Professor T: Overboard

After three seasons of therapy sessions, you would think Prof. Jasper Tempest would have made some progress overcoming his OCD quirks. Unfortunately, he started making headway by the third season, but then the murder of his former student and primary police contact Lisa Donckers sent him spiraling backwards. Tempest’s shrink, Dr. Helena Goldberg, initially recommends a return to crime-solving as therapy, but she will also request his consulting detective expertise for personal reasons in “Overboard,” which launches the fourth season of Professor T, premiering tonight on PBS.

A death on a cruise ship is a premise worthy of Dame Agatha. However, initially only rookie DS Chloe Highsmith suspects foul play in the presumed drowning of Ophelia McQueen. To be fair, DS (and acting DI) Dan Winters might be a bit distracted mourning Donckers, with whom he had a rather complicated relationship. However, revelations of some nasty texts and further suspicious circumstances prompt a more pointed investigation.

It turns out, Dr. Goldberg is an old friend of McQueen’s mother, so she would like Tempest to apply his anti-social genius to the case. Of course, Tempest is incapable of responding with grace, but eventually he starts his own investigation, with all the prickliness of his first season self. At this point, the only person of his limited social circle willing to help happens to be his free-spirited Aunt Zelda Radclyffe, who agreed to visit while Tempest’s mother tours Europe. Frankly, she really came more for the dog, but she can drive.

Fortunately, this will be a case Tempest can solve like Nero Wolfe, without access to the crime scene. Yet, he still gets himself into trouble. Regardless, writer Stephen Brady pens some clever parsing of witness statements. Still, it seems like this episode fails to capitalize on a promising crime scene. However, it accomplishes its primary goal: getting Tempest back in the game.

Renaissance: The Blood and the Beauty, on PBS

Michelangelo is often called a “Renaissance Man,” but he lived well into the Reformation. Fittingly, some of the talking heads dub his The Last Judgement a great work of Reformation art, because it is all about sinners burning you know where. Maybe even Savonarola would have approved—but probably not. Of course, Savonarola was very much a part of the Renaissance Era, if not its spirit. Indeed, the violence he unleashed fits right in with dual themes of director-producer Emma Frank’s three-part Renaissance: The Blood and the Beauty, which premieres tomorrow on PBS.

Poor Botticelli and Donatello might feel left out, because Frank largely focuses on Michelangelo’s professional rivalries with Da Vinci and Raphael. Clearly, Frank favors Team Michelangelo, since she incorporates dramatic monologues performed by Charles Dance, in the persona and costume of Michelangelo, adapted from the artist’s own writings. Indeed, Michelangelo had to compete against Da Vinci’s lofty reputation and Raphael’s political acumen, but he outlasted them both.

Frank and company frequently remind viewers of the dangers that came with living in the late 1400s, but that should not come as a great revelation to anyone who watched CW’s Leonardo. After all, both Da Vinci and Michelangelo secured good paying patronage work designing arms and fortifications.

Although wider in scope, The Blood and the Beauty feels a lot like Ken Burns’ Leonardo da Vinci, but with less impressive experts. Weirdly, Frank assembles a number of filmmakers and a “sex historian” (spare us, please) to compliment usual suspects like Walter Isaacson. (Burns’ film also features more distinctive music and narration, thanks to the contributions of Keth David and Caroline Shaw.)

Blue, on PBS

His iconic canine reportedly lent his name to the so-called “Blue Dog Coalition” of [mostly] Southern centrist Democrats that hardly exists anymore (ten and dwindling). More fittingly, George Rodrigue’s popular character has been pictured with many of New Orleans’ favorite sons, such as Louis Armstrong and Al Hirt. He has become a symbol of Louisiana, but before the Blue Dog, Rodrigue also preserved evocative images of his Cajun heritage. Sean O’Malley chronicles his life and work in Blue: The Life and Art of George Rodrigue, which premieres this Thursday on participating PBS stations.

Everyone knows the Blue Dog from national ad campaigns commissioned by the likes of Xerox and Absolut. He also hangs in major museums, but establishment acceptance took quite a while. Blue Dog just seemed like too much fun to be serious art. Yet, those big eyes have a haunting vibe.

Regardless, O’Malley and company rightfully take considerable time establishing the importance of his earlier work, depicting the everyday life of Cajuns, as well as their folklore. In fact, the Blue Dog originally came out of his folkloric output, originating as a depiction of the loup-garou for a book of spooky tales.

Arguably, the portrait that emerges of Rodrigue most likely conforms to the expectations of viewers and admirers. He came from modest means and overcame considerable adversity to become one of America’s most recognizable artists. He had a passion for life and New Orleans Saints football, but Hurricane Katrina’s tragic impact on his community sent Rodrigue into a deep depression.

