All posts by Janice L. Newman

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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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[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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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[September 20, 1966] In the hands of an adolescent (Star Trek's "Charlie X")

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A New Tradition


by Janice L. Newman

It’s official, we now have a “Star Trek” night at our house each week, when we gather our friends and watch the latest episode. Though we’ve only watched two episodes so far, the show is off to an interesting start! This week we saw “Charlie X”, which had thematic similarities to both of the pilots we saw at Tricon.

The Enterprise has picked up a refugee, seventeen-year-old Charlie, who is the only survivor of a colony that died years ago. He was found by another ship, Antares, whose crew is only too happy to be rid of him.

There’s immediately something fishy about the boy. This is emphasized by strong musical cues, which are nicely integrated into the score. Since I watched “The Cage” (the first pilot) only a couple of weeks ago, I wondered at first whether the Antares crew were actually aliens in disguise, or an illusion.

The boy is extremely awkward in his interactions. He’s fascinated by Yeoman Janice Rand, the first ‘girl’ he’s ever met, and follows Captain Kirk around like a lost puppy. No one seems to know quite what to do with him, and I felt bad for the kid at first.

However, strange things start happening aboard the ship, initially benign, or at least not damaging long-term. Charlie produces a ‘gift’ for Yeoman Rand and won’t say how he obtained it, even though she notes that there shouldn’t have been any in the ship’s stores. All of the synthetic meatloaf in the ship’s ovens are turned into cooked real turkey. Uhura temporarily loses her voice.

It’s clear to the viewer from the beginning that Charlie is making these strange things happen, but it’s not until he begins to take far more sinister actions that the crew become suspicious. The Antares attempts to contact the Enterprise at extreme range, saying that they need to warn them, but they’re cut off when their ship explodes without warning. Finally, Charlie makes a crewman disappear directly in front of Captain Kirk.

The entire story shifts at this point, and Charlie goes from being sympathetic to terrifying. He’s immature and impulsive, greedy and lonely. He’s got the power of a god and the conscience of a small child. He goes after Janice Rand, coming into her quarters and offering her a flower. She firmly and repeatedly tells him, “No,” but he continues to press his attentions on her until the Captain and Mr. Spock show up to help. When he casually tosses them aside, Yeoman Rand slaps him – so he makes her disappear, too.

There are echoes of “Where No Man” in this plot: a human obtains absolute power, which corrupts absolutely. It’s also reminiscent of the Twilight Zone episode, "It's a good life", which similarly features an omnipotent, frightening child. The ending to "Charlie", however, is unexpected. The aliens who gave Charlie the power in the first place, allowing him to survive in the lost colony, return to take him back. Charlie begs the humans to allow him to stay, saying he’ll be alone with aliens who cannot touch him and who cannot love.

This is an interesting turnabout; the audience is once again compelled to sympathize with Charlie. Despite all the terrible things he’s done, the viewer can’t help but feel sorry for the young man, trapped all alone with aliens. His situation is an interesting parallel to Vina’s in “The Cage”, but Vina stays behind by choice, and she is offered a rich fantasy life by the Talosians, whereas Charlie wants nothing more than to escape, and despite his powers, is apparently offered a sterile and empty life by his alien jailors. The nuanced story is far more sophisticated than typical television sci-fi fare.

However, there were a few elements that I felt rang false.  Would Captain Kirk really be so awkward talking about ‘the birds and the bees’ with a teenager? Would Doctor McCoy really be so resistant to doing the same? This is the future, for heaven’s sake, and Doctor McCoy is a doctor. It felt like character and realism was sacrificed for cheap laughs.

On the other hand, I absolutely loved the way Charlie’s interactions with Yeoman Rand were handled. Charlie comes on strong and is increasingly pushy with Rand throughout the story. It’s a familiar kind of interaction in media. We often see a man persist in his attentions to a woman who resists at first but eventually gives in and falls in love with him. What made this story unusual was that his actions are never framed as being in any way romantic, or even acceptable. Rand is supported by the Captain himself, and never, ever told that she’s being hysterical or overreacting. When Charlie presses her, she stands firm, repeatedly telling him in no uncertain terms, “no!” and “get out of my room, I can’t make it any clearer than that!”

