The Off-Broadway Affair

The Off-Broadway Affair. This is fun. Yes, it’s a silly Season 3 episode, but I think Season 3 gets a lot of flack that it doesn’t necessarily deserve. Neither 2 nor 3 have the suave beauty of Season 1. Season 2 throws up some turkeys and 3 throws up some gems. The Off-Broadway Affair is neither a turkey nor a gem. It’s just fun, with an occasional salting of ridiculous. There are enough delicious moments to make it lovely, and I’m a sucker for musicals, even bad ones. Besides, Shari Lewis is cute. I’m not sure about her apparent predilection for dancing with puppets strapped to her body, but she’s cute.

(This has somehow become an Utterly Mammoth Post.)

 

So, we open with a little sexual-assault-at-knife-point in a phone booth. Nice. It’s even nicer when we realise actually this is the gripping start to a musical number about the fact that when you kiss someone at knife point in a phone booth they don’t tend to react with a burning desire to have sex with you. Perhaps this is a comment on the changing attitudes towards sex in the 1960s. Women aren’t what they used to be.

An Extremely 1960s Musical. It’s funny really that the show is parodying these typical sixties musicals while producing a typical sixties episode. I feel a bit sorry for the woman playing the lead, who doesn’t get to be in a hit 1960s spy show beyond the opening titles.

It’s very obvious that, to put it indelicately, this musical is Shit. I think the guy with the face is a big critic.

Very obvious.

But, oh, look. This is Janet Jerrod (Shari Lewis). She’s an unmercifully perky understudy, but she’s cute. She’s the best thing this show has ever seen, and they’re not making use of her.

But as soon as the number is over, the star runs to a real phone booth to call Napoleon at U.N.C.L.E. to tell him their organisation is in danger.

When she’s cut off rather aggressively by Adolph (Charles Dierkop, who’s also in Star Trek’s Wolf In The Fold – what on earth happened to that man’s nose?) it’s all an echo of that near-rape scene in the show, and it starts to feel a bit more chilling, especially considering this lady’s future.

Our boys rush down to the theatre. Illya is straight in like a whippet. Napoleon, of course, needs to check out the ladies on the way in. I love you, Napoleon. Never let a life-and-death situation interfere with the ever present need to get laid.

It’s rather amusing that Napoleon is so busy watching Janet Jerrod coming down that lovely spiral staircase that he actually walks backwards into Illya, as in Robert Vaughn actually walks backwards into David McCallum. This was not scripted in the slightest, I’m sure. RV gives DMcC a lovely little wordless apology by means of a touch on the arm, and recovers like the pro that he is.

Having got over being barged into while his partner ogles women, Illya comes over to to find out where Miss Osborne, our ill fated star, has gone. He doesn’t even look at the women coming down the stairs. He’s not Napoleon after all. He’s just not wired that way.

Miss Osborne has gone to ‘Purdy’s’ to wait for the reviews of the show. Janet Jerrod is both perky and opportunistic, blagging a lift from the boys down to Purdy’s so she can show them where it is.

At Purdy’s, the reviews are in, and Illya is hanging back as always scoping out the place. The reviews are Not Good.

Illya does his own bit of bumping into people, Janet this time; not because he’s ogling her, but because he’s on the scent. His determination doesn’t go as far as going into a women’s toilet to look for Miss Obsorne, though, so he sends Janet in.

I’m realising doing these screencappings just how much of the time Illya spends looking hacked off. There’s a cute moment where Napoleon refers to the reviews as ‘not exactly boffo’ and has to explain to Illya what that means, because he’s foreign. I like it when Season 3 remembers that Illya is foreign. But they’re interrupted by a piercing scream. Janet has found Miss Osborne.

Illya’s all business, terrifying Janet with his gun. Napoleon is hugging Janet. Miss Osborne has abruptly retired from acting.

In the lift in U.N.C.L.E., Illya is standing broodingly in the background again. I suppose this is to make up for the hilarious jollity of his later role in the episode. The police think Miss Osborne might have committed suicide. We never find out exactly how she was killed.