American Experience: Mr. Polaroid, on PBS

He made the original selfies possible. His company’s instant photography provided immediate gratification, but their photos were still developed on film, so people generally saved it for moments that meant something. His company gave Kodak a run for its money and remains fondly remembered. The entrepreneurial career of Edwin Land and the rise and fall of the company he created are chronicled in director-writer Gene Tempest’s Mr. Polaroid, which airs this Monday as part of the current season of American Experience on PBS.

Tempest almost immediately likens Land, a Harvard drop-out, to some of the tech titans who followed his example, like Jobs and Gates. The comparison is apt. Land started his company developing a polarization technique to minimize car headlight glare. Detroit was not interested, so he ap[plied his technology to other uses, including gun-sights, which led to major defense contracts during WWII. Of course, he knew (and hoped) the war would not last forever, so he started R&D on his instant photography concept.

Eventually, Land launched Polaroid’s first instant camera at a media event that had serious Steve Jobs vibes. At the time, it was big and bulky, but the news photographers were still dazzled. However, it took years before Polaroid refined the process into a handheld device. He also pioneered the more laidback corporate culture that continues to be associated with the tech sector. Yet, Tempest still found plenty of former employees to complain about Land’s policies.

Ironically, Land was unusually progressive for his time, especially in his efforts to hire and promote women and black recruits. Nevertheless, some employees were apparently resentful that Land did not completely adopt every single one of their political positions. Yet, he clearly had a greater social conscience than many of his contemporaries, while also serving as unofficial technical advisor to the U.S. government on aerial surveillance photography.

Now Hear This: Rachmaninoff Reborn, on PBS

Sergei Rachmaninoff reinvented himself more profoundly than Madonna ever has. Shortly after the Bolshevik revolution, the Rachmaninoff family was exiled with the only the contents of their luggage to their name (but it was a good name). Due to the economics of music publishing at the time, Rachmaninoff could not viably support his family as composer in America, so he launched a second career as a concert pianist, from basically nothing. Of course, he still had his reputation—and his freedom. Violinist Scott Yoo and his guests celebrate Rachmaninoff’s second life in America (and his summers on Lake Lucerne) in Rachmaninoff Reborn, the latest episode of the Great Performances sub-series, Now Hear This, which airs this Friday on PBS.

While they do not belabor the horrors of Communism, Yoo and company clearly assert a Romantic composer like Rachmaninoff could never meaningfully create under the rigid Socialist Realist aesthetics mandated by the new regime. He was lucky to get out while the getting was good. Indeed, Russian-born, British-naturalized pianist draws painful parallels between Rachmaninoff’s expatriation and the experiences of contemporary Russian artists forced into exile under Putin.

At the age of 44, Rachmaninoff essentially launched his concert career, quickly becoming one of the world’s most popular performers. Yoo and his experts argue Rachmaninoff succeeded because he had the talent. He was also one of the earliest musicians with the recorded legacy to prove it, including early 78s and a vintage player-piano roll, which are presented during special listening sessions.

As Ukrainian-American photographer explains, Rachmaninoff was also an early adopter of technology, so he left a wealth of photographs documenting his family during casual moments. Frankly, it is remarkable how well documented his life was, entirely because the traditional old Russian aristocrat was so receptive to the fruits of modernism, even including psychoanalysis.

Simon Schama: The Holocaust, 80 Years On, on PBS

Simon Schama became one of the unlikeliest bestsellers of 1989, when Citizens, his nearly thousand-page history of the French Revolution hit the NY Times list. He subsequently became one of the leading chroniclers of the Jewish people. However, he always tried to avoid presenting their history as a “march” towards the Holocaust. Nevertheless, at some point, the enormity of it becomes inescapable. The eighty-year-old historian explains the tragic history of the Holocaust, from the places where it happened in Simon Schama: The Holocaust, 80 Years On, directed by Hugo Macgregor, which airs this Tuesday on PBS.

Schama begins with some grim statistics that explain why this program is so needed: “nearly a quarter of young Americans believe the holocaust did not happen, or has been exaggerated,” that would be the student “activists” turning campuses into cauldrons of hate, and “one in twenty Britons think the Holocaust never happened.”

As you can see from the art provided, Schama eventually takes viewers to Auschwitz-Birkenau, but he starts in Kaunas, Lithuania, which he identifies as the first major city occupied by the Germans, where the locals voluntarily and enthusiastically massacred their fellow Jewish citizens, under the watchful, approving eyes of the National Socialists. The killing was not as systematized and industrialized as it was in concentration camps, but it would be impossible for the local populace to deny their culpability.