I appreciated how strong she was, and that Charlie’s actions were portrayed as creepy, unwanted, and wrong. It’s different from a lot of what I grew up with, and makes me wonder about the gender of the script writer, a mysterious “D.C. Fontana”.

Three stars.

A faltering step


by Gideon Marcus

Together with "The Man Trap", we are starting to get the first real understanding of the characters who inhabit the Enterprise.  Dr. McCoy is back, marking the first time the ship's doctor role has been the same character.  Moreover, he interacts substantially not only with Kirk, with whom he has a friendly, if perhaps arms length, relationship, but also Mr. Spock.  Their bickering on the bridge presages what could be a fun running bit, where the science officer approaches things logically in contrast to the more emotional doctor.

On the other hand, Spock displays genuine emotion, both in his bashful smiles and irritation when performing with Lt. Uhura in the lounge (a nice scene — Nichelle Nichols has a lovely voice!), and also when playing chess with Captain Kirk and Charlie.  This is the second episode that we have seen Spock and Kirk matching wits over the 3D version of the game of kings.  I expect this is a motif we'll see more of.

While I enjoyed this outing, I found its execution more pedestrian than that of "The Man Trap".  As fellow traveler Ginevra noted in our after-watch kibbitz, the use of camera pans, cuts, and focus are less adroit.  The differently colored corridors we saw in "The Man Trap" have been replaced with ones of uniform reddish hue.  It leaves the impression of a cheaper, less interesting show.  Not to the degree of the second pilot (which will be aired next week), but it's definitely noticeable.

If I had to pick a stand-out scene, it is when Charlie zaps a crewman into oblivion, particularly Kirk's reaction thereto.  You can see the character fitting all the pieces together about Charlie in stunning realization.  I also appreciated Kirk's shyness in talking about women, and the relation of men thereto.  He was established in the second pilot as "a stack of books with legs", and I appreciate a leading man who is not a ladies' man.

Perhaps that role will be taken up by Mr. Spock. Lord knows a certain communications officer seems to fancy him…

Three stars.

What makes Charlie X so frightening?


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

With last year’s founding of The Autism Society, many people are reconsidering the roles that disabled people can access in our shared world. Science fiction is an excellent place to stretch our imaginations and explore new worlds and futures.

In this week’s Star Trek episode, "Charlie X" Robert Walker plays the titular 17-year-old, progressing from awkwardness to outright violence; viewers moved with him from discomfort to horror to pathos. What made us react so strongly to Charlie? Charlie speaks too quickly or too slowly; interrupts Captain Kirk; stands too close; touches people in unexpected ways; has exaggerated expressions or a flat affect; makes uneven eye-contact; has sudden and overwhelming emotions he struggles to express in ways the crew can grok.

In the show, this is attributed to Charlie’s lack of socialization and education. But Charlie isn’t an illiterate boy; he’s a fictional character on TV, a representation of the actor, writer, director, and viewers' ideas of a monster, drawn from the shared fears of our society. The trouble is, not all of us fear the same monsters. In the world I live in, Charlie’s mannerisms reminded me of my family members who are autistic, who face violence from people taught to be afraid of them. Until he started hurting people, Charlie’s behaviors didn’t disturb me, but I could tell the actor and writer wanted them to.

This disconnect is what made the end of the episode so satisfying to me. My heart began to race in the final scene when first Lieutenant Uhura, then Captain Kirk, then the re-materialized Yeoman Rand pushed back against the Thasian leader. Fought to protect Charlie. Captain Kirk’s line, “The boy belongs with his own kind,” felt profound.