In their long elevator ride Napoleon relates to Waverly what Miss Osborne told him on the phone, and Waverly tells his agents that they intercepted a Thrush agent yesterday carrying details of everything their fed into their main computer yesterday. Ouch. A brilliant foreshadowing of hacking problems.

So, they go to the basement, which is ‘fifty feet below ground level’, where the computer is kept. And Napoleon makes this wonderful face at Wanda, who is on the other side of the room. Napoleon is all for the ladies in this episode.

I think it’s Wanda. Is it Wanda? Faces, you remember. Prosopagnosia, remember. One day I’ll have to remember how to spell that.

Illya is being pleasingly Russian and fatalistic when Napoleon mentions he knows one of the girls in the show (the show which is in a theatre only two blocks from the U.N.C.L.E. building.) 

‘After those reviews, I have a feeling if you don’t hurry, you’ll miss her.’

He’s also looking rather tired, n’est-ce pas?

By ‘knows’ I assume Napoleon means he met Janet Jerrod briefly when he drove her to Purdy’s and hugged her over Miss Osborne’s death. If that’s all it takes to know Napoleon, maybe he could give me a lift sometime? But when Napoleon goes down to get tickets to the show it’s all sold out for a month. Hmm… (Be sure to hear the lovely Napoleon-growl he does when the blinds are closed in his face over the box office windows.)

Luckily, he bumps into Janet outside, which gives him an in and a chance for some lovely Napoleon banter. ‘Just think what you could do with luke warm reviews!’ Janet says ‘cast meeting’ with a long ‘a’ as if she’s trying to sound rather RADA.

Rather beautifully, the man who has taken over the show is called ‘David X. Machina.’ He also plays Marvin Elom in the Project Deephole Affair. He has an affinity for names which are puns and digging holes, it seems. He’s played by Leon Askin, who was born in Vienna and died in Vienna at the age of 97. 97!!!

Anyway, Machina has bought out all the tickets to the show himself (bewilderment from Janet) and brought in his own leading lady (major disappointment from Janet, who was the lead’s understudy.)

You can see Janet’s bra through her top. It’s pretty. If I can ogle the male stars I can ogle the female ones too, can’t I?

Machina introduces the new star, Miss Linda Lamentiere, who no one has ever heard of. Ah.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh! Illya is mightily peeved that he has to be a dirty plumber while Napoleon gets to ‘dally around with a lush young actress.’ Illya. A dirty plumber. A dirty plumber in dirty overalls with cute glasses and a lovely hat. He chooses to play this plumber as English, a London type. I could eat him up. He simultaneously reminds me of Ducky, from NCIS (which I don’t watch), and for some reason of Sam Beckett from Quantum Leap (which I do watch.)

‘Do you know anything about plumbing?’ Napoleon asks.

‘Yes, you turn the tap counter-clockwise for warm and clockwise for cool,’ Illya says.

‘That’s very good,’ Napoleon replies. ‘Ah, keep clockwise.’

Oh, Napoleon. I wonder what Napoleon makes of that outfit? Is he looking forward to helping Illya out of his overalls later and cleaning the smudges off his nose?

Just look at this beautiful little spy, distracting Adolph so that Napoleon can get in unnoticed.

Napoleon chats to Janet about Miss Osborne while Janet is understudying her understudying. He asks her if there was anyone who didn’t like her? That kind of thing.

Excuse me, but is Napoleon checking out Machina’s ass? Is there anyone whose ass he won’t check out?

Okay, so he’s moved on from thinking about Machina’s ass to seeing how flexible Janet is. She does this as easily as your or I might shrug. Meanwhile, the new star, Linda, is asking Machina about Napoleon. I guess Machina isn’t one of those Thrush men who carries pictures of Napoleon and Illya in his wallet. Linda is more on the ball than him. She suspects he’s from U.N.C.L.E.. Not just a pretty face. She’s a curious Thrush villain, actually. She has very little to say or do in this episode but what she does say and do establishes her as a pretty effective Thrush, except when it comes to mice.

