I can’t claim with any confidence that my finger has ever been on the pulse of America. The last time I can remember it happening was during season one of True Detective, when Matthew McConaughey started mumbling something about “The Yellow King,” and my Carcosa-loving ears pricked up! Pretty soon, unnameable cults and tentacle-faced monstrosities were the topics of water cooler conversation, and I couldn’t be happier. That happiness was short-lived, however, and I settled back into my fevered slumber.
Imagine my surprise as an intersection of interests unexpectedly arose recently, thanks to Rian Johnson’s series Poker Face. Inspired by the venerable Peter Falk detective series Columbo, which ran intermittently and in various forms from 1971 until 2003, Poker Face set the internet ablaze with (I’ll dare to call it) Columbo fever as “young-uns” (i.e., anyone younger than me) discover what a terrific show it is to which this Natasha Lyonne vehicle is paying homage. And that’s great! Sure, the original Columbo is a decades-old series, and the character is known and revered around the world, but mostly by oldies like me. We shouldn’t shame anyone for not already knowing something, and if new interests spark exploration into what came before, then I’m in full support!
I know. “What does this have to do with me,” you’re likely asking yourself. “This is FANGORIA. I’m here for the fear!” Well, friends, I’m here to help you Find the Fear, as the above title suggests. That is, finding the creepy and scary in unlikely places. And what an unlikely place, indeed, is the very short-lived 1979 series, Mrs. Columbo. An invention of an NBC executive, distressed at the conclusion of the original Columbo series before its jump to ABC, Mrs. Columbo stars Kate Mulgrew as the wife of the famous Lieutenant Columbo… at least, it’s implied that she is. Heavily. Just as Columbo’s wife never appeared in the flagship series, Peter Falk’s character is absent in this series. In fact, Peter Falk and the original show’s creators completely disavowed this “spinoff,” calling it a disgrace. So, the connections are danced around to some degree, but so many allusions to the original character are present right from the opening credits.
Still, where’s the fear? Well, the episode in the spotlight here is from the third episode of the first season (of only two), titled “A Riddle for Puppets.” Ah, yes, puppets. But it gets worse. The “puppets” in question are, more specifically, ventriloquist dummies… the worst and creepiest kind of puppet! From Edgar Bergen’s famous Charlie McCarthy (who had his own room and to whom Bergen left $10,000 in his will, but nothing to his daughter, Candice) to Hugo in the classic psychotronic film Devil Doll (one of the few films featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000 that I think are not all that bad and actually pretty effective), to the Anthony Hopkins creep-out Magic, to even that episode of Tales from the Crypt where ventriloquist Don Rickles has the dummy growing out of his arm (does that still count as a dummy?), these figures have proven to be potent nightmare fuel, occupying the same dark corner of our psyche as clowns, one of which we also get in this episode! Mrs. Columbo likely does not come to the forefront when thinking about doll horror, creepy ventriloquist dummies, or killer puppets… but it should!
The story opens at a hospital where the patients in the children’s ward are being treated to some fresh air out on the lawn and entertainment by a ventriloquist named Noel Abbott, played by Jay Johnson, who Fango readers of a certain age might remember from the parodic ‘70s TV series Soap, in which he played… wait for it… a ventriloquist. In fact, Jay Johnson is a ventriloquist in real life. Before we get any further into the specifics of the episode, I’d like to think, with no evidence to the contrary, that Mr. Johnson is a very nice person, despite my open hostility in this article to all ventriloquists (and clowns). I’m sorry for that, but I have to listen to the hackles on the back of my neck.
So, Abbott is entertaining the kids with his dummy, or “partner,” Archie, when Kate Columbo first sees him in passing. She’s on her way to another part of the hospital to visit her husband’s (wink, wink) aunt since he “couldn’t come,” having to “go to San Diego” (uh huh). She’s already out of earshot when we get our first hint of a rift between Abbott and Archie, as when Abbott feeds Archie a prompt, and Archie turns away. Abbott tries to get Archie to play along, but Archie is obstinate and tells Abbott that he doesn’t want to be his partner anymore. Soon even the kids watching get the sense that there’s something wrong with this act. Archie then slowly and creepily, in the way only a ventriloquist dummy can, turns his head back to face Abbott and says bluntly and chillingly, “I hate you.” Archie might not be real, but he certainly speaks his mind!
We next see Abbott in the workshop of his mentor, Victor March, played by veteran TV actor Al Ruscio. It seems March took Abbott under his wing when he was a directionless youth and taught him everything he knows. When Abbott was deemed “ready,” March even carved and assembled his partner, Archie. Abbott then confides in March that he’s been having difficulties with Archie. At first, March thinks he means the mechanisms are getting worn, but he soon realizes something darker is happening inside Abbott. He reminds Abbott that artists, ventriloquists especially, have to make their work a part of themselves, cutting themselves in half, leaving “half for them… half for the dummy.” Abbott is clearly following that advice, though taking it a bit too far. His personality has bifurcated, and Archie is becoming the dominant half.
