Cliffhangers Leave Him Hanging

What is happening to television? Doesn’t anyone believe in integrity? There’s so much sham, so much deception, so much manipulation.

Take the cliffhanger, a classic TV maneuver to inflate ratings. The furtive strategy calls for a series to end its season on a contrived note of mystery that entices viewers to tune in at the start of the next season to find out what happened.

Is there no honor in TV, no principle, no sense of decency? Using artificial stimuli to hype a series is not only a sellout, it’s a betrayal of art itself, a shameful, contemptible trick that should be banished from the airwaves.

On CBS, “Murphy Brown” pulled it. . . .

Uh, just a minute. My phone is ringing. I’ll be right back.

“Hello? What? I thought I told you never to call me here again. Stop pestering me! We’re through, do you hear, through? And don’t bother threatening me, either. It won’t work! I’m on to your games!”

Sorry for the interruption. As I was saying about underhanded tricks, “Murphy Brown” pulled one at the end of this season by having Murphy get pregnant with the identity of the father in doubt--it could be one of two guys--in a virtual replica of the cliffhanger employed by Lifetime’s “The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd” to end the 1990-91 season.

And what about this season’s triple cliffhanger on another CBS series, “Knots Landing”? It ended with the abused teen-ager Jason appearing to have been killed in a crash, Paige suspected of being involved in Brian’s disappearance and Steve, who is actually the half-brother of his uncle, apparently being fatally shot by police who were chasing him after being alerted by his mother that he was violating his parole by carrying a gun, a gun she planted in his car. To learn the truth, tune in next season.

This is just disgusting!

No less so is “In Living Color,” which ended its season by making us wait until fall to learn if one of its two flamboyantly effeminate movie critics--the one named Blaine--has been permanently transformed into a swaggering macho man by being hit on the head by a falling sandbag. Or whether Homey the Clown--now seemingly compromising his principles by frequenting Chez Whitey, where he once worked as a doorman--has permanently sold out to “the man” for money.

This is so cynical. Just as. . . .

Hold on. It’s the phone again.

“Hello? Don’t you understand English? It’s over! If you don’t stop harassing me, I’ll call the police!”

Sorry again. As I was saying, “Cheers” used to be just as cynical with all those cliffhangers that kept viewers in summer-long suspense over the on-again, off-again relationship between Sam and Diane.

And what of “Dallas”? For years it led prime time in cliffhangers, none more exploitative and contemptuous of the public than the episode that ended a season leaving you wondering, “Who Shot J. R.?”

The year was. . . .

Can you believe this? It’s the phone again.

“Hello? I thought so. You just don’t give up, do you? We had a minor fling, and right away you turn it into something major. Well, I won’t stand for it! I’m pulling the plug on the phone right now!

Anyway, I was saying that the “Who Shot J. R.?” episode ended the 1979-80 season, launching such an international craze that it seemed almost the entire world spent the summer asking who it was who plugged scheming J. R. Ewing and caused him to be rushed to the hospital in critical condition.

It wasn’t until the following Nov. 21 that viewers found out that the finger on the trigger belonged to J. R.’s sister-in-law, Kristin, who was pregnant with his child and about to be framed by him for prostitution because she wouldn’t obey his order to leave Dallas.

But enough of this. Why am I wasting my time on such a sleazy topic? There are so many significant issues to. . . .

Just a minute! Did you hear that, a knock or something? I think someone’s at the door. Wait here ‘til I get back.

“Oh, it’s you! I thought I told . . . . Wait . . . . What’s that in your hand? . . . What are you doing? No . . . I can explain! . . . No . . . . Don’t!”

Bang!

(Editor’s note: The above column appears to have ended prematurely. Attempts by The Times to find out what happened have proved futile. To learn the fate of the columnist and “Who Shot H. R.?” we urge you to read the column he is scheduled to write when his vacation ends June 26.)