Meanwhile, Illya is sneaking about prettily in the basement with an U.N.C.L.E. standard torch. When they hired him for U.N.C.L.E. do you think they factored his prettiness into it? Did they think, well, he’s small, but he’s damn hot, and is all kinds of not straight. He’ll be useful as hell.

Just after he’s disturbed by Adolph he sees a gun on the floor. I’m not quite sure of the meaning of this. Are Thrushies really so careless with their guns? He’s in a prop room, so couldn’t it be a prop?

He knocks props all over the gun when Adolph comes back. He’s pleasingly deferential and stuttering and just very edible.

Illya is so optimistic. He has great faith in his and Napoleon’s skills. Sadly he’s lost the hat and glasses but he’s still grubby.

When Janet comes out Illya has to hide his face and Napoleon has to be delightfully disparaging. Napoleon, you are amazing. I wonder if at any point he calls Illya ‘Filthy’ during this mission?

 

Janet is rather damning about Linda’s acting skills. ‘How do you suppose she ever got the part?’ Napoleon doesn’t reply, but Janet bursts into a wonderful laugh, and I suppose we know what she thinks Napoleon thinks about how she got the part.

There’s all sort of interesting politics relating to that first scene in the phone booth here. Napoleon offers to buy Janet dinner or take her home, and Janet refuses. She promises she’ll feel more like ‘talking’ tomorrow night. I like that she’s assertive enough to say no, and that Napoleon, although disappointed, respects her decision and doesn’t force himself on her. He’s a good guy.

Instead of a date with Janet, Napoleon gets a date with two Thrush heavies who talk like they’re out of a gangster movie. Oh dear, Napoleon.

Cold as stone, Linda Lamentiere stands there watching as Napoleon is brutally beaten up. She really is the hard Thrush villain in this episode, all of Machina’s swagger notwithstanding.

Napoleon does his valiant best, but it’s against two guys, and they overpower him. Oh, bechod. He’s conscious enough, at least, to activate his emergency beacon. Good thing, because they’re going to put him in the lake. If Thrush were like real bad guys, and just dealt out bullets to the back of the head more often, they would probably be much more effective and our guys would be much more dead.

Illya to the rescue! He leaps from the bridge like Batman and has at. No one’s going to drown his Napoleon!

Unfortunately Napoleon, tied up, gets knocked into the lake during the fighting. What a joy this scene must have been for Robert Vaughn, with his morbid fear of drowning.

Someone, a devoted fan of the new U.N.C.L.E. film, described David McCallum as a runt. Witness the runt performing some brilliant upper-body and core-body strength to propel himself up and slam his feet into the bad guy from lying flat on his front on the ground. It’s not the stunt man, either. It’s him.

Napoleon has been under water for quite a long time between him being pushed in, Illya diving in, and then ferreting about for him on the bottom. I’m sure this is not Robert Vaughn’s favourite scene.

Never let the witty banter die, even when your partner has almost drowned. Especially when your partner has almost drowned.

When Waverly asks Napoleon where he is, he is 100% Not Fazed that his two top agents are having a Turkish bath together. Of course they are. Where would he expect them to be? Back at headquarters having a quick shower? No, of course not. At the local Turkish bathhouse, sweating together. Of course. They do this in The Pieces of Fate Affair too, after being dropped into a coal hole, and I can’t believe they were that dirty after being in the coal hole. It’s just their thing.

Look at this pair, having their Turkish bath together. Just look at them.

Look at this moist and glimmering baby. His towel matches his eyes.

Anyway, while our heroes are in the bath Waverly has found out Machina is very rich, source unknown. He’s probably Thrush. They really need to sort this problem out because the organisation is being paralysed by the leaks. They need an inside man… Preferably, you’d think, someone who hadn’t been at risk of being seen by anyone so far. A new man maybe. Or Illya. We could go with Illya.

