A
young actress named Eileen Osborne, who is currently starring in a deliriously
terrible off-Broadway musical, rushes backstage during a break between scenes.
In a panic, she calls Napoleon to warn him of some unspecified threat involving
U.N.C.L.E. She’s unable to give details over the phone,
so Napoleon and Illya hurry to the theater to confront her. By the time they
arrive, the performance is over, and Eileen is nowhere in sight. Her bubbly
understudy, Janet Jerrod (ventriloquist/puppeteer Shari Lewis, of Lamb Chop
fame), takes them to a cast party at a nearby restaurant, where they find
Eileen dead in the ladies’ room.
Back
at headquarters, Mr. Waverly has some disturbing news: A THRUSH operative has just
been captured while carrying a printout of top-secret information stored in
U.N.C.L.E.’s heavily-guarded subterranean computer, thus suggesting THRUSH has
grievously compromised U.N.C.L.E.’s security. Again. Illya and Napoleon
gamely try to look surprised at the news, like this kind of thing doesn’t happen
all the damn time. “Has he been interrogated?” Napoleon asks of the THRUSH
operative. “He’s dead, unfortunately,” Waverly says gravely. Uh… Mr. Waverly?
Sir? You just made a point of saying, very specifically, that the operative had
been captured, so is it fair to assume he died while in U.N.C.L.E. custody? You
guys didn’t, ah, torture him to death or anything like that, did you? I know
U.N.C.L.E. likes to play fast and loose with the rules, but I’m pretty sure the
Geneva Convention still applies to you.
Since
the theater showing Eileen’s terrible musical is only a couple of blocks from
U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Mr. Waverly suspects Eileen discovered some link
between the production and whatever method THRUSH has been using to gain access
to U.N.C.L.E.’s files, but was murdered before she could tell anyone about it. Napoleon
heads over to the theater to chat with Janet. She drags him to a cast meeting
called by the show’s producer, David X. Machina (get it?), who is played by Leon
Askin, who popped up on this show once before as the splendidly creepy Mr. Elom
in “The Project Deephole Affair.” Machina announces a new addition to the cast:
To replace Eileen, he’s brought in another actress, Linda Lamentiere (Joan
Huntington). Janet, who’d been hoping the role would be given to her, is
crushed by the news.
Illya
disguises himself as a plumber and snoops around backstage. This plotline goes
absolutely nowhere, though it does give Napoleon a chance to ogle his
jumpsuit-clad partner while seductively growling, “You’re a dirty guy.” Not a
whole lot happens in this episode, which means Napoleon and Illya have plenty
of free time to indulge in quasi-sexual flirtatious banter with each other. I
have no complaints.
Machina
and Linda, who are both in the employ of THRUSH, grow suspicious of Napoleon,
who keeps sniffing around the theater and sticking his handsome nose in places
it doesn’t belong. They send goons after him, who knock him out, tie him up,
and dump him in the lake at Central Park. Napoleon manages to send a distress
signal to Illya, who arrives in time to pull him out of the water.
Then
our intrepid heroes take a mid-mission break to luxuriate in a Turkish spa. There’s
no point in being a secret agent if you can’t pamper yourself every once in a
while.
Since
Napoleon’s cover (he’d been posing, very convincingly, as a handsome and
debonair letch with the hots for Janet) has been blown, they scheme to get
Illya embedded in the theater. Napoleon poses as a big-name talent scout and
lures one of the performers away from the production, whereupon Illya swoops in
as a last-minute replacement.
Oh,
lordy. If anyone remembers anything about this episode, apart from the
high-energy adorability of Shari Lewis, it’s this: Illya’s amazing—by which I
mean amazingly awful—musical number. He’s wearing a turtleneck paired with a
cape, turban, and tights, he’s speaking with an Indian accent, and, oh yeah,
he’s in brownface. Anyway, he performs a bizarre spoken-word musical
number involving various instruments—horns, drums, lutes—and a gaggle of
dancing girls. It’s really… something.
