The way this classic jazz-flavored detective show depicts air travel is sadly dated. However, the protagonist jazz musician’s constant need to scrounge for money remains frustratingly true-to-life, as ever. Sometimes, our man on the piano is so hard up, he must do detective work on the side. He also agrees to carry a mysterious briefcase on a flight to LA, but boy, is that a mistake in “Fly Baby, Fly,” the one episode of Johnny Staccato the late, great Gena Rowlands guest-starred in, opposite her husband and legendary creative partner, John Cassavetes (probably their only collaboration overlooked in the recent posthumous tributes to Rowlands).
Even though Staccato needs to look after his hands, he still gets into a fight with an obnoxious club customer. Weirdly, Guy Fletcher takes a liking to the musician-sleuth, after taking a beating from him outside Waldo’s. He even asks Staccato to come round to his corporate offices for a special gig.
According to the cover story, Fletcher needs a trusted courier to schlep some hush-hush mineral samples to the Coast, so he can secure a profitable deal. Unbeknownst, to Staccato, Fletcher swaps the case holding the rocks with one rigged to explode when opened. Presumably, that will happen when Staccato checks on the contents when the plane reaches Arizona, as per Fletcher’s instructions. However, once the flight takes off, Staccato finds it quite a strange coincidence to discover Fletcher’s estranged wife Nina Van Ness is also onboard—and she is quite freaked out to share the flight with an employee of her abusive husband.
Although Staccato episodes only ran half an hour, director Robert B. Sinclair and writer Philip S. Goodman nicely build the suspense around the briefcase. It turns out Staccato’s annoying row-mate, pop songwriter Victor Morse also carries an identical case. In fact, this is quite a cleverly constructed and helmed episode. The only drawback is jazz plays much less of a role than other installments. Mostly, we just hear the terrific uncredited musicians during the opening number. The soundtrack album, composed by Elmer Bernstein, featured jazz greats (and studio warriors) like Shelly Manne, Barney Kessel, Pete Candoli, and Red Mitchell, who presumably performed on multiple episodes throughout the show’s run.
As a series, Johnny Staccato was just as stylish as Peter Gunn, if not more so. Reportedly, Cassavetes was not thrilled to be there, but he still helmed five episodes. As it turns out, his next directing gig was the jazz-themed film, Too Late Blues, which some Cassavetes admirers do not consider a “proper” Cassavetes film—but the soundtrack is still terrific. Frankly, the entire run of Johnny Staccato is highly entertaining, but “Fly Baby, Fly” holds even great historical significance, for its early pairing of the first couple of American independent film. Very highly recommended, Johnny Staccato is available on DVD.
