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Individual TV programs have produced brilliant or near-brilliant excursions into the supernatural-Alfred Hitchcock Presents , for instance, gave us adaptations of several Ray Bradbury stories (the best of them was probably "The Jar"), one terrifying William Hope Hodgson story, "The Thing in the Weeds," a nonsupernatural bone-freezer from the pen of John D. MacDonald ("The Morning After"), and fans of the bizarre will remember the episode where the cops ate the murder weapon-a leg of lamb . . . . that one based on a story by Roald Dahl.
There was "They're Coming," the original hour-long pilot for The Twilight Zone , and the short French film "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," which appeared on American television for the first time as a Twilight Zone episode (this adaptation of the Bierce story ca
Jack Palance has also played Dracula on television (in another Matheson screenplay and another Dan Curtis production) and did quite well by the Count . . . although I prefer Jourdan's performance.
Other one-shot TV movies and specials run from the merely forgettable (NBC's ill-advised adaptation of Thomas Tryon's Harvest Home , for instance) to some really hideous pieces of work: Cornel Wilde in Gargoyles (Bernie Casey plays the head gargoyle as a kind of fivethousand-year-old Ayatollah Khomeini) and Michael Sarrazin is the mistitled-and misbegotten-Frankenstein: The True Story . The risk rate is so high that when my own novel 'Salem's Lot was adapted for television after Warners had tried fruitlessly to get it off the ground as a theatrical film for three years, my feeling at its generally favorable reception was mostly relief. For awhile it seemed that NBC might turn it into a weekly series, and when that rather numbing prospect passed by the boards, I felt relief again.
Most television series have ranged from the ludicrous (Land of the Giants ) to the utterly inane (The Munsters, Struck by Lightning ). The anthology series of the last ten years have meant well, by and large, but have been emasculated by pressure groups both without and within; they have been sacrificed on the altar of television's apparent belief that both drama and melodrama are best appreciated while in a semidoze. There was Journey to the Unknown , a British import (from the Hammer studios). Some of the stories were engrossing, but ABC made it clear rather quickly that it had no real interest in frightening anyone, and the series died quickly. Tales of the Unexpected , produced by Qui
In fine, the history of horror and fantasy on television is a short and tacky one. Let's turn the magic eye off and turn to the bookshelf; I want us to talk about some stories where all the artificial boundaries are removed-both those of visual set and of network restriction-and the author is free to "get you" in any way he can. An uneasy concept, and some of these books scared the hell out of me even as they were delighting me. Maybe you've had the same experience . . . or maybe you will.
Just take my arm and step this way.