you know, Henry's apologizing for being a cockwad and offering Sybil glass after glass of homemade sherry. Then he rescinds all previous reservations, telling Sybil to go into the playroom, soak in the tub and enjoy herself. And that she does, because this girl just don't got a clue.
K, here's the scene -- THE SCENE. The scene that burned this baby into my brain as if my brain was a cow and TV shows were letter-shaped hot irons. We cut to Sybil in the hot tub, drunk off her ass from the sherry. Elinor comes in, and Sybil's too inebriated to take any alarm when her surrogate momma starts throwing her bushels of cut up vegetables to eat. "Have a nibble, the water won't hurt 'em!" Sybil just laughs it off before taking a playful bite of cabbage, and I don't think my mind had a chance to process what was happening before Elinor reappeared with a big wooden spoon.
That's right, Henry and Elinor are cannibals, who eat children! Wheee! Sybil passes out from the drugged sherry and drowns in the tub, as Elinor chucks in another ton of veggies. Sick! After telling her hubby to add the wine and letting him have an early taste of the brew, the couple celebrate their silver anniversary just like they did in the old days.
Just one last thing: Elinor thinks they should let "the children" share their special day. So, with a key in hand, the longtime lovebirds approach the same locked cabinet Sybil got shot in the ass with a pellet gun for looking at earlier, and what was inside? The children!
My God, what an alarming and amazing episode. They cut right to the credits after the big children reveal, but not before Elinor finally starts talking plainly: "I just love having the children for dinner!"
"Anniversary Dinner" really had an impact on me. I think a lot of it had to do with how, even after we saw what they were up to, Henry and Elinor act just the same as they always did. They don't start laughing manically, or spitting, or stabbing people. Even as Sybil bubbles in the boil, they bicker over nothing, chat like sane people and generally give us every reason to believe that even the sweetest old lady may very well kill, marinade, cook and eat us. This was the kind of stuff that made kids, or at least kids like I was, afraid of everything. If you couldn't be left alone with Grandpa and not worry that he was going to eat you, forget about going to the playground by yourself, and definitely forget about finding any spiders in your bedroom. This kind of shit made us scared of everything.
Not to ruin this by talking up the episode's artistic merit, I at least have to give kudos to how they made this ridiculous story have a sense of logic. Like, you could argue that the old folks had every chance in the world to kill Sybil long before this, but we totally got an explanation: Henry thinks that animals that die fearful provide lesser meat. That's why he was so quick to forgive Sybil for fiddling with the locked cabinet -- Elinor reminded him that they needed her happy! Happy girls are good eatin!
Was this the best Tales From The Darkside episode ever? Fuck no. I'm the only one who thinks so. Still, it exemplifies the show's spirit perfectly, and it's the only one I can remember watching in bed and being paralyzed for hours afterwards. I felt bad for Sybil, I felt creeped out by Henry and Elinor, and felt gypped that I never found a novelty company good enough to sell realistic prop skulls on the cheap. Twisted's the best way to describe it, and twisted's a good way to say "Happy Halloween."
Click here to watch Sybil become Soupbil, hahhaaaaa yeah.
I hope you've enjoyed the 2006 X-Entertainment Halloween Countdown. I know I lost a little steam at the end there, but we'll live. We saw a lot this year. We saw Mountain Dew Pitch Black ICEEs. We saw My Little Pony dolls dressed like devils. We saw bootleg Michael Jackson figures, pepperoni appetizers, and even Balki Batokomous. It's been a ride, as usual. Now that the pressure's off, I can go fill 24 Halloween-themed Ziploc bags with all of the candy I didn't get to write about, and hope no hooligans get grabby when I leave the ol' honor bowl outside before work tomorrow. This Halloween, do something meaningful. Buy me something.
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