User Reviews

Route 66 had two particularly strong episodes back to back with the week prior (Goodnight, Sweet Blues) and this one, the fourth of the season, "Birdcage on My Foot". While the previous episode was heartwarming the opposite could be said here. Birdcage on My Foot begins as Tod and Buz arrive in Boston, a well heeled and mannered stylish example of New England charm as seen in the warming thaw of an approaching summer. As they park to meet their beautiful female friend for a country picnic a young street drug addict attempts to jack Todd's car. While Tod prevents the theft of his car he is alarmed by the strange behavior of the erstwhile car thief. A chase ensues and Tod subdues the man who is arrested. The only behavior stranger is Buz's reaction which is angry and urging Todd to forget charges even as the police lieutenant urges that the best thing for this "drug-addict" is jail. An argument follows to which, against police advice, Todd and his female friend agree to keep watch over the man until he detoxes from his use of heroin.

As much as the story doesn't seem rational, it is a warning of sorts that even in the finest communities there is a evil undercurrent whereby drugs threaten society. The message here seems to be that unless the drug addict is cared for and rehabilitated, as opposed to jail, the cycle can't be broken, a life will be wasted and society will only suffer greater damage That's pretty heavy for a show usually watched mostly for entertainment, but this is no usual episode as we are in for a early performance of Robert Duvall as the drug addled young man. Add to that an off the chart melodramatic performance by George Maharris in which we see why he has much anger toward a life trumped by drug use and the episode rises into another strong one, one with deeper meanings which are aimed at changing perceptions.

Maharris and Duvall are the key here as rarely is Buzz's angry young man persona used to better effect and Duvall, even as a green young actor, shows tremendous ability to inhabit a character. This episode stands as a pretty cool mirror of then current societal trends of ignoring a problem that can destroy a town, one which in the future is all too true. A recommended episode.

Another classic episode, one of the best ever of any TV series. George Maharis and Robert Duvall have a dual tour-de-force that's as good as anything you'd ever see in a stage play. In fact, they could easily have called this episode "Long Day's Journey Into Night". It's obvious that a lot of research went into their episode by both the writers and actors, (Buz at one point describes how drug withdrawal is depicted in the movies and then what it's really like.). Some posters have claimed that this episode makes it look like drug addiction can be cured in one night. It says nothing of sort: the night depicted is just the start of a journey.

Tod and Buz are now in Boston and they have a girlfriend, (just one of them), played by Diana Millay. They are planning a big weekend when they go to the corvette and find Duvall there, behaving weirdly. Buz instantly recognizes his problem and wants no part of it. Tod and Diana, good-natured but naïve, want to help out someone they see as in some kind of personal trouble. They don't listen when Buz warns them off. When they rescue him from the police by agreeing to take responsibility for Duval, Buz leaves in a huff. Tod and the girl put Duval up in her apartment, (it's not clear where Tod and Buz are staying), but find they can't deal with him. He deceives them, has fits of destructive anger and then locks himself in the bathroom, where he's going to main-line whatever he can find there when Buz makes a dramatic return and completely takes over, ordering Tod and the girl out.

Then it's all tough-love Buz and desperate Duval through the depths of withdrawal. Both of them have something to withdraw from: Duvall his addiction and Buz his memory of a childhood mentor who succumbed to drugs that he was unable to help. They wind up in each other's arms, not in a romantic way but in mutual catharsis.

This was the first time I saw Robert Duvall and I was hooked. A superb actor whose career I kept right on following. Here, he plays an addict that Tod gets in over his head trying to reform by going cold turkey. It doesn't work. Tod is not ready for the gruesome reality of what an addict will do to get relief from withdrawal symptoms. But Buz is. Turns out he's known addicts, and one in particular was like that missing father to him, and he lost him. Full of remorse from the past, Buz takes over trying to help Duvall get clean. It is a gut wrenching experience to watch.

Route 66 does it again. I was born when this series started and never saw the reruns until a few years ago. The acting in this show and the series is as good as it gets compared to any tv drama I've ever seen.

A Birdcage on my Foot with Robert Duvall was an enjoyable but powerful ride of an episode. In 2024 I still enjoy this show. George's speech when he returns is so good. He's was a wonderful actor. I wish he would have done more as far as acting goes.

How did they make such quality shows on the road? They must have worked long hours. I wish they would make a newer version of Route 66. It could include a new Corvette and travel the country.

One of the most grimly intense entries of the series. Buzz and Tod help heroin addict Arnie (Duvall) kick the habit. These scenes are especially graphic and compelling. In fact, both Maharis and Duvall get extended histrionic scenes where they show their abundant acting chops. And catch Duvall's many addiction tics that really distinguish the entry from its more conventional contemporaries. I may be wrong, but I wouldn't be surprised this was the first TV show to deal explicitly with hard drug addiction and withdrawal. All in all, the 60-minutes are really a Duvall showcase, foreshadowing his exemplary movie career. Too bad, however, we don't see more of Mike Kellin as the cop. He's so compelling in a tailor-made role. And shouldn't forget Monroe-like Diana Millay as Charlotte who mostly gets to decorate the scenes with two of the tightest outfits to get past TV censors. Anyhow, it's a harrowing hour of unusual TV, best viewed when feeling especially secure.

Robert Duvall (miscast in a role that should have gone to Sal Mineo or some James Dean wannabe) gives an overwrought, cliched performance as a young drug addict in "Bird Cage on My Foot", a disappointing Route 66 episode that Silliphant makes both preachy and condescending.

Shot in Boston with touristy views of the Charles River but zero importance as a place with specific history or culture, the show has only five characters. We don't interact with the community, and by the end I realized that Silliphant had written more of a one-act play that should have played at some tiny space in the East Village rather than for television.

Duvall is introduced as a guy on the street who seems vaguely retar*ed, but tries to steal M & M's Corvette. Milner chases after him on foot, but has second thoughts when cop Mike Kellin asks him to press charges re: the Corvette incident.

Maharis is repulsed and wants nothing to do with Milner's sudden project to take Duvall under his wing to try and rehabilitate him, but later comes through as his Big Brother-type to guide him through withdrawal. George is the acting revelation of the hour, delivering monologues on addiction and caring to other people with great passion. It's revealed that his character as an adolescent was traumatized when a father figure succumbed and died.

Low point is a scene of Milner and his girlfriend suddenly waxing philosophically (courtesy of pretentious Silliphant writing) about how millions of people walk around lonely, not connected to each other, and I was afraid we'd have the Leonard or Dobkin control voice intone "there are eight million stories in the naked city..." from Silliphant's other hit show. The girl is played by model-turned actress Diana Millay, who I would see in many a 1960s TV series guesting but some 60-plus years later I realized she had made no impression whatsoever.