Look what the homosexuals have done to me!

Tag: Cloris Leachman

The Demon Murder Case: Guest-Starring Harvey Fierstein as Satan

Andy Griffith and Beverlee McKinsey scour their Demon Murder Case contracts for an escape clause.

When we look back on our childhoods, who among us can’t fondly recall being possessed by murderous demons? Reading IMDb’s plot summary of The Demon Murder Case, a 1983 telefilm, I felt stirrings of nostalgia and decided to track down this horror flick that was sure to play like a home movie. Sadly, the synopsis — “A young boy is taken over by demons who force him to commit murder” — is deceptive. The worst that Demon’s bedeviled pipsqueak Brian Frazier (Charlie Fields) does is anger a sputtering bishop (Burning Rage’s Eddie Albert, sounding more like a revivalist grifter) by blowing raspberries at God.

There is a murder, committed by an adult late in the film, that comes out of nowhere. Its circumstances, in keeping with the rest of The Demon Murder Case, are nonsensical. The screenplay, credited to William Kelley (soon an Oscar winner for Witness), isn’t just inchoate, it is genuinely imbecilic. If you wish to understand the particulars of how a malevolent spirit called the Beast came to reside within Brian, or how it hopscotches into the body of another character, you’re out of luck. This courthouse exchange between Brian’s sister and a reporter typifies the quality of the writing:

Joan: What did you do, then, to get rid of the devil in [Murderer]?

Nancy:  Well, we haven’t done anything for [Murderer] as of yet. But he still definitely needs a full exorcism.

THE DEMON MURDER CASE (1983)

Laughter is Contagious in Someone I Touched

Cloris Leachman and James Olson have trust issues in Someone I Touched.

The 1970s were a complicated time for telefilm husbands, whether it was Robert Reed making obscene phone calls and assaulting his wife in The Secret Night Caller, or Patty Duke’s dipshit spouse justifying his serial infidelity in Before and After by telling her “You see, when you were fat, I felt betrayed.” And so you may feel a familiar sense of dread from the opening moments of Someone I Touched (1975), largely due to its opening ballad.

That treacly theme, warbled by Leachman herself, appears to lay it all out, allowing us to mentally prepare for the inevitable moment when a woman accepts at least partial blame for her husband’s transgressions. Here is but a sampling of its lyrical treasures, which begin normally enough: “Someone I touched/You’re someone I touched/And right away, I knew/I was in love with you.” Things get slightly weirder as we enter “Forget the others I touched/Those others I touched” territory, which includes a cold, abrupt reminder: “Yes, everything dies.”

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