Yes, dreadfully, pogroms were not uncommon throughout Eastern Europe during the decades and even centuries preceding WWII. That is why Schama emphasizes the case of the Netherlands, which was considered a haven of tolerance, much like Britain across the North Sea. Yet, despite initial acts of solidarity, Dutch Jewry suffered the highest mortality rate of any Western European nation during the Holocaust—a grim 75%.

The example of the Netherlands seems particularly applicable to our current times. Nobody thought something like that could happen there, but it did. Do you really think it couldn’t happen here, when the Jewish Governor of Pennsylvania and his family are targeted in an explicit act of political terror, with practically no media outrage once the motives were uncovered?

American Masters: Art Spiegelman Disaster is My Muse

Art Spiegelman helped force the world to remember some of its darkest history, with his Pulitzer-Prize-winning graphic novel, Maus. Essentially, he adapted his parents’ tragic real-life experiences during the Holocaust, but he anthropomorphized the Jews as mice and the National Socialists as cats. Yet, this film has a weirdly selective relationship with recent history. It ends before the October 7^th terror attacks that are widely recognized as the largest mass-killing of Jews since the Holocaust. However, the filmmakers managed to find time to edit out Neil Gaiman’s appearance, which caused some consternation when the film screened at festivals, presumably due to assault allegations against the English author. Regardless, there is an inescapable feeling of prematureness to Molly Bernstein & Philip Dolin’s Art Spiegelman: Disaster is My Muse, which airs tomorrow on PBS, as part of the current season of American Masters.

The first forty-five minutes or so of Disaster is quite strong, because it really focuses on the past, without attempting to score political points in the present. Spiegelman retraces his career, starting with an internship at Topps collector cards that led to a long-standing freelance relationship. He became one of the stars of the underground comix movement, along with his late friend, R. Crumb, whom we see attending a dinner party at Spiegelman’s.

For over a decade, Spiegelman worked on the two-volume Maus, continually interviewing and re-interviewing his father, since his mother had died under painful circumstances during his childhood. Spiegelman is the first to admit he was shocked by the reception, including best-seller lists and the Pulitzer Prize. Arguably, the timing was just right since publication of the two volumes in 1986 and 1991, releasing between Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah (1985) and Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993), a period when mainstream readers really started educating themselves on the full implications of the Shoah.

The second half of Disaster largely focuses on Spiegelman coming to terms with his unexpected success and figuring out what to do next. Arguably, his lack of focus was detrimental to Bernstein & Dolin’s profile as well. Eventually, they present him as an impassioned warrior against censorship, but such terms are somewhat disingenuous. There are no laws against reading any books in Texas or Florida (the two states primarily mentioned). Certain school boards have, ill-advisedly, decided certain titles are not appropriate for young readers. The fact that Maus was one such title is foolish irony that discredits their entire judgement—yet, the fact remains school boards make these kind of decisions everyday, in one direction or another, because space and acquisition budgets are limited.

Independent Lens: We Want the Funk

It is not a coincidence bass players are so well represented in this documentary. Funk would not be funk without those funky bass lines, so naturally bassists like Marcus Miller, Christian McBride, Michael Veal, and Carlos Alomar are happy to talk about the groovy music. McBride is best known for jazz and Miller has played just about everything, but they were all influenced by funk greats like Larry Graham and Bootsy Collins. Of course, everyone was also influenced by James Brown, who continues to shape music, particularly hip hop, as the most sampled recording artist of all-time (unless you count Clyde Stubblefield, the actual drummer on Brown’s “Funky Drummer” track). Regardless, filmmakers Stanley Nelson & Nicole London chronicle the incredibly danceable music in “We Want the Funk,” which airs tomorrow on PBS, as part of the current season of Independent Lens.

As the battery of bassists explain, funk was built on a deceptively simple sounding groove. However, really locking into the rhythmic patterns required a lot of rehearsal. Alomar would know, because he was hired (and fired) by James Brown. Funk decidedly contrasted with the more “genteel” and scrupulously non-political Motown, as the somewhat polemical opening explains. (However, nobody mentions James Brown’s later endorsement of Richard Nixon).

Nelson, London, and their cast of expert musicians do a nice job explaining how innovators like George Clinton of Parliament-Funkadelic and Sly Stone developed the sounds that became funk, while the messages of James Brown’s anthems such as “Say It Loud” captured the zeitgeist of their era. Brown also became an international sensation, who was beloved throughout the newly independent African nations.