 

Witness Illya’s face at Napoleon’s cavalier ignorance of the differences between the English horn (or cor anglais, if you’re not American) and the French horn. He’s all ready to go into a ten page discourse on the differences between the two instruments, when Napoleon reveals there’s a number in the show called ‘A Man In A Horn.’ (One would think horn if characterised any man, it would be Napoleon, not Illya.)

Ah. Well. Illya will always step up to the plate when required. So Napoleon will pretend to be a talent scout (much to Janet’s consternation and excitement. He tells her it’s a question of timing and talent, and if you’ve got the talent the timing will work itself out. I’m still waiting on the timing for my novels.) Anyway, Napoleon will lure away the current horn player, and Illya –

Look at Illya, all nervous, coming to audition in his suit with his little instrument case.

Ahhh. I’m guessing that since David McCallum is an accomplished oboeist he can also play the cor anglais. I wish they’d let him play a little more.

There are two things that Man From Uncle delights in where Illya is concerned. Putting him up against extra tall villains, and making him up as a variety of characters from usually dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned places. Man From Uncle has never had a problem with cultural appropriation or brownface makeup. He does, as my husband pointed out, occasionally look like a Romulan with those eyebrows.

He does look kind of cute, though, and I’m loving the figure-hugging black outfit with the cape. And the Welsh accent. I think it’s supposed to be an Indian accent. Sometimes South Welsh and Indian are curiously similar. Anyway, Illya has to go through a whole bizarre number called ‘A Man Is A Horn,’ which I’m sure they had such fun writing and persuading David McCallum to go through with.

Who would have known Illya was so multi-talented?

This guy at the front left. His expression basically sums up this scene.

There may be too many screencaps of this scene, but there are already too many screencaps anyway. When whatsisname, the director/male star of the show tells Machina that getting this unknown horn player is a miracle, Machina is justifiably suspicious.

Illya.

Napoleon.

Illya.

Napoleon. These two… If it’s not kisses, it’s winking.

 

Meanwhile, Linda Lamentiere is quite shocked when she sees Napoleon in the wings, since she thought he was dead. This is Not Subtle, Napoleon. But I suppose by now they know he’s U.N.C.L.E. so he doesn’t have a lot to lose.

When Illya finishes his drum solo he throws the drumstick straight at Napoleon. If it’s not winking or kisses it’s wet t-shirts or drumsticks. Irreverence. That’s what it is.

Napoleon is fondling Illya’s drumstick rather introspectively and lovingly as Adolph comes to take him to task for standing there. But Janet rolls up in another cute cap (she has at least three, one with daisies on) and Napoleon reminds her astutely that it’s tomorrow night now, so he’s due some talking, or sex, or something.

Illya… (Also, doesn’t the woman look a bit like Grace Lee Whitney?)

Now Napoleon is inhaling Illya’s drumstick.

Napoleon tells Illya about Linda’s dressing room, which is always locked, and Adolph has the key. He also takes the opportunity to rib Illya about his number. Of course. Napoleon, if any man is a horn, you are.

So while Adolph is admiring himself in the mirror and then settling down for a nap on a chaise lounge, Illya is descending from the rafters by a rope, looking very slinky and impressive. I’m not sure why he comes in on a rope, though, instead of walking. Maybe he was hiding high up so that he didn’t get thrown out?

Illya breaks into the dressing room, looking slinky and impressive, and pokes about inside, but unwittingly sets off an alarm. He doesn’t know this. Adolph locks him in. Oops. So Illya tries to contact Napoleon, because he’s a tad concerned.

 

But back at Janet’s place, Napoleon’s communicator is in his jacket, which he isn’t wearing, while Janet goes through a hundred different musical routines to convince him that she’s talented. I’m not sure why Illya doesn’t try to call someone else when he can’t get through to Napoleon, but he doesn’t.

Anyway, Adolph calls back Machina and Linda to see what he’s trapped in the dressing room.