Abbott lets March know that the problem isn’t with himself but with Archie. “He wants to do things I don’t want him to do,” says Abbott. “He wants me to do things, and I don’t want to do ‘em, Vic.”
Uh oh. Those are words you don’t want to hear from a ventriloquist, especially one that has just picked up a chisel!
Wisecracks aside, it’s a pretty chilling scene as March is turned away from Abbott, much like Archie did in the previous scene. Abbott pleads with March to look at him, and he replies, “If I look at you, I’m gonna weep. I’m too old to weep.” Abbott continues his entreaties, blaming March for making Archie the way he is. When March angrily counters that Abbott is the one who made Archie the way he is, a troubled history is revealed in his words. It’s clear that this is a day March feared would come. Abbott continues begging for help, but March won’t even turn to face him. Finally, Abbott proclaims, “I tried!” and buries the chisel in his mentor’s chest. The scene ends as the overhead light swings back and forth, throwing eerie shadows across an unexpected “witness” in the form of “Clown,” March’s own ventriloquist dummy sitting on a stool in the corner.
Police and reporters are soon at the crime scene, and this is where we pick up Kate Columbo. She’s not a member of the Los Angeles Police Department like her (implied) husband, but a reporter, and not for the Associated Press or Los Angeles Times, who preceded her into the workshop, but for a free local paper called The Weekly Advertiser. The officer at the scene seems as surprised as we are when she shows up, but I suppose this is to show her inquisitive nature and a desire to dig into something meatier than local jelly competitions and octogenarian skydivers. Kate is a Columbo, after all, despite what the original series creators want us to think, and she soon realizes there’s something very off about Abbott and zeroes in on him.
But this article isn’t about the details of the case necessarily. It’s about the creepy parts. We’re treated to several with Abbott’s behavior getting weirder as his difficult relationship with Archie continues, and his guilt at the murder of his beloved mentor festers. The moments where Abbott and Archie are alone are where it really gets odd.
In one scene, Abbott arrives home, and Archie is lying strewn on the sofa in the foreground as though he’s sleeping off a bender. Archie taunts him about Clown being the one who knows what really happened. “Where’s Clown now?” he asks. Well, Clown is with Columbo, having been gifted to her for her daughter, no doubt in an attempt to get rid of the only witness. A witness, by the way, that lives only in the mind of Abbott, so we’re sort of in Tell Tale Heart territory here.
In another scene, after retrieving Clown from Mrs. Columbo and burying him in the cemetery in a separate hole alongside March, Abbott returns home to gloat to Archie about finally being through with him. Archie does another one of those slow, spooky head turns and retorts, “Don’t kid yourself, big shot. Don’t kid yourself.” It seems Archie knows what we do and what Abbott is unwilling to confront: that Abbott will never be free of Archie because he lives in his head. Overwhelmed, Abbott does what I imagine most people have the urge to do with a ventriloquist dummy. He grabs it by the feet and beats the Snerd out of it against the nearest wall.
We return to the crime scene in March’s workshop. Abbott has brought Archie there, now patched up with visible cracks across his face, intending to silence him forever by clipping the control mechanism for his mouth, something he also did to Clown after the murder. Also arriving is Kate Columbo with Clown in tow, having recently been retrieved from the cemetery. She explains that she repaired Clown’s mechanism and that he’ll talk now. She also explains to Abbot and Archie what Clown saw, and Archie turns on Abbott, “fingering” him, as it were, for the murder of Victor March. Abbott has no choice but to confess.
What’s unspoken, but pretty crazy, in an episode full of crazy behavior, is that Columbo confronts a homicidal ventriloquist in the very place where he already committed one murder. Presumably, she’s not carrying a weapon for protection. Maybe she’s taking that “pen is mightier than the sword” thing a little too literally. Whatever she gets paid by The Weekly Advertiser, isn’t enough!
Looking under the hood of this episode, we find that it was directed by Edward M. Abroms, who was almost equal parts editor and director throughout his career. He performed both functions on different episodes of the original Night Gallery, editing the pilot episode for Season 1 and directing a Season 3 episode titled “Something in the Woodwork.” Those are good enough horror/suspense bonafides for me.
So, there you have it. I was pretty surprised to find myself creeped out by an episode of Mrs. Columbo, but as I think I’ll say from now on, you gotta take the fear where you find it! You can watch the episode for free on Tubi.