Similarly, Nelson and London explain how African artists like Fela Kuti and Manu Dibango (who also sounded pretty “jazzy”) synthesized American funk, fused it with their Afrobeat and “Makossa” styles, and then successfully re-imported their funk back to American listeners. There is also some nice coverage of Afrofuturistic expressions in funk, which references the great avant-garde jazz bandleader (and self-proclaimed Saturn resident) Sun Ra.

American Masters: The Disappearance of Miss Scott, on PBS

Hazel Scott led a working trio that featured genuine jazz legends as sidemen: Max Roach on drums and Charles Mingus on bass. They even released a classic LP on the Debut Records label, which was founded by Mingus and Roach. In the 1930s and 1940s, she was one of the most famous jazz musicians in American, but the public largely forgot her during her expatriate period in France. Director-producer Nicole London and Scott’s admirers (as well as her son) take stock of her life and legacy in The Disappearance of Miss Scott, which airs this Friday on PBS as part of the current season of American Masters.

Scott was a true prodigy, whose notoriety grew steadily since she first performed professionally as a young child. However, her friend Billie Holiday boasted her to a new level when she arranged for Scott to replace her as the headliner at Barney Josephson’s Café Society. At the height of her fame, Scott had the clout to demand integrated audiences, even when she toured the deep south. She also attracted the eye of Congressman Adam Clayton Powell.

At the time, they were a way more glamorous political and entertainment power couple than Cheryl Hines and RFK Jr. ever were. However, they drifted apart, especially when her tour of France turned into an extended residency.

Rightfully, London’s cast of commentators make a big deal out of Scott’s weekly television show, which did indeed predate Nat King Cole’s by several years. She definitely deserved recognition as TV’s first weekly Black primetime host. However, they somewhat misleadingly make it sound like it was an act of vindictiveness when all tapes of her show were trashed. Tragically, that happened to almost every single episode of original programming that was broadcast on the defunct Dumont Television Network, also sadly including The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong, starring Anna Mae Wong, which was the first dramatic series starring an Asian American woman as the lead character.

Fortunately, the talking heads better understand musical history, particularly Jason Moran, who has become a PBS go-to. Scott herself would probably enjoy watching him demonstrate stride and boogie-woogie, both of which she was more proficient in.

Chautauqua at 150: Wynton Marsalis’ All Rise, on PBS

In the late 1990’s, Marsalis was at the peak of his prestige and influence. He already received the Pulitzer Prize for Blood on the Fields. With the turn of the Millennium approaching, Columbia released nine ambitious albums from Marsalis, under the banner of “Swinging into the 21^st.” None was more ambitious than All Rise, commissioned by Kurt Masur, of the New York Philharmonic, in memory of his schoolboy days under the Nazi and East German Communist regimes. Yet, it would have its concert debut shortly after 9/11. Nearly a quarter century later, Marsalis staged a concert performance at Chautauqua, during the reflective season following the brutal attack on Salman Rushdie. It also happened to be one of those big round number anniversaries. Chautauqua takes stock of itself while listening to Marsalis in Chautauqua at 150: Wynton Marsalis’ All Rise, which airs this Tuesday on PBS.

Founded in 1874, the Chautauqua Institute was a product of the Lyceum movement that survived to this day, thanks to its pleasant location and the prominent faculty and presenters it attracts. Several staffers boast the Institute fosters dialogue that encourages understanding among partisans of each other’s positions. Everyone says they learn so much, but nobody actually explains how they changed mind after listening to the other side at Chautauqua. Of course, there is a multi-faith program that talks about phobias and isms rather than human rights and freedoms. Then, on August 22, 2022, Rushdie was attacked so brutally, he spent days on a ventilator and ultimately lost an eye.

To its credit, Chautauqua at 150 spends considerable time covering the attack and its aftermath, but it declines to mention the Institution deliberately refused to implement recommended security measures for Rushdie’s address, because they thought they would “create a divide between the speakers and the audience,” as two sources explained to CNN. Frankly, Chautauqua should probably reflect even further on this incident and what it really means.

Fortunately, jazz has healing powers, so it is frustrating Chautauqua at 150 often has interview subjects talking over the music. However, the backstory of the extended suite and its post-9/11 premiere deserve the time devoted to them. It also speaks to longevity of the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestras membership since many musicians, including saxophonist Ted Nash and trumpeter Marcus Printup were with the band back in 2001 (in fact, there were with J@LC well before that). As a result, they obviously have seamless cohesion as a band and probably intuitively understand what their leader Marsalis is looking for.

Journey to America, on PBS

People forget, but no president was more supportive of immigration than Ronald Reagan—legal immigration, that is. Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich and his wife Callista present portraits of notable American [legal] immigrants very much in the Reaganesque tradition in Journey to America with Newt and Callista Gingrich, which airs this Tuesday night on PBS.

