Yeah, he was good in Airplane. But he’ll always be Jim Phelps to me. Mission: Impossible was a wonderful show. When I was a child it would come on the television just as we were supposed to be bundled off to bed; I don’t know what the adults were thinking—if you want your kids to go to bed, why would you subject them to exciting music, accompanied by fast editing, and then shut the television off and make them pretend to sleep? I started re-watching the Mission: Impossible episodes as a teenager: in those days one had to wait for the re-runs to come on at a scheduled time, rather than buying them or watching them on the web, so I’d go to my friend John Turley’s place on re-run days, and he’d make us an omelet to eat while we saw Peter Graves and his colleagues deliver a special kind of justice.
Those were good times, and it was a great show that presented a universe that should never have been sullied by the making of movies. But of course that sort of thing always happens.
And one copes.
Rest in peace, Mr. Graves. And . . . thank you.
UPDATE: More here.
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