All posts by Janice L. Newman

Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 28, 1967] Stumbling Bloch (Star Trek: "Wolf in the Fold")

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by Janice L. Newman

‘Twas a few nights before Christmas when we all gathered around our TV set for the newest episode of Star Trek. I felt a pang of fear more suited to October than December when I saw the episode’s byline: this was yet another Robert Bloch script.

Robert Bloch gave us What Are Little Girls Made Of? and Catspaw. It’s clear he has a taste for fantasy and horror, but less interest (or at least less skill) when it comes to writing science fiction. I hoped that this episode would be different. And for a while, it seemed like it was.

The episode opens with a scene on Argelius, a ‘pleasure planet’ where dwells a society of hedonists. Before the opening credits even play, though, one of the planet’s resident’s is murdered and Scotty is found holding the knife!

The circumstantial evidence is damning, but Scotty can’t remember anything. McCoy expresses concern that Scotty recently suffered a concussion and may therefore not be responsible for his actions. After some discussion with Hengist, an imported bureaucrat from Rigel Four, and Jaris, the plant’s prefect, McCoy and Kirk are allowed to beam down a “psycho tricorder”. This device, operated by a pretty lieutenant who beamed down with it, will supposedly produce a record of all of Scotty’s conscious and subconscious actions from the past day, enabling him to demonstrate that he isn’t guilty.

Unfortunately, the machine must be operated in private. Why is this unfortunate? Because no sooner are Scotty, the machine, and the lieutenant left alone together, than there’s a scream and Scotty is found once again standing over the body of a murdered woman.


"I can't leave you alone for a second!"

Since the modern approach to finding the truth hasn’t worked (and no one considers sending down another lieutenant, maybe a male one this time?) Jaris states that his wife, Sybo, will use her empathic contact talent to discern the truth. As she prepares herself for the ritual, we’re introduced to a couple of other interested parties: the father and the fiance of the first woman to be murdered. The fiance shamefacedly admits that he was ‘jealous’, clearly a great taboo in this hedonistic society.

Sybo begins her ritual, which is set up much like a seance. The group hold hands while seated around a low table, the lights are off, and Sybo cries out that there is evil present, finishing with a shouted, “Redjack! Redjack!” and a scream. When the lights come up, she is on her feet in front of Scotty, who watches with horror as she collapses, a knife clearly visible in her back.


"Don't give it to me, Scotty!  I don't want it!"

Up to this point I was actually enjoying the episode. I love mysteries, and have consumed plenty of the greats: Conan Doyle, Dickson Carr, Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, you name it. I was ready for this to be a locked-room mystery with an unexpected solution.

Well, it did have an unexpected solution. But it wasn’t discovered via clever logic or deduction.

After the death of Sybo, Kirk and McCoy convince a grieving Jaris that the ship’s computer can give them the name of the murderer if they feed it enough data. When they begin doing so, their extrapolations make sense – at first. But Kirk and the others make increasingly ridiculous leaps of logic (which always turn out to be true) until they reach the inevitable conclusion:

It turns out the murderer is…JACK THE RIPPER! Who is actually an alien entity who FEEDS ON FEAR! Who upon discovery proceeds to shed his body and TAKE OVER THE SHIP’S COMPUTER!


"Either these are slides of my last prostate exam, or we're in trouble…"

It’s as silly as it sounds. It was particularly frustrating, in fact, because the mystery could have had a satisfying ending with the unexpected reveal that the nebbishy Hengist was actually the murderer. There was no need for the melodrama and lightshow and supernatural elements.

But this was a Robert Bloch script. I guess you get what you pay for.

The first half was four stars (it would have been five if it had had a satisfying resolution). The second half was two stars. Averaging it out, I give the episode as a whole three stars.

Something Blue


by Joe Reid

As a dedicated watcher of Star Trek, I look forward to the discovery of the aliens they encounter.  Not every episode showcases new alien life, but it happens often enough and it is fun enough to keep things fresh.  This week I found myself disappointed with the creature.  It came off as if Bloch attempted to follow the popular advice given to young brides when crafting this week’s creature.  There was something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.  The “Wolf in the Fold” as the title of the episode alluded to, was a hodgepodge of disparate things that didn’t really work for me.
Starting with something old. The creature of the week was made out to be something ancient and evil.  How ancient, you might ask?  Around 80 years in the past from today (1967).  Granted that might seem old to a character in the far-flung future.  My patience was further strained by the addition of “Jack the Ripper” as the creature's identity.  To me, it came off as a cheap trick, including a recent historical boogie-man to be the antagonist.


"Jack the Ripper?!  Isn't that dumb?"

Something new and something borrowed took the form of the creature being composed of traits that were done better in other episodes of Star Trek.  In previous episodes, as recent as this season, we were introduced to “The Companion” in “Metamorphosis” and the smoke monster from last week’s “Obsession” with examples of non-physical aliens.  Even in last season’s “Charlie X”, we saw powerful aliens that didn’t have bodies.  Non-corporeal aliens were new and better represented in these other episodes.  Borrowing from them so near to the last use of the concept feels ill timed, and it reduced the impact for me.  Even the crew wasn’t surprised by the unfolding of the monster's nature when they figured it out.

All these parts together, the ancient killer with no body, unless it does have one, as it did at times so that it could eventually be killed, the invisible spirit-like apparition wandering through the cosmos with a penchant for killing attractive young women and framing hapless men, was not that interesting or entertaining once the creature was fully revealed near the end.  Granted, this episode had some redeeming elements: the mystery, the action, the colors, the costumes, the beautiful exotic ladies, and the crew of the Enterprise.  All would have been better served by anything other than reused concepts and popular English criminals.

This all brings me to my final thought on the episode.  Regarding something blue.  Rather than being something within the episode, the blue comes is the countenance of the audience.  Specifically, myself.  This episode made me blue at the end because I have come to expect better from this show.  I hope that the upcoming episode will see improvements and avoid use of borrowed concepts.

Two stars.


by Lorelei Marcus

The second sex in Star Trek

What do a brilliant, alluring dancer, a regal high priestess descendant, and a competent lieutenant, high in McCoy's medical team, have in common? They exist only to be murdered for their sex.

I was tantalized by a new alien culture that, like the Vulcans, 200 years ago achieved societal pacifism by rejecting emotions like hatred and jealousy. Yet unlike the Vulcans, they chose to keep positive emotions such as love. What an appealing concept for a love-starved culture like our own, that feeds on foreign war and internal inequality. There is something to learn from Argelius II and its successful methods for preventing all war and violence.


Make love, not war.

Except, these are not the virtues Captain Kirk, or McCoy, or Scotty draw from this planet. They only see that the women here are free to have sex with whom they choose, and enjoy it frequently. Of course that means Argelius II is a pleasure planet, obsessed with hedonism (because apparently free love isn't a concept in the Federation?) Even then, they miss who that pleasure is for. Argelius II is not Orion, with slave girls and servitude. In this society, women are not here for men's enjoyment. They have sexual equality to men, and can choose who and who not to sleep with, and anyone using violence or pressure to force sex is the highest taboo. If only the highest officers of the Enterprise (a ship with a crew evenly divided by sex) saw that.

Every time I heard Kirk talk about women I felt a growing distance from my own species. "The women here… I know a place where the women…" Women are not things, we are not objects, we are people. Generalizing us as "the women" strips away that humanity until all that remains is the imprinted fantasies of men. Seeing the heroes of one of my favorite shows on television speak this way was revolting. Even logical Spock was not immune, claiming "women are more prone to fear and horror," a completely baseless generalization.

But perhaps the most offensive fault of the episode was the women themselves. Never before have I seen so many interesting female characters introduced in quick succession, only to be discarded just as quickly. Narratively, this episode reinforces the dehumanization of women by using them as plot devices rather than characters. Structurally, inside the story and out, women are something else from men; women are not human.

These views do not fit with the universe of Star Trek. Even the promising concepts of Argelius II's society directly contradict such ideology. I suspect the personal opinions of the writer bear some of the responsibility for this disconnect.

Three stars, one for each woman who deserved more time on the screen.

A few of my favorite things


by Gideon Marcus

We've complained in previous episodes about how Kirk always knows the answers, and that his deductions are taken as the truth because he says so.  Sure, intuition is a captain's prerogative (as he asserts in "Obsession"), but sometimes, it seems more lazy writing than preternatural abilities.

That's why I really enjoyed (parts of) "Wolf in the Fold".  In particular, I like that in the future, lie detectors are infallible, and computers have vast data banks and ability to correlate seemingly unrelated facts.  Spock was able to simply ask the ship's computer, based on what had been discussed in the room, who the killer was and even the physical nature of said killer.


"Don't blame me.  I just report what the script tells me to."

What impressed me was how real it felt.  In some shows (e.g. Lost in Space or The Twilight Zone), the computer is an anthropomorphic being with emotions and human motivations.  It reasons like a person, not like a machine.  In other shows, a computer has as much independent capacity as a toaster–all it can do is strictly interpret the programs of its human tenders.

The Enterprise's computer strikes a middle path, drawing logical conclusions from existing data at the request of the crew.  Imagine one day being able to speak into your pocket computer, the FriendlyVac 2000, and ask something like, "What is the best way to get to Pismo Beach?" or "Which stock is outperforming its capitalization?" or "What color is the most popular for fashion this week?"

Science fiction's job isn't to predict the future, but Robert Bloch has created a convincing possible eventuality, and I dug it.

I also appreciated Scotty's performance this episode.  He was near tears in frustration and guilt at appropriate moments.  He also put on a great smile at the beginning.  Speaking of great smiles, how about that Sulu?

I was less enamored with the fourth act, in which the Enterprise is put in its weekly requisite degree of peril.  The show would have been a lot better as a futuristic version of Burke's Law, I think.

Also, while Shatner didn't hunch his shoulders or do the sideways saunter, his verbal tics were in full evidence this episode.  It is a shame, given how nuanced and strong his performances were last season, that he has elected to become a caricature of himself.  Memorable?  Yes.  But not in a good way.


Maybe no saunter, but plenty of punctuated swagger.

For these reasons and the ones articulated above, I give "Wolf in the Fold" two and a half stars.

Well, we're finally going to get to see this "Tribble" thing folks have been buzzing about for a few months.  Let's hope we have more fun than Kirk!

Join us tomorrow at 5:00 PM Pacific (8:00 Eastern) or at 8:00 PM Pacific (11:00 Eastern)!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 14, 1967] What a Drag it is Getting Old (Star Trek: "The Deadly Years")

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by Janice L. Newman

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

Different cultures often have profoundly different ways of dealing with the basics of life: whether or not it is traditional to bury or cremate a corpse, for example, or the ‘proper’ way to discipline a child. One aspect of life that we all have to face (if we live long enough), is aging. In the USA, aging is treated almost as an illness, as though those who begin to show gray in their hair (or, heaven forbid, to lose it) are suffering from a progressive malady that will eventually destroy their bodies and minds. (This is particularly true for women, of course. As the lyrics in “I Do, I Do” say, “Men of forty go to town. Women go to pot”.) Contrast this with Asian cultures, many of which traditionally treat their elderly with a deep respect that borders on reverence.

This week’s Star Trek episode, The Deadly Years, wasn’t exactly a true exploration of aging and its effects. It mostly seemed an excuse to have an ‘elderly’ Kirk, Spock, and McCoy make sarcastic and biting remarks at each other, and in this it succeeded. It did not, however, do much to challenge the traditional view of aging in Western countries, and the episode as a whole did not hang together as well as one might have hoped.

When a group of Star Trek officers consisting of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, Chekov, and Lt. Galway beams down to check the progress of a scientific expedition, they are shocked to find that most of the members of the colony have died of old age—despite the fact that none of them were supposed to be over the age of thirty.


"I said, we owe our youthfulness to clean living and lots of B12!"

After returning to the ship, the members of the team soon begin to show signs of rapid aging themselves. This part of the episode is particularly well-handled: the age makeup is subtle, and the characters have minor aches and pains, slight forgetfulness and moments of confusion. It’s chilling, because anyone who has either dealt with an elderly person or been one recognizes at least some of the signs. The deterioration continues, becoming more obvious (as does the age makeup): loss of hearing and vision, increasing trouble remembering things, and on McCoy’s part, an exaggeration of his Southern accent! It’s explained that the mental decline caused by the condition is actually faster than the physical decline, leading to early senility. Only Chekov has escaped the effects, and no one can explain why.


"Keep pumping those young legs back there, Mr. Chekov!"

There is a love interest of sorts for Captain Kirk, but she adds nothing to the story and serves no purpose except to hover in the background and make sorrowful faces. More interesting is Commodore Stocker, who follows his conscience and convenes a mental competency hearing for Captain Kirk. Under almost any other circumstances, doing so would have been the right choice. Unfortunately, once Stocker gains control of the ship he takes it directly into the neutral zone in an attempt to get to the nearest Starbase as quickly as possible. Predictably, the Enterprise is attacked by the Romulans. While I appreciated Stocker as a character who was following his conscience, it was clear that he was there primarily to put the Enterprise in danger and increase the drama, as if the fear of losing most of the main cast and fan favorites to old age wasn’t enough.


Who could have foreseen this turn of events?

Between the trial and the Romulans, there isn’t much time to wrap things up. McCoy discovers the solution in the nick of time, and they inject it into the captain, who screams and writhes. For some reason, the adrenaline they use not only counteracts the radiation that caused the artificial aging, it actually reverses it, allowing Kirk to sweep onto the bridge, make a nice callback to The Corbomite Maneuver, and save the day. The bridge crew is young again, or at least young enough that they don’t have to worry for a while.

All in all the episode was in the ‘fun’ category: a story that didn’t make much sense when you look at it closely, but enjoyable enough to watch for the interactions between “old” Spock, Kirk, and extra-grumpy McCoy. It took no risks and did nothing to challenge deeply-ingrained beliefs of its Western audience about aging and the desirability thereof. I hope that the remaining episodes of the second season will be a little more willing to push the boundaries, or at least have a more convincing scientific foundation.

Three stars.

Grow Old Along with Me


by Gideon Marcus

Every so often, a Trek writer eschews plot, common sense, and scientific accuracy to put forth a pet proposal.  "Let's have a spooky Halloween episode!" ("Catspaw").  "Let's have the Enterprise traipse around in the modern day!" ("Tomorrow is Yesterday").  "Let's make everyone on the Enterprise drunk! ("The Naked Time").  Let's make an evil Enterprise ("Mirror, Mirror").

Mind you, the results aren't always bad.  Indeed, these last two are among my favorite episodes.  But their fundamental premises are silly.  The premise of "The Deadly Years" is similarly simple…and silly: "What if all the senior officers got really old?"

Of course, aging doesn't work as we saw in the show, and it certainly doesn't tint hair (reversibly or otherwise).  What the crew really contracted was a deadly form of radiation poisoning, and I'm surprised none of them acted accordingly.  They should have all remained in sick bay, under quarantine (how do they know it's not contagious?) Much was made of the lack of senior officers who could sit in the center seat, but haven't we twice seen Sulu do that (in battle, no less)?  Wasn't Mr. DeSalle at the conn just a few episodes ago?


Wrong man for the job.

Left without comment was the fact that the Romulans now appear to have warp drive and can keep up with the Enterprise at all but the highest speeds.  I wonder if this presages a new war…especially with the recent and casual Neutral Zone violation.

Don't get me wrong.  As an opportunity to watch the show's stars do their best Walter Brennan impressions, it was a delight.  It was a glimpse of what the retired crew will be like when they all settle down at the Starfleet retirement home: McCoy and Kirk will irritably play cards, each trying to sneak a snort of Saurian Brandy, while Nurse Chapel's kid (following in the family tradition) tries to confiscate the flask.  Scotty will be asleep on the couch, a copy of Popular Mechanics over one knee and the latest Playboy on the other.  Spock, of course, will still be hale at that point.  Maybe he will teach a class for flag officers on why supply clerks can't run starships.


"If you have any questions, please see the historical entry marked Stardate 3478.2"

Also, count me among the very few who enjoyed the appearance of Janet Wallace (the mom in my favorite Twilight Zone episode, "Little Girl Lost"!) I enjoy learning more about Kirk's history, and the couple seemed to have had a sweet, if somewhat doomed, relationship.  I wish she'd had more to do in the episode (why was she even on the ship?  Is she stationed on Starbase 10?), but at least she and Kirk didn't have time to smooch on the bridge a la Areel Shaw in "Court Martial."


"I must say, Jim… middle-age looks very sexy on you."

Finally, I thought Charles Drake did a great job as Stocker.  He usually plays a heavy when I see him on other shows, so it was nice to see him as a good guy for a change.  Since Joe is going to talk a lot about the commodore, I will leave things off here.

Three stars.

19th Nervous Breakdown

by Joe Reid

This week’s episode of Star Trek demonstrated a clever duality.  An inverse duality of two men.  The first man started perfectly in his depth, then nearly drowned as he lost the ability to stay afloat.  The second man started out like a swimmer looking for safe purchase who ended up diving way over his head.  The first man was Kirk.  As the aging sickness got worse, he failed to realize that he was sinking.  His journey of loss and eventual re-empowerment was great in this story.

The second man was Commodore Stocker.

He was among those in the briefing room to discuss the strange happenings on Gamma Hydra IV.  The first thing that we learned about Stocker was that he was an administrator, and this planet was in his administrative area.  The next thing that we learned was that he had a new job: As a flag officer and a man of authority he was very anxious to get to his new post at Starbase 10.

As the senior crew members started to show signs of deterioration due to rapid aging, Stocker was concerned and wanted to help.  His only solution was for the ship to get to Starbase 10, so that he could use its resources to save everyone.  He felt so helpless on a starship and all he could think of was to get to a place where he could feel empowered.  He felt it so strongly that he asked Kirk three times to get him to Starbase 10.

Soon Stocker became a character that would just hang around in the background watching Kirk as he continued to age and started to make mistake after mistake.  Always nearby standing there with a concerned and helpless look on his face.


"Stop making that face, Commodore.  I'm fine."

In a position of powerlessness, desperately desiring to get to a place where he could feel useful, Stocker finally decided to act.  Act as an administrator, an ominpresent one at that.  He appeared out of nowhere and cornered Spock as he was walking.  Then Stocker used the power of Starfleet regulations to strongarm Spock into convening an Extraordinary Competency Hearing in order to remove the ailing Kirk from command.  This action showed Stocker coming into his own depth and exercising his power.

After the hearing, where Kirk met with failure, Stocker was able to step even further into his depths and power by taking command of the Enterprise himself.  Sadly, taking command of a starship soon proved a step too far, plunging him way over his depth.  This was made obvious by his very first command: “Set a course for Starbase 10,” even though the course took the ship into the Romulan neutral zone.

Stocker was so desperate to get to safety that he ignored the safety of the crew.  That desire led straight to danger, evident when the Romulans immediately attacked as they entered the neutral zone.  He then fell further out of his depth when the only skill he possessed, negotiation, failed him as the Romulans would not even talk to him.  Hitting an all time low as he contemplated surrendering the Enterprise to the Romulans–people notorious for taking no prisoners.


"I did say this was a bad idea."

Salvation came for Stocker as a revived Kirk stepped on the bridge.  As Kirk pranced in, Stocker leapt out of the command chair, relieved that Kirk had arrived.  After Kirk cleverly saved the crew from the Romulans, along with the aging sickness being cured, Stocker was finally able to relax as a man who was saved from drowning in waters too deep for him to survive.  Not a bad episode.  Not a bad character.

Three stars

I have no idea what to make of tomorrow night's episode, but it certainly looks action packed.

Here's the invitation. Come join us!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[September 28, 1967] We have met Divinity, and He is Ours (Star Trek: "Who Mourns for Adonais")

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God is in the Details


by Janice L. Newman

After Star Trek’s incredible second season debut episode last week, we were on pins and needles. Would the episode hold up to the new standard set by “Amok Time”?

The episode starts out unpromisingly, with Kirk, McCoy, and Scotty ogling a pretty female lieutenant. Scotty invites her for coffee, and McCoy and Kirk exchange quips on how she’s just going to “get married and leave the service”.

Given later events in the episode, one can squint a bit and pretend that they’re talking about this specific crewperson, not women in general. Still, it was jarring, particularly in the context of “Balance of Terror”, where we saw a female officer getting married and still doing her job just fine.

The ship continues on its mission, only to be interrupted by what appears to be a giant hand floating in space, which reaches out to grab the ship. No matter what they try, they cannot break free of its grasp. The crew is sharp and competent here, a pleasure to watch. As they experiment, a floating head appears on the viewscreen. It hails them and begins to talk of welcoming them after a long wait. When Kirk tells it to release the ship, it says it will close its hand, increasing the pressure both inside and outside the ship. Kirk, having no choice in the face of this superior power, agrees to accede to the being’s demands.

Spock, in a refreshing change, remains in command aboard, while Kirk, Scotty, Chekov, McCoy, and the pretty lieutenant, Carolyn Palamas, join him in beaming down to the planet. Once there, they are greeted by the self-proclaimed god “Apollo”, who states that they will remain on the planet and worship him, herding flocks and playing the music of the pipes. It sounds like an idyllic, and very boring, life.

From the start, Apollo is much taken with Palamas. For a nominal ancient history scholar and archaeologist, she doesn’t seem terribly interested or excited about meeting a being that claims to be an actual god and who supposedly interacted with humans on earth 5000 years ago. She is excited when Apollo transforms her uniform into a shiny, pink, skin-baring outfit, though! (My reaction to having my clothes suddenly transformed into something else would not be, “Oh, it’s beautiful!” no matter how lovely the dress.) Apollo sweeps off with Palamas, leaving the remaining crewmembers to look for a way out.

Kirk, as is always the case when the Enterprise is in peril, doesn’t care about anything but getting his ship and crew back. He repeatedly defies Apollo, who punishes him in various painful ways. Scotty apparently loses his head trying to protect Palamas, and also challenges Apollo repeatedly, even going against Kirk’s orders to do so. All this defiance and punishment leads to the discovery that Apollo seems weakened after he shoots lightning bolts or otherwise displays his ‘godlike’ powers.

Meanwhile, the crew on the Enterprise have been looking for a way out. They are a pleasure to watch, with Spock issuing crisp orders and the crew following without question (a nice change from “The Galileo Seven”). Uhura even gets to do some soldering at one point!

Back on the planet, Kirk corners Palamas and orders her to spurn Apollo and break his heart, which will hopefully cause him to use his powers and weaken him enough to give them a chance. At first Palamas resists, but Kirk convinces her. She tells Apollo that he’s only interesting to her as a ‘specimen’, infuriating him and causing him to call a great storm.

The crew aboard the Enterprise is able to get a message through just in time. Kirk orders them to use the ‘holes’ they’ve been able to make to shoot through Apollo’s barrier and attack the source of his power on the planet. The crew obey, and great phaser beams come from the sky, focusing on the temple. Apollo screams at them to stop, but the phasers continue until the temple is left in ruins. Apollo weeps, turns his face to the sky, and lets himself dissolve as his fellow gods and goddesses did thousands of years before.

I think the best word to sum up this episode is: “uneven”. There were parts I liked very much. Anything with the crew being smart and competent was fun to watch. I found Apollo’s monologue at the end to be very affecting. And there were other small moments of brilliance, such as when McCoy complains at Chekov’s insistence on being thorough, saying, “Spock’s contaminating this boy, Jim.”

On the other hand, the subtle deprecation of women was not only frustrating, it didn’t make sense. Apollo calls Palamas, “Wise, for a woman.” As even the most cursory review of Greek mythology reminds us, the god of wisdom was a goddess: Athena. Add to this Kirk’s humanocentric speech to Palamas – strange, considering that his first officer isn’t human – and his line about finding “one god quite sufficient”, which felt artificial and forced in the context of the rest of the story. Scotty’s unprofessional buffoonery was more annoying than funny and Chekov’s really terrible wig was distracting.

Still, the episode as a whole was worth watching, and I’ll probably even catch it on the rerun this summer. As such, I give it three stars.

Update: Having just re-watched this episode in the summer re-runs, I've decided to increase my rating. While there are still a few irritating flaws, the episode as a whole was strong enough to hold up extremely well to a re-watch. Apollo's monologues in particular were very effective. Even knowing it was coming, I still got goosebumps when he talked about Hera spreading herself thin on the wind and later calling to his friends to take him. Palamas, too, seemed less like silly damsel and more like a woman struggling to protect her crewmates. When she initially goes with Apollo, it seems more appeasement than interest. It's only after Apollo's promise to raise her up and make her the mother of gods that she truly seems to become enamored with him, and as I said aloud to my friends, I'd go with him after a speech like that! And in the end, in the face of that temptation, she still does her job. Upon re-evaluation, I'm raising my rating to four stars.

A finely tuned machine, or Deus ex Machina


by Lorelei Marcus

Something I have always appreciated about Star Trek is the seamless operation of the crew of the Enterprise. While on the bridge, one can always hear the murmur of radio chatter as various ship sections give their status reports. If a crewman has to leave his post, there is always another ready to take over at a moment's notice. Repair personnel can often be seen in the halls, patching up the damage after an attack. All of these details give the impression that the USS Enterprise is a plausible naval vessel, well-trained and well-run.

This became particularly apparent in this week's episode, when Spock is left in command of the ship, with no contact with the ground crew or his Captain, while in the grip of Apollo. All of the First Officer's actions are purely logical, of course, but the best part is seeing how his crew carries out the orders without fault or question. Everyone is competent at their station, providing innovative solutions to problems, like Uhura manually soldering a bypass circuit, or Sulu scanning the planet for major energy signals. I personally love the line Spock says when Sulu can't pinpoint the exact origin of the energy: "Simply scan where the energy is not, and use process of elimination to determine its origin." Such a simple, yet ingenious solution.

In addition to being smart and creative, the crew also works well under pressure (sometimes literally!) Even after the ship is almost crushed by Apollo, status and damage reports come flying left and right from the edges of the bridge. McCoy reports the situation in sick bay, Scotty states the strain on the engines, and Sulu notes how the ship has lost all speed. It's moments like these that remind me how good Star Trek can be. I can truly believe that the Enterprise is a highly trained military vessel, and one of the best on television, sci-fi and not. I'd like to see how Admiral Nelson's submarine would fare against Apollo's antics!

While the scenes on the Enterprise are excellent, the scenes that take place on Pollux IV are inconsistent, and so I give the episode three stars. But so long as the shipboard action remains as taut and believable as it was this episode, it will be hard for an episode to fall below that baseline.

5000 YEARS OF LONGING


by Joe Reid

Do you remember the good old days?  Those times long ago, when men were more manly, and women were reserved.  I do.  Those were great times!  Should those times ever visit us again, I know that I for one would be overjoyed!  To reclaim the simple pleasures of life.  Those days when I felt truly alive.  Surrounded by people that loved and appreciated me.  They needed me, and I needed them. 
These are the sentiments that I hear from old (and not-so-old) folks reminiscing at the family gathering.  This sentiment was the very soul of the antagonist in this week’s episode of Star Trek, “Who Mourns for Adonais?”.

As I have stated in my previous observations, Mr. Rodenberry’s weekly excursion to the stars seeks to take us to far away places, to meet sensational characters, and to capture our eyes and minds in order to fill them both with images of who we are today in 1967.  I love that Star Trek gives me a positive vision of a future time, I hate that it at the same time shows me a negative image of who we are.  Of who I am.

In this episode we got to meet an honest to goodness god.  Not the “Gee-Oh-Dee” of the Good Book, although the title may cast allusions in that direction.  Apollo is the god the crew of the Enterprise must contend with and is he ever a handful!  I’d rather go twelve rounds with Ali than get into a fight with this bruiser.  Apollo remembers a time when he and others like him lived with humans.  5000 years ago to be exact!  They were times that Apollo remembered and loved.  When humans loved, worshiped and revered him.  When he loved them in return, guided them, cherished them.  The episode doesn’t go into detail on how the relationship between the gods and mankind was broken but is the very clear that the advent of humanity to his new home brings him hope that the relationship with mankind will be renewed.  It is this hope which is the root of the conflict in this episode.

In Apollo we see a wounded exile.  One given the hope that a bond as old as recorded history will be restored.  That he will be able to pick back up where he and the people of ancient times left off and go back to paradise.  In the end humanity wanted something different for themselves and the hoped-for reunion left Apollo in tears.

How much like Apollo are we?  We think back to times past and wish they were here again.  We hold on to temporary things as if they were permanent.  Whether those things be people, places, positions, patterns, or our own potential.  In reflection of this story, I must ask a question.  Who might the crew of the Enterprise have encountered on that world if Apollo had been able to move past his longing and desire for what he had long ago?  I leave the answer of that to your own imaginations, friends.  That question invites a second one.  Who might we be if we are able to let go of the past and accept people, places, positions, and potential as we find them today?  As they are right in front of our noses.  If we can answer that for ourselves, then we may no longer need to mourn what we lost.  We only need enjoy what is.

3 stars

A Woman’s Place is on the Enterprise


by Robin Rose Graves

While at times Lt. Carolyn Palamas played into the stereotypes women often play in television, ultimately Star Trek went against expectations.

“One day [Lieutenant Palamas] will find the right man and off she'll go, out of the service,” McCoy observes at the start of this episode, mirroring what many viewers probably think upon seeing Scotty’s flirtatious invitation for coffee. This reflects a trend in our own world, as women are often expected to abandon their careers to focus on home and family when they marry. With this setup, I assumed the episode would conclude with Lt. Palamas abandoning all scientific pursuits for a man.

But Star Trek did not give in to social pressure!

The episode reaches its climax when Lt. Palamas, despite her love for Apollo, rejects him to preserve the Enterprise crew, suggesting there is more to a woman’s life than being an object of a man’s affections.

It’s also worth noting Lt. Uhura’s active presence in this episode. She is shown to be both competent and crucial to returning the crew to the Enterprise. Her plot reinforces the theme in this episode that women are just as important to the crew as the men. In Uhura's case, indispensable.

I rejoice thinking of the young girls who might be watching, who will admire both Lt Palamas and Lt. Uhura’s beauty, knowledge and capability and think “I, too, belong in science.”

Four stars.

This article, we welcome Amber Dubin, an editor of a scientific journal who spends far too much time wondering if her 10 year old cat has become more human than she is.

She has a decidedly different opinion on the portrayal of Lieutenant Palamas than Robin…

Lackluster Elegy to a God


by Amber Dubin

My biggest problem with this episode is its inconsistent and disparaging narrative about the nature of women.

In a disappointing start to the episode, Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy make a condescending observation about Lieutenant Palamas, that she's approaching that 'time in every woman's life' where she'll throw away her career for a marriage. Star Trek usually transcends the sexist zeitgeist of our time, so the presence of this message personally disillusioned me. Moreover when she betrays her crew the way it was foreshadowed, her seduction itself makes absolutely no sense. In an analogous scenario in the episode "Space Seed" the bewitching of the female Lieutenant is much more plausible. In "Space Seed," historian Marla McGivers has a documented obsession with powerful men throughout history; thus when Khan appears to step directly out of her fantasies and shows her intense interest, she is putty in his hands. Though the lieutenant here has had significantly less character development in her episode, even by what we do know about her, how easily Lieutenant Carolyn Palamas is seduced is nonsensical.

First, it is implausible that a 'typical space faring woman' like Palamas would want nothing more from life than to be offered a pretty dress and ruling status over a deserted planet. Second, Apollo's plan for seduction is as follows: 1) Show up half naked 2) alter her appearance without her permission 3) isolate her from everyone she knows 4) Call her beautiful four times and 5) Rank her among his previous conquests. If she was a lonely, bored shepherd woman like Apollo is used to impressing, this would be sufficient, but to imply that a woman whose job it was to study cultural evolution would be impressed by this culturally unevolved male display is insulting to both women and anthropologists. It's almost as if her character was written by a man who doesn't understand how to write a woman.

In stark contrast, the concurrent scenario on the bridge casts Uhura in the role of 'strong, dependable woman' in a way that's so jarring with the rest of the themes of this episode that one has to wonder if it was penned by a different hand. In trying to save the landing party, Uhura is tasked with a complex and delicate maneuver and Mr. Spock expresses respect for her intelligence and competence implicitly. Uhura is trusted to take care of herself and fulfill her duties, the exact opposite of how Scotty insists that Palamas is a helpless prop. It makes no sense to praise one woman for her intelligence on the ship, while in the presence of a God, a woman who reveals the same level of intellect is met with revulsion, outrage and literal divine wrath.

Overall, I felt personally let down by this episode because I feel like the narrative voices did not harmonize well and the resulting cacophony of misfiring ideals made for a lackluster elegy to a God.

Two stars.


by Gideon Marcus

With Great Power…

There is much to both enjoy and to wince at in this episode.  It treads familiar ground, from "The Squire of Gothos" to "Space Seed" to "Charlie X".  But there is also a poignant message about outgrowing the need for external deities, and the folly of a godlike being of trying to force worship from a race that can no longer give it.

What really fascinated me about "Adonais" was its contradiction of Acton's Dictum, which says "Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Apollo was a second-generation God, descendant of space traveling beings capable of projecting tremendous power. Yet, his race almost assuredly started out as baseline human.  This would be laughable in any other setting, since the odds of human beings evolving twice (John Campbell's beliefs notwithstanding) are vanishingly small–I'm not even convinced there is life on other worlds.  But in Star Trek, it's a given; q.v. "Miri" and "Return of the Archons", for instance.  For some reason, humans and even Earths exist all over the galaxy.

So it is not implausible that, say ten thousand years ago, Apollo's race was indistinguishable from us, complete with smog, network television, and bad wigs.  Then they developed space travel and scattered among the stars.  Some of them may have become the Metrons or the First Federation.  One group came to Earth and settled in Hellas.  They were, accordingly, worshiped and revered.

Yet they let that worship and reverence die!  Apollo's brood did not long mingle with mortals, instead repairing to Mount Olympus.  They didn't continue to demand adoration from the increasingly sophisticated philosophers and leaders of Greece and Rome.  They didn't search out another group of shepherds to lord over.  They simply left, even though, in the end, it meant their death.

Why didn't "superior power breed superior ambition (a la "Space Seed") in this case? I have an idea.

Apollo's god status is never disputed.  His story is taken at face value.  We've simply, as a species, outgrown him.  Why?

Because we are now gods. 

Take the Enterprise. While Apollo initially had the upper hand (haha), by the end of the episode, Kirk had at his command power equal to and even surpassing that of the Greek deity.  Humans are now at the level of Apollo and his cohorts.  To any primitive society, what else could we be but gods?

What a responsibility that is!  It is no wonder that the #1 rule of the Federation, the so-called "Prime Directive", is not to interfere with aboriginal cultures (first referenced, I think, in "Return of the Archons").  It is a wise rule given the stakes.

Perhaps Apollo's brood had this same rule.  Maybe a small group allowed themselves to give in to temptation for a little while, mingling with the Greeks they found so charming.  And then, realizing their corrupting influence, first removed themselves from direct interaction, and finally, from any contact at all.  Apollo might have been a dissenting vote, though in the end, he knows the same tragedy as his comrades.

Would that we not suffer the same fate!

Four stars.

The next episode of Trek is TOMORROW! You won't want to miss it:

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[May 10, 1967] Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee (The Green Hornet)

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by Janice L. Newman

In January of 1966, a new TV show hit the airwaves. An adaptation of the comic book, “Batman”, with its catchy theme, over-the-top villains, and deadpan delivery by the titular character, was an instant camp hit. The colorful costumes probably didn’t hurt either, especially as networks started to make the switch to a color line up and those who could afford it began purchasing color TVs to see it.


The dynamic duo.

Batman landed with a boom, perhaps because adults found it amusing while young children were riveted by the serial-style storytelling. But in the end, there are only so many times one can hear variations of “Holy _______ Batman!” or see the dynamic duo tied up in yet another utterly ridiculous death trap, at least if one is over the age of six.

Thus, when The Green Hornet, produced by the same team, began to be broadcast in September 1966 on the same network and the same night as Batman, I didn’t pay much attention at first. It wasn’t until my husband and daughter, more dedicated fans of the boob tube than I, told me, “No, the show is actually worth watching!” that I decided to give it a chance. And you know what? They were right!

The Green Hornet follows the adventures of millionaire newspaper owner Britt Reid (played by Van Williams), who by night fights crime under the pseudonym ‘The Green Hornet’ along with his loyal sidekick, ‘Kato’.

So far the setup seems pretty similar to Batman, no?

No!

The Green Hornet has a clever twist: everyone (both the public and the denizens of the criminal world) believe that the Hornet is a bad guy. Only Britt’s secretary and the district attorney know his secret identity and the fact that he’s not a criminal.


Kato and Hornet.

This leads to lots of smart setups and interactions. When the Hornet bursts into a criminal hideout, the miscreants don’t immediately try to shoot him or tie him up (or whatever they do with Batman) because he’s one of them. He’s not particularly popular, usually demanding ‘a cut of the take’ or some similar price, but the criminals also generally do him the courtesy of letting him in on their plans and then waiting until he’s gone to double-cross him or try to shoot him in the back.

Unlike Batman, where Commissioner Gordon seems to call Batman for every minor emergency (“I forgot my lunch! Call the Caped Crusader!”) the Hornet’s relationship with the police is far more complicated for obvious reasons. This leads to situations where the Hornet has to balance his relationship with the criminals he’s trying to bring down while at the same time escaping from the police. It makes him feel more like a ‘lone-wolf’ or a true anti-hero than Batman.


District Attorney Scanlon pays the Hornet team a visit.

Britt’s relationship with his sidekick, played by young martial arts expert Bruce Lee, is also a joy. Unlike Batman’s stilted attempts to mentor Robin and Robin’s wide-eyed ‘golly gee’ attitude, the Hornet and Kato feel like true partners. Kato may be his servant in the daytime and his driver at night, but when they track down the bad guys and jump out and fight, the two of them work together side by side. Lee is poetry in motion, so much fun to watch and easily outclassing the criminals, (Five thugs versus Kato? The poor guys are hopelessly outnumbered!) It’s also refreshing to have an Asian man in a positive superhero role, especially with the ‘Yellow Peril’ stories that have been popular since the pulps so often casting Asian people as villains.


Kato–poetry in motion.

The biggest difference between The Green Hornet and Batman, though, is that The Green Hornet is smart. I don’t just mean that Britt Reid is smart, I mean that the show is smartly-written, with plots that have more complexity than anything on Batman despite the fact that The Green Hornet doesn’t sprawl across multiple episodes (with one rare exception), instead wrapping each episode up neatly, packing a surprising amount of plot into its half-hour-minus-commercials runtime.

It’s still a comic book show, and as such, has stories that skate close to being over-the-top. But unlike Batman, which gaily flings itself over that edge with abandon and seems to live by the motto, “the campier the better”, Hornet does its darndest to stay on just this side of plausibility. In the sole 2-parter, for example, aliens invade…but from the start it’s clear that Britt doesn’t buy that the aliens are real, and indeed he not only quickly discovers that they are actually humans, but identifies the ringleader Dr. Mabuse (whom you may recognize from Cora Buhlert's articles)!


Britt's not buying what Mabuse is selling.

Yet as a comic book show, The Green Hornet doesn’t hesitate to adopt some of the ‘cooler’ aspects of comic books, especially the Hornet’s secret lair, with fun hidden entrances and exits, and a couple of nifty gadgets he carries with him. Then there’s the vehicle that gets the two of them around. Unlike the gaudy Batmobile, “The Black Beauty” is a sleek custom Imperial decked out with all sorts of fun weapons.


The Black Beauty can take on the Batmobile any day–and it doesn't litter the streets with parachutes!

In short, The Green Hornet is a comic book show for grown ups. The themes are more sophisticated, the plots are more intricate, the stories are more realistic, but it doesn’t lose the ‘fun’ aspects of what make comic books enjoyable for adults as well as children. If you have ever enjoyed a superhero comic, or if you’re just tired of seeing Batman and Robin getting tied up and menaced by giant tarantulas, why not give The Green Hornet a try? You’ll be glad you did!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[April 12, 1967] We'll take Manhattan (Star Trek: "The City on the Edge of Forever")

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Time, the subtle thief of youth


by Janice L. Newman

We’ve been watching Star Trek for almost a full season, now. We’ve seen some sublime episodes and at least one really terrible episode, but the overall quality has been high. “City on the Edge of Forever” is one of the best episodes we’ve seen yet.

The early part of the episode sets things up, with Sulu getting hurt and McCoy being called to the bridge to treat him. There’s a nice bit of banter between the doctor and Captain Kirk here, followed by a moment of horror when unexpected turbulence causes Dr. McCoy to accidentally inject himself with a drug that drives him mad. Kirk, Spock, and even Sulu have all had opportunities to do dramatic scenes where they’re half out of their minds due to drugs or other influences. It’s nice to now see DeForest Kelley given the opportunity to really let loose.


Sulu gets to smile, but McCoy gasps like nobody's business!

McCoy makes it down to the planet below and throws himself through an alien artifact that leads to the past. This is where the episode really begins, with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock quickly following him through the artifact’s archway to try to fix the timeline McCoy has broken.

Finding themselves in New York circa 1930, Kirk and Spock face many challenges: they stand out in their modern clothing, they have no money nor place to go nor anything to eat, and Spock is noticeably strange to the natives of this time – though probably not as strange as Kirk assumes. As hilarious as Kirk’s struggle to explain Spock’s ears may be, the theater existed long before the 1930s. I suspect most sane people would simply assume Mr. Spock was some sort of traveling player, possibly cast in the role of Mephistopheles.


"My friend, officer, is obviously the Prince of Darkness."

Be that as it may, the important thing is that Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock are convinced that they stand out and must quickly blend in. Proving that he is indeed ‘a rat’ (as Ruth Berman noted in the latest issue of her 'zine, Dinky Bird), Kirk doesn’t hesitate to steal some convenient clothing, necessitating that they flee from a most inconvenient policeman.

They take refuge in the basement of a mission and meet a woman who will prove to be the crux of the time paradox: Edith Keeler. Edith, despite Kirk admitting that they stole their clothes and are on the run, is charmed enough by them to offer them help. She gets them a job, a place to stay, and food at the mission.

These basic problems solved, the difficulties facing the men out of time become more complex. Spock needs components that don’t exist or are incredibly expensive in order to determine what caused the time anomaly and broke their own timeline. There are plenty of great, teasing conversations between Kirk and Spock, where Kirk needles Spock and Spock ultimately rises to the challenge, despite the many hours of work it takes and the fact that he must work with equipment that he claims is hardly ahead of “stone knives and bearskins”.

Meanwhile, Kirk is growing closer to Edith Keeler. She’s a visionary who imagines a future where the power of the atom is harnessed and men will go to the stars. He’s a man from that very future. They make a lovely match…and a poignant one, when Spock determines that in order for their timeline to be saved, “Edith Keeler must die.”


Edith Keeler: Focal point of history

McCoy finally shows up, managing to just miss the captain and Mr. Spock when he’s taken in by Edith Keeler. Thankfully the drug wears off, leaving him sane again, though deeply confused. He has some nice exchanges with Edith, short conversations that nevertheless make them both even more likable. Their chemistry is almost as good as Edith’s and Kirk’s.

All the threads draw together when Kirk is planning on taking Edith out for a movie and she mentions McCoy. Kirk and Spock rush across the street back to the mission to meet their errant doctor in the doorway, McCoy joyful and relieved, Kirk and Spock fearful that the man might still be out of his mind. Turning, Kirk sees in horror that Edith is crossing the street after them, heedless of an approaching car. Kirk instinctively moves to save her but is stopped in place by Spock’s shout of warning. Horribly, Kirk must grab McCoy and hold him back to keep him from intervening.

“You deliberately stopped me, Jim. I could have saved her. Do you know what you just did?” McCoy demands.

And, in one of Trek's most memorable lines yet, Spock replies, “He knows, Doctor. He knows.”


Kirk knows.

The episode wraps up quickly after that, with the three men returning to the present day to find that their timeline has been repaired. In another memorable and surprisingly blue line, Kirk ends the episode with the words, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The best part of this episode was the emotional narrative, with the push-pull of the various characters’ motivations and needs causing real tension and tragedy. Kirk has kissed a lot of women throughout the various episodes so far, but I believed that his relationship with Edith Keeler, whirlwind though it was, was real and heartfelt. The ending was beautifully bittersweet.

Four stars.

One for the Birds


by a special guest

You know, when I heard there was going to be an episode of Star Trek by Harlan Ellison, I figured I was in for a treat.  After all, this is the fellow who gave us the brilliant "Demon with a Glass Hand" and "Soldier" on The Outer Limits (shoulda won the Hugo, by the way).  And this is Star Trek, fer chrissakes, the show that's supposed to finally bring good STF to the unwashed masses.

The teaser and the first act are complete messes.  We open up on the Enterprise being tossed about by "time ripples", whatever they are.  Mostly, it looks like a sub par episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the Pot, what with endless camera jiggles and tottering extras.  Sparks fly from the helm since, in the future, no one's invented fuses.  The ship's doctor (who else could do it?) rushes to the bridge to administer Sulu some happy juice; at least Takei gets to show off that dreamy grin of his.  And then (for Pete's Sake), our Chief Medical Officer manages to jab himself with the whole vial of goof juice, sending him straight to paranoia-ville.  I guess they just don't make country doctors like they used to.

All the nonessential personnel, like Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and Uhura, beam down to Planet Glitterball to find their hopped-up Doc.  But he's too sneaky–he hides behind things!  Apparently rock walls block ship's sensors and tricorders and things.  We watch security teams walk right past the guy several times.  If I could roll my eyes any harder, I'd see the back of my skull.


"Och!  If only I could see over this rock!"

Kirk and Spock meet up with the giant, talking doughnut that plays Cinemascope films (which, to be fair, wasn't too bad an effect).  The wheels in Kirk's brains almost come off at the concept of time travel–apparently, he's forgotten he's already traveled back in time twice just in this season.  Then he proposes the most harebrained plan: go back in time a day to "stop the accident".  What does he plan to do when he meets himself?  This is Starfleet's finest?

McCoy breaks free of his security guards, though at least that's consistent–the Enterprise has the worst MPs in the universe as has been shown in, well, every goddam episode of this show.  Once in the past, Bones alters history, and suddenly the Enterprise ain't in orbit anymore.  We know it's serious because the one line they gave Nichelle Nichols this episode is "I'm frightened."  Pauline Leet is rolling over in her grave, and she ain't even dead yet.


"I still get paid for the day, right?"

Once we get to the past, as they say now on L.A.'s KHJ, the hits just keep on coming.  Spock needs to build some cockamaimie projector out of vacuum tubes, relays and bubble gum, to make his Buck Rogers tricorder work.  Kirk, his life, his universe, but most importantly, his ship on the line, falls head over heels for a local dame.  That might be tolerable, but good grief–Edith Keeler?  The moon-eyed do-gooder who vomits dopey dialogue to winos about how we're gonna go to the stars, harness the atom, and wear lamé uniforms, and those are the years worth living for.  Even that might have been alright had, when Kirk asked where she came up with her visionary ideas, she answered, "Oh, you know–Amazing, Astounding, and like that."  Instead, she just "feels it."

This is the loon that'll inspire a peace movement to keep us out of the war so the Nazis can take over the world?  Color me unconvinced.


"…and don't forget to invest in IBM."

I'm actually surprised to see Harlan's name associated with this hackwork. From what I understand, he was so incensed with what Roddenberry did to his baby that he gave up screenwriting altogether.  What I don't get is why his name is still on the byline.  When an episode of his is torn to shreds, he lets the audience know it in his own particular fashion.

Anyway, the regulars do try their best with what they've got.  Shatner emotes admirably opposite the vapid Collins, particularly when he loses her to the slowest car accident in history.  Nimoy is brilliant, as always, and Kelley is an old pro who couldn't turn in a bad performance if he tried.  The editors and set dressers earn their money, too, doing a more convincing job recreating the past than, well, most any other show on primetime.

But fer the love of Mike, don't let this be the episode Star Trek is forever remembered for.

Three stars.

War = Progress?


by Erica Frank

On the one hand: The obviously doomed romance was achingly sweet. Kirk fell in love with someone he knew has been dead for centuries. He was caught up in Keeler's idealism and hope for a starbound future, which he knows will happen. She was intrigued by a man who, while technically a criminal, is clever, charming, and speaks of Earth as one planet among many. He does not mock her for her belief in space travel, nor for faith that mankind will someday shift its resources from war to philanthropy. They resonate beautifully… and the audience knows that it cannot end well.

On the other hand: Keeler's peace movement resulting in the U.S. losing World War II is awful. It says clearly, "We should have peace someday, but that day is not today." I have questions: If her movement delayed the U.S. entry into the war, did we not react to the attack on Pearl Harbor? Or did that not happen because we were so peaceful?


"I'm sorry, Captain.  My tricorder only picks up VHF."

This story could've found another way to convey the need for history to return to its original path. It did not need to imply that the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were necessary to develop starflight. The aftermath of WWII was horrible and I reject the notion that we can only reach the stars through the painful deaths of millions of people.
Other options include:

  • Keeler's peace movement caught on, spread widely—and had harsh opposition. A group of violent, militant fanatics went rogue and entered WWII earlier, with disastrous results.
  • A ship answers Kirk's call, but its captain and crew are speaking German. Because of the strong peace movement, the atomic bomb was never developed. Hitler never rose to military power—and German and Japanese technology, not American, dominated the late 20th century and eventually pushed into space. Kirk and Spock need to fix history to return to their home, but starflight itself is not in danger.
  • The ship that answers Kirk's call is entirely crewed by Vulcans. The peace movement spread across the Earth quickly; technology developed faster. Humans made contact with the Vulcans earlier, and the two species have a blended culture. Kirk wants to return to his normal universe but does not want Edith Keeler to die—and Spock is conflicted about whether he should stay in this "better" universe.

There are several ways WWII could have had a different outcome if the U.S. had a stronger peace-and-prosperity movement. The aftermath that Kirk discovered did not need to be, "Peace destroyed the Federation."

Aside from that: The episode had several charming moments. Kirk's attempt to explain Spock was hilarious. Spock and McCoy both complained about the "primitive" technology—I wonder if they're going to compare notes later? I give it four stars; my dislike of some of the implications doesn't make it a bad story.

Right on Time


by Lorelei Marcus

I once heard our wide array of television programming described as "a vast wasteland".  While I would argue there are a few hidden gems among the muck, it is true that the majority of shows we pick up on our antennas are…not very good.  A similar proportion obtains in one of the most popular genres of television: the period piece.

Westerns are so prevalent in the wasteland that they have become virtually synonymous with "television".  Watch any film or show in the last ten years, and if there's a TV set on screen, I guarantee it will show a shootout involving a man wearing spurs, or a gaggle of howling Indians, or both.  What amazes me about these Westerns, and historical shows in general, is not their popularity, but their wild disregard for historical accuracy.  Beyond the melodramatic plots and improbably long running times of series compared to the events they are supposed to portray (how long until Saunders and Hanley get out of France, anyway?), there is an obvious lack of effort in production that makes it impossible to believe that the characters are in any other era than the modern day.  Jim West's blow-dried hair in current style, the lavish cat-eyed make-up on what's supposed to be a poor woman in the 1820s, the skinny ties and modern suits on Hogan's Heroes, the outfits the costume department lifted straight from the Sears Catalog for any given episode of Time Tunnel; these are just a few examples of the egregious lack of care that breaks the illusion for historical television.


I absolutely believe this is Rudyard Kipling in 1886.  Good job, Time Tunnel!

What does any of this have to do with Star Trek? The most recent episode, "City on the Edge of Forever", has more elements of a period piece than a science fiction one.  And yet, in its period piece within an SF shell, it does a far better job than virtually every other historical.  I could genuinely believe that Kirk and Spock had traveled to 1930's era Earth because of the extra care taken with the set and costume design.  The scenes had little touches: period signs, old cars, wood-fired furnaces in the basements.  Edith Keeler's hair lacked the obvious '60s stylings we see constantly in Combat! and Twelve O' Clock High.  This extra attention to detail was crucial to the episode, allowing the audience to be carried through the intense emotional currents without being distracted by anachronisms.  It also made Kirk and Spock seem all the more "fish out of water", with their brightly colored uniforms and pointed sideburns, which marked them as aliens even more, perhaps, than Spock's ears.  They contrasted nicely with Edith Keeler's old-fashioned outfits, emphasizing the clash of eras, making the romance between Kirk and Edith all the more poignant…and tragic.


"Nothing to see here, folks!  Just a couple of fellas hanging around."

While I don't think this episode is perfect, I do believe that out of all the historicals in this wasteland called TV, it is a diamond in the rough…as opposed to a cowpat in the road. I hope it inspires other show creators to pay a little more attention to the historical accuracy they bring to their works.

Four stars.

A Mixed Manipulation


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

All of us, when we dive into fiction, are looking to be manipulated. We're looking for emotions to experience, fears to heal through catharsis, fantasies to live out. Good fiction is a massage for the brain. But most of us don't enjoy crude manipulation, any more than we'd enjoy laying down on a leather massage table only to be punched in the back of the head.

Some threads of "The City of the Edge of Forever" felt like crude manipulation; as Erica points out, the bizarrely binary nature of time travel was a particular disappointment. Why must a good woman die for the world to go on? Couldn't she have come to the future with Kirk? Perhaps to live with her fellow pacifists on Vulcan? And while I agree with Lorelei that the costuming and stage setting were convincingly period, the virtual lack of Black, Jewish, Latino, or Asian characters in 1930s Brooklyn was startling; WASP-y crowd after WASP-y crowd filled the street. California accents abounded. The extras in this episode didn't sound or look like the New York City I know.


The demographic melting pot that is The Big Apple

Some threads in this episode were beautifully subtle. The delicate domestic dance between Spock and Kirk as they set-up their Depression-era household was tender and sweet. The mutual courtship between Edith and Kirk, with each laying claim to the other in soft and clever ways, was heartfelt and poignant. The doomed nature of their love only made each spare moment they had together that much more precious. The careful, realistic challenges that Kirk and Spock faced upon their arrival drew me in completely: scrounging for money, making trade-offs between tools for the future and bread for tonight, picking up odd jobs as they came – we haven't seen our crew dive into these kinds of workaday lives before and it provided a deeply satisfying sense of their characters. These moments felt like the best manipulation a viewer could ask for.


Kirk and Spock reliving their dorm days at Starfleet Academy

On the balance, I very much enjoyed this episode. I feel as if I know Kirk and Spock far better than I did a week ago and am excited to see more of their partnership develop. If only it could not be at the expense of the women around them, I would be an entirely happy gal.

Four stars.

Next episode takes us to Space Park in Redondo Beach!  Come join us tomorrow at 8:00 PM (Eastern and Pacific) for a show and fanzine readings…

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[April 6, 1967] But what of Star Trek? ("The Alternative Factor")

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by Janice L. Newman

Star Trek has given us some of the best science fiction on television. It’s also, like any weekly show with scripts written by different authors, had some mediocre episodes. But watching with a large group every week, we’ve found that even episodes that had many detractors still had at least a few fans among us.

Until now.

“The Alternative Factor” started strong, with an unexplained phenomenon causing everything in the universe to briefly ‘wink out’. There are several tense exchanges between Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, and then one between the captain and “Starfleet Command” (though without the delay which one would expect at such a distance). These exchanges set the stage for a fascinating mystery.


"We've got word that this episode is a stinker, Captain.  You're on your own."

Unfortunately, from that point on, the episode degenerates into an inconsistent, near-nonsensical mess.

During the phenomenon, a person appears on the previously barren planet below. The captain orders the being beamed aboard the ship. The being is unsubtly named “Lazarus”, though we never actually see him give his name, only hear Captain Kirk call him by it later in the episode. Lazarus behaves strangely, begging for help in destroying ‘a monster’. He’s then apparently given the run of the ship, despite the fact that they are at battlestations.


"Say, the coffee's pretty good in this place!"

What follows feels more like a French bedroom farce than an episode of Star Trek. When the phenomenon occurs, we see two inverse silhouettes fighting, and Lazarus is replaced by a different Lazarus, though this is so poorly conveyed that eventually Kirk and Spock must have a conversation heavy with explanation (that lasts five minutes!) in order to tell the audience what’s supposed to be going on. One of the versions of Lazarus is supposedly mild and calm, but the vast majority of the time Lazarus has interacted with the crew he’s been an eye-rolling, scene-chewing maniac. The differentiation of ‘good Kirk’ and ‘evil Kirk’ in “The Enemy Within” was so well done that the clumsily handling here is doubly offensive.


"Bad" Lazarus choking on a piece of scenery

The fact that Lazarus is allowed to roam free to wreak havoc is consistent with previous episodes of Star Trek (see: “Charlie X”, for example) but even after he’s under suspicion of having stolen critical dilithium crystals, he still easily slips through security’s incompetent fingers (when they bother to put a security guard on him at all).

Eventually, Kirk ends up going through a ‘corridor’ between universes and encounters the rational version of Lazarus, who explains that everything the other Lazarus has said—the claims that his civilization was destroyed, that he’s a time traveler, that the rational Lazarus is a monster in human form—are all nothing more than the ravings of a madman. The insane Lazarus is prepared to meet and fight his antimatter counterpart even if it means destroying both universes.

The rational Lazarus outlines a plan where he will trap the other Lazarus in the corridor between their universes and, with Captain Kirk’s help, destroy the ships which act as the doors at either end of the corridor. Though he himself will be trapped for eternity fighting himself, the universes will survive. Captain Kirk helps him implement the plan, mournfully says, “But what of Lazarus…and what of Lazarus?” (a line they liked so much they used it twice) and the episode is, thankfully, over.


"But what of…" "Yes, Jim.  We get it."

What was particularly frustrating about this episode is that there were plenty of ways to make it more coherent and less nonsensical. Instead of having the ship’s crew behave utterly incompetently, Lazarus could have changed locations whenever the phenomenon occurred, allowing him to slip through their fingers without making them seem like buffoons incapable of basic reasoning. Instead of Kirk going along with the plan outlined by the rational Lazarus, he could have attempted to stun the insane Lazarus, and had him escape anyway. Throughout the story ideas are thrown in that seem to come from nowhere, for example, when the sane Lazarus states that destroying the other ship will also destroy his own, it’s the first the audience has heard of such a connection. The ending is poignant, but could have been so much more so if the story had made more sense. The worst thing a show can do is make you ask, “But why didn’t he…? Why didn’t they…?” and I found myself continually plagued by this damming question throughout the episode.

Better editing, more careful writing, and thoughtful direction could have made this story one of the classics. Instead, it’s the worst episode of Star Trek we’ve seen thus far.

One Star.

Bad Comedy


by Joe Reid

Dear Reader, I’d like to preface my thoughts on this weeks’ episode of Star Trek with a number of more pleasurable thoughts.  First being that the month of March just ended and almost everywhere in this wonderful country we live in the weather is beautiful.  Nature is on full display.  Jack MacMahon was just appointed the General Manager of the San Diego Rockets.  That’s good news to local basketball fans.  Lastly April Fools Day came a couple days early courtesy of Mr. Gene Roddenbury. 

My first exclamation of disbelief was provoked very early in the show.  The crew was going about what appeared to be routine business.  They were exploring a mundane new world, with no life, and no civilization; then the makers of the show boldly went to a place of utter confusion.  I said “you have got to be kidding me”, as a red space cloud was layered over the screen in a strange thrusting motion.  It had to be the most meaningless moment of television that I have witnessed in a long time.  The cheesy effect lacked meaning until characters explained to the audience what it was.  At that point it went from being meaningless to ridiculous, but let’s continue.


Trek optical team's finest hour

The second time this airing caused me to question my TV set was not much later in the episode.  It just so happened that the red space cloud effect caused life to appear on the dead new world the crew was in the process of scanning.  The captain decided that it would be a smart idea to visit the planet HIMSELF and say hi to the new life form.  This life form turned out to be a severely accident-prone, waif-bearded swooner named Lazarus, played by Robert Brown.  The first thing this biblically named beatnik does is jump off a rock to apparent death.  If only we were so lucky as to have lost this troublesome character at his first “death” we could have been spared witnessing the unfocused, angry, conniving, and as I previously mentioned swooning performance that Brown brought to us.  The rest of the mainstays were no better.  Kirk, Spock, and McCoy took every opportunity to provide Lazarus with unguarded access to anything that he wanted.  Which forced me to say, “you have got to be kidding me. They can’t be that dumb”.


"Good thing they didn't think to keep me locked up!"

It would be my earnest desire to say that there was only one more instance of low points of the bad joke that this episode was for me.  But like his namesake in the Good Book, Lazarus kept coming back to Life and causing more trouble for the crew of the Enterprise, and they deserved every bit of it for all of the dumb choices the characters in the episode make.  Even up until the last scene, with an unsatisfying twist ending, this episode was a painful stinker of a show.

This episode deserves to receive the lowest rating that I can give, and I would if not for a standout performance by the lovely Janet McLachlan, who played Lt. Charlene Masters.  Her performance was real and grounded, making up for the abysmal performances that surrounded her in this episode.

2 stars


by Gideon Marcus

I think I understand what happened last week. There are obviously two "Alternative Factors" – one matter, one…doesn't matter.

We didn't get the good one.

In another universe, Roddenberry produced a coherent episode, one in which we actually saw the sane Lazarus on the Enterprise and could distinguish him from "crazy Lazarus with Band-Aid", one in which "engineering" actually looked like the engineering sets we've seen before, one in which a better special effect was employed than superimposing the Triffid Nebula over the screen followed by the "EXTRA! EXTRA!" newspaper effect.

In the alternate Alternative Factor, the bugaboo wasn't antimatter, which every Starship in Starfleet utilizes safely in its warp engines. In that episode, there was an explanation for why Lazarus needed dilithium crystals (after all, it's not as if they were necessary to swap universes).  In another reality, there was an explanation why destroying one of the Lazarus ships destroyed the other.

In that alter-episode, it is addressed that one can't actually wrestle another person, even an identical person, for an eternity.  Someone is going to get hungry.

On the other hand, perhaps in this posited installment ("The Other Element", perhaps it's called?) we might not have gotten Lieutenant Charlene Masters, who was a welcome addition to the crew, very Cicely Tyson-esque.


Even the redoubtable Lieutenant Masters couldn't save our version of the episode.

Nevertheless, she's still not enough to pull the episode above a dismal 1.5 stars.

(credit to Tam Phan for the idea for this piece)

Next week's episode promises to be better.  Come join us tonight at 8:00 PM (Eastern and Pacific). We'll be reading a fanzine, too.

Here's the invitation!



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TV

[February 22, 1967] Where some (super)men had gone before (Star Trek's: "Space Seed")

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The Best of Tyrants, The Worst of Tyrants


by Janice L. Newman

Eugenics—the idea that people can be ‘bred’ to emphasize certain desirable traits the way breeders do with animals or botanists do with plants—is an interesting concept in a science fiction setting. So it’s not surprising to encounter an episode of Star Trek built around the concept. What is a little surprising is that the narrative doesn’t do more to condemn either the concept or the practice.

Space Seed begins with the Enterprise finding an ancient Earth vessel with no crew except a group of men and women in cold sleep, their bodies held in stasis. The arrival of the away team triggers the ship, which is suggestively named the “S.S. Botany Bay”, to awaken one of the sleepers.


Sleeping Beauty

After nearly dying during the revival process, the man is brought aboard the Enterprise. He proceeds to threaten Dr. McCoy (who responds with such chutzpah that I think it’s my new favorite scene with him). McCoy neglects to mention the threat to Captain Kirk, who gives “Khan” access to the ship’s libraries and implicit access to his crew. Khan takes full advantage of both, reading up on the ship’s structure and defenses as well as aggressively seducing and manipulating the ship’s historian, Lieutenant Marla McGivers.

Eventually research reveals that “Khan” is “Khan Noonien Singh”, who was, as Mr. Spock says, “From 1992 through 1996, absolute ruler of more than a quarter of your world. From Asia through the Middle East.” Khan and the rest of his crew were the product of eugenics experiments that succeeded in making men and women who were stronger, faster, and smarter than the average human. A group who were, or at least who were raised to think they were, the next Caesars, Alexanders, or Napoleons.

The conversation between Mr. Scott, Doctor McCoy, Captain Kirk, and Mr. Spock that follows this revelation is…odd, to say the least. Scotty admits to a secret admiration for Kahn. Kirk calls him “the best of the tyrants” (WHAT?) Even McCoy notes that there were no wars under him unless others attacked first. Only Mr. Spock expresses shock and repugnance at “this romanticism about a ruthless dictator”. There is some suggestion that the others are teasing Spock, trying to get an emotional reaction out of him, but there’s also a note of sincerity in their words that made me intensely uncomfortable.


"C'mon, Spock.  We're just pulling your ears!  You do have to admit, though, that the Nazis had some spiffy uniforms."

Captain Kirk puts a guard on Khan’s quarters, but Khan easily breaks out and, making use of McGivers, he revives the rest of his own crew and easily takes control of the Enterprise. When he enacts a brutal rule, first suffocating the bridge crew when they refuse to give up the vessel to him, then threatening to kill them one by one unless they work for him, McGivers turns on him and saves Captain Kirk’s life. Together, Kirk and Spock take back the Enterprise.


"Who's the superman now, huh?"

Kirk chooses to leave the “supermen” alone on a harsh planet, to try to carve out a colony of their own. McGivers chooses to go with them. I suspect her life with a group of people who believe that she is too inferior even to be good breeding stock will not be a happy one.

As with several other episodes where an arrogant or violent man has gone after a woman, Khan’s relationship with McGivers isn’t particularly romanticized, which I appreciated. He’s shown to be brutal, controlling, and extremely manipulative, which had the majority of the audience in our group revulsed, shouting to McGivers that he wasn’t worth it.


To be fair, Khan is an excellent hairdresser.

On the other hand, the narrative does romanticize eugenics to a distressing degree. Even the concept that the eugenics experiments were actually successful in breeding a group of superhumans is one that is both scientifically implausible and morally disgusting. The very existence of Kahn and his group within the context of the story says that such experiments are not only possible, but that they could work. But even those with only the most basic understanding of dog breeding, for example, know that emphasizing one trait can often lead to other, undesirable ones. [It might be possible to control "breeding" at the cellular level, as is done in Herbert's The Eyes of Heisenberg; that seems a more plausible explanation (ed.)]

Add to this the fact that most of the leadership of the Enterprise seem enamored of the idea of these faster, stronger, better men and women, with only Mr. Spock being the (derided) voice of reason. Even at the end, Kirk says, “What a waste to put them in a reorientation center.” And so they are explicitly sent to the planet not because they are too dangerous to house on a penal colony, but because it would be a “waste” of their strength and potential to do so. This group repeatedly said they were superior to humans. They were arrogant, cruel, condescending, and incredibly dangerous. Yet it would be a “waste” to try to retrain them and to teach them empathy? Wouldn’t attempting to make them productive members of society who don’t believe that they’re superior to everyone else be a better use of their potential?

Space Seed was a well-made episode, and Ricardo Montalbán was excellent as Khan. But the inclusion of genetically-created “supermen”, and the framing of them as anything other than the tyrants and dictators they were, knocked my rating down a little. I give the episode three and a half stars.

Not My Superman


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

When Mr. Spock (or any Vulcanian) sees a Romulan, he can safely think, there but for the grace of logic go I. In "Balance of Terror", he describes the relationship between his homeworld and the people of Romulus:

Spock: And if Romulans are an offshoot of my Vulcan blood, and I think this likely, then attack becomes even more imperative.
McCoy: War is never imperative, Mister Spock.
Spock: It is for them, Doctor. Vulcan, like Earth, had its aggressive colonizing period. Savage, even by Earth standards. And if Romulans retain this martial philosophy, then weakness is something we dare not show.


Spock's distant cousins, the ones we don't talk about

Warfaring, brutal, brilliant, manipulative, brave, self-superior, male-dominated – that describes both Khan Noonien Singh's comrades and the Romulans we have met. In both episodes, we had the pleasure of viewing the crew of the Enterprise meeting their match; struggling, failing, and ultimately overcoming the putatively superior foe. Even the temporary betrayal of Dr. McGivers – under deeply disturbing coercion by Singh – resolves when she frees Captain Kirk.


The historian's equivalent of "the Spock pinch"

Perhaps this comparison is why Spock reacts so quickly and so strongly to the maybe-teasing of the crew about Singh and his comrades. As Janice notes, that scene was uncomfortable, particularly when it immediately followed the brutal conversion of Dr. McGivers to Singh's way of thinking. Just as there was no romance in that scene, like Spock and like Janice, I would have preferred less romanticization about the Eugenics Wars.

But where Spock seems secure in his people's relationship to Romulans as well as confident that unmodified humanity is superior to overbred and overweening demi-tyrants, there is an insecurity humming under the interactions between the humans on the ship and Singh's cadre. Perhaps that is why Kirk does not even try to hold them accountable for their violence against the crew of the Enterprise or integrate them into their society.

I prefer Spock's dismissiveness to Kirk's initial admiration; aside from pretty looks, I didn't find much to recommend Singh as a leader or a "superman."


Not my Clark Kent

Since long before Nietzshe set quaking pen down to yellowing paper, a certain style of man has yearned for the emergence of what have been called übermensch, or supermen. One of my favorite innovations of our century has been the re-working of that concept in comic books like Captain America and of course, Superman. In those, sure, the title characters are as Kirk describes "[s]tronger, braver, certainly more ambitious, more daring." But they are made heroic not by those differences of species and medical intervention, but by Steve Roger's commitment to fighting for the little guy, for defending democracy and freedom, and Clark Kent's dedication to doing anonymous good. Values I cannot see Singh being guided by. Likewise, I cannot imagine Clark Kent – who would easily best any of Singh's cohort in a fist fight with his laser eyes blindfolded and one bullet-proof hand tied behind his back – taking over entire continents of people as Singh did in the far-off 1990s.


A real Superman

A humble reporter; an artist and friend. These are the übermensch I grew-up with. Like Spock, I do not see the value in men like Singh.

But I did value the chance to see this corner of future history so thoroughly explored. I hope, if we ever see Singh again, he will be singing a different tune – maybe something about "truth, justice, and the American way."

Four stars.


by Andrea Castaneda

We all love a good villain. They neither ask permission nor forgiveness as they break the rules, challenging the hero in an effortlessly charming way. Khan is such a villain. And in his short time aboard the ship, he was able to seduce, manipulate, and deceive his way into controlling the Enterprise. This feat, combined with Ricardo Montalbán's phenomenal performance, is what made him such a compelling character. In fact, it would appear that his magnetism not only affected the crew, but also the writers themselves. 

There’s a scene midway through the episode that illustrates this point. When we learn this 20th century guest was actually a former tyrant from his original time, Scotty admits– in an almost giddy way– that he admires him on some level. Kirk echoes this, saying he was in fact the best, though he adds it's what makes him dangerous. It’s a very human sentiment. And I think many of us have fantasized about what it is like to relinquish the restraints of civilized society, taking what’s “ours” as we please.

With that said, I was relieved to see Spock’s shock and horror at how his colleagues romanticized the autocrat. A part of me wonders if Leonard Nimoy’s Jewish heritage played a role in how his character reacted. After all, the very real tyrants from our time, who terrorized the world and sought to wipe out the Jewish community, are not ghosts from very long ago.

It seems that with the buffer of time, we as a society tend to sanitize the actions of bad men from yesteryear. We still acknowledge that a man like Attila the Hun was ruthless. Yet we saw Anthony Quinn play him in 1954, alongside the beautiful Sophia Loren, portraying him as an alluring leader and formidable foe against the Romans. Then we have men like Blackbeard, once considered a dreaded and despicable outlaw of the high seas. Yet today, the pirate has been rehabilitated for family consumption, via Disneyland’s upcoming attraction “Pirates of the Caribbean” (opening next month).


The nicer pirate

I’m not trying to be a party pooper and say people aren't allowed to enjoy those things. Nor am I saying villains should be bland and one dimensional. But it does make me wonder if we will treat the villains from our time, such as Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin, with the same sanitized view. It’s a paradoxical standard we seem to return to, where we condemn them for their merciless ways, yet admire them all the same for it. As Kirk put it, “We can be against him and admire him all at the same time.” But it’s important to ask ourselves if we’d feel the same way if those very tyrants placed a boot upon our neck, not once letting up.

Despite my philosophical quandaries, I give this episode four stars. It had its imperfections, but it captivated me all the way through. The audience loves a good villain, and Khan is a great one. I only ask, both to the writers and ourselves, do we condemn these men for the harm they’ve caused or condemn them because they– in the end– lost?


by Gideon Marcus

On the Third Hand

Kirk ended "Space Seed" looking awfully generous.  After all, Khan had just tried to turn him inside out in the vacuum chamber, threatened his true love (the Enterprise), and didn't even thank the captain for sharing his limited stock of Windex.  Yet, instead of sending Khan and his troupe of Hollywood Palace acrobats to Tantalus for rehabilitation, or kicking the problem upstairs to Commodores "Mendez or Stone, Kirk exercises his broad authority to maroon the "supermen" on a rude, backwoods planet.


"We've got this bell; we gotta get some use out of it!"

I don't think this was done as a courtesy or an amelioration of sentence, however prettily Kirk puts this to his prisoners.  The fact is, Khan and his people are dangerous.  They can't be killed–there's only one death penalty on the books.  They probably can't be rehabilitated–Khan's nature is clearly deeply ingrained–and given his magnetic effect (on women and men), chances are they'd just launch a revolution from wherever they were stashed.

So Kirk, instead, used his discretion (and McCoy notes that it's a rather extreme interpretation of his powers), to sweep Khan (and McGivers) under the rug where they can't do any harm.  No muss, no fuss!  It's actually rather brilliant.

However much I admire this creative thinking on Kirk's part, I can't say "Space Seed" was my favorite of episodes.  I quickly grew fatigued of Khan and his imperious nature (not helped by seeing Mr. Montalbán just two days later as a heavy on Mission: Impossible).  I enjoyed Mr. Spock and the 1990s history lesson, but beyond that, the episode left me curiously cold.

Three stars.

It looks like Kirk is traveling to modern Babylonia this week. Join us tomorrow at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific),

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 12, 1967] Most illogical (Star Trek: "The Galileo Seven")

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Zero sum game


by Janice L. Newman

Ever since his masterful performance in “The Naked Time”, I’ve been eager to see more episodes featuring Leonard Nimoy’s half-Vulcanian, half-human character, “Spock”. This episode revolves around Spock, but it unfortunately does a poor job of what it sets out to do.

The Enterprise is on a mission to bring much-needed medical supplies to a planet suffering from plague. En route, they encounter a quasar, and since they have a couple of extra days before their rendezvous, they follow another directive: to investigate all quasars and quasar-like phenomena.

A shuttle is sent out crewed by seven people. Three are familiar to us: Spock, Scotty, and Doctor McCoy (why the ship’s engineer and ship’s doctor were sent on this scientific mission is never explained). The rest of the shuttle crew are unknowns which, given the episodes we’ve already seen, likely means that one or more of them will die.

The quasar interferes with the instruments of both the shuttlecraft and the Enterprise, causing the shuttle to crash land on a planet in the center of the quasar and the Enterprise crew to be unable to find them and pick them up. They’re racing against time, as Galactic High Commissioner Ferris, who is overseeing the delivery of the critical medical supplies, constantly and obnoxiously reminds them. If they can’t find the missing crew members within two days, they will have to leave them stranded, and probably to their deaths.


Commissioner Smarmiface

On the planet Spock takes command, only to find his orders questioned and challenged at every turn. McCoy’s needling is typical, though it feels inappropriate in the midst of the crisis. In fact, he starts the whole thing off by prodding Spock and saying that “you've always thought that logic was the best basis on which to build command”. This assertion is already suspect, given that Spock has reacted to Kirk’s more inspired gambles (see: “The Corbomite Maneuver” and “The Menagerie”) with respect and acknowledgement that they were clever, even if they were unorthodox or unexpected.

Perhaps following McCoy’s lead, several of the other crew members react with increasing disbelief, anger, frustration and disgust every time Spock tells them to do something, or even speaks. The conflict is meant to have at its heart the idea of pitting reason against emotion, but frankly, it’s poorly done. The crew mostly come across as insubordinate bullies, irrational to an outrageous degree. When Spock is helping Scotty attempt to repair the shuttle and Boma insists that Spock stop what he’s doing and ‘say a few words’ for one of the crewmembers who has, as expected, been killed by the planet’s native lifeforms, Spock’s refusal seems like the only reasonable course given the time constraints they are working under. The only really questionable choice he makes is ordering one of the crewmembers to stay outside as a scout in a dangerous area, which leads to the crewmember’s death—though as a fellow watcher noted, if the scout had been better at his job he may well have survived.


"If only I had some way to call for help!"

When they finally manage to get the shuttlecraft into orbit, Spock jettisons the fuel in a last-ditch attempt at a distress signal. It works, but only because Captain Kirk has disobeyed his own orders and started towards his rendezvous at ‘space normal’ speed instead of ‘warp speed’, and is therefore still in the vicinity. The episode ends with the entire bridge crew laughing mockingly at Spock when he denies that his final choice was an impulsive, “purely human, emotional act”.

Thus ends a story that was by turns exciting, even riveting, and enormously frustrating. The introduction of a ship’s shuttlecraft, the crew’s attempts to get the shuttlecraft into orbit, the Enterprise’s increasing desperation as they hunt for the lost crew were great. I got goosebumps when Spock chose to jettison the fuel. But the way the people under Spock undermined and questioned his authority was irritating and felt contrived. I couldn’t help but think that even if Kirk were giving the same orders, he would never have been challenged the way Spock was. Commissioner Ferris’ continual reminders that there wasn’t much time left were also annoying, although more understandable, as his mission was to prevent unnecessary loss of life in a planetwide plague—a mission which Kirk seems to treat very cavalierly at the end.

With all the good and bad, I can’t give this episode more—or less—than three stars.


by Gideon Marcus

Keep cool, man

In a crisis situation, the most valuable asset is a leader who keeps a level head.  While everyone else is flailing about, the boss makes calm, rational decisions.  With the exception of the laughable babbling scene two thirds through the episode (which single-handedly dropped the Young Traveler's appraisal of the episode from four to three stars), Mr. Spock was completely unflappable, and his decisions, for the most part, excellent.  In an episode not filled with straw men composed of irrationality, Spock's demeanor would have shored up flagging morale, not stoked anger and resentment.

"But two men died!" some might cry, girding an argument against Spock's ability to command.  I submit that, in fact, Spock's actions preserved the most people overall—you just have to see the beings on the planet as people.  While Mssrs. Boma and Gaetano were urging for a demonstration of murder, Spock argued restraint, insisting on terrorizing the aborigines rather than killing them.  He knew that a demonstration of power was likely to be useless, having deduced that their culture was too primitive to sustain the tribal social structure that would respect such a display.  But knowing his men were keen on violence, he channeled it into a less destructive option.


Spock trying to keep everyone alive.

When the indigenous sophont began whacking on the shuttlecraft with a rock, Spock didn't suggest blasting it with a phaser (fuel concerns may have been tight, but they probably could have afforded that shot based on prior consumption).  He gave it a painful shock instead.  Effective and non-lethal. 

In the end, Spock's actions were far more respectful of intelligent life, regardless of the form, than the path advocated by Doctor McCoy, a man whose profession is centered on the preservation of life.

Quasi-scientific

There were several points in the episode where a little bit of explanatory dialogue could have made things much more plausible.  Why does the Enterprise spend so much time searching the class M planet?  There's no indication that's where the shuttle went.  I would have liked there to have been some intimation that Latimer deliberately aimed the Galileo toward the habitable world so they'd have some chance.

Also, for those who don't know what a quasar is, they really are quite interesting, and probably nothing like the phenomenon depicted in the show (which is more like some kind of nebula).  Quasars are actually cutting-edge astronomical science.  When humanity first started turning their radio telescopes to the stars, they discovered sources of radiation that had hitherto been invisible.  But they blazed like beacons in low frequency radio waves. 

They seemed no bigger than stars, but they clearly were not stars.  So they were called "quasi-stellar radio sources" – quasars for short.  No one knew if they were extremely small, close-by entities, or extremely powerful far away ones.  A few years back, it was noted that every quasar had an immensely red-shifted spectrum.  That is to say that all of the light coming from any quasar, every single wavelength of color, was stretched, as if the body were receding from us at great speed.  You've probably heard of this phenomenon before: the Doppler effect you hear when a train whistle is heading away from you.

This red-shift indicated that the quasars were actually very far away, billions of light years.  They also offered proof that the early universe (since if the quasars are far away, they must be quite old – the light took billions of years to reach our eyes, after all) was different from the current universe since there are no nearby quasars.  Thus, final conclusive proof that the universe arose from some kind of Big Bang, as opposed to always existing, as Fred Hoyle and many other prominent cosmologists suggested.

What this all means is that Kirk and co. could not have investigated a quasar, for there are none close enough to Earth for his starship to reach!  He did cover up with the possibility of it being a "quasar-like" object, whatever that means (a quasi-quasi-stellar source?!)


A quasasar?

I can usually squint my ears and forgive this scientificish wishiwash, but it drives the Young Traveler crazy.

Anyway, I guess I give the episode three stars.  I can't decide if it's a terrible episode with great bits or a great episode with terrible bits…

What’s the Folsom Point


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

We’ve seen a handful of leaders throughout the series, but this is the first time that we get to experience an alien leading a team that is not of their species. Leaders have a critical role to play in every organization, and few would contest that, but what happens when we are led by someone that’s different from us?

The Enterprise’s resident alien, Spock, is no stranger to leadership. He wouldn’t be First Officer if he was. He has proven to be level headed and capable in stressful situations, and in my opinion, he conducts himself no differently in “The Galileo Seven”. He’s a sound decision maker. Yet, Gaetano and Boma seemed intent on defying Spock’s every decision no matter how reasonable. None of Spock’s orders were followed without some comment about his logic as if emotions and irrationality were the greater tools for the situation. The overt hostility toward him at every turn seemed out of place for a crew that should be trained and fully capable of following orders. It’s hard to imagine their actions were motivated by anything other than an irrational hatred or fear of the other. Would the crew have treated Kirk the same way if he had made the same decisions?

Spock’s experience reflects my own. As an Asian, an obviously "different" person (no matter how much people say America is a melting pot) it’s not out of the ordinary for my opinion to be dismissed in favor of the same opinion expressed by someone less different.

I don’t know exactly what the message was in this episode. In the end, Spock made the correct decision and saved the investigation team. Spock received no commendations for actions that not only prevented the death of several crew members, but, as Gideon mentioned, also a number of natives. Yet his decision was credited to human emotionality rather than Vulcanian rationality. It's a haha moment. The good part of Spock is the human one, not the alien one.

I’ll give the episode credit for demonstrating how a seemingly capable crew might turn on someone because he’s different, but I already know what that looks like. And in the end, if the episode was trying to show the foolishness of bigotry, it undercut its own message with the insulting ending.


Nothing better for morale and discipline than laughing at the Exec for being an alien.

One Star

The needs of the many


by Andrea Castaneda

Andi Castaneda here, photojournalist extraordinaire.

I had a lot of mixed feelings watching this episode. On one hand, I liked the setup for the conflict and seeing Spock in a leadership role. But I was ultimately left frustrated by McCoy’s and Boma’s behavior, who seemed too selfish and immature to be crewmembers of the Starship Enterprise.

This episode focuses a lot on “emotion vs logic”. But I think this conflict goes deeper than that. I think this can also be framed as “the individual vs the collective”. Now, I’m still getting to know the characters of Star Trek. But I’m told the Vulcanian culture places much more value in the community over the individual–the latter being too emotional. Spock is consistent with that philosophy, focusing more on saving the majority even at the expense of the few. He includes himself in these calculations.

However, the other crew members–specifically Boma and McCoy–seem to resent this. Perhaps this can be explained as simply as a culture clash. But one would think that after working with Spock for so long, they can understand why he has different customs and world views. Instead, they insult him, calling him a machine and implying he has no heart.


Perhaps these expressions can be entered into the log for use at their disciplinary hearing.

When other crew members are killed by the planet’s native species, they insist on giving the deceased proper burials despite the mounting danger. Granted, I say this from the comfort of my own home far removed from their situation, but it seems to me that their insistence on having their emotional needs met–despite how it jeopardizes the crew’s safety–shows a much more selfish side to them. Yes, I can understand their grief and rage, something that Spock perhaps should have taken into account. But they seemed to lack the foresight to see how it would affect others. Gaetano and Latimer were dead, yet they insisted on putting the rescue attempt in jeopardy to prioritize their own feelings.

At last, they make it off the surface of the planet, but not before they’re attacked again by the native species. The two rescue Spock from the attack–despite his protests- but it costs precious time and fuel. He confronts them on this, but what’s done is done. Their chance of survival is now even slimmer. Luckily, the show runners need another episode next week, and they are saved thanks to Spock’s quick thinking.

Overall, I enjoyed watching Spock taking on a leadership role and how he resolved conflicts. However, I wish the show had acknowledged how McCoy’s and Boma’s actions nearly cost them all their lives. It seems odd that people this erratic managed to be part of such a prestigious fleet. I'll give the show the benefit of the doubt and chalk this up to mediocre writing rather than a fundamental flaw.

For now.

Three stars.

An Illogical Logic


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Mr. Spock uses the word "logical" to describe his command decisions, but what he seems to mean is "passionless." It's a subtle difference, but since it was one central to the conflict of this story, I think it is worth diving into.

Here on Earth, in 350 B.C.E. Aristotle famously defined the rhetorical device of logos in his Rhetoric: “αἱ δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ λόγῳ διὰ τοῦ δεικνύναι ἢ φαίνεσθαι δεικνύναι,” that is, as the third of three methods of persuasion, one which relies “upon the speech itself, in so far as it proves or seems to prove.” (Aristotle in 23 Volumes, translated by J. H. Freese, 1926).

Aristotle meant to inform his students about how to balance three methods of convincing people to change their minds. As anyone with a Classics background will remember, Aristotle breaks all argument down into pathos (arguments designed to stir emotions), ethos (arguments which rely on the speaker’s character), and logos (arguments which rely on the proof they contain). Like a single crewman or crewwoman stranded on a hostile planet, these forms of address are not designed to be used in isolation. Nearly any given speech by Captain Kirk to his crew employs all three of these, often to stirring effect.

Yet the central tension of "The Galileo Seven" lies around Mr. Spock’s stubborn insistence on ignoring the reality of emotions and social standing to focus solely on what he calls “logic,” but which often seems to be his own good ideas, framed in declarative sentences (do any readers have loved ones who “argue” like this?) Sometimes, yes, as Gideon says, Mr. Spock’s “logic” does seem to be the actions most likely to result in the survival of the most sentient beings possible.

But in the over two-dozen times the word “logic” was uttered in this past episode, very few of them refer to moments where the speaker has provided clear proof about the rightness of a course of action. For example, when Dr. McCoy notes that Spock must be pleased to be in command, he replies:

“I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me.”

Claiming an action is logical, at least as Aristotle taught it and as most of us use it today, is not a short-cut to declaring a perfect, top-down, universally-understood course of correct action. It is instead a way to try to convince people your idea is best; one of several ways, all of which are stronger when braided together. It seems like whatever Mr. Spock is terming “logic” is really more about self-discipline than persuasion, which is all well-and-good, but as a commander, part of his job is to motivate people to carry out his orders. Over and over again throughout this episode, Mr. Spock fails to do so, in part because he insists on misusing both logic and rhetoric.


Logic fails Mr. Spock, or perhaps he fails logic?

There is hope for him yet, however. When all seems lost for the shuttle crew, Mr. Spock vents their fuel, sending up a flare big enough for the Enterprise to see it. It is a decision he could have verbalized, arrived at and proved logically, using either inductive or deductive reasoning, and brought the crew along with him. Though he did not, it is a decision which required him to not only analyze what he thinks the correct actions of Enterprise should have been, but to take into account who was serving as her Captain at the time: his friend, Captain Kirk. I think Mr. Spock knew that Captain Kirk would blend his own moral authority with his crew, his emotional connection to the stranded shuttlecraft, and his own keen grasp of reasoning to extend his search as long as he could. I think Mr. Spock risked all of the surviving shuttle crew’s lives on it – and he was right.

Three stars.

Come join us watching the next episode tonight at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific), apparently starring Liberace!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[December 4, 1966] Riddle wrapped in an enigma (Star Trek: "The Menagerie")

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But first, please read this brief interlude!

As you know, in addition to Galactic Journey, I also run Journey Press, devoted both to republishing classics discovered while on this trek through time, but also to publish new works of science fiction in fantasy that (I hope!) live up to the quality and tradition of the classic works we offer.

If anyone would enjoy these works, we know it will be you.  This holiday season, pick up a title or three from Journey Press!  It's the best present you can give yourself, a loved one…and us!

The Sum of its Parts


by Janice L. Newman

Back in July, a few Journeyers were lucky enough to catch a private showing of "The Cage", the first pilot of the new Star Trek series. I say ‘first’ pilot, because despite the amount of money invested in making it, it was never publicly aired on TV, which seemed a shame. Still, it’s understandable – the cast and crew of the ship are almost completely different from the actors who were finally chosen for the TV show, with only Mr. Spock appearing in the same role in both. (Majel Barett appears in both, but as different characters.)

But isn’t it a waste to spend so much and work so hard on a great episode like "The Cage" and then not use it? Desilu, the studio producing Star Trek, must have thought so. They decided to use the footage after all, but in one of the most innovative ways I’ve ever seen – appropriate for a modern, forward-thinking science fiction show.

Gene Roddenberry took the original episode and wrote a new story around it, turning into a 2-part episode that frames the "The Cage" in a way that is both compelling and fits well into the narrative and characters as they have been established in the past 10 episodes.

The story opens with the Enterprise diverted to a starbase by a false message. On the base, they meet Captain Pike: a former starship captain who was grievously wounded in a training accident. Though he saved the trainees, he himself was so badly hurt by the radiation that he is now unable to interact with the world except by moving a wheelchair forward and back and answering yes and no questions with a pulsing light. His mind, we are assured, is as active as ever, but it is trapped within a body which has been damaged beyond repair.

Spock once served under Pike, and, meeting with him in secret, behaves suspiciously. He claims that he’s made all the arrangements. From there he kidnaps Pike, uses falsified voice commands to hijack the Enterprise, and begins a race toward “Talos Four”, a planet that starfleet has declared entirely forbidden to approach or even to make contact with.

Captain Kirk pursues his ship and its apparently rogue first officer. He and the commander of the base, Commodore Mendez, deliberately leave themselves stranded without fuel, gambling that Spock will pick them up rather than leaving them to die. Like many of Kirk’s wilder ideas, it’s a gamble that pays off.

Once on the ship, Mendez demands that Spock be court-martialed. Spock pleads guilty, but for his testimony, asks to show a record of what happened thirteen years ago when Pike and his crew, including Spock, first encountered Talos Four. When Mendez points out that this can’t be a normal recording, being far too detailed, Spock declines to explain his source at first.

The record Spock shows is, of course, the original "The Cage" pilot. However, the story isn’t just played straight through, it is frequently interrupted by the people watching. In this way, the tension of the ‘present-day’ story is maintained alongside the story that happened in the ‘past’. Will Spock be found guilty and receive the death penalty? Will he be able to show the entirety of what happened? Why has he done this?

The story-within-a-story format could have been confusing and poorly-done, but instead it fits astoundingly well. Since the events aboard Pike’s ship ostensibly take place thirteen years in the past, it’s easy to excuse differences in uniforms as being a natural evolution and less polished special effects as being ‘more primitive technology’. The presence of Spock in both ties the stories together into a plausible and effective whole. The sharp contrast between the young and virile Pike from the past and the badly-burned Pike from the present is profound and disturbing.

The ending is, admittedly, a little pat. Spock’s flagrantly criminal behavior is dismissed and forgiven, and Pike gets to live the rest of his life in an illusory paradise, ‘unfettered by his physical body’. The Talosians, who were so menacing and dangerous, turn out not to be evil, and the whole thing is treated almost like a big misunderstanding. It’s all a little too easy.

Despite this, though, I was incredibly impressed by how well-integrated the two stories were. Kirk and Spock felt completely in-character. In fact, when it is revealed that the entire court martial was merely designed to keep Kirk distracted so that he couldn’t find a way to regain control of his ship, it was such an appropriate follow up to "The Corbomite Maneuver" that I wanted to applaud. Spock knows that Kirk is both clever and thinks outside the box, and that it will be impossible for Spock to anticipate his actions. Building an expectation of this into his plan showed that he understands his captain very well indeed.

This was one (or two) of my favorite episodes yet.

5 stars

A few notes


by Gideon Marcus

Having seen "The Cage" at Tricon, it was interesting seeing how it was integrated into a Trek episode, and also what was changed.  For instance, Malachi Throne played the Talosian Keeper in "The Cage".  Since he was brought on to play Commodore Mendez (a role I really liked him in), they had to alter his voice as the Talosian.  I felt this really enhanced the alienness and androgyny of the being. 

I think "The Cage" worked better on its own than stitched into The Menagerie, but on the other hand, I loved the sheer scope of the two-part episode.  Thirteen years of history, a starbase, flag officers, compelling aliens…with one story, Trek became a living universe.

A couple of things became clear after much pondering:

Vina probably has the Talosian power of illusion.  After all, the Keeper was certain that, given any contact between the races, humans would learn the power and destroy themselves.  They only had one human with which to make that assertion…

This explains the death penalty for visiting Talos — a starship going to Talos IV might very well cause the societal death of humanity.  It also explains Mendez' suspension of enforcement of the order, since in this circumstance, no harm could be done.

Favorite moment of the episode:

Spock: Mr. Hansen is now in temporary command of the Enterprise.

Hansen: (voice cracking) Sir?!

5 stars for the first part, 4 stars for the second, 4.5 stars total.

Game of the Mind


by Elijah Sauder

Being new here I'll give a little introduction. My name is Elijah Sauder and I have always enjoyed things SFnal, one of my more recent favorites being Dune. Despite my interest in the genre, I have only recently started watching Star Trek, making these episodes the 3rd and 4th ones I’ve tuned in for. I have also not seen “The Cage” pilot that some of our group has.

I felt that these episodes, perhaps unintentionally, touched on some interesting ideas regarding how important the mind is. We rely so much on our ability to perceive the world for how it is, so what happens when that ability is deceived? These episodes, particularly part 2, experiment with that very idea.

It is made very clear in the second episode that the Talosians cannot directly control what one thinks or feels; however they have the ability to alter what one perceives. For instance, instead of just causing Captain Pike pain, they made him perceive that he was in a lake of fire.

To me, this distinction was fascinating. In a way, it is the ultimate form of manipulation. I think the episode does a good job of exploring how one could escape such a manipulation, though I feel that if applied correctly, it could be near inescapable. Instead of making it seem like the blasters don’t work, why not make it seem like the blasters don’t even exist, etc. If someone can control everything you perceive, do you really have any control left? Assuming a species is intelligent enough to understand how a species thinks, they could easily keep you in a loop of you thinking you succeeded, when in reality you are still in their illusion.

We humans are exploring this concept in a limited way with Op Art or optical illusion art. It creates images that are meant to trick the brain. To take the perception we assumed is real and play with it to show us something that doesn’t exist or at least something to confuse us. Some great examples of this are done by a Hungarian/French artist, Victor Vasarely.

I quite enjoyed these episodes. Overall, I agree with the general consensus, the first episode was great and the second one was good but was less polished.

5 and 4 stars, respectively. Keep your heads on straight, Elijah out.

Frankenstein's episode


by Robin Rose Graves

Spock’s defiance in part one drove my interest in this episode. This is a man who follows rules and while not immediately apparent what his motives are, I kept watching, eager to find out. My interest waned with the flashbacks. I’ve seen these scenes before and while “the Cage” has a movie quality production, its new presentation cheapens it.

Knowing already that Vina’s appearance is yet another deception on the Talosian’s part, I successfully predicted ahead of time that the reason Spock wants to bring Pike to Talos Four is to restore the quality of his life (while mobility is accounted for by his futuristic wheelchair, he is reduced to two responses to speak with: “yes” or “no.” What a cruel existence).

Yet in “the Cage,” Pike desperately escapes the Talosian’s clutches, as they want to use humans to populate a slave race. Now, the Talosian’s motives are brushed aside, and similar to how Vina decides to stay behind in order to live without disability, Pike accepts life on Talos Four. His motives are partially understandable, given the reduced existence he was living before, but the initial conflict of “the Cage” is entirely ignored. I can’t help but think this choice comes with immense sacrifice the episode doesn’t take time to contemplate.

At the end, the audience learns that this has all been agreed upon ahead of time, including allowing passage into the previously forbidden territory – yet Kirk and the rest of the Enterprise (minus Spock) are unaware of these arrangements.

Spock’s reputation for being reliable and obedient is restored, as he was never defying orders to begin with. All tension is released without consequence.

The drama of this episode could have been entirely avoided with conversation. Was it necessary to keep Kirk in the dark? In all episodes to date, Kirk has enthusiastically helped when the opportunity to do so is placed before him. While I understand the personal connection Spock has to Pike, I’m unable to believe that should Kirk have been informed ahead of time of what was going on he wouldn’t have wanted to help. The only purpose of not telling Kirk was to create the initial drama.

Thus, this is a 3 star episode for me. I loved “the Cage,” which first kindled my interest in this series. I liked what this episode was trying to do: mixing a past plot into a present plot while utilizing the brilliantly done unused Pilot. To me, it barely works and I far prefer the original “the Cage”.

Flagrant Emotionalism


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

What a fantastic performance by Nimoy. Spock’s plan may have been thorough, calculated, and deep, but were his motivations? Not only did he need to persuade Kirk, his current captain, but he had to protect him at the same time. Spock’s cunning plan to reach Talos Four to save Pike, his former captain, was borderline emotional. Though logical in execution, in my opinion his motivations were anything but. We get to see Spock’s human half in “The Menagerie” and it gives us an opportunity to relate to the logic driven alien. We don’t get to see the internal struggle that took place before the commitment to his actions, but that would have spoiled this ending and added a third episode. Perhaps a future episode will touch on this. At any rate, Nimoy’s calm demeanor in the face of these tough decisions was only broken for a moment a couple of times. Once when the monitor went blank and he implored Kirk to continue to watch until the end, and once when he felt “insulted” by Kirk’s comment at the end. A very nice touch.

It wasn’t enough that Spock had his struggle. Kirk had no choice but to condemn his First Officer and friend to a possibility of the death penalty with a guilty verdict. The pain on his face was evident. A more subtle and welcome performance by Shatner. Not to say that Shatner can’t be subtle, but it often seems there's nothing in between that and “The Enemy Within”.

I couldn’t help but appreciate Commodore Mendez, played by Malachi Throne, as the voice of reason. His decisions were appropriate and inevitable. Kirk was torn between doing what he knew was the correct thing to do and some excuse that could save his friend. Mendez took charge which not only made it impossible for Kirk to dally any longer but forced us into Kirk’s shoes. Not knowing what I would have done in that situation was reflected in Kirk and for a moment I hated Mendez even though I knew he was right.

“The Cage” was a fantastic episode on its own. I would have preferred that it stayed that way, but I understand why it was used in “The Menagerie”. The result is still one of my favorites so far.
5 Stars


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Spock Scheherazades His Way To Freedom

In many versions of 1001 Nights, Scheherazade’s sister is silent. She sits beside the sheikh or sultan or king or raja, listening to the stories Scheherazade spins on her behalf. In some translations, Scheherazade is telling her never-ending stories to keep her sister from becoming their ruler’s next victim, volunteering to risk her life for someone she respects and cares for.

Scheherazade’s stories are full of frames we pass through and into, minor characters in one story becoming leads in another, before fading for the next. Spock’s deliciously kaleidoscopic story in The Menagerie often uses framed computer screens to show us different moments. He appears on our screens in our homes, only to direct us to a screen showing the past on Talos Four, wherein we see a screen that the Talosians use to view the surface. Scheherazade’s tales often involve fantasies of sex and subjugation, violence and taboo, cruelty and romance, just as the Talosian fantasies Vina spins do. Like Scheherazade, Spock is spinning out his time to save a silent comrade, entertaining his audience long enough to stave off judgement, and risking death because he believes that if he only finishes telling his stories, both he and Captain Pike will be free.

There are of course some key differences. Captain Kirk is not a cruel and capricious sheikh, though the illusory Commodore Mendez could have made a go for it. Spock is not Captain Pike’s brother, though Spock’s bond to him seems deep enough for him to risk his life, career, the crew of The Enterprise, and his relationship with Captain Kirk for. But Spock’s storytelling structure, motivation, and themes place him firmly within Scheherazade’s style.

It is hard to end a multi-layered frame narrative, because we never seem to end up exactly back where we started. At the end of most tellings of Scheherazade’s story, the ruler looks up, sees their shared children sitting around them, and agrees to stop killing virgins. We don’t see his heart change on screen. We are never given a clear reason for it. Scheherazade's sister is saved without her ever saying a word. In its way, 1001 Nights’s conclusion is as fantastical as the ending of The Menagerie, with its uncharacteristically altruistic Talosians, removal of charges for Spock, and perfect mental prosthesis for Captain Pike. But why do we read stories of the fantastic if not to be surprised and delighted by their endings?

Five stars.

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[October 12, 1966] Inside Out (Star Trek's "The Enemy Within")

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Two for the Price of One


by Janice L. Newman

Some stories become seminal. They are told and re-told, with additions and variations, but always at heart recognizable. The heartwarming tale of A Christmas Carol, the story of Frankenstein, the great, sweeping drama of Romeo and Juliet – elements of each of these have become embedded in our culture and our consciousness.

Tonight’s Star Trek episode drew from one such cultural touchstone: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. You can already guess, just from knowing that much, what it’s about. But is it well done?

The episode begins with the transporter being used to ‘beam up’ one of the ubiquitous extras from a planet which, we are told, gets very cold at night. There’s some sort of malfunction with the transporter, and when Captain Kirk is beamed up next, he sways as though faint. Scotty escorts him to sick bay, leaving the transporter room empty when it activates again and beams in…another Captain Kirk?

It’s immediately apparent that something is off about the second Kirk. He rushes over to Sick Bay to demand alcohol from Doctor McCoy, yells at crewmates, and in a deeply disturbing scene, menaces and attacks Yeoman Rand. (Is it just me, or does it feel like Yeoman Rand’s only purpose aboard the ship is to be menaced and attacked? We’ve seen it happen in the past three episodes: Charlie in "Charlie X", a random infected crewperson in "The Naked Time", and now the captain himself.)

Fortunately, Rand manages to get away, and afterward the ‘good’ Captain Kirk insists that he didn’t attack her. Particularly interesting to me was Rand’s reactions as the captain and Mr. Spock talk to her about what happened. She is far more traumatized than in previous episodes, weeping and saying, “I didn’t know what to do…He is the captain.” When she says that she scratched her attacker and Kirk points out that he has no scratches, she begins to second-guess herself. “I was frightened…maybe…” In a particularly poignant moment, she adds, “I can understand. I don’t want to get you into trouble. I wouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

There is a wealth of meaning in those few lines. In the futuristic society of "Star Trek" women may have something closer to equality than we have now, but a crewmember is still afraid to tell her captain ‘no’, and even after an attempted rape, says that she wouldn’t have said anything about it to avoid getting him into trouble. It says a lot about their society, and also about our world here in 1966, that those lines feel shockingly real and believable.

The ‘bad’ Kirk is eventually caught, but something interesting happens to the ‘good’ Kirk. At first, he seemed mostly unaffected by the transporter incident, but as the episode goes on, we see him beginning to waver, distracted and nervous. He increasingly has difficulty making judgement calls, until it culminates in a moment where he begs, “Someone make the decision.”

It turns out that the two Kirks aren’t ‘bad’ Kirk and ‘good’ Kirk, so much as the one driven by passion, lust, and the baser emotions, versus one motivated by compassion and logic. Both sides are necessary for Kirk to function as a full person and an effective leader.

This was a really interesting take on the Jekyll and Hyde cliché. As with several of the episodes preceding it, there wasn’t a clear-cut ‘bad guy’. And the solution wasn’t to kill a monster but to heal one, to comfort the fears and soothe the rage of Kirk’s id until he agreed to rejoin with his other half, even at the risk of his life. For all that it’s a premise we’ve seen before, the story was fresh, interesting, and very well-told indeed.

Five stars.

The Flip Side


by Gideon Marcus

It's always nice to see Richard Matheson's credits on a show (well, except for The Twilight Zone's "Third from the Sun", where it was a disappointment.) "The Enemy Within" is a beautifully crafted exploration of humanity's noble and bestial qualities, well portrayed by William Shatner as Captain Kirk.

Indeed, while the episode mostly focused on "Good Kirk" and his mission to be reunited with his other self, I found myself increasingly interested in "Evil Kirk" as a character.  After all, he's as much "the real" Kirk as his other half.  We got to see Spock fall apart last episode, and here we get to delve into what makes Kirk tick.

In "The Naked Time", Kirk lamented that he could never get away from his command, "no beach to walk on…" The first time we see "Evil Kirk" after he steps off the transporter, he runs to the transporter, grinning with glee.  I think I understand what's going on in his mind — no more pesky conscience to restrain him.  He's utterly free for the first time in his life.  Of course he runs off to indulge in his basest desires: drunkennness, rape, violence. 

Here's a question: are these desires always tempting Kirk, just as Spock is always wrestling with his human side?  Or would any person with his superego removed develop the same urges?  Are there people for whom splitting in two would result in less dramatically altered personalities?

Obviously, it's not an experiment that can be ethically run, but it is fascinating.  And if I seem insensitive to what Kirk went through, understand, it's the way I am.

I will say that the assault on Janice was particularly difficult to watch.  The betrayal she must have felt, particularly by someone she trusted, admired, and possibly has (had?) a romantic interest in, cuts deep and resonates with a situation so many women deal with.  Spock's comment at the end, indicating he is aware of Rand's feelings for Kirk, and that she might have, deep down, enjoyed the assault was almost as painful as the assault itself, though perhaps it is consistent with his earlier insensitivity.  Perhaps they'll cut that bit in the summer reruns.  It really doesn't need to be there.

Four stars.

A Color Theory of Good and Evil


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Like I did last week, I’d like to zoom in on one particular detail of The Enemy Within: the set design. Specifically, how the comparative dominance of blood red lighting or jade green uniforms give us hints as to which incarnation of Captain Kirk holds the upper hand in a given scene.

These colors are what Bauhaus artist Johannes Itten would call complementary, since they they appear on opposite sides of his 1961 color wheel:

Near the middle of the episode we see the lower decks where red lights glow through jade green filigree screens as the violent part of Captain Kirk hunts Spock and his jade-shirted other self. Contrast this with the touching final moment on the transporter pad, where the peaceful Captain Kirk holds his counterpart close, their green uniform shirts filling the medium shot, with only a hint of red in the ceiling lights just before they are recombined:

These complementary thematic colors add a layer to Commander Spock’s assessment of Captain Kirk:

“[W]hat is it that makes one man an exceptional leader? We see indications that it's his negative side which makes him strong, that his evil side, if you will, properly controlled and disciplined, is vital to his strength.”

Complementary colors, when combined with artistic discipline, are greater than the sum of their parts. There is a buzz to the places where they touch, a neon inner life. Pop art leaders like Miriam Laufer, Sister Corita Kent, Marisol Escobar, Evelyne Axell, Sturtevant, and the recently late Pauline Boty wield that intense, almost painful complementary contrast, to produce strong, commanding statements about the world as they see it.


Pauline Boty, Colour Her Gone (1962)

In this episode, the contrast between Captain Kirk’s two selves is also intense and painful, particularly to those who his violent side hurts or his peaceful side fails to protect. But for Kirk, his good and evil sides are complementary: they allow him to be greater than the sum of his parts.

Director of Photography Jerry Finnerman, Art Directors Roland M. Brooks and Walter M. Jefferies, Set Decorator Carl F. Biddiscombe, Costumer William Theiss, and their team members represented by the I.A.T.S.E. labor union must have worked together tirelessly to provide us this episode’s visual metaphor; I look forward to continuing to enjoy their teams’ skillful use of color theory to mirror and elevate the stories of these familiar, far-off characters.

Four stars.

In the picture


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

Spotlighting Shatner’s double-faced role in "The Enemy Within" was a bold move, especially after Nimoy’s "Naked Time" performance. Shatner's turn might have been less nuanced than Nimoy's; nevertheless, if the writing continues to be this good, this show might propel itself into the history books.

Contrasting "Charlie X" in pacing, this week’s episode moved when the scene was over. I was on the edge of my seat hoping for them to resolve the transporter issue so they could save Sulu and his crew of scientists. As for Takei, after last week’s exciting display, his role in "The Enemy Within" might have been small, but it was powerful.

As much as I appreciate proper pacing, ambience and music were the heroes of "The Enemy Within". Kirk’s sadness and despair are my own and the music confirms it. The soundscape transports me to the Enterprise: The soft beating of the monitor in Sick Bay, the beeping of the consoles on the bridge, and even the trill of the transporter are such distinct sounds that there’s no mistaking where I am. The whooshing of the sliding doors tells me I’m about to leave a room. The sounds and ambience make me feel like I’m part of the crew. The music draws me into the scene so seamlessly that at times, I don’t just hear it, but feel it. I can’t wait to familiarize myself with new parts of the ship. With what I’ve heard so far, it should be a delightful experience.

4 Stars

(You too can be in the picture: join us tomorrow night at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the next episode of Star Trek!)

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