As readers know, the 1964 Civil Rights Act did not include protections for disabled people. In the future, perhaps another law will. Watching shows like Star Trek requires us to flex the same science fictional muscles that activists use to imagine new ways for our real world to be. Perhaps, to viewers in the future, Charlie’s mannerisms won’t evoke horror, but will be just one more way of being one of our own kind.

Three stars.

Of Gods and Magic

by Robin Rose Graves

When it comes to Sci-Fi I am easy going on believability. Give me a simple (though sometimes far fetched) explanation for how or why something works and I’ll play along. But I am a stickler when it comes to “magic” (in Clarke's sense of the word). If I don't know how it works, I at least want to know its extent and cost.

My biggest problem with the episode is that Charlie’s powers are never defined in either category. Charlie is seen doing everything from procuring an object from thin air, to aging a character within seconds. Many of his abilities appear to be unrelated, yet exceptionally unlimited.

I almost wish Charlie’s powers had been to manipulate perception, like the alien in “The Cage.” This would have explained the variety of tricks Charlie executes during the episode: silencing Uhara, making crew members disappear – none of these things are really gone, just no longer perceivable under Charlie’s illusion. Even the change of beef to turkey could have been a simple trick of the senses.

Then again, there is a cost to Charlie's use of his "magic." It is, of course, that Charlie can never relate to other humans, and as a result, is exiled to emotional prison, living out his days with the Thasians. And while this isn't the kind of "cost" I was describing above, it does make for a compelling — and ultimately unsatisfying — episode.

Does he deserve to be condemned? I am hesitant to convict a character like Charlie of such a fate. After all, I believe his corruption was not from his powers alone. He endured some fifteen years of solitude. It is obvious Charlie lacks the socialization he needed during his formative years. I think in different circumstances, Charlie could have been more empathic, more willing to learn cooperation and patience in exchange for the social interaction and praise he so clearly desires. I think under proper care he could have been rehabilitated. Rather than thrown onto a large ship of strangers, better had he been given one on one time with a professional who could teach him what to expect once reintroduced to society. The Enterprise could really use a ship's psychologist. Failing that, Bones should have taken on the job.

While I’m happy the solution wasn’t to kill Charlie off, as the conclusion has been for menaces in episodes prior, I felt that Charlie was unjustifiably written off. It makes me wonder, what is the point of this episode? Charlie shows no character development or revelations. The Captain and crew feel badly for Charlie, but will they learn from their missteps that led to the crisis in the first place? I think this idea was ripe with potential left unexplored.

Three stars.

The Silent Treatment


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

Between the strange glares, close-ups, and whining monologues, we have the smatterings of a story about an awkward teenager playing grab-ass on the starship Enterprise. Much like “Where No Man” we’re often left staring at the characters staring at other characters waiting for someone to say something. Anything. Silence can be powerful, but sometimes silence is just silence. If I had wanted to watch a silent film, I would have chosen something a little more exciting.

Charlie really had his eyes set on Yeoman Rand, which is understandable. Any man with a good pair of eyes would, but she made it abundantly clear early on that she wasn’t as interested in Charlie as he was in her. The episode made sure to portray his advances as juvenile and unwelcome, which is a refreshing take on the overly aggressive pursuer getting the girl cliché. I appreciate seeing the consequences when “no” isn’t taken seriously. Charlie had powers that allowed him to do as he pleased, but it just goes to show that power isn’t everything.

I can appreciate that there was a deeper story here, but it wasn’t very well executed. I might have been sympathetic if Charlie was more likeable, but he just wasn’t. Nobody made an effort to improve Charlie’s experience in this episode. Not even the writers.

Two stars

From the Young Traveler


by Lorelei Marcus

"Charlie X" had an interesting premise that didn't quite match its execution. Charlie is meant to be a boy who has been raised in a completely alien context, his only reference to humanity being records and memory tapes. Yet aboard the Enterprise, his alienness is manifested in, at most, a lack of maturity and recognition of social cues. The difference should have been far more severe.

I believe the two main elements of "Charlie X" could have been better served as two different stories. One would be about an alien-raised human learning to assimilate with humanity. The other about an adolescent with ESP and the problems he causes.