(Interesting note; all the Americans pronounce it Ay-dolph, with a long a. Machina, from Austria, pronounces it A-dolph, like Hitler. Maybe pronouncing it Ay-dolph is like calling German measles ‘freedom measles’?)

So, while Illya is still desperately trying to call Napoleon and I desperately try to avoid screencaps because I’m only halfway in and 76 down, Machina conjures a plan to free Illya and convince him he’s managed to stop the leak. Ah, cunning.

Illya is really getting quite agitated about not being able to call Napoleon. Illya, call someone else! For god’s sake!

Janet is trying to woo Napoleon with her accomplished rendition of ‘All God's Chillun Got Rhythm.’ And when I say ‘woo’ I mean ‘persuade him to sign her,’ because she has almost zero interest in Napoleon as a man.

Napoleon’s trying to work out why, if he’s pretending to be a talent scout, the ‘bed her on the casting couch’ rule doesn’t seem to be working. He’s wondering why he has to sit through this godawful evening in the hope of a little sex. But Illya’s working, so...

Probably, ‘why don’t you take a few clothes off and we’ll see how talented you are.’

Once again, Illya is caught in the closet.

It’s most uncharacteristic of Illya to try to brain someone with a lamp. But Adolph capitulates and promises to show Illya the Thrush computer, in return for $10,000.

Illya… The trying to take fewer screencaps isn’t working.

This is a nice shot, with the camera on the descending-floor-thingy. Also Illya’s calves are rather nice as he walks over to it. Illya is suspicious though. He isn’t stupid.

So, Illya is led to the computer cave, where he shoots white-coated-man, who presses the self-destruct as he falls. I feel a bit sorry for white-coated-man, who was presumably actually shot by Illya’s bullet. The computer may be a set up, but unless he’s wearing bullet proof armour, he’s bought it.

In which we learn that U.N.C.L.E. (possibly) has an inter-office softball league. If Mr Waverly had more time I expect he’d turn them to the noble sport of cricket. Also, that Adolph reports back that it all went wonderfully and Illya has been hoodwinked. Also, Machina has a little gloat about how his insistence on building two tunnels, one as a decoy, has turned out not to be an astonishing waste of money after all.

In Janet’s apartment things have progressed to eating cake and worrying about calories, and Napoleon trying to hit on her and Janet carefully avoiding all such hitting.

It’s almost one a.m. and while Napoleon doesn’t exactly force the kiss on her, perhaps he should have taken her hints. Her shoulder strap obligingly falls off, but she tells him firmly that she does mean it and he needs to go. Good girl, Janet. I feel a little less respect for Napoleon after this. She’s been telling him she’s not interested for days.

His communicator goes off before he can leave. It’s Illya checking in on him. I do love Napoleon’s line here. I love how close to the edge this show skirts. ‘I tried to get you earlier,’ Illya tells him acerbically. ‘No doubt before the disappointment set in.’

Illya hasn’t been fooled by Adolph’s performance. He’s still suspicious. And Janet is rather amazed at Napoleon talking to someone through his pen.

It’s time to lose a little bit of respect for Janet too. Turns out Janet is all into secret agents in a way she’s totally not into talent scouts. Now she’s practically begging Napoleon to stay. Looks like that disappointment is going to be eased away very shortly…

So, the next night Illya gets Janet to put a mouse in Linda’s dressing room, because All Women Are Scared of Mice. Janet is scared too, but she’ll do it for U.N.C.L.E.. (No one say anything about the three rats in my bedroom, or the snake in the vivarium who downs a cute little white mouse every week.)

While Linda is totally freaking out, Illya is sneaking in. What in hell does this woman think the mouse is going to do to her?

Back in the closet, Illya discovers the trapdoor, and we discover Illya’s calves. And look at his lovely little plimsolls!

I never get the feeling U.N.C.L.E. agents properly think through their involvement of innocent women in their plots. It’s only a couple of minutes before the Thrush folk realise the trapdoor has been opened and that Janet must be complicit.