It might seem like a blindingly obvious point, but Prof. Susan Hanssen helpfully points out legal immigration is good, because it allows those who follow the law coming here can fully benefit from the rule of law as a recognized member of society. Conversely, illegal immigration is bad for the same reason. Indeed, all of the Gingrichs’ subjects came to America legally, duly taking citizenship over time.

This is quite a starry lineup, including Golden Age movie star Hedy Lamarr, whose contributions as an inventor and scientist are also cogently explained. In fact, the Gingrichs largely cover the same territory as Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story, but with greater economy. As you would expect from the Catholic Gingrichs, their coverage of Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, the first American citizen beautified into Sainthood, is also quite strong. It also reminds potential visitors the Cabrini Shrine in upper Manhattan is lovely often overlooked attraction.

Perhaps the most controversial segment focuses on the late Henry Kissinger, reminding viewers the future Secretary of State came to America with his Jewish family, as penniless refugees from National Socialist Germany. It makes you wonder why the hard left likes to smear Kissinger (a diplomat), who happens to be Jewish, as a “war criminal,” instead of Robert McNamara, Dean Rusk, or William Rogers, but not really.

Ghost Story for Christmas: Lot No. 249, on PBS

Arthur Conan Doyle would probably hate this adaptation of his mummy short story, for the same reason many of his fans will enjoy it. Departing from the original text, it creates a role that is clearly implied to be you-know-who. Of course, he could justifiably complain the annual BBC series, A Ghost Story for Christmas had no business adapting his creepy yarn, because it is about a mummy, not a ghost. Still, maybe screenwriter-director Mark Gatiss might argue a mummy is an undead spirit that loiters malevolently, much like a ghost. Regardless, there is plenty of gothic tweediness in Lot No. 249, which airs tomorrow on Buffalo Public Television (airing a Ghost Story for Christmas, more-or-less for Christmas, as it was originally intended).

Abercrombie Smith is a very smart but not quite genius Oxford medical student, who treats Edward Bellingham, the eccentric Egyptology scholar in the digs next-door for exhaustion, nervous collapse, or really just some kind bizarre trance-like state. Whatever you call it, viewers can tell he has been dabbling in black arts.

Sure enough, soon thereafter, Bellingham’s campus rival is throttled by a mysterious hulking figure. For an Oxford student, Smith puts two and two together relatively quickly, deducing Bellingham has found a way to reawaken and control the mummy he bought at auction—that would be lot number 249. However, before confronting Bellingham, he wishes to “consult” his unnamed friend, a detective hoping to soon move to Bakers Street, who is decidedly not inclined to give credence to the supernatural.

Indeed, the Holmesian references are quite amusing. Gatiss also amps up the gay subtext, which almost feels unnecessary for a story set in the rarified world of elite British public (meaning private) school alumni. Frankly, Mummy makeup technology really hasn’t needed to advance much since Boris Karloff bandaged-up in 1932, so this one looks just as well as most of the ones that came before.

Leonardo da Vinci, on PBS

He was like the Orson Welles of the Renaissance. Everyone knew he was brilliant, but he still had trouble finishing projects. Of course, he left behind enough to judge his genius—like the Mona Lisa. He led an eventful life, which is fortunate since he has already been the protagonist of fictional series from Starz and CW. Now the true Renaissance man becomes Ken Burns’ first non-American subject when the two-part Leonardo da Vinci (co-directed by Sasha Burns and David McMahon) premieres this Monday and Tuesday on PBS.

Yes, Leonardo was illegitimate, but the battery of historians and talking heads do a nice job explaining why that really wasn’t such a big deal at the time. Frankly, the same was true for his presumed sexuality in pre-Savonarola Florence. There is still a good deal of speculation regarding Leonardo’s life, particularly his early years, but the law firm-sounding trio of Burns, Burns, and McMahon do a nice job of covering all the periods of his life, from Vinci to Florence and then onto Milan and eventually France.

Logically, they focus and good deal on his work, particularly his sketches, codices, and scientific journals. Frankly, they make a convincing case Leonardo really was hundreds of years ahead of his time, especially with regards to his deductions regarding the structure and mechanics of the human heart.

Of course, it is also frustrating to hear about all the commissions he left incomplete or had canceled at the last minute. Arguably, they had to give “Vetruvian Man” roughly equal time as the Mona Lisa and the Last Supper, because that is what they had to work with.