We essentially got the second story, which after the mismatched premise, I have to admit was executed fairly well.  Three stars.

Space Fashion


by Erica Frank

Obviously the most powerful organization in the future depicted in Star Trek is the fashion union. Changing starship uniforms every few weeks takes a lot of political swing!

Kirk appears in three different types of uniform in this episode: his command outfit, which he wears on the bridge, a gold shirt that looks more like what the other officers are wearing, and an exercise outfit that consists of tight red pants and little else.


Kirk's very fashionable command jacket, which looks easy to remove. This seems to be an important trait for the captain.

When he goes to teach Charlie the basics of combat, Charlie wears a red gi top (which must be standard sports outfit, since it's got the Federation patch near the shoulder), and Kirk wears… well…


Sulu(?) and another man are battling behind them with some kind of padded pole weapons.

That's certainly an interesting choice. It almost makes up for this being the fourth episode (out of four) with dangerous psychic powers.

Things I didn't like about this episode: Destructive mental powers (again). The crew leaving a rescued teenager to wander around the ship unescorted. Not assigning the teenager a guide, mentor, or other assistant to adapt to life in human society.

The ending felt a bit rushed; I'd like to see the Enterprise (or some other ship) visit the area again, and volunteer someone to live wherever Charlie's stuck with the aliens. Let them give another human — an adult — the same powers, and see if that person can teach Charlie how to live among humans without resorting to murder when his whims are thwarted.

Things I did like: The musical interlude was lovely; I enjoyed Mister Spock's Vulcan instrument and Uhura's spontaneous singing. Also, Charlie was sympathetic: we could feel his confusion and understand his petulance. The story made sense, even if I sometimes wanted to throttle the captain for not assigning someone to pay attention to Charlie sooner. Also, I will forgive quite a few plot sins if it means I get to see half-naked men tumbling around the screen on prime-time television. 4 stars.

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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 10, 1966] Froth, Fun, and Serious Social Commentary (Sibyl Sue Blue)

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by Janice L. Newman

Sibyl Sue Blue was not what I expected.

Set in the futuristic year of 1990, Rosel George Brown’s Sibyl Sue Blue takes place in a world both like and unlike today’s world of 1966. Sibyl is a tenacious and smart detective working for the city’s homicide department. When a series of bizarre ‘suicides’ start plaguing the city’s youth, she’s called in to investigate. As she follows the clues, she’s drawn into increasingly strange events, from trying alien drugs to being invited to join a spacefaring millionaire on an off-world jaunt.

Sounds like fun, right? Yet when Judith Merril told me the other day that she’ll be reviewing it in an upcoming issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction, she mentioned that “…under all the froth and fun and furious action, there is more acute comment on contemporary society than you are likely to find in any half dozen deadly serious social novels.”

She’s right!

Cover of the original Sibyl Sue Blue
The cover of Sibyl Sue Blue shows her smoking her signature cigar.

That’s not to say that Sibyl Sue Blue is dry, boring, or preachy. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of these things. But, as Merril promised, beneath the wild ride exists a sharp yet understated criticism of both modern racial tensions and treatment of women in science fiction.

Let’s take racial tensions, for example. When I say that SSB offers subtle commentary on race relations, I’m not talking about the obvious parallels between the story’s alien Centaurians and modern day Black people. That analogy is obvious to anyone with half a brain: places where the ‘aliens’ have moved in have become ghettos, they smoke strange cigarettes, and they are generally distrusted by the native human population – but if you’re a cop, you don’t dare say so.

I’ll admit, it threw me for a loop at first. What was with this heavy-handed analogy? It wasn’t until I read further into the story that I got it. The subtlety comes into play in Sibyl’s interactions with Centaurians, as well as Brown’s portrayal of them. Throughout the story Sibyl treats Centaurians the same way she treats humans. Though she warns her colleague not to get caught saying he doesn’t like Centaurians, never once does Sibyl herself express dislike or distrust of a Centaurian simply because they are Centaurian. In fact, though the story opens with her being attacked by a Centaurian, her sharp mind is already searching for the reason behind his actions.

Then, too, Brown’s portrayals of Centaurians are as variegated as her portrayals of humans. They’re not saints, but they’re no worse than anyone else, and better than many. And like humans, they can be coerced, manipulated, and used by people or entities more powerful than themselves.

There’s a certain cynicism coloring everything. The good-hearted and earnest “Jimmy” says things like, “Gee, it’s a shame about Centaurian prejudice,” and sounds hopelessly naive. Yet only a couple of chapters later, Sibyl doesn’t hesitate to invite her Centaurian friend, contact, and occasional lover over for some info and an intimate pick-me-up. The contrast between Sibyl’s attitude and Jimmy’s is telling. It’s not enough to criticize prejudice, Sibyl (and Brown) seems to be saying. You need to walk the walk, not just talk the talk. And Sibyl walks it – boy, does she!

Rosel George Brown
Rosel George Brown, author of Sibyl Sue Blue.

Speaking of walking the walk, another thing that startled me, at least until I got what Brown was doing, was the story’s ‘romantic’ subplot.

Multiple science fiction magazines and occasional science fiction novels, TV shows, and movies are released every month in the USA and the UK. In a good month, maybe ten percent of the fifty or sixty stories published are penned by women. In a bad month, none of the stories are written by a woman. The average usually falls somewhere in-between.

Perhaps it isn’t a surprise, then, that so few protagonists of science fiction tales are women. Whether written by men or women, whether they’re complex and interesting or shallow and flat, main characters are overwhelmingly white men. When women do show up, they’re often relegated to the role of helpmate, something in need of rescuing, or the prize the man wins after overcoming his trials – sometimes all three!

Obviously, there are plenty of exceptions, but in terms of trends, if a beautiful woman is introduced into a story (or a TV show, or a movie) in the first act, chances are she’ll fall in love with the male lead by the end. This is true regardless of how unappealing, uninteresting, or unlikeable the man is.

This cliché is another that Sibyl Sue Blue turns on its head. What is it like to be the woman who seemingly inexplicably falls for a rich, handsome, clever, yet completely terrible man? What happens when a woman who is herself independent, interesting, and already has her own life suddenly gets caught up in the implacable tide of the plot?

Traditionally, the woman marries the man after he solves the case and the two live ‘happily’ ever after. But as I found when I kept reading, if the woman is someone like Sibyl Sue Blue, nothing will turn out the way you expect!

Sibyl is fascinating. She’s small but powerful, repeatedly shown as able to hold her own in a fight, even against men who are bigger than she. Yet she’s also unapologetically feminine. She enjoys wearing nice dresses, applying makeup, and accessorizing. Far from being stoic, when something terrifying and grotesque happens, she screams. When she’s overwhelmed, she cries.

And then she gets up and keeps going. Like so many women throughout history, when faced with circumstances far beyond her control, when she’s sick and exhausted and frightened, she keeps pushing forward.

Rosel George Brown and her children
Rosel George Brown and her children.

Sibyl Sue Blue has silver stripes in her hair and a daughter in high school. She’s strong and vulnerable and smart. She enjoys a startling amount of sexual freedom, unhesitatingly inviting handsome men to her bed as a matter of course. Above all, she is herself – not an easily categorized and dismissed ‘helpmate’, ‘damsel in distress’, or ‘prize’. She’s human and messy and makes mistakes and is sometimes clever. She’s as complex and interesting as the best of the male leads, and maybe even more than any of them.

Because I’ve read the stories of a lot of white men, but I’ve never met a character like Sibyl Sue Blue.

Get your copy of Sibyl Sue Blue from Journey Press today!

An ink drawing Sibyl Sue Blue
Custom bookplates with art by The Young Traveler available at a bookstore near you!




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Movies, TV

[December 12, 1965] Something Old, something New (The Bishop's Wife and A Charlie Brown Christmas

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by Janice L. Newman

TV Christmas

The holidays are here! In other times and places, people gather or huddle around a bright, crackling fire, drinking hot cider and pressing close to keep out winter’s chill. In the Traveler’s house, here in Southern California in the year of 1965, we gather around a bright, staticky TV screen, watching movies and sipping Ovaltine as the Santa Ana winds bluster outside our windows.

And that is how we came to see a pair of Christmas-themed features on our small screen in the first half of December.

Devil or Angel

The first of our ad hoc double feature was The Bishop’s Wife, which my mom saw in the theater back in 1947, but which I’d skipped, thinking the movie might have an overly-religious tone. By the time I learned otherwise, the holidays were over and the movie was long gone. So when I saw in the TV Guide that it would be airing this season, I made sure to write it down on our family calendar.

The movie turned out to be surprising. Henry Brougham, an Episcopalian Bishop (David Niven), has become so obsessed with raising money to build a new cathedral that it’s left him out of touch with the things that really matter. He prays for guidance, and receives an answer in the form of one ‘Dudley’ (Cary Grant), who claims he was sent to help him. Rather than helping him coax the rich and powerful to open their purses, though, Dudley seems to spend most of his time with the Bishop’s wife (Loretta Young), taking her out to lunch, going skating with her, and making her smile even as her husband grows more and more frustrated and jealous.

It doesn’t sound much like a Christmas movie, does it? A story that revolves around an unhappy marriage, with a husband who thinks he’s being cuckolded (in a strictly emotional sense) by an angel doesn’t sound like family fare, let alone holiday material.

Yet, it was refreshing to have a holiday story that wasn’t cloying or heavy-handedly religious. Despite the title and the inescapable religious themes, Dudley comes across as something not quite like the traditional idea of an ‘angel’. He’s inarguably supernatural, but whether he’s actually angelic is questionable: at one point he suggests that he’s an alien from another planet, at another Henry tells him that he thinks he’s a demon, not an angel. It wouldn’t have been difficult to give the story a science fiction spin, making Dudley a man with telekinetic/telepathic powers and a delusion.

Not only that, but there is a startling element to Dudley’s character that suggests that angels – or whatever Dudley is – aren’t so far from humans as we might like to pretend.

While I don’t know that I would make this a staple of my holiday watching year after year, the bittersweet tale was both interesting and thought-provoking, though perhaps not in the way the author intended. It’s not perfect. The bishop is unlikeable enough and his wife’s character is flat enough to make their inevitable reconciliation not particularly satisfying. But Grant’s performance as Dudley is so compelling that it raises the story from mundanity to something worth watching. I give the movie three out of five stars.

Good Grief

The second program was a brand new one, though it was based on something that most people will likely be familiar with: the ‘Peanuts’ comic strip. A Charlie Brown Christmas premiered on December 9th, and we were there, gathered around the television to watch it.

If The Bishop’s Wife was surprising and refreshing, A Charlie Brown Christmas was distressing and disappointing. Perhaps I should have expected it; after all, the comic strip often features the characters treating each other with sarcasm, irritation, and even outright disgust.

Most of the ‘story’ was made up of a series of these strips, but animated. The anger and exasperation from the comic was carried onto the screen, with lines like, "Boy, are you stupid, Charlie Brown!," going from merely unpleasant to stomach-churning when voiced by what sounded like actual children.

The message of the short film – that Christmas is becoming over-commercialized and in order to get back the joy we’ve lost we need to remember the ‘true meaning’ of the holiday – was delivered with such a heavy hand that I felt bruised afterward. The self-righteous religiosity I’d skipped The Bishop’s Wife to avoid all seems to have ended up in this movie instead. And despite how mean the characters are throughout the story, the ending was cloying enough that I wanted to brush my teeth as the credits rolled.

However, the show did have three redeeming things that kept it from being unmitigatedly awful.

The first was Snoopy. The cheerful canine brightened the screen every moment he was on it. His antics ranged from decorating his dog house to try to win a neighborhood prize, to dancing on Schroeder’s piano, to hilariously imitating Lucy. Even his unrestrained joy was dampened by the other characters’ angry reactions to him, though.

The second was the music. One of the pieces was a particularly catchy, almost contrapuntal song played on the piano. With its quick tempo and memorable repeating throughline, I still have it stuck in my head! The rest of the music was pretty good, too. They clearly hired talented composers and musicians, and it showed.

The third is a little hard to describe. In the beginning of the story, Charlie Brown expresses something I think all adults have felt in their lives at one point or another: a feeling of being sad at Christmas, of not feeling how he’s ‘supposed’ to feel:

…I'm getting presents, and I'm sending Christmas cards, and decorating all the trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.

It’s a powerful sentiment. If it had been treated with a lighter touch, it could have made for a moving story: one that acknowledged the fact that the holidays can be a difficult and painful time for many of us, and in doing so, helped people recognize that their feelings were normal and they weren’t alone.

Of course, setting the tone for the entire show, Linus reacts to Charlie Brown’s feelings by yelling at him:

Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest!


"Just take a Miltown, stupid."

Like The Bishop’s Wife, A Charlie Brown Christmas doesn’t fit my idea of a Christmas movie. I’m not planning on circling it in the TV guide to re-watch if it airs again. But if they release one, I might just pick up the single of that catchy tune.

Two stars: one for Snoopy, and one for the music.




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Movies

[February 15, 1964] Flaws in the seventh facet (Seven Days in May)

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by Janice L. Newman

Seven Days in May premiered three nights ago!  My husband and I made sure to get to the theater early, as we wanted to claim good seats for this star-studded and much anticipated political drama.  Given the amount of talent assembled both in front of and behind the camera, there was no way the film would be a disaster.  At the same time, Seven Days in May wasn’t quite an unmitigated success.  The film is a flawed jewel, the minor imperfections standing out all the more so against the clarity and glitter of an otherwise perfect gem.

The Plot

The movie opens with a fight between protestors, some of whom support the US President and others who oppose him.  The scene is filled with powerful imagery, but doesn’t do much more than set the tone for the story.  I suspect the director chose to start the movie this way to give stragglers a chance to find a seat without missing any of the meat of the story.

Once the riot is over, we’re introduced to the President himself, “Jordan Lyman,” played by Fredric March (you may remember him from his performance in Inherit the Wind as Matthew Harrison Brady).  We quickly learn that the President has signed a disarmament treaty with the Russians, and this has angered the general populace.  The newspaper headlines blare the fact that only 29% of the public support him.  It’s hard to imagine any US President having such a low popularity rating as that outside of an event like the Great Depression, especially one who supports peace.  But the public are convinced that the Commies are only playing along and will stab us in the back at the earliest opportunity.

One of the many people who oppose the President’s actions is US Air Force General James Mattoon Scott, played by Burt Lancaster.  We are introduced to him as he makes a compelling case before Congress, insisting that trusting the Russians, who have ‘broken every single treaty’, will spell the doom of the United States.  Looking on as he makes his case in a beautifully framed shot is the handsome Kirk Douglas as USMC Colonel Martin “Jiggs” Casey.

From there the story follows Jiggs, who encounters a number of strange things that don’t seem to fit together: a newly constructed base he’s sure he’s never heard of, a top secret betting pool whose members comprise most of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a Senator who seems to know more about upcoming military maneuvers than he should, and other odds and ends that add up to a deeply troubling picture.  Jiggs must choose whether to turn a blind eye or take his suspicions to the President despite the circumstantial nature of his evidence.  If he’s wrong, his career will certainly be ruined.  But if he’s right, the scale of the plot and its ultimate target are staggering: it’s no less than a plan to kidnap the President and take over the United States government.  In the end, Jiggs follows his conscience, and the consequences of his choice drive the rest of the movie.

Unapologetically Liberal

Though based on the 1962 novel by Charles W. Bailey II and Fletcher Knebel, the screenplay is by Rod Serling – and it shows.  Mr. Serling’s work on Twilight Zone has earned him much acclaim (with good reason) but he’s never been shy about stuffing his character’s mouths with his own political views.  Since I tend to share Serling's views, I’m more inclined to be impatient with his lack of subtlety than enraged by his wrongheadedness.  Your own reaction may vary, of course.

The politics of the film are unapologetically liberal, with the villains having no hesitation in castigating ‘bleeding-hearts’ and ‘intellectuals’.  At the same time, the villains are not portrayed cartoonishly, which I appreciated.  Scott in particular is charismatic and convincing.  You can understand why the public likes him and trusts him.  He is passionate and sincere in his belief that what he is doing is both right and necessary.

Of course we, the enlightened audience, know that for all his sincerity he is wrong.  Continuing to build a larger and larger stockpile of nuclear weapons, we are told, can lead to only one outcome: the eventual destruction of the human race.  I don’t disagree with this attitude, but it did come across as a rather glib – as one might expect of Serling.

Nevertheless, for the most part, Serling's screenplay works – in no small part thanks to the excellence of the actors performing it. Douglas adds a subtlety to his role that transcends his (mostly good) lines. March's tears at the death of a good friend are all too believable. And the work of co-stars Balsam and Edmond O'Brien, President Lyman's right and left hand men, are excellent in outsized proportion to their screen time.

Fantastic Framing and Marvelous Music

The best part of the movie was the cinematography.  The indoor shots are thoughtfully framed, with one particularly memorable discussion with Scott presented against a background of model missiles and Jiggs with the American flag behind him.  When written out like that it sounds, like the rest of the movie, as though it might be a bit too ‘on point,’ but it was so beautifully done that I couldn’t help but appreciate it.  In addition to this we are treated with some impressive outdoor shots, from the desert surrounding the secret base, to a character being ferried to an aircraft carrier across the ocean, to scenes on the aircraft carrier itself.

There are also convincing notes that place the movie in the future: two-way video phones, for example, and prominently placed digital time and date displays.

The music was also extremely good, with lots of driving military march drums contrasting sharply with discordant notes.  There was no music during most of the talking scenes, but the scoring during action scenes created an unsettling, nervous atmosphere that was highly effective.

Out of Joint

My husband noted that the story felt somewhat disjointed, and I agreed.  The point of view jumps around from character to character as the plot dictates.  Personally, I almost would have preferred seeing everything through Kirk Douglas’s eyes.

The most jarring note was the inclusion of Ava Gardner’s character, Scott’s former mistress, Eleanor Holbrook.  I’m not sure why she was even there, as in the end her performance, as good as it is, doesn’t add much to the story.  There’s a bit of sex appeal and a bit of tragedy to her, but overall her role is to give Jiggs some potentially incriminating evidence that he hesitates to use, thus reminding us that he is a ‘good guy’. 

Of course, Eleanor is a woman in a man’s world, with men filling every important position in government, the military, the press, and pretty much everything else.  Since the story is set only ten years in the future, I suppose that view of the world isn’t unrealistic.  I can’t help but hope, though, that we’ll eventually see women in roles other than “spurned lover” and “oversexed waitress” in stories about the future, if not in the future itself.  At the very least, it would be nice to see a few more movies where women speak to each other.

But in the end, Two Hours Well-Spent

Despite its flaws, Seven Days in May is still two hours well-spent.  What the movie does well, it does masterfully.  The acting is great, especially Douglas, whose understated performance is more convincing than either of the pontificating leads.  The cinematography is top-notch, and the music is compelling.  If it weren’t for Serling’s insistence on driving his points home with a sledgehammer and the disjointed feel caused in part by the need for the story to jump from character to character, I would have given them film five stars without question.  Parts of the movie deserve that rating all on their own.  It’s worth a watch.

Four stars.




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