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Showing posts with the label Made-For-TV Movies

The Brotherhood of the Bell (1970): A Sharp, Surprising Conspiracy Classic That Still Hits Hard

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The Brotherhood of the Bell is one of those rare made-for-TV movies from 1970 that hits harder today than it probably did when it first aired. On the surface, it’s an academic conspiracy thriller built around secret societies and institutional corruption — but at its core, it’s a story about personal conscience, moral collapse, and what happens when the truth becomes too big, too dangerous, and too inconvenient for the people at the top. Glenn Ford delivers one of the strongest television performances of his career. He plays the role with a mix of authority, vulnerability, and that classic Ford intensity that lets you feel the weight of every decision pressing down on him. He anchors the film so thoroughly that you follow him willingly into the spiraling paranoia — because he makes you believe every moment of it. The supporting cast is a who’s who of early-70s Hollywood character actors. A very young Dabney Coleman pops up in one of those delightful “Wait—THAT’S Dabney Coleman??” momen...

How Awful About Allan (1970): A Delightfully Unsettling Slice of 1970s Era Psychological TV Drama

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  If you’ve ever wanted to step inside the mind of a man who isn’t entirely sure whether his eyes or his nerves are betraying him, How Awful About Allan (1970) is a perfect place to start. It’s a psychological thriller made for TV back when the phrase “made for TV” actually meant something—namely, that budgets were small, lighting was questionable, and every emotional breakdown was accompanied by a soft-focus close-up. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way. The film stars Anthony Perkins, who at this point in his career had perfected the art of looking like a man who knows far more than he’s comfortable admitting. Here, he leans into it with a twitchy intensity that makes you wonder if Allan needs therapy, exorcism, or simply a properly lit living room. His performance is beautifully fragile—like a porcelain teacup that’s been dropped once but still insists on holding hot coffee. Julie Harris, meanwhile, quietly steals scenes with the kind of emotional precision only she ...