Independent Lens: Make Peace or Die

In the mid to late 2000s, there were scores of documentaries about PTSD. Today, when they are not so politically useful to the anti-war cause, there have almost completely disappeared. Anthony Marquez noticed a similar phenomenon with Gold Star families. They received an initial outpouring of support, but after a year or so, people largely forgot them. That is why Marquez decided to personally check-in with the families of all 17 fellow Marines of his unit who died in Sangin, Afghanistan. Filmmaker Manny Marquez follows his brother’s cathartic journey in Make Peace or Die: Honor the Fallen, which airs this Monday on PBS, as part of the current season of Independent Lens.

Sangin will be remembered as one of the deadliest destinations ever for the Marine Corps. Not surprisingly, his experiences there haunted Marquez years after the fact. As part of his self-proscribed therapy, he hand-crafted (or chainsaw-crafted) memorial statues for each Gold Star family, which he hand-delivered. Realizing how quickly the community support evaporates for Gold Star families, Marquez resolved to revisit the same families one year later (this time with his brother following him).

Most were incredibly welcoming, even though his visits inevitably rekindled the pain of their loss. He hardly knew some of their sons, but he could still relate through their shared experiences. At times, he even questions his mission, but eventually doubles down, inviting the families to a special commemoration ceremony at Camp Pendleton. Along the way, he assembles a special dress uniform, consisting of garments and medals contributed by the seventeen families.

There are several deeply emotional moments in Make Peace or Die (the title refers to Corps 1^st Battalion, 5^th Marines’ motto—as in make peace with us, or else). However, the sequence that will absolutely destroy viewers documents the final hours of Marquez’s military service dog, who even had a Marine honor guard for the fateful last trip to the vet’s office. No matter how tough you think you are, you are going to be choked up.

This is a powerful film that should have had much more attention on the festival circuit. Obviously, Marquez approached his subjects with the best of intentions. After all, his parents appear in the documentary, as well as his brother. Of course, nobody wants to question the motives of some the docs that came out so regularly during the George W. Bush administration, but isn’t it so strange how they just aren’t being produced anymore (with the exception of this film)?

The Mezzotint, on PBS

The mezzotint print-making process might seem old-fashioned, but one of its leading practitioners was M.C. Esher, whom M.R. James might have appreciated, at least for his use of initials. Typically, mezzotints never change, but not the one in this M.R. James short story. Understandably, that rather bedevils its new custodian in Mark Gatiss’s The Mezzotint (part of the A Ghost Story for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS stations.

Edward Williams definitely stays true to his school. He curates the traditional Ox-bridge-ish university’s decorative arts museum and spends most of personal time at the U club with his old college mates. Each day is largely the same, but that is how he likes it, until a mysterious mezzotint arrives for his appraisal.

Williams had not thought much of it, but his golfing friend Binks sees more in it. In fact, he describes a rather different picture, with a moon rising above the country house and a shadowy figure just starting to enter the frame. Weirdly, those elements had not been in the picture before, because, as Williams soon deduces, it changes slightly every time he looks at it. That sounds crazy, but Williams’s old school chums Garwood and Nisbet confirm it, much to their own surprise. It confuses all the three alumni, but Williams also feels an uneasy suspicion that the dark figure will do something horrible when he finally enters the house.

Of course, the mezzotint surely must represent events that occurred when it was printed in the 1800s, right? Yet, to Williams, it feels like a tragedy slowly unfolding before his eyes, especially when he learns he might have a personal connection to its town of origin. That last bit is all Gatiss, but it is a nice macabre little wrinkle. Regardless, it is strange no previous anthology series has taken a shot adapting it, especially considering it requires no special effects—just a quality print-maker.

In fact, this is one of Gatiss’s best “Ghost Stories for Christmas,” or just plain “Ghost Stories,” if you are watching on PBS. The mezzotint is a clever gimmick and Gatiss maximizes its full Twilight Zone-ish potential.

The Dead Room, on PBS

Aubrey Judd is so old school, he largely built his reputation on radio. He still hosts the same long-standing ghost story program, but, much to his frustration, annoying hipsters now write most of the tales he reads. However, the script gets flipped in more ways than one in Mark Gatiss’s The Dead Room, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Unlike The Tractate Middoth, this week’s Ghost Story (formerly “for Christmas”) is not based on a M.R. James classic. Here we have a Gatiss original, but perhaps he should have stuck with the master.

Regardless, hammy Judd is a perfect fit for the great Simon Callow. Frankly, Judd finds tonight’s story a bit tacky, because of the violence, but his new producer, Tara, believes it is the kind of contemporary work they need to spruce the show up. Ironically, they must record this week’s production in the old, shabby studio the show used to be produced in years ago.