So, Illya, in the second tunnel (oh, Illya, thighs… Thank you. Thank you, blessed costume designer) discovers the real computer.

I guess white-coat-man was wearing a bullet proof vest because Illya at least seems to think it’s the same guy, although since Illya has about as good facial recognition skills as me, he could be wrong. It might just be that the guy’s in the same context in the same coat.

While Illya is being relieved of his weapon because Janet has a gun to her head, Janet is being Utterly Kick Ass. Or Kick Head, maybe.

Not to be outdone, Illya reminds us again that he Has Thighs.

I was going to cap Janet also Having Thighs and poor old Linda being shot, but meanwhile my dvd paused here, while Illya looks cool and white-coat-guy plays peekaboo.

There’s only so much a girl can do when she has two guns pointed at her head. Still, it was a valiant fight.

I have to say, this is one of the more pleasing tied-up-Illya moments. He looks very lovely. It doesn’t really look very effective, but Illya doesn’t mind being tied up, perhaps.

Behold. Illya looking like a Romulan. Ever the humorist, he tries to do a deal with Machina for U.N.C.L.E. to buy the silent drilling and dirt disintegration machines.

While Illya is looking extraordinarily pretty, Machina is getting data through from the U.N.C.L.E. computer that implies they think the leak has been stopped. They don’t, of course. It’s Machina’s turn to be fooled. We also discover that the reason Machina bought up all the tickets was because when the show closes the lease expires; he bought it so that his project could continue.

Machina persuades Janet to go on in Linda’s place by implying that if she performs he won’t kill Illya. Witness Illya’s resignation at the revelation that of course this was a lie.

Janet will be performing under a double pressure. Not only is she performing in the hope of saving Illya’s life, but whatisname – I think it’s Winky Blintz – has persuaded a top critic to come back and see the show again. Break a leg, Janet!

Luckily, Napoleon and Waverly are in the audience, and there are U.N.C.L.E. men everywhere. Waverly is greatly looking forward to Illya’s performance.

 

But anyway, while Janet is performing she manages to indicate to Napoleon that Illya is trapped in the tunnel. Janet is awesome. She can kick a villain in the face with a gun held against her, and she can alter the lyrics in her first proper performance under terrible pressure to give Napoleon secret clues as to Illya’s fate. Janet should be an agent.

Witness the fury of Napoleon when Illya is in need of saving. It’s like a tornado unleashed. Adolph never knew what hit him.

Also witness the pointiness of his shoes!

Down in the computer cave, Illya is extremely bored. It’s boring waiting to be killed.

Enter Napoleon. No fucking around. Napoleon shoots the bugger straight off. Illya needs saving.

So Napoleon unstraps his lover, telling him the show wouldn’t be the same without him.

‘How’s Janet?’ Illya asks.

‘Lousy but unharmed,’ Napoleon says.

That’s a bit harsh, Napoleon. Show-business is a cold, cold business.

 

Fighting ensues!!

We’re treated to an extremely athletic all-out barney on stage. Illya even gets to swing in on a rope. I suspect Illya enjoyed Tarzan when he was a child.

Even Waverly gets in on it, tripping over a Thrush man running up the aisle, and then coshing him.

Luckily the whole audience find this totally hilarious. It’s give the show a whole new lease of life.

Illya swings in on a rope for a second time. He is totally loving the rope shenanigans.

Janet is so amazing that she’s the one who takes out the final bad guy, while finishing off the number on a perfect note. Meanwhile Napoleon is reminding me of his stint on Hullabaloo, and making me wince a little in memory.

Back at Purdy’s, the reviews are stellar.

Illya wonders what will happen when the audience doesn’t find the fight scene in act two. Napoleon tells him that in American theatre audiences usually like what the critics tell them to like. Sadly true. Anyway. Winky Blintz has written the fight into the show. He wants Illya and Napoleon to play themselves.

‘Don’t call us,’ Napoleon says. ‘We’ll call you,’ Illya adds. Indeed. I think their work here is done.

FINIS