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5.0 out of 5 stars
That Hapless Midwestern Boy Who Went On to Charm A Nation, September 12, 2011
This review is from: The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis 18 Volume Set (DVD)
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THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS: ELEVEN CAMPUS STORIES, about a likeable Minnesota teen who tries and tries but tends to fail humorously with his studies and with the town's pretty girls, was written by humorist Max Shulman and first published in 1951. Dobie's travails helped re-introduce youthful college humor into the U.S. mainstream after the dislocations of WWII and the G.I. bill. The book caught on with the reading public and in 1953 was re-published, and that same year MGM worked the Dobie theme under a slightly different title, THE AFFAIRS OF DOBIE GILLIS. Set at a stuffy and rather grim Midwestern liberal-arts college (whose motto was "WORK. WORK. WORK. STUDY. STUDY. STUDY. LEARN. LEARN. LEARN"), the film was not tremendously successful; though packed with some of the last "new faces" processed through Metro's star system (Bob Fosse, Debbie Reynolds, Bobby Van), and Hans Conreid as a stuffy English professor, the golden hue of the classic early-Fifties MGM musicals didn't emerge, in part because the flick was a cheapie, filmed in black and white to save money. Bob Fosse later joked that it was the first time Metro had made a black-and-white musical since 1938, and he wasn't far wrong.
But the Dobie legend, like the irrepressible teen character himself, could not be quashed. In 1959 Shulman adapted some of his short-story source material with producer Martin Manulius; the results were offered to CBS-TV as a pilot; the network bought the show and had Twentieth-Century Fox film it; whereupon THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS dug in and ran for four full seasons (1959-1963), a respectable run at the time, all of it on Mr. Paley's network. Shulman himself dominated the screenwriting process for most of the show's first three years; it is from him that we have the now-iconic opening scenes of Dobie pondering his postadolescent pensees beneath a replica of Rodin's sculpture "The Thinker." Shulman picked the name "Thalia Menninger" from among a number of even clunkier-sounding names in his original Dobie stories ("Pansy," "Chlotilde," et al.), as the high-maintenance busty blonde Dobie follows like a lovestruck puppy who will do (almost) anything to win Thalia's (temporary) affection. Thus was Tuesday Weld groomed for stardom, probably because her spunky character and solid acting skills showed through, despite a script that called for the machinations of a juvenile gold-digger who will resort to (almost) anything to get rich, even at one point claiming the family was impoverished because of multiple chronic illnesses. We, the audience, knew Thalia was destined to hook up with lazy aristocrat Milton Armitage (Warren Beatty) eventually, and in a kind of life move imitating sitcom art, Weld and Beatty headed out of the high-school classroom and into movie stardom. From Shulman's imagination also came Dobie's father, a hotheaded grocer named Herbert, chosen among several occupations in the eleven short stories, which were under no particular obligation to preserve unity of character. In those stories, Dobie appears variously as a college student with majors in English, Journalism, Biology or art, also a high-school senior, a law-school student, and a university pre-med candidate who blows up the chem lab's only carboy(a kind of big, scary bottle, at that time usually glass, that holds corrosive liquids and/or fermenting alcohol), so Dobie must scramble to make amends. The sitcom straightened out the chronology and tracked Dobie from high school into junior college. Even at the time THE MANY LOVES OF DOBIE GILLIS began production, Dwayne Hickman had turned 25, and by the time he had tracked through the second half of high school into the first half of college at end of production, he was 29 yet still convincingly portrayed the chipper and self-assured late-adolescent Shulman created.
Reasonably well-informed monochrome mavens, whether they first glommed onto Dobie in prime-time, Nick and Nite in the Eighties or late-nite runs today on MeTV, have learned or remember Dwayne Hickman as Dobie, Frank Faylen as his irascible grocer father, and a pre-Gilligan Bob Denver as beatnik buddy "Maynard G. Krebs." The network knew it was on to something in Dobie's potent clashes with sex, the Establishment, plutocracy and nonconformity; after Weld and Beatty left the show in came Sheila James (Kuehl) as Zelda Gilroy, who unlike the limited-acceptance Thalia was wholeheartedly in love with Dobie; yet Dobie, for years and years, maintained he was not interested in her. Steve Franken was brought in as Chatsworth Osborne, Jr., who was backstoried as Milton Armitage's cousin, and who brought his own, William F. Buckley-type snide drawl to the role of poor little rich boy, constantly assuming he is best because he has the most money.
