From 1969 to 1975, ABC put out weekly films. They functioned as TV pilots, testing grounds for up-and-coming filmmakers, and places for new and old stars to shine. Every month, Chloe Walker revisits one of these movies. This is Movie of the Week (of the Month).
While this column was birthed from a love of the ABC Movie of the Week, and a desire to highlight editions that are more thematically and/or artistically interesting than TV movies are often given credit for, the fact remains—they aren’t all winners. Even in the lesser examples, however, there’s usually a lot to enjoy. Case in point: 1974’s Wonder Woman.
In her first feature-length live-action adventure, the titular heroine was played by Cathy Lee Crosby: A former professional tennis player, and—prepare yourself—a blonde! That’s just the first of many ways in which the 1974 take on Wonder Woman, intended as a series pilot, diverges from all those that would follow.
Taking its cue from the “I Ching” era of the comic books, when Wonder Woman went powerless for several years, the 1974 MOTW imagines her as a spy rather than a superhero. Besides her blondeness, this iteration wears a more modest take on the famous costume, no-one gets the truth lassoed out of them, and no bullets are deflected by her bracelets (though there is a passing mention of her invisible plane). Besides the nomenclature, there’s surprisingly little about this Diana Prince that seems at all familiar.
Nevertheless, she still has bad guys to catch.
After a brief introduction that sees her bidding farewell to her Amazonian sisters, we find Wonder Woman posing as a secretary to government agent Steve Trevor (who knows her true identity). A mysterious organization has stolen a book with the names and identities of 39 undercover federal operatives, which they are threatening to put on the black market unless the government pays them enough money. Correctly surmising that the mysterious organization is headed by the elusive Mr. Smith, Diana heads off to Paris on his tail. Along the way, she is pursued by Mr. Smith’s volatile henchman George (Andrew Prine), George’s own underlings, and another Amazon (Anitra Ford) who’s gone rogue.
This version of Diana Prince may not have any superpowers, but that doesn’t mean she finds it any more difficult fighting her opponents; quite the opposite, in fact. Whatever George throws at her—a speeding car while she’s talking in a phone booth, a henchperson through the roof of an elevator, a venomous snake sent to her hotel room—she bests with businesslike speed and a calm smile.
Which makes for an adventure that boasts the bizarrely conflicting qualities of being both a bit dull, and greatly endearing. Cathy Lee Crosby isn’t the most charismatic presence, and demonstrates little range here, but her imperturbable serenity is rather charming, especially when pitted against unstoppable scenery chewers like Prine and Ford. As she beams her way through various obstacles, increasingly ridiculous but just as easily foiled (her stride is only even slowed the two times she is trapped by giant panes of glass), there becomes an almost meditative quality to the “action.” Would it be nice if these sequences had resulted in the slightest bit of threat or drama? Sure! Is it frustrating that the promise of a narratively important glow-in-the-dark donkey soon fizzles out? You better believe it! And still, somehow, the colorful no-stakes adventure and Crosby’s blandly cheery affect remains watchable, if not exciting. The stream of ridiculous details—like George’s henchpeople having the same haircut as him—certainly helps matters.
It’s only in the last 15 minutes, once Mr. Smith finally reveals his face (Surprise! It’s Ricardo Montalban!), that Wonder Woman gains some true dynamism. Montalban’s villain is a fabulous creation, clad all in white, and devastatingly elegant even when paddling a dinghy. Most importantly though, his chemistry with Crosby’s heroine is off the charts—following almost an hour of sleepy amiability, his appearance gives her performance a bracing shot of caffeine. As the two engage in a bout of classy verbal jousting, the prospect of a Wonder Woman series, where they’d face off every week, suddenly becomes appealing. Even after he leaves her to die and she—spoiler alert– escapes and catches him, the last words we hear Mr. White speak are “Wonder Woman, I love you!” They look at each other so fondly as he’s driven away by the police, for a moment it seems we’re watching an entirely different kind of movie. Especially in relation to all the silliness that preceded it, the brief but potent appeal of their unusual dynamic makes its loss feel like a loss. Ah, the tragic allure of the failed pilot!
Having said that, the fact that 1974’s Wonder Woman did not go to series isn’t much of a tragedy. With the dearth of elements connecting it to the source material, and little there to compensate for that lack, it just didn’t present a strong enough argument as to why viewers would tune in week after week—Montalban may have had broad shoulders, but it would still have been unfair to expect him to carry the entire show on his own, particularly with Fantasy Island waiting for him right around the corner.
Even half a century ago, however, studios were not inclined to give up on valuable IP if they could possibly help it, so the very next year ABC had another go. The New Original Wonder Woman (hard not to take offense at that name if you’re the 1974 version!), starring Lynda Carter, had a far more traditional vision of the icon; most vitally, it gave her her powers back. The 1975 pilot was altogether a more polished production, with a better cast and energetic action scenes. The resultant show would continue on for three popular seasons, soon erasing the preceding attempt from memory. And of course, four decades later, the Gal Gadot Wonder Woman blockbusters would further cement that erasure.
While the 1974 Wonder Woman has almost nothing in common with its similarly-named successors, perhaps that’s not altogether a bad thing. A decade and a half into a movie era defined by huge, glossy, increasingly indistinguishable comic book spectacles, there’s something to be said for the low-key, ramshackle charms of Diana Prince’s first feature-length outing.
Chloe Walker is a writer based in the UK. You can read her work at Culturefly, the BFI, Podcast Review, and Paste.