Initially, Judd finds it rather nostalgic to return to his old “haunt.” At least that is what he tries to project for the benefit of Tara and Joan, their ancient, taciturn foley artist. Yet, he soon hears strange noises nobody else notices. Perhaps most ominously, the pages of his script in explicably re-arrange themselves into a completely different story. It rather unnerves him, but somehow he fails to recognize the significance of it all.

In terms of story, Dead Room is passable, but it is no M.R. James yarn. Clearly, Gatiss tries to bring “updated” contemporary social sensibilities to the venerable Ghost Story for Christmas tradition, but it possibly backfires. After all, Judd’s identity is central to his character and his actions, but they consequently lead to the sins he must account for.

Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to listen to Callow unleash his inner Vincent Price as he waxes poetic over great ghost stories and other assorted pleasures of life. Callow has the voice for it, so he ought to narrate more spooky tales for real.

Mambo Legends: The Music Never Ends, on PBS

Do not call them a “ghost band.” For years, they played with Tito Puente and other great Latin bandleaders, so they are not about to stop now. They still sound great and keep gigging with a regularity younger musicians would envy. The reminiscences are almost as enjoyable as the music in Mari Keiko Gonzalez’s Mambo Legends: The Music Never Ends, which airs tomorrow on PBS, as part of the current season of Voces.

Led by bandleader John “Dandy” Rodriguez, under the “music direction” of Jose Madera, the Mambo Legends Orchestra is sort of like a Puente tribute band, because his music dominates their set lists. They all played El Rey, but most also had stints in the Machito and Tito Rodriguez bands, the other two of the big three Latin bands.

They are all accomplished and have plenty of stories to tell, like baritone saxophonist Carmen Laboy, who was the first women to perform on-stage with Puente’s band. We also hear from saxophonist Mitch Frohman, who happened to be a Jewish kid from the Bronx, who discovered Latin jazz and dance music when he sat in with Joe Cuba, while gigging with another band in the Catskills.

It turns out, you probably heard a lot of Frohman’s work. Years ago, he recorded multiple improvisations for episodes of Sex and the City. However, he has yet to receive full and fair compensation. And just like that, another musician gets a raw deal.

Ghost Stories: The Tractate Middoth, on PBS

For many [stupid] people, books are sort of like ghosts. They relics from the past, bearing witness to the folly we might have prevented, had we only read more of them. However, a part-time librarian might have a legitimately haunted book on his shelves, which is bizarrely in-demand throughout Mark Gatiss’s The Tractate Middoth, based on the classic M.R. James story, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Although originally produced by the BBC as part of their annual Ghost Story for Christmas, PBS apparently believed the productions they licensed better fit Halloween season. Neither is wrong per se, because James is timeless—and hopefully so are books.

Intellectually gifted but financially challenged William Garrett rather enjoys working part-time in the library, while pursuing his advanced studies, even though “Sniffer” Hodgson, the supervising librarian, is a pompous blowhard. At least he did, until John Eldred requests the Tractate Middoth, an ancient Hebrew text.

The first time Garrett tries to pull it, he believes a mysterious shrouded figure coincidentally retrieved it before him. The next time Eldred calls to request it, Garrett passes out on the way to its shelf, overcome by the supernatural pollen suddenly swirling about. Clearly, that volume holds sinister secrets, involving its former owner, the nasty Dr. Rant, who maybe orchestrated all this weirdness while expiring on his deathbed, as we partially saw during the prologue.

Tractate Middoth is a particularly British ghost story. Indeed, it is easy to imagine how James’s tale might have inspired some of the early library business in A Discovery of Witches. If the story sounds familiar, maybe it is because Leslie Nielsen also portrayed the intrepid librarian on the early-1950s Lights Out anthology show.

COBRA: Rebellion, on PBS

TV Prime Minister Robert Sutherland outlasted Boris Johnson Liz Truss, and Rishi Sunak. He might be the most reassuring PM since Jim Hacker on Yes, Prime Minister. However, Sutherland could use a Sir Humphrey, because many of his cabinet members follow their own agendas, often against the interests of his administration. It gets so bad, his flamboyantly arrogant Conservative Party rival Archie Glover-Morgan is more friend than foe this time around—or at least it’s a close call. That will be a problem when the next crisis strikes in the 6-part COBRA: Rebellion (a.k.a. season three), which premieres tonight on PBS.

To embarrass her father, Sutherland’s daughter Ellie joined an extremist environmental group occupying tunnels under a contested construction site. However, she needs daddy to save her when a freak sink-hole collapse traps her underground. The disaster site turns into a crime scene when remnants of an explosive device are discovered. Awkwardly, the activist trapped with her knows an awful lot about it. Logically, suspicion also falls on Ellie, requiring her father to maintain impartial treatment towards her.