Napoleon
hovers in the wings, exchanging lewd winks with his partner during the
performance. Remember back in season two when Illya would look vaguely
scandalized and disgruntled whenever Napoleon would wink at him? Now here we
are in season three, and Illya’s winking right back.
After
the performance, a tights-clad Illya sneaks into Linda’s dressing room and
snoops around. He’s caught by Machina’s henchman, Adolph. Trapped, Illya
frantically calls Napoleon to ask for help. Napoleon, however, doesn’t hear his
communicator, as he’s currently wholly occupied with trying to get into Janet’s
pants. Believing Napoleon to be a big-league talent agent, she dazzles him with
a high-energy song-and-dance montage, which culminates with her
soulless-white-girl performance of “All God’s Chillun Got Rhythm”.
Napoleon
has the correct reaction to Janet’s performance. He probably should’ve had this
same reaction to Illya’s escapades in brownface, but it’s possible he was too
distracted by the tights to even notice the face paint.
While
Illya is still trapped in the dressing room, Adolph, Linda, and Machina have a
consultation about what to do with him. Linda proposes killing him. “Pity,” she
says. “He was the best thing in the show.” God help us all.
Machina
decides to try a different approach: Adolph approaches Illya and, in exchange
for a payout, offers to take him to THRUSH’s computer, which has been (somehow)
siphoning information from U.N.C.L.E.’s computer. He leads Illya to a decoy
computer, which Illya destroys. Here’s a fun bit of trivia: Adolph is played by
Charles Dierkop, whose theatrical resume includes a role in the porn film Star
Virgin. From the IMDB listing for Star Virgin: “Charles Dierkop
wore a Richard Nixon mask for his role as the servant in the Dracula segment in
order to ensure that no one would find out that he had appeared in a porn movie.
“ This is fascinating.
Meanwhile,
Janet and Napoleon are getting steamy. High kicks and jazz hands get Napoleon
hot. Then again, everything gets
Napoleon hot.
Illya
contacts Napoleon to fill him in on his recent exploits. He expresses doubts
that he destroyed the real computer—he suspects Adolph set him up to get
U.N.C.L.E. to think the security breach has been fixed. Look at Illya, making
successful, sophisticated deductions based upon the available evidence! Why,
apart from getting locked in Linda’s dressing room, he’s barely botched this
mission at all! There’s hope for the lad yet.
Now
aware of Napoleon’s true identity, Janet teams up with Napoleon and Illya to
find THRUSH’s computer. She drives Linda out of her dressing room with the aid
of a tiny and very cute mouse; despite being a tough-as-nails THRUSH agent, Linda
collapses into pieces at the sight of it. Women. Always terrified of small
furry animals, am I right? Illya sneaks into Linda’s dressing room in the
confusion and finds a secret elevator in the closet, which takes him down to
THRUSH’s subterranean lair, where the real computer is kept.
Machina
and Linda ambush Illya. A fight breaks out, during which Linda is shot and
killed. Machina uses Janet as a hostage to ensure Illya’s surrender. With Linda
dead, Machina forces Janet to go onstage in her place, while keeping Illya tied
up in the subterranean lair.
Those eyebrows. What the hell, Illya?
Did the makeup artists get confused about what show they were currently working
on? It looks like they tried to turn you into a Klingon, then got bored halfway
through the process.
Janet
heads onstage to star in the terrible musical. While performing, she sends
frantic secret messages to Napoleon and Mr. Waverly, who are sitting in the
audience.
Napoleon
slips backstage, finds the secret elevator in Linda’s dressing room, frees
Illya, then whips out his explosive money clip and blows THRUSH’s computer to
smithereens. He and Illya somehow end up onstage, where they’re swarmed by THRUSH
goons in the middle of Janet’s performance.
It
all wraps up about as you’d imagine: Napoleon and Illya duke it out with
Machina and his goons, the miscreants are brought to justice, and Janet’s
once-flailing show becomes an unlikely smash hit, due to rave reviews from a venerable theater reviewer seated in the audience.
More
ridiculous nonsense from season three. This episode is really no damn good, but
it’s worth watching anyway, just to spend some time in the company of these two
delightful knuckleheads.
Never change, boys.
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