Death Takes a Holiday (1971)

          If the title of this telefilm seems familiar, it’s because the play upon which this picture was based also provided source material for the Frederic March melodrama Death Takes a Holiday (1934) and the Brad Pitt romance Meet Joe Black (1998). In all iterations of the story, Death briefly assumes human form in order to investigate why humans cling so dearly to life, only to fall in love with a woman while spending time among the living. While not as impressive as the other Hollywood adaptations, the 1971 version on Death Takes a Holiday is palatable because the underlying storyline is so intriguing and because supporting performances elevate the experience. Also worth mentioning is the florid but sensitive script by veteran TV script Rita Lakin—even though her style tends toward soapy breathlessness intermingled with ornate speechifying, she connects with a handful of poignant moments. Sometimes neutralizing her work is graceless direction by Robert Butler, a three-time Emmy winner who did better work elsewhere; one assumes Butler was constrained by a meager budget and schedule.

          In the waters off a private island, Peggy Chapman (Yvette Mimieux) seemingly drowns, only to wake on shore alongside mysterious David Smith (Monte Markham), whom she assumes saved her life. Peggy invites David to her family’s nearby compound, where the large clan has gathered for a celebration. Some of the Chapmans welcome David warmly, but Peggy’s aging father, retired judge Earl (Melvyn Douglas), senses danger. As David and Peggy become more enamored of each other, Earl learns about something bizarre happening on the mainland—since the time of David’s arrival, no one on Earth has died. This causes Earl to realize that he’s seen David before during near-death experiences. Thus begins a strangely compelling cycle of philosophical discussions on the place mortality occupies in the universe, leading eventually to Earl’s attempts at changing his family’s destiny. Without Douglas and Myrna Loy (who plays his character’s wife), Death Takes a Holiday would be nearly disposable because Markham and Mimieux are, respectively, mannered and shallow. (Rendering equally perfunctory work is costar Bert Convy, whose character competes with David for Peggy’s affections.) Nonetheless, Douglas and Loy lend so much gravitas that their scenes cast a regal glow across the entire movie.

Death Takes a Holiday: FUNKY

Ants (1977)

Delivering exactly what the title promises, the made-for-TV thriller Ants is basically acceptable given the expectations one might reasonably have for such a project. Yes, the special effects are minimal and the storyline is pedestrian, but Ants features decent production values, a cast comprising several familiar faces, and plenty of scenes in which people are killed by insects with poisonous bites. In fact, had the producers seen fit to boost the gore and nudity quotients (which is to say, had either of those things been included at all), Ants probably could have earned as a theatrical release. The movie is dim-witted, like most creature features, but it’s not much worse than many similar films made in the same era with bigger budgets. The story is shaped roughly like that of a disaster movie. The lives of several underdeveloped characters converge at a lakeside resort, and construction around the resort upsets a colony of mutant ants bearing poisonous venom. Then, after the customary first 40 minutes in which Our Hero tries to persuade people that ants are the culprits behind several nasty incidents, a number of characters get trapped in a hotel with marauding insects while emergency personnel try to rescue them. Nothing original or surprising slips into Ants, except perhaps for the silly climax during which (spoiler alert!) Our Hero coaches fellow survivors to meditate and breathe through tubes while killer ants crawl on their skin. The mind reels. Although stolid he-man Robert Foxworth and perky blonde Lynda Day George are the film’s real stars, the most noteworthy cast member is Suzanne Somers, appearing at the height of her Three’s Company-era pulchritude and wearing skimpy outfits during most of her scenes. Chaste as they are, the various shots of Somers being mauled by ants while dressed in nothing but a bed sheet have a certain naughty appeal. It’s also interesting (and/or depressing) to see such virile players as Bernie Casey, Brian Dennehy, and Hollywood legend Myrna Loy trying to class up their scenes. Like the movie’s titular creatures, the pleasures that Ants offers to viewers are so small they nearly escape notice. Nonetheless, there’s goofy fun to be had here.

Ants: FUNKY

The End (1978)

          As written by TV veteran Jerry Belson and directed by Burt Reynolds, who also stars in the picture, The End is a nervy endeavor digging for jokes in the unlikely milieus of insanity, suicide, and terminal disease. The End is also among Reynolds’ most worthwhile ’70s movies, because instead of the car chases and redneck raunchiness that dominated much of his output during the era, The End features character-driven black comedy. At the beginning of the movie, Sonny Lawson (Reynolds) enjoys middle-class success and endures middle-class tribulations: His infidelities scuttled his marriage to Jessica (Joanne Woodward); he’s struggling to maintain a bond with his adolescent daughter, Julie (Kristy McNichol); and he’s confused about his relationship with a free-spirited young woman, Mary Ellen (Sally Field). So, when Sonny gets diagnosed with a terminal disease, he decides to kill himself rather than suffer a lingering demise.

          Belson’s droll script examines the various ways different people respond to Sonny’s decision; the script also features gentle moments with characters Sonny doesn’t bring into his confidence, like his amiably bickering parents (played by Myrna Loy and Pat O’Brien). Then, after Sonny botches his first suicide attempt, he gets thrown into an asylum and befriends a homicidal wacko, Marlon (Dom DeLuise), who becomes obsessed with helping Sonny shuffle off this mortal coil. Making a big creative jump forward from his directorial debut, the Southern-fried action flick Gator (1976), Reynolds shows a flair for light comedy, building elegant pacing and helping actors find easy rapport.

          He also does some of his very best comedic acting, pouring on the self-deprecating charm as a stud-turned-wimp who weeps when he gets his diagnosis and cringes at the idea of pain. His enjoyable turn is complemented by several deft supporting performances: comedy pros Norman Fell, Carl Reiner, and David Steinberg are sharp in small roles; Robby Benson has an entertaining cameo as an inexperienced priest; Field (Reynolds’ offscreen paramour at the time) does her patented cute-and-sexy routine; Loy and O’Brien are a hoot; and Woodward effectively softens her usual suburban-harridan persona. DeLuise is hilarious in his first few scenes, but then overcompensates once his character slips into repetitive behavior. Plus, the movie itself loses energy as it nears the climax. However, Reynolds’ last big scene, an anguished negotiation with God played mostly as a voice-over monologue, concludes the movie in high style.

The End: GROOVY