But consider Maynard. It is hard to conceive today of one character who raised so many eyebrows with a goatee, a hole-ridden sweatshirt, a devotion to jazz (usually the best free-form stuff of the turn-of-the-Sixties), and whose locutions bridged the gap from Jive Kid to pre-Hippie ("Like wow, man." "This track is the grooviest.") He and Dobie were close friends, save for the times Maynard's almost dogmatic nonconformity and refusal to even try to learn advanced subjects put off Dobie, his last social redoubt. Maynard blamed his scholastic failures on the enlightenment of Zen Buddhism, when lack of focus and perhaps paucity of grey matter are more likely explanations. Not to belabor the subject, but Maynard was Dobie's social conscience at a time when the mainstream saved their scorn for beats like him; Dobie, bless him, saw the good in Maynard despite his father's continuing antipathy toward the jive-spouting junior hipster who was a living example of "underachiever" even before that term entered common parlance. Gillis, Senior, correctly grasped that Maynard's lotus-eating values were, however unintentionally, a direct rebuke to his own Depression-reared, World War Two-toughened mandates and the rigidity all that entailed. So DOBIE had a handle on the generation gap even before the term was coined about four years later. In one gaggle of episodes between high school and junior college, the boys were even inducted into the Army together (the draft at that time being almost inescapable for real young American men); miraculously, though Maynard was soon booted out of the service, he emerged with goatee intact. In the intervening years, something of an urban legend has arisen that the actors themselves, Bob Denver and Dwayne Hickman, met each other on set; the truth is, they were both undergraduates at local Loyola-Marymount in Southern California and knew each other before the full-time acting bit struck.
Another of the joys of this singular series is the wealth of character actors the show tossed up with such apparent nonchalance, anything from bit to recurring roles to series regulars (Florida Friebus as Dobie's mother, the actress who later became the little-old-lady-who-knits in group therapy on THE BOB NEWHART SHOW). Actors ranged in age and experience from movie and commercial-radio vets to coming TV regulars. William Schallert, before he became Patty Duke's TV Brooklyn father, played a testy college prof perpetually set on edge by Dobie's blithe ignorance and Maynard's ostensibly Zen-based lack of ambition. Many ongoing and occasional smaller roles were filled by the likes of Joyce Van Patten, Darryl Hickman (Dwayne's older brother, who played, winkingly, brother Davey Gillis); Michael J. Pollard as Maynard's cousin Jerome Krebs, Raymond ("Milburn Drysdale") Bailey as Dobie's college Dean; Clifton Sundberg as the Armitage family butler, and Dabbs Greer as Zelda's father. Any imagined "Versatility in Light Broadcast Television" award surely would have gone to veteran Doris Packer, who played Beaver's elementary-school principal Cornelia Rayburn on "Leave It To Beaver," at the same time she was shuttling from the Universal lot over to Fox to play Milton Armitage's mother (Clarice Armitage), later Chatsworth Osborne, Jr.'s mother (Clarice Osborne)... each other's sister-in-law in one individual, if taken literally. Doris Packer's comedic range was formidable, and she seemed to have exploited late middle-age to the hilt in defining her characters: no-nonsense but kid-friendly principal Rayburn, then the local society matron (or is it matrons?) on DOBIE: crusty, haughty, the very stereotype of that era's women's club battle-axe, yet who has reserves of empathy and insight that are not easily tapped. Similarly, Dobie's father Herbert (Frank Faylen) is a terror to contemplate as the tyrant of his mom-and-pop grocery store, and many episodes contain at least one instance of Herbert threatening to "kill that boy." Homicidal he wasn't, but stolid in a way that makes Lou Grant look like Hawkeye Pierce.
Despite what today would be considered a relatively brief run for a commercial-network series, all of it filmed in black-and-white, there is much to treasure about DOBIE along with the sharply defined characters and well-chosen talent to portray them. That was an interesting time, TV-wise, perhaps most so at CBS, "The Tiffany of Networks": DOBIE helped fill the sitcom gap between the radio-personality-based TV of the earlier Fifties (LOVE THAT BOB, OUR MISS BROOKS) and the broadcast ruralism that was kicking at the barn door by the time the show went off the air in 1963 (PETTICOAT JUNCTION, THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES, later GREEN ACRES and early HEE HAW). During the time of DOBIE's run, those looking for serious drama could tune in THE TWILIGHT ZONE, also on CBS, which articulately, almost offhandedly, dealt with topics such as racism, social ostracism, and global nuclear holocaust. By way of contrast, another CBS sitcom that also ran 1959-1963, like DOBIE, was DENNIS THE MENACE, in which William Paley's lack of ageist bias...
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