The 2022 Ed-Vent Calendar, Day 8: The most versatile office in movie history!

This seems like an office where a man could get things done... if he wanted to.

What do doctors do all day? Well, according to Ed Wood, they mainly wear nice suits, sit around in their offices all day (and night), and wait for trouble to come to them. It inevitably does.

The Coen brothers are rightly known for having a lot blustery authority figures behind heavy wooden desks in their movies. From Trey Wilson in Raising Arizona (1987) to David Huddleston in The Big Lebowski (1998), it's one of their favorite stock characters. I can scarcely think of a Coen film that doesn't have some version of this trope.

But Ed Wood liked to put a lot his authority figure characters behind desks, too. Think of Harvey B. Dunn as the slightly dotty, bird-loving Captain Robbins in Bride of the Monster (1955). In that film's quasi-sequel, Night of the Ghouls (1959), the role of Captain Robbins has shifted to Johnny Carpenter, but the dutiful policeman can still be seen parked behind his desk for a good portion of the movie, dully sending his men to what might well be their doom.

There's kind of a neat symmetry in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), since both the top-ranking human (Lyle Talbot as General Roberts) and the top-ranking alien (Bunny Breckinridge as the Ruler) are confirmed desk jockeys. And, obviously, the movie is bookended by the ultimate desk-sitter: Criswell.

While doing research for one of these blog posts, I noticed that the office of Dr. Boris Gregor (Herbert Rawlinson) in Ed's seedy crime thriller Jail Bait (1954) looked strangely familiar.

Clancy Malone and Herbert Rawlinson in Jail Bait.

That's when I realized it was the same exact set used by Dr. Alton (Timothy Farrell) in Wood's previous film, Glen or Glenda (1953).

Shirley Sperl and her then-husband Timothy Farrell in Glen or Glenda.

It's all there—the wallpaper, the wood paneling that only goes halfway up, the bookshelves, the desk. All Ed Wood did between Glenda and Jail Bait was move the other chair from the left side of the screen to the right. That's what you call growing as a filmmaker. By the way, I'd give my eye teeth to know the name of that painting in the upper left corner. Do you know what it is?

Podcast Tuesday: "How I Learned to Start Worrying and Leave the Prom"

Dick Van Patten ruins the prom on Happy Days.

It's inevitable that viewers will bring their own personal baggage with them whenever they consume any kind of media. When we watch a TV show, for instance, we may ask ourselves how the experiences of the characters onscreen compare with our own experiences. Unfortunately, if there's a huge disconnect between what's onscreen and what we have experienced in real life, we may have trouble suspending our disbelief. Think of real-world cops or doctors watching prime time shows about their professions. The scripts may be so far removed from reality that these viewers will become alienated, unable to relate to what they're seeing.

I try not to be this way. I understand that TV is TV and life is life and never the twain shall meet. I don't expect sitcoms to be realistic. That's how I was able to watch and enjoy The Office, even though it was very much unlike any real office where I'd ever worked. I spent years toiling in cubicles -- first for an auto manufacturer in Flint, then for a market research company in Chicago -- and if anyone there had acted like the employees at Dunder-Mifflin, they would have been fired immediately and possibly led away in handcuffs. But what does it matter? This is just a television show. Its only purpose is to entertain. Why bring dreary reality into it?

Michael Scott: Like no boss I've ever had.

Recently, though, I had trouble accepting a major plot twist on an episode of Happy Days that I was reviewing for my podcast, These Days Are Ours.  Specifically, I was screening "Graduation (Part 1)" from February 8, 1977. The plot of this episode has Milwaukee teenager Richie Cunningham (Ron Howard) attending his senior prom at Jefferson High School. Also in attendance are Richie's pals, Fonzie (Henry Winkler), Ralph (Donny Most), and Potsie (Anson Williams), and their respective dates. Things are going great until Vice Principal Conners (Dick Van Patten) shows up and announces that everyone in the senior class has flunked the hygiene exam. Students will not be allowed to graduate, he says, unless they pass a make-up exam scheduled for the morning after the prom. Everyone leaves the dance to go home and study.

This was more than I could take. It was too ridiculous even for Happy Days.

I mentioned earlier that I had worked a few office jobs, which is true. But between those Flint and Chicago assignments, I spent a few years teaching high school and junior high school. My parents were both teachers, too, and I'm the product of a public school education myself. Based on all this experience, I can say that this "hygiene exam" story could never, ever happen in real life. There would be too much of an uproar from the students, their parents, the faculty, and possibly even the local media. Vice Principal Conners would be (symbolically) strung up by his thumbs for this. He is, to paraphrase Dr. Strangelove, exceeding his authority.

Did this little snafu prevent me from enjoying the episode? You can find out by listening to Episode 79 of our show. And here, conveniently enough, it is: