by Gideon Marcus
Remember, thou are but a mortal
For the past year and a half, we've thrilled to the sight of the Enterprise, a graceful vessel that calls to mind the spindly beauty of tall ships and the blunt power of a battleship. We've seen her proudly sailing the ether, shaken about by time streams, canted oddly after an attack.
But until last week's episode, we never saw one of her class utterly wrecked.
In the opening scenes of "The Doomsday Machine", when the Enterprise comes across the wrecked Constellation, accompanied by a most effective dirge, it is a gut punch. The misaligned warp pods. The charred saucer. It calls to mind visions of Pearl Harbor, of kamