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[May 16, 1968] Counting down, and a blast from the Past (Countdown (1967) and The Time Travelers (1964))

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by Janice L. Newman

When we learned that last year’s Countdown was playing in San Diego theaters, The Traveler and I decided to make a night of it and drive down to watch it. The Traveler is a space buff, of course, so it was a natural fit. Would I recommend it? Well, it depends.

The story is simple and straightforward, with few surprises. When the Russians send up a civilian astronaut to circumnavigate the moon, with three more astronauts presumably soon to follow and actually land, NASA implements an emergency plan to get a man on the moon at any cost. He’ll be stuck there for a year, provided he can find and enter a previously-sent shelter pod before his oxygen runs out. Public relations concerns force NASA to tap the less-qualified civilian Lee for the role rather than their first choice, Colonel Chiz. After many conversations, discussions, arguments, and training sequences, Lee is sent to the moon to land a few days after the Russians. What happens next is, shall we say, narratively predictable, but I'll let you watch the movie to see for yourself.


Lee and Chiz in the modified Gemini that will go to the moon–it's clear NASA helped Warner Bros. make this film.

The movie feels grounded in realism in a way that few modern space movies do. This is a story of the ‘here and now’, with current technology, fashion, and language. It’s a bold choice, and a risky one. With technology changing so quickly, it seems likely that the movie will soon feel dated and possibly even silly. Within a couple of years, it’s highly likely that either the Russians or the Americans will succeed in landing on the moon, and what then? The story will simply be a ‘could have been’, perhaps interesting in its time, but quickly forgotten as it is eclipsed by true events. Unless the movie ends up being prescient. Who knows?

While the story and visuals are deeply entrenched in the ‘now’, however, certain aspects of the movie feel groundbreaking: specifically, the way sound is handled, both the conversations between characters and the music. I’ve never seen a movie or play where characters talk over each other so much. It’s confusing and sometimes frustrating, trying to follow the thread of a conversation as other characters are shouting. It feels more like ‘real life’ in some ways; after all, real conversations are often filled with interruptions, stops and starts which almost never show up on screen or stage. The technique was used a bit too much, perhaps, as sometimes I thought that it continued to an unrealistic degree. The actors seemed a bit uncomfortable with it as well, a few times starting or stopping in an artificial way. I imagine after training in one kind of acting, to do something so different must have been disconcerting. This is not to say that the actors did a poor job. Duvall in particular impressed me, turning in a powerful performance as the bitter passed-over Colonel Chiz.


Everyone talking at once–Altman's invention.

The real star of the movie, though, was the music. Atonal and dissonant music is not new. Arnold Schoenberg, for example, spent the first half of the century writing music that sounds strange to Classically-trained ears. What is new, at least to me, is the use of dissonance in a mainstream movie soundtrack, and not just for a moment or two, but for most of the movie. The soundtrack eschews the Romantic-style orchestral music which is standard in most films, and instead uses eerie, unsettling themes that swell and fade with high-pitched notes and low groans, punctuated by the occasional pounding of timpani. Still orchestral, but not sweet. Not predictable in its progressions, but rather filled with deliberately clashing chords. It’s not quite to the level of atonality that Schoenburg ended up writing, but it’s unusual and fresh, and it does an amazing job of building tension even absent of every other factor. In some ways, the soundtrack might have been more suited to a horror movie! Is this the beginning of a new trend in movie music? I understand that Planet of the Apes, which came out after this film, uses similar dissonant themes. On the other hand, I understand that 2001 features The Blue Danube and Also Sprach Zarathustra, which are both undeniably fine pieces of music, but hardly ‘modern’. So I guess we’ll see!


It's the music that really sells the scene as Lee struggles with the lunar simulator.

So do I recommend the movie? For space buffs, yes, absolutely. The grounding in modern technology and the efforts at realism will be appreciated by people who know what they’re looking at (even if, as The Traveler pointed out to me, they used footage of the wrong rockets). For everyone else? The plot is paint-by-numbers. The fate of the Russian astronauts didn’t come as a surprise. Nor did Lee’s. The conflicts of the movie—with Chiz, between Lee and his wife, between the surgeon and the head of the project—are all more or less resolved by the end. Everything is tied up neatly, and that’s that.

But even if space isn't your bag, if you love music, especially modern and unusual music, this film may well be worth the price of entry!

Three stars.


by Gideon Marcus

What an interesting beast Countdown is.  Like the novel, Marooned, it is very much of its time.  As Janice notes, it's instantly dated.  But the test of the plot isn't whether or not it could happen now, but whether or not it was plausible at a certain time.

There is clearly a point of divergence from our universe in this movie.  In the chronology of Countdown, a back-up "Gemini to the moon" plan was prepared.  The Soviets had more luck with their program, and, indeed, a completely different program (no mention is made of Soyuz in the film; it must have been written before April 1967.) With those facts as a given, the events of the movie make sense, and indeed, make a fascinating counterfactual.


The Soviet craft is exclusively referred to as a "Voskhod" (with varying degrees of mangling in the mouths of American actors)

The basic thrust of the movie is still relevant, even if the facts are dated.  As we speak, Apollo 8 is being planned for a circumlunar flight toward the end of the year.  We know the Soviets have been planning for such an endeavor, too, linking up their Soyuz craft in orbit in preparation.  That flight around the moon wasn't in the cards until we were worried the Communists might beat us to the punch.  What corners are we cutting to make it possible?


This is the movie's mission, but it's also Apoll 8's trajectory.

There's a lot to like about this movie.  The acting is excellent.  I recognize Robert Duvall from his endless TV roles (including "The Inheritors" and "The Chameleon" episodes of The Outer Limits and "Miniature", an episode of The Twilight Zone), and James Caan from the episode of Hitchcock, penned by Harlan Ellison, with Walter Koenig.  The direction is innovative, naturalistic and tight.  Newcomer Robert Altman does a lot with a little: this is clearly a low budget film, using flagrantly inaccurate stock-footage rockets (Atlas Agena for the first Pilgrim flight; a Titan II for the second) instead of a Saturn.  I'm kind of surprised they didn't use Saturn 1 footage, honestly.


Ted Knight as a Shorty Powers type describes the mission.  Note the Saturn V in the drawings.


But this is what we actually see–a Titan-Gemini launch.

There are two main motifs that run through this film.  The first is difficulties in communication.  Altman has his actors constantly talking over each other, often failing to listen to each other.  This manifests itself technically when Stegler's radio gives out, punctuating conversation with frequent drop-outs.


Reacting to a failure to communicate.

The second is, of course, countdowns.  Robert Duvall recites the numbers from ten to zero a dozen times in the film.  Altman knows there is suspense in that little trick, and despite its frequent use, it isn't really overdone.


Duvall counting down.

If there's a problem with the film, it's that, despite all the flurry and tension and concerns, there are really no decisions to be made.  Like a spaceflight mission, the movie completes its pre-planned trajectory with little input from the characters along for the ride.

So I think I give it 3.5 stars.  The execution deserves five; as a narrative, it's barely a two.  On the other hand, let's be honest–were these events to play out in real life, with astronauts in peril on the way to the moon, we'd be absolutely riveted.  Of course, in that case, we wouldn't necessarily know everything was going to be all right in the end…

But there's more!  Enjoy this bonus review of a…lesser Sci-fi movie.


by Gideon Marcus


There was no "Love Machine" in the movie I saw. I have no idea what it's talking about.

I shoulda run when I saw the "American International Pictures" logo.

Alright, it's true that AIP doesn't always make shlock, but this time, they indubitably did.  1964's The Time Travelers, directed (sort of) by Ib Melchior and also co-written by him is an hour and a half you'll never get back.

But is that really so bad?

We open up on a "lab" where an "experiment" in time travel is taking place.  Three scientists and a dopey electrician occupy the far left side of the room.  A screen, positioned clearly for our benefit rather than the scientists', occupies the middle of the room, showing where the time window is currently focused.

When the screen refuses to show the future, Steve, the headstrong beefcakey one, decides to push the circuits to their maximum.  The result is as expected: things spark and catch fire.  But serendipitously, the screen becomes more than a window–it's now a portal!  The dopey electrician goes through to investigate, the bohunk and the goateed elder scientist (made of wood or some other unmoving substance) go after him.  When weird humanoid mutants show up and menace Carol, the remaining scientist, she clobbers them with fire extinguisher exhaust.  Then the portal starts to collapse.  She goes through to warn bohunk and goatee…but it's too late.  They're all trapped. 

107 years in the future!

Thus ensues a chase that pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the film, because it goes on for what feels like a good five minutes.  Here's where I realized that there was no budget for retakes or second unit work.  What they shot, they had, and if they were going to fill a movie's run-time, they were going to use every last bit of it.

What's really funny is the four of them hold off about a dozen mutants, armed with spears, by throwing rocks at them.  For some reason, the mutants never think to throw their spears… or rocks.

Anyway, they stumble upon a cave complex guarded by an electric gate.  An attractive older woman in form-fitting trousers (there's a lot of form-fitting trousers in this flick) greets them, accompanied by a bunch of creepy, but not ineffective androids, and brings them to their council chamber.  Turns out that only most of humanity died in an atomic calamity (depicted in stock footage narrated by the council leader, none other than John Hoyt, who is in everything, including the original Star Trek pilot).

But though the mutants increase their attacks every day, there is hope.  The future humans have discovered an inhabitable world around Alpha Centauri (which Alpha Centauri, they don't say…) and have built a starship to get there called… "Starship".  I'm amazed there are no British actors in the cast because that's a British name if I ever heard one.


John Hoyt and… Starship.


1964's finest.

It's all very When Worlds Collide, up to and including the extreme caucasianicity.

At first, the four time travelers are offered a berth on Starship.  This is great because dopey electrician (you can see the impact he had on me–I don't remember his name) has fallen in love with the assertive beauty in form-fitting trousers, Reena (none other than Miss Delores Wells, Playmate of the Month for June 1960; don't ask me how I know this).


Ahem. Form-fitting trousers.

I do like that about this film–men and women seem to share power pretty equally in this future.  Except when it comes to fighting.  Then it's all up to the menfolk and androids.

Anyway, Councilman Willard, a real jerk, insists that Starship can't accommodate any more people, so the time travelers have but one option–build a time portal back to the past.


"I don't wanna take 'em with us!

It's finished at the same time Starship is ready, and also when the mutants make their final attack.  Starship launches but then explodes, killing all on board.  The mutants fight their way to the time portal room, slaughtering many men in form-fitting trousers as well as androids.  We get to see one android catch fire and burn.  For about a full minute.  Because, after all, they shot it, so it's gonna get shown.


"So much for being a real boy…"

The portal is finished in time, the time travelers jump through, along with Reena, John Hoyt, and a few other trouser people, and they find themselves back in the lab at the moment of their fateful experiment.  But they find that time has frozen for them.  Their only hope is to jump through the screen, currently focused on the far future.  They emerge onto a landscape reminiscent of the end of When Worlds Collide…hmmm.

Then, because run-time was short, they recapped the entire movie at an accelerated (or speeded up) rate, I guess to indicate a time loop.  In fact, they do it twice before rolling credits.

Things that are bad:

  • The acting: even John Hoyt is bad.
  • The cinematography: "Hey, I set up the camera–you want I should move it?"
  • The pacing.
  • The science (Lord, the science).

Things that are good:

  • The score: sure, it doesn't always fit the action, but there is a groovy number that clearly influenced the theme of a certain show we all know and love…
  • The scene with the half-mutant refugee that Carol saves from Willard–but nothing more is done with this wasted opportunity.


    You can't see that his hands are deformed claws of flesh–I wanted to see more of this kid.

  • Delores Wells: look, I make it a point not to be a lech, but… vavavoom.
  • The magic tricks: several times, they lift stunts straight from Harry Blackstone's repertoire–they take off an android's head and put it back on; dopey electrician is "teleported" from a magic box.  It's like Vegas, but on film!
  • Superfan Forrest Ackerman has a cameo.


    Hey 4-E!

Two stars.  Don't fail to miss, even if it's tonight's Late Late Movie…unless you want a laugh and/or an eyeful of form-fitting trousers.




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TV, Uncategorized

[January 16, 1965] What a Difference a Year Makes (The Outer Limits, Season 2, Episodes 13-17)

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by Natalie Devitt

About this time last year, I was writing glowing reviews about The Outer Limits. It is a little disappointing that it is already time to say goodbye to the show. But with a number of changes behind the scenes, a new timeslot that certainly has not helped with ratings, and good episodes becoming few and far between, it does not entirely come as a surprise that the show did not even make it through a full second season. That said, it is with some sadness that I look back at the final five offerings from The Outer Limits.

The Duplicate Man, by Robert C. Dennis

In this adaptation of Clifford D. Simak’s 1951 story Goodnight, Mr. James, it is the year 2025 and “an alien life of unimaginable horror” called a Megasoid is on the loose, despite the fact that Megasoids “haven’t been permitted since 1986.” The creature is living in an exhibit at the Space Zoological Garden, unbeknownst to the site’s staff or visitors. Luckily, the Megasoid is currently less of a threat to the general public due to the fact that it is in the middle of its “reproductive cycle.“ Once the cycle ends, the alien’s instinct to kill reactivates.

It is up to the man responsible for bringing the Megasoid to Earth, a researcher named Henderson James, performed by Ron Randell of 1961’s King of Kings, to hunt the creature down. Rather than put himself in danger, James hatches a plan, which involves creating a duplicate of himself that can be “programmed to find and kill a Megasoid.” But he has to be careful because duplicates can be very realistic, with the ability to recall more and more of the original person’s memories the longer they exist, which can make it nearly impossible to differentiate between the two. This means that the duplicate must be destroyed as soon as its task has been completed. Unfortunately for James, that does not quite happen before the doppleganger has an opportunity to meet his wife, played by the lovely Constance Towers, who I must say has been making some interesting movies with director Samuel Fuller lately.

The premise of this episode could work in the right hands. Here, there are too many pieces that never quite seem to quite fit together; perhaps it simply tries too hard. Artistically, it certainly is ambitious, with its very stylized lighting, atmospheric musical score provided by Harry Lubin, great filming locations (which include the Chemosphere in Los Angeles), and some shots which appear to be fairly carefully composed. The costume design, while sometimes odd, takes some bold risks. On the topic of odd costumes, the episode’s creature looks a cross between a bird and a gorilla.

The dialogue and performances can be awkward at times. Even though it is a misfire, I have to give the show some praise for trying with The Duplicate Man. Two and a half stars, mainly for the art direction and production design.

Counterweight, by Milton Krims

Counterweight is based on the short story by the same name from writer Jerry Sohl. In this telling of his story, a group of five men, which include Michael Constantine (The Twilight Zone’s I am the Night- Color Me Black) and one woman, played by Jacqueline Scott (The Outer Limits’s The Galaxy Being), participate in an experiment that spans several months, a simulated journey in space to a planet called Antheon, in hopes of winning a cash prize. Inside their mock spacecraft is a panic button that anyone on board can press at any time for any reason if they want out of the experiment. In the event that the panic button is pressed, the entire experiment is terminated, and each of them goes home empty-handed. Once aboard, it is not long before strange and difficult to explain things begin happening to each of the crew members and they all start to blame one another, which jeopardizes the fate of the experiment. Is it all psychosomatic or is an outside force trying to sabotage them?

Perfectly good actors can not save Counterweight from itself, probably because there is absolutely no character development. Instead what we have is stereotypes, like the uneducated construction worker or the lonely spinster career woman. Growing worse as it unfolds, the hour’s final act is an absolute disaster, aside from a brief but memorable appearance by a much more entertaining stop motion plant creature.

Those factors combined with some seriously slow pacing overall, makes Counterweight extremely difficult to watch from start to finish. Having said that, there are a few effectively spooky moments, especially when each of the characters is trying to fall asleep, while unknowingly being targeted by a mysterious entity. Also, during these sequences, the musical score is especially effective. Still, one and a half stars is about all I can offer to Counterweight.

The Brain of Colonel Barham, by Robert C. Dennis

The United States is eager to be the first country to put a man on Mars. Colonel Barham (Anthony Eisley of Hawaiian Eye), with his “specialized knowledge about space technology”, is the perfect man for the job. The only problem is that he has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. His superiors in the military think they have the solution to solve everyone’s problems, so they propose that “his brain would be saved, perhaps forever, only the diseased, worn-out body would be discarded.“ Barham’s brain would then be attached to devices and sent into space.

Barham decides to save his precious brain and all of the esoteric information it contains. Once the procedure is completed, it is stored in a vat and hooked up to machines, which allow his brain to communicate with others. A short time later, it begins “developing new tissue.” It turns out there is an unforeseen complication of removing the brain from the body: it grows increasingly difficult to control. Anthony Eisley’s former Hawaiian Eye cast mate and star of 1957's The Incredible Shrinking Man, Grant Williams, also appears in the episode as a psychologist.

I love a good brain-in-a-jar story as much as the next girl, but this is not exactly the best rendition of the concept that I have seen. Sure, The Brain of Colonel Barham has its share of enjoyable silliness, but the episode is often bogged down by Barham’s cruelness. The voice-over used for Barham’s voice once his brain is removed is laughably bad, too. Two stars.

The Premonition, by Ib Melchior and Sam Roeca

When pilot Jim Darcy, played by Dewey Martin (The Thing from Another World (1951) and The Twilight Zone’s I Shot an Arrow Into the Sky) crashes his test plane at the exact same moment his wife, Linda (1953's The Wild One's Mary Murphy), loses control behind the wheel, time suddenly freezes, or so it seems. Reunited outside of time, they are given a glimpse of life ten seconds into the future. What they find is their daughter only seconds away from being hit by a truck. Do they try to intervene, even if it means that they risk remaining stuck in time?

Another time-related story from Ib Melchior (The Time Travelers, 1964), The Premonition is very flawed. Yet it is also easily the episode out of this entire batch that has stayed with me the most after viewing it, even though I must confess I did not care much for the character Jim.

The special effects are decent, though do not always stack up against last season's effects. There is also the fairly creative use of still photographs to explore time, which kind of reminds me of Chris Marker’s La Jetée (1962). Being a huge fan of the Left Bank directors from the French New Wave, that sort of thing is right up my alley. Much like many art house films, it leaves the viewer with a number of questions, but somehow I do not really mind. All in all, this hour of the series earns three stars from me.

The Probe, by Seeleg Lester

While aboard a plane flying over Japan, a crew, which includes actors Mark Richman (revisiting The Outer Limits for the first time since The Borderland), television western actor Ron Hayes and Juvenile Oscar winner Peggy Ann Garner, find themselves in a hurricane. After abandoning their plane, they incorrectly assume they are floating in their life raft, only to discover that they are not on water at all. They have actually been captured and are being held in a space probe. To make matters worse, they are being stalked by a strange creature, which they later believe to be “a mutant, a strain of germ that grew, and grew, and grew” that is also capable of duplicating itself.

I have some mixed feelings about The Probe. On the one hand, it can be incredibly corny, with its absolutely ludicrous creature, a microbe. During the scene where it duplicated itself, I nearly laughed so hard that I cried. On the other hand, the entry probably has the most convincing bunch of actors playing the most likeable, fleshed out cast of characters that I have seen on the program over the past five weeks, including the single most memorable female character.

Now, I am not usually one to get on my soapbox, but The Outer Limits has seemed to be growing less progressive in its depiction of women over the course of the second season, mostly relegated to playing nagging wives, victims or sad career women. Last season, the female characters were allowed to be much more complex and sympathetic, so Peggy Ann Garner’s character is a breath of fresh air. As a whole, I am not completely sold by The Probe, especially since it drags a little in the middle. Nevertheless, it is fairly entertaining, with actors who bring a degree of believability to even the weakest scenes, which is why it earns two and a half stars.

What now?

Reflecting on the last five entries of The Outer Limits, and on the series as a whole, The Duplicate Man was not as rewarding as it could have been, Counterweight had few redeeming qualities, The Brain of Colonel Barham could be amusing at times, The Premonition was worth the watch, and The Probe was nearly saved by its great cast. While there certainly were some great episodes from time to time towards the end of the program's run, this is pretty representative of the second season of The Outer Limits. A show that I truly hate to say became a shell of its former self.

Sadly, this was not the farewell anyone could have wanted for the series, especially since its departure (and the ending of Alfred Hitchcock Presents this spring) means an end to more than a decade of science fiction/fantasy/horror anthology shows.

When will we ever see their like again?

[If you have a membership to this year's Worldcon (in New Zealand) or did last year (Dublin), we would very much appreciate your nomination for Best Fanzine! We work for egoboo…]




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Movies

[July 10, 1964] Greetings from the Red Planet (The Movie, Robinson Crusoe on Mars)

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by Natalie Devitt

Spacewrecked

According to the previews for Robinson Crusoe on Mars, the movie is "scientifically authentic. It is only one step ahead of present reality." This update of Daniel Defoe’s 1719 novel Robinson Crusoe is directed by Byron Haskin, best known for directing The War of the Worlds, which was produced by George Pal (The Time Machine (1960)). Haskin and Pal have also made another picture that attempted to depict a more accurate Mars: Conquest of Space (1955). Intrigued by these films and interested in Haskin’s more recent work on some of my favorite entries of The Outer Limits thus far, like The Architects of Fear and A Feasibility Study, I was determined not to miss Robinson Crusoe on Mars.

So, is the movie worth a trip to your local theater?

The movie opens up aboard a spaceship carrying Commander Christopher Draper (played by Paul Mantee, appearing in his first film major film role), Colonel Dan McReady (Adam West, an actor commonly found on television westerns) and an adorable monkey named Mona. Things take an unexpected turn when they detect a meteoroid and are "forced out of orbital velocity to avoid collision with planetoid into tighter orbit of Mars." As the situation worsens, the crew is left with no other option than to immediately attempt to land on the fourth planet. While fleeing the vehicle in their individual escape pods, Draper is separated from McReady and Mona.


Welcome to Mars

Draper adapts to the conditions on the red planet, while searching for McReady and Mona. Even though he is part of the first crew on Mars, Draper learns quickly what it takes to survive. He finds shelter in a cave. For heat, Draper discovers yellow rocks that "burn like coal.” Heating the rocks not only keeps him warm, but also produces oxygen, which he then uses to refill his oxygen tank. Throughout the film, Draper keeps a careful audio record about all that he experiences, which provides a useful narrative device when things happen off-screen.

After many days, Draper finally locates McReady’s pod, but the poor colonel did not survive the landing. Shortly after giving McReady a proper burial, Draper runs into Mona, who is happily alive. Reunited with her and assuming that they are all alone, Draper tries rationing what little food and water they have. Surprisingly, the reduced rations do not seem to bother Mona one bit. She "spends most of her days off somewhere." Finding this unusual, Draper devises a plan, which involves feeding her a salty meal without water, believing that she might be able to lead him to a water source. Sure enough, she does — an underground hot spring. In the water, Draper also notices some strange plant that his little primate pal is eating, which resembles seaweed on the outside, but once peeled, contains something that looks an awful lot like sausage. Draper calls it "Martian food." He soon finds that the plant has several other uses, because you can "eat it, weave it and you wear it.”


No happy sunset for Adam West this time


Martian hot springs

After more than four months on Mars, Draper longs for human companionship. All of his training has not prepared him for the extreme isolation he experiences while stranded on a strange planet, and his mind begins playing tricks on him. Snapping out of an episode in which he is visited by the ghost of Colonel McReady, he concludes that "a guy can lick the problems of heat, water, shelter” and that that loneliness is the greatest obstacle that he has encountered while on the planet. Around this time, he stumbles upon alien remains. On the extraterrestrial skeleton are strange black bangle bracelets. Draper believes that the being is a murder victim due to its skull showing signs of trauma and being charred.

Later, Draper's radio picks up signals of an "interplanetary vehicle.” Draper rushes toward the spaceship, only for its crew to shoot directly at him and narrowly miss. In the chaos, Draper runs into an alien bearing a striking resemblance to a man, dressed in clothing that looks straight out of some ancient civilization, with black bracelets on both wrists identical to the ones he found on the skeleton earlier. He soon realizes that the alien (played by Victor Lundin of Ma Barker’s Killer Brood) is an escaped slave who worked in mines on Mars, while other human-like creatures in spacesuits held the slaves at gun-point.


Hebrews building the Martian pyramids

Draper feeds the slave and offers him a place to stay. Draper believes that the slave owners are from a planet "other than Mars” and that they handle their slaves "electronically”, using the black bangles. He names the slave, who he presumes to be mute, "Friday, with apologies to Robinson Crusoe."

Friday, as it turns out, is actually capable of speech. Once Draper realizes this, he tells Friday, "You’re going to learn English, if I have to sit on your chest for two months.” The two eventually become close friends. Friday is part of an alien species originally from ”the center of the belt of Orion.” Friday shares with Draper painful memories of working in the mine. The alien also expresses concern that "the enemy" will use his bracelets to track him down, so Draper tries to help Friday remove them. Friday’s captors return for him, but Friday, Draper and Mona are determined to stick together.

Thus ensues a long trek to the Martian North Pole, mostly underground to avoid the slavers. This portion of the film is very scenic, although not much happens. Upon reaching the polar ice caps, Draper picks up a spaceship again…but this time, it's an Earth rescue vessel. The three will be saved.

A Mixed Bag of Oxy-rocks

Robinson Crusoe on Mars feels like two completely different movies in one, due to its changing tone midway. The first half of it is a much more serious and slow story about a man’s struggle for survival. But once Friday enters the picture, things speed up and get a lot sillier. To be perfectly honest, the transition from one part to the other is not as smooth as I would have liked. That said, screenwriters Ib Melchior (The Seventh Planet) and John C. Higgins do a surprisingly good job of bringing Defoe’s story to space.

The first half of the movie is not just slow, but also fairly quiet. Most spoken words are Draper recording himself or talking to a pet monkey. Draper seems like a person with good intentions, but I have to admit he is not the friendliest guy and often treats Mona better than Friday. Draper whines about not having someone besides Mona and when he finds someone kind of like a human, he treats him pretty poorly at first.


Single living on Mars is a drag

To the movie’s credit, Robinson Crusoe on Mars does seem to be much more rooted in science than many science fiction films that came before it. Most equipment used by the actors seems fairly realistic. The actors are pretty believable operating their spaceship and using different devices. Many of the characteristics of Mars seem a bit more accurate than you tend to see in the movies. Still, one has to suspend disbelief to enjoy the film.

My big issue with the film was the way it handles the planet’s lack of oxygen, which the characters deal with by consuming their pills that "bypass the lungs and produce oxygen right in the blood”, or using an oxygen tank as sparingly as once every 10-15 minutes. It's not that there isn't enough oxygen, but that there is still probably far too much compared to what we actually know of Martian conditions. There are also fires that manage to burn heartily on Mars’ surface, despite the lack of oxygen, though they did contribute to the overall look of the film.


Two ways to deal with the lack of oxygen on Mars

Visually, Robinson Crusoe on Mars is a stunning achievement. It is more than a movie, it is an experience with Winton C. Hoch’s gorgeous Technicolor photography, Matte paintings by Albert Whitlock, and auroras which dance in the sky to yet another memorable score by Nathan Van Cleave. The highly-saturated colors and all the Death Valley exterior shots look incredible on the big screen. Also, fans of 1953’s The War of the Worlds might be amused by some of the miniatures used in the film.


Alien craft looking…strangely familiar.

All in all, I am happy to report that I did not leave the theater disappointed. The movie is worth the price of a ticket, and I hope it gets the attention it deserves. Reportedly, the picture was made independently and distributed through Paramount. The film is superior to many movies with much larger budgets, which is why I am giving it a pretty solid three stars.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]



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Magazine

[November 5, 1963] Beginning to see the light (November 1963 Gamma)

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by Gideon Marcus

There's a change brewing, slowly but surely.  If you've been anywhere near a radio, TV set, or newspaper, you know that the spark lit by the Supreme Court in Brown vs. Board of Education has kindled into a fire, a burning energy to make Black people in America "Free at Last."  We've seen it in countless marches, integrating schools, the new civil rights legislation slowly working its way through Congress, and (sadly) the deplorable counterattacks by reactionary white supremacists.

The battleground also exists on television.  Black people have been few and far between on the little screen: Jack Benny's assistant, Rochester; the dispatcher on Car 54 Where are You?; Ethel Waters playing a dying blues star on Route 66 (and not a dry eye in that house); non-speaking Marines on the set of The Lieutenant. 

Last week marked a refreshing change in the right direction.  First, there was an episode of East Side/West Side, a dramatic look at social workers in New York City.  A Black actor was cast in the role of a psychiatrist, diagnosing the outlook for a mentally impaired individual.  It was a breakthrough for me because it was the first time I saw a Black man cast as the erudite smart one of an ensemble cast.  Moreover, I believe I've seen this character before, which would make him semi-recurring. 

This week's episode of East Side/West Side did not feature the psychiatrist, but (even better) focused on a Black family and the hardships they endured after they lost their young child.  It starred James Earl Jones, whom I know from his stage work, as well as several other actors and actress with whom I was not familiar, but who all turned in excellent performances. 

Last week, there was an episode of The Great Adventure, an educational series spotlighting important moments in American history, depicting the story of Harriet Tubman, who helped thousands of slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad in the 19th Century. 

And this week, actor/playwright Ossie Davis appeared on the game show, To Tell the Truth!

It's happening, little by little, in all walks of life.  There is light at the end of this tunnel.

And speaking of welcome surprises, I'm happy to present the second issue of the science fiction quarterly, Gamma.  After last month's dreadful line of mags, it was such a relief to have reading material I could look forward to. 

Gamma styles itself as a kind of F&SF plus, getting the best stories with the highest literary merit.  So far, they're doing great.  Gamma 2 is, despite the gorgeous cover by Dollens, really more of a fantasy/horror mag, as befits its publication date, occurring as it did just before Halloween and Dia de los Muertes.  So light the hearth, put a kettle on, and prepare to enjoy a fiendishly pleasant experience:

The Granny Woman, by Dorothy B. Hughes

Novelist Hughes offers up an evocative tale of the Ozarks in which a professor from the city investigates the recent death of The Granny Woman, widely rumored to be a witch.  Was it natural causes, or did the village-folk hex the reputed hexer?  Not sf, not even really fantasy, but a lovely tale just the same, and suitably spooky for the holidays.  Four stars.

The Old College Try , by Robert Bloch

An over-eager colonial administrator is dispatched to an alien world to oversee the native mine workers, ignoring the advice from his laid-back predecessor that it is often better to get along than steam headlong into the winds of tradition.

It's a competently written, Sheckley-esque satire with a joke ending you'll see a mile away.  Bloch, the author of Psycho, is one of the more effective horror writers out there, but he didn't strain his talents making this piece.  Three stars.

Michael, by Francesca Marques

Every five year old dreams of going on an adventure, but are the aliens calling Michael real or a sign of his mental instability?  Told from the point of view of his older sister, this is a beautiful vignette with an excellent sting in its tail.  Well done, Francesca, especially for a first tale!  Four stars.

Deus Ex Machina by Richard Matheson

Robert Carter, 34, accountant and father, lives a perfectly normal life until the morning he simultaneously bumps his head and cuts his throat — exposing the wires and oil that betray his robotic origin.  Has Carter gone mad or is he on his way to discovering the truth of the world? 

It's not a bad piece, but like Bloch, Matheson (possibly the finest sff screenplay writer in the business) did not devote much effort this passable but forgettable work.  Three stars.

The Kid Learns, by William Faulkner

Where Gamma 1 featured an early genre piece by Tennessee Williams, this time around, it's William Faulkner's turn.  The Kid Learns dates back to 1925 and involves a young crimelord aspirant who tangles with a rival and ends up on a date with death.  Good, not great, but I did appreciate that I had to read twice to understand what had happened.  Three stars.

King's Jester, by Jack Matcha

An overagitated corporate executive hires a Court Jester to lighten the mood, but the contract only serves to facilitate a complete breakdown — of the president and the company.  A overly heavy piece that thuds to an ending, I wasn't particularly impressed.  Two stars.

Here's Sport Indeed! by William Shakespeare and Ib Melchior

Ib Melchior, son of opera star Lauritz Melchior, has combed the works of The Bard to assemble the damnedest tale of planetary exploration you ever read.  An utterly insane exercise, and one that tickled me in all the right places.  Five stars.

Portfolio by Burt Shonberg

Here's something nifty: The fellow behind the weird paintings in the film, The House of Usher, has provided several new weird compositions just for this issue.  Worth a look.  5 stars.

The Undiscovered Country, by William F. Temple

History is filled with episodes wherein rapacious foreigners kidnap the local princess.  In this case, her highness is a telekinetic from Pluto, and Earthers are the bad guys.  A well-told story marred by the utterly human form of the aliens despite their wildly differing climate, as well as the moral implications: we should be rooting for the girl, but the story is written sympathetically to the terrans.  Three stars.

The Gamma Interview: Robert Sheckley

You better believe I turned to this piece first, and I was not disappointed.  Bob, now situated in Italy and sustaining a shamefully low output to our genre, discusses his views on science fiction and his role in it.  Five stars of goodness from one of the field's greats.

Castaway, by Charles E. Fritch

Gamma's editor once again takes up the quill for his own publication, much to the benefit of the issue.  His story about a shipwrecked Earther, whose planetary imprisonment outlasts the endurance of his physical body, is just beautiful.  Five stars.

Something in the Earth, by Charles Beaumont

As with the last issue, both of Twilight Zone's most featured guest writers make an appearance here (Matheson is the other one).  Sadly, Beaumont's tale of Earth's last patch of forest and the fellow who appoints himself its defender is overly sentimental and not particularly insightful.  Two stars.

I'm Only Lonesome When I'm Lonely, by William F. Nolan

For some people, drifting from cocktail party to cocktail party, living on scotch and the company of others, is a way of life.  But as Nolan's story demonstrates, it's always possible to have too much of a good thing.  An impressively dialogue-reliant piece.  Four stars.


artwork by Luan Meatheringham

Sombra y Sol, by Ray Bradbury

Sadly, the mag ends with the softest of whimpers as everyone's (but mine) favorite "sf" author presents a sort of prose poem, likening the death of little Raimundo during the Day of the Dead to the bull's inevitable end in the arena.  Dry, affected, and just plain bad.  One star.

Well, I hate to end on a sour note.  The fact is, this issue is well worth the 50 cent price, rough patches aside.  Get yourself a copy while you can.

Based on the quality of this and the last issue, I'd get a subscription, too.  And perhaps you can catch reruns of The Great Adventure and East Side/West Side next summer.  That would make your 1964 quite bright, indeed!

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