That does not sit so well with his wife Rachel, with whom his marriage was already strained. Fortunately, he can finally count on the wise counsel of his chief of staff, Anna Marshall. Like Lloyd Bridges in Airplane!, she picked the wrong day to return from sick leave, after waking from her second season coma. Indeed, she wants to be in the cabinet briefings (the so-called COBRAs) to support Sutherland—and anywhere else he might need her . . . support.

Somehow, a fictional Middle East kingdom that is absolutely not supposed to represent Saudi Arabia is also mixed up in the expanding crisis. Apparently, they kidnapped the dissident Princess Yadira, who was a women’s rights activist back home and a legal resident of the United Kingdom. Sutherland is quite put out that they would conduct such an operation on British soil, but the ruthlessly ambitious Defense Minister, Victoria Dalton is determined to preserve British defense contractors’ lucrative deals with the oil-rich kingdom.

Uncharacteristically, Glover-Morgan, who ascended to the deputy PM position in season two, advises caution to both. While he wants to preserve the defense contracts, he also wants no part of the regime’s reported human rights abuses. In fact, the subtle evolution of Glover-Morgan, from jerky to rather waggish, is one of the best developments in Rebellion.

David Haig practically chortles with delight firing off zingers and scheming behind-the-scenes. He is like Frank Underwood or Francis Urquhart in either version of House of Cards, except Glover-Morgan is more human, more principled, and arguably a true patriot, despite his devious, roguishness. Honestly, if he were the lead of the next season, it would be jolly good fun.

In comparison, Robert Carlyle is still a bit bland as Sutherland, but he projects a sense of sound judgement and temperament that frankly a lot of Americans are currently yearning for. Lisa Palfrey is still appropriately shifty and morally ambiguous as Intelligence Chair Eleanor James. Edward Bennett is also entertainingly snide and pompous as Glover-Morgan’s former ally, press secretary Peter Mott, who has turned against the Deputy PM. However, Marsha Thomason is dull as dish water playing former Sutherland advisor and current Labour shadow minister, Francine Bridge, whose duties apparently solely consist of walking about looking heroically concerned. Similarly, a lot of viewers would prefer to leave Holly Cattle’s character, nauseatingly petulant Ellie Sutherland buried in the collapsed tunnel.

Nature: Saving the Animals of Ukraine, on PBS

Do you like dolphins? If so, you should despise Putin. Since the launch of his illegal invasion, the Ukrainian wildlife reserve on the Black Sea has found the corpses of at least 5,000 dolphins, but they estimate thousands more have died. Clearly, animals have suffered from Russia’s military aggression, just like the Ukrainian people. Yet, despite the chaos and danger, ordinary Ukrainians have risked their lives to rescue animals both wild and domestic. Viewers need to watch their brave efforts, which Anton Ptushkin documents in “Saving the Animals of Ukraine,” premiering this Wednesday on PBS, as part of the current season of Nature.

It sure is funny how everyone who was so concerned about the animals in the Baghdad Zoo have had so little to say about the animals of Ukraine. Regardless, the entire world saw images of desperate Ukrainian refugees carrying their beloved pet cats and dogs. As a result, at least one NGO talking head had to dramatically rethink they way he thought about refugees. Inevitably, many pets were still left behind, often not intentionally, but rather due to unexpected Russian bombardments. Zoopatrol was organized to save those animals, either by jail-breaking them outright, or noninvasively feeding them through front-door peep-holes (this mostly works for cats).

Perhaps their most famous rescue is Shafa, who was found by drones trapped on the exposed ledge of a completely bombed-out seventh-floor apartment, where she had been perched for sixty days, with minimal food or water. Despite her advanced age, they successfully nursed Shafa back to health. Since then, she has become an online sensation, symbolizing Ukrainian resilience in her own grumpy cat way.

Likewise, Patron the Jack Russell terrier has also become an international influencer, thanks to his work sniffing out landmines. Patron’s small size gives him an advantage over other ordinance-detecting dogs, because he is too light to set-off mines calibrated for human weight. That little guy is a charmer.

Unfortunately, many of the stories Ptushkin documents are profoundly sad, like the two animal shelters that took very different approaches when evacuating their human staffs. Tragically, both shelters were near Hostomel Airport, which Putin’s thugs and mercenaries bombed into rubble, greatly distressing the animals in the process. Clearly, several on-camera experts suggest one shelter handled the challenge in a much more humane manner, but the real villain is Putin, who put both shelters directly in harm’s way.