The Twilight Zone Review: “The Whole Truth”

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By William Kozy

Before continuing on with the episodes that received the most votes from Twilight Zone fans on Facebook and writers in the sci-fi and horror genres, let’s take a look at the episodes that are at the very bottom of the list. And in response to my survey question “What is your favorite episode of the original Twilight Zone series?” there were three episodes that received 0 votes. One of them is “The Whole Truth” the story about a used car salesman Harvey Hunnicutt played by Jack Carson with a hammy style befitting sitcoms of the day.

The episode’s premise is that here is this cliché of the unscrupulous used car salesman who comes into possession of a car that casts a spell on the owner, causing that person to be unable to lie. It’s not a bad idea, and I’m sure it struck the writer Rod Serling, that it would be even more juicy a premise if that car were to fall into possession of someone we typically associate with lying all the time, like indeed a used car salesman, or a politician. Hey! Why not both? And so Serling does manage to cram both these tropes into the story. Another lying sort one might have considered would have been a lawyer. Decades later, the Jim Carrey film “Liar Liar” would follow up on the same premise with a lawyer who suddenly was cursed with having to tell the truth all the time.

So where does this episode go wrong. Well, for one thing it is one of the six episodes that were relegated to the unfortunate circumstance of shooting in the video format in an ill-advised attempt to save money. It’s not an attractive look. Some of the black and white film cinematography on ‘The Twilight Zone’ has been exquisite, but the six videotaped episodes suffer terribly. Interestingly, those other five have actually fared rather well in fandom opinion, especially The Night Of The Meek, and Twenty-Two. Static, The Lateness of the Hour, and Long Distance Call round out the list of six.

Perhaps the initial sign that this episode will not be up to par is not even a minute in when Hunnicutt waves goodbye to a customer driving off his lot with their used car purchase. “Drive it in good health!” bids Hunnicutt, and as the car leaves frame we hear it backfire, causing Hunnicutt to hunch over in alarmed reaction. But he composes himself and puts a positive spin on it, calling out, “Too much power, eh?!” But observe closely if you’re able to rewind and play it back (see link below) and you’ll notice that Carson reacts ever so slightly before we hear the sound of the backfire. From a technical standpoint, even the sounds effects editing in this episode lets us down by mistiming the sound effect of the BANG BANG.

Hunnicut spots a young attractive couple looking over a car, and with reenergized aplomb, ready to make another snake oily pitch, he strides over with confidence. Now make no mistake, Carson actually gives a skilled performance in this episode; I would have to knuckle under, and give him the benefit of the doubt and say maybe his style does fit the intention of this almost comedic episode. He’s a good comic performer. But in this first scene as he foists his routine on the young couple, a well-oiled routine finely honed over the years I’m sure, we sense two different tones in the scene as played by the trio. Carson’s Hunnicutt is walking that tightrope between normalcy and deliberate comic spin (i.e., his vaudevillian reaction to kicking the bumper of a jalopy only to have it fall off and his goofy attempt to hide this from the couple). But the young couple played by Nan Peterson and Jack Ging, are having none of it. The two performers aren’t biting on the comedic aspect at all. They’re fine in their parts; if this were any of the other Twilight Zone episode that didn’t delve into the comedy realm, they would be very good. But you look at Nan Peterson’s face the whole scene and you feel her judging eyes silently taking stock of this salesman. Peterson also appeared in the episode Walking Distance as the woman in the park, and she also had two uncredited tiny parts: as a secretary in From Agnes- With Love, and a bar patron in The Night of the Meek. And Jack Ging is on the same plane with her, earnest, but without a hint of a funny bone.

Carson has the sales cadence down pat, he rolls off the metaphors and jargon with the panache that I know the producers were hoping that Ed Wynn could deliver in One For The Angels, but just couldn’t.

From the porch steps leading up to Hunnicutt’s office Serling delivers the… OPENING MONOLOGUE: “This, as the banner already has proclaimed, is Mr. Harvey Hunnicutt, an expert on commerce and con jobs, a brash, bright, and larceny-loaded wheeler and dealer who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, must have gone for a beer and missed out. And these are a couple of other characters in our story: a little old man and a Model A car – but not just any old man and not just any Model A. There’s something very special about the both of them. As a matter of fact, in just a few moments, they’ll give Harvey Hunnicutt something that he’s never experienced before. Through the good offices of a little magic, they will unload on Mr. Hunnicutt the absolute necessity to tell the truth. Exactly where they come from is conjecture, but as to where they’re heading for, this we know, because all of them – and you – are on the threshold of the Twilight Zone.”

When we cut back, Hunnicut is still talking the ears off the young couple, only now he’s insinuated himself further into their space as he rattles off more advice with his arms draped around their shoulders. I would venture to bet that of all the half-hour episodes, Jack Carson might have had the most lines for this one.

But an old man with the Model A has driven onto the lot. Hunnicut gives the couple a moment to sit in the car and feel it out while he goes over to see what this old man is about. He starts out brash, even insulting the man’s car, a strategy to bring down whatever price the old man wants to sell it for. He even tries kicking the bumper, I’m sure hoping that it falls off, this time to his advantage. Funnily, you can see that he really gives it a hard kick, something that I missed upon initial viewing. He practically bullies the poor genteel man (George Chandler, who would replace Ronald Reagan as President of SAG) into selling it for $25, and has him wait in his office before going back to the young couple. He does a sneaky quick-fix on the bumper that fell off and heads back to the office.

The old man hands over the deed to the car and the keys, and then tells Hunnicutt that there’s one small detail he should mention…that the car is “haunted.” The old man does mention that to “unhaunt” the car Hunnicutt would simply have to sell it. This info is for the viewer’s benefit as Hunnicutt is clearly just humoring the old man in listening to his tale. But for now, we don’t yet know the nature of the haunting. Oh wait a second, yes we do. Serling TOLD us in his monologue. Now, isn’t that a misstep? I’d say so. Why not titillate us instead? Why not mention in the monologue that the car holds a surprise curse without telling us outright what that curse is? It’s a boner, a real writing mistake not to keep us in suspense.

Hunnicut struts back out to the young couple, and the stock comic music accompanying his short trip again clues us into the comic intent of this episode with few laughs. The episode doesn’t fall flat on its face completely like From Agnes-With Love does; it’s more like the best it attains is a smile from us, coming mostly from our appreciation of Carson’s schtick.

And here’s where Hunnicutt discovers the curse. He tells the couple that the car he was pushing them into buying is not for sale and commences to run through a litany of problems with the heap. My favorite was: “And if I said anything about it being a runabout, why, I meant it would run about a block and then stop.”

The couple walk off upon his advice to keep away from a place like his. As he walks back up to his office his employee Irv comes running up apologizing for being late. Irv is played by Arte Johnson, a Twilight Zone performer who would pop up years later as a Laugh-In regular, along with Alan Sues who was in Masks. Arte provides another decent one liner for this imperfect episode when Hunnicutt tells Irv, “Hey how about trying to move that ’35 Essex?” to which Johnson replies, “Move it is right, it won’t get anywhere under its own power.”

Hunnicutt is the struck with another bout of honesty and Irv is so surprised he has to ask if Hunnicutt is all right. Hunnicut then chalks it up to the “power of suggestion” and proceeds to tell Irv about the old man and the haunted car, but he still doesn’t really buy that it holds sway with him. Hunnicut then switches gears and makes a phone call to his wife He intends to tell her that he’s going to be late because it’s inventory day, but then suddenly a quick short camera track in to his face with a music cue triggers another truth-telling event. He confesses that he’ll be playing “poker with the boys” and that when he told her last month that it was “inventory time” he was playing poker then as well. He tries hard to stifle himself and we can make out that his wife is irate. He fights the urge but can only hang up the phone in frustration. The truth is now evident to Hunnicutt as he steps out onto the porch, looks at the haunted car and recounts for us the specifics of the curse. Commercial break.

Some time has passed and Irv walks in with a sign, “Here’s the sign you wanted boss” and he holds up a sign saying “NOT DEPENDABLE”; again, one of the many glimpses throughout of the comic potential this story had. They haven’t sold a car in three days, and Irv now has to ask a tough question. He brings up the raise he was promised, to which Hunnicutt answers under duress of the curse, “The day you get more money out of me it’ll be below zero in the Fijis” and that it would be easier to “pour hot butter into a wild cat’s ear.” He confesses that a raise is just something he dangles in front of employees til they quit. “That hurt me more than it did you” Hunnicutt explains desperately. So Irv tells him, “This is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me” whereupon Johnson and Carson take forever to step onto their marks to set up the stunt of Irv’s punching Hunnicutt in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Irv places a sign on Hunnicut saying “NOT GUARANTEED In Poor Condition” and takes his leave.

The next day a big burly bald cigar-chomping man is perusing the cars in the lot. Hunnicut comes out to greet him and the man introduces himself as “Honest Luther Grimbley. Thirty years in politics. Currently up for re-election.” Hunnicut proceeds to give up the goods on the car that Grimbley had his eye on: the engine block is cracked, bald tires, etc. Oddly, this seems to pique the politician’s interest as he asks with a conniving tone, “What’s she worth?” Hunnicutt tells him again that the car’s a lemon despite Grimbley’s actually making an offer of $50 for it. You get the feeling Grimbley’s up to something but we don’t know what yet.

Grimbley himself is indeed puzzled by Hunnicutt’s brutal honesty and then assumes it’s reverse psychology and he starts laughing, “Why you dirty dog you! I’ve seen all kinds of routines, all kinds of routines but you clever little cookie you, this is the old reverse English isn’t it?! The old twisteroo! Why you sharp-shootin’ sharpie, you knew I wanted it didn’t you! You little devil you, you knew I wanted it!” Serling is sometimes prone to giving in to a penchant for purple prose, and I think this episode provided him with a welcome excuse to dish up some fun dialogue by this cast of filibustering scalawags.

And then Grimbley reveals his motivation for the car, offering $25, “mainly on account of its being good politics to drive an old car—makes people realize that you’re not getting rich off of them,”

Seeing Hunnicutt’s glee, Grimbley then lowers his price to $22.50 as he feigns suddenly seeing a dent in it. Grimbley says “$22.50 and no strings attached!” “Strings?” says Hunnicutt uncomfortably knowing that he’ll be compelled to tell the pol about it being haunted.

“You better trot out the strings buddy boy, trot out the strings. I wanna know what I’m getting.” Hunnicutt fumfers for a bit but then cannot help but tell the truth. He eventually utters that it’s haunted, and to this Grimbly falls into a robust laughing jag. Hunnicut tells him that whoever owns the car has to tell the truth. And then, Grimbley, played by actor Loring Smith (who was also in the episode I Dream of Genie) turns to Hunnicut in the hammiest close-up you’ve ever seen: “Has to tell the truth?!”

Grimbley pauses and tests Hunnicutt, asking, “What about this baby?” referring to another car. Hunnicut goes through the list of its shortcomings. Unlike Hunnicutt who brushed off the haunted explanation from the get-go, Grimbley actually believes in it 100%: “That’s the goods isn’t it…You have to tell the truth, don’t you, that’s it! That’s the reason for the whole song and dance, you have to tell the truth!”

Grimbley now realizes buying that haunted Model A would be a bad idea: “Buddy boy, I’m in politics. When you tell me I gotta start telling the truth all the time, Holy Hannah! You know something, I couldn’t make a single political speech, I couldn’t run for office again.” They both share a laugh at the predicament, and Grimbley poses jokingly that Hunnicutt should try selling the car to “this guy” and he points at someone in the newspaper he’s been carrying around. We don’t see who it is, but the two men laugh it up.

Final scene: Hunnicut walks out of his office with a dark-suited man who expresses concern over Hunnicutt’s “motives.” Hunnicutt protests anything untoward and suggests the man talk it over with his boss. So, the man walks over to a black limousine and leans into the back window exchanging words with an unseen man. Returning, he says, “I believe we’ll accept your terms Mr. Hunnicutt.” They have agreed on the price of $25 and Hunnicut presents all the necessary documents for the sale. There’s a bit of clumsy, completely unnecessary dialogue involving getting the man’s boss to sign the papers instead of this man who is “empowered” to sign, but he goes ahead and takes the papers to his boss.

The wrap-up to this episode begins to unfold quite awkwardly leaving a bad taste in our mouths. Perhaps if the following wasn’t so ham-handedly handled, viewers (and voters) might have been more charitable. But the man returns and hands over the agreed upon $25. Hunnicut tells him, “You got a million bucks for the propaganda here you know that?. Now all you have to do is try to tell your folks that this is the kind of car the average American drives.” Hunnicutt chuckles and as he heads for his office he tells the man he can drive the car right off the lot.

Inside his office we have one of those awful moments where a character is alone but vocalizes aloud what’s going on so that the audience knows. “Is this the living end! I got your signature right here. Nikita Khruschev.”

Then Hunnicutt makes a phone call: “Operator, if an American citizen has something real important in the way of news, I mean if it affects the foreign policy of the United States…well, what I’d really like to know is, uh, could you get me through to Jack Kennedy?” It might be interesting to note that JFK was inaugurated as the 35th President of the United States on January 20, 1961, the very day this episode premiered. Did the producers of the show plan this episode’s ending ahead of time, planning for this bit of timely playfulness for viewers to experience? I can imagine it going over well back then, I really can. Comedy does however age pretty fast, and in this case, yeah well…zero votes.

Hunnicutt glances outside his window and we see Nikita Khrushchev clapping merrily in the haunted Model A as his driver motors the car away. Theatre producer Lee Sabinson played Soviet Premier Khrushchev in this brief cameo, a little ironic I would say, since it was Sabinson’s own United States that blacklisted him in the Hollywood Red scare era, not the Soviet Union.

Rod Serling begins his CLOSING MONOLOGUE: “Couldn’t happen, you say? Far-fetched? Way-out? Tilt-off-center? [I would say, yes, yes, yes and yes, but okay on with the monologue] Possible. But the next time you buy an automobile, if it happens to look as if it had just gone through the Battle of the Marne, and the seller is ready to throw into the bargain one of his arms, be particularly careful in explaining to the boss about your grandmother’s funeral, when you are actually at Chavez Ravine watching the Dodgers. It’ll be a fact that you are the proud possessor of an instrument of truth – manufactured and distributed by an exclusive dealer – in The Twilight Zone.”

I  rate this episode a 3.

Watch it HERE.

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