| God bless Aaron Spelling for executive producing some of the finest, most deliriously
consumable television products of our time. I hold so many warm, fuzzy memories for Charlie’s Angels, Fantasy Island and later works such as Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place – and yet, for the life of me, I could not describe a single episode of any
of these shows, so gorgeously disposable they were. Honey West gets a little more pull
when we talk about cultural significance though, considering it was the first sassy,
violent, female P.I. on the television beat who owned a pet ocelot named Bruce who
would eat the protagonist’s explosive cosmetics.
That might sound very specific, but really, it’s not.
 The format itself is pretty repetitive (wait – that accounts for 99% of television if you
watch it in a single block, what the hell am I talking about) yet found endless variation
within: After a crime is committed in a cold opening, we cut to Anne Francis as Honey
West arguing with her partner-in-crime Sam Bolt (John Ericson), sometimes about the
upcoming 22-minutes of sleuthing/ass kicking, but mostly about their own strained
relationship. You see, Honey West is sexy, but she also has quite the sass-mouth on her.
Sam however is old school; hardboiled, full of unleashed sexual emotion and clearly
doesn’t want to deal with Honey’s proto-feminist-in-an-empowering-yet-revealing-leopard-print-bikini style of detective work. Honey just wants to get the job done, be it
through karate chops or earrings full of tear gas.
All of this would make for an interesting write-up about Girl Power if not for the fact that it’s a fucking television show. Honey West succeeds in spades because there’s no
intentional depth: this is strictly slick, edible entertainment. Honey West, even though it
doesn’t really devolve into simple camp, is still a live-action Scooby-Doo for adults. And
now you can relive the sexy, subversive, fucking silly entire run of Honey West, four
discs and thirty episodes deep. Highlights include:
Episode 07: The Princess and The Paupers
Lead singer of The Paupers, who have just scored a #1 hit single with “There are
Footprints on the Ceiling because I’ve Been Walking in my Sleep Over You,” has been kidnapped! Honey West, ever the leader in technology, can track the kidnappers down
with the use of walkie-talkies shaped like suntan lotion. God, I love watching a deep-sea
diver walking on land, with his giant flippers. That’s a good look.
Episode 11: A Stitch in Crime
Totally worth it for the sequence where Anne Francis dresses up as a Beatnik. Rowr.
Episode 21: Like Visions and Omens and All That Jazz
A near-fatal accident involving a possibly rigged Skydiving parachute brings on INTRIGUE!!! Holy crap, why isn’t the tampered parachute plotline exploited more these
days? Especially in the early-to-mid-‘90s EXTREME MARKETING blitzkrieg. Not only
do you have skydiving, but you also have hot jazz, beefcake bodybuilders in leopardy
underpants, forklift stalking and psychics sitting on skull thrones. I really didn’t want to
concentrate on the camp aspect of the show, but this stuff is awesome.
And a host of other awesomely named eppies. Don’t believe me? Here’s my favorite
titles:
Episode 05: Live A Little, Kill A Little
Episode 14: Invitation to Limbo
Episode 23: Come To Me, My Litigation Baby
Episode 24: Slay, Gypsy, Slay
But make no mistake; every episode of Honey West contains enough girlie asskicking,
spy sleuthing, angry felines and intrigue to keep you entertained for a long while.
 Presentation
Both audio and video on Honey West is a step bellow what I expect out of vintage
television DVDs that aren’t vague, compilation-based public domain releases. It’s not
wholly terrible, but I think the source material could have used a little more scrubbing up
– material can be a tad soft, at times scratched and the audio slightly muffled – especially
unfortunate, as there are no subtitles included in the release. No doubt about it, Honey
West is watchable, but it doesn’t pop. And I want Anne Francis to pop.
 Extras
There’s very little to be found here, but I appreciate what can be found across all four
discs: each one is fitted with photo galleries featuring the beatoffalicious Anne Francis,
and for the nostalgia factor, each disc also features a short compilation of vintage
commercials that will probably make you giggle. I mean, I like to think that I’m not too
much of a smug hipster, but my face lights up like a cherub when the man on the Hunts
commercial actually pronounces it cat-sup. Like Mr. Burns! Oh, the hilarity!
The Bottom Line
You’re bound to run out of steam after 30 episodes, but that goes for any show. But if
you space Honey West out accordingly, you will have a ridiculous, fun, groundbreaking-without-actually-feeling-important time. And now here’s George Burns for El Producto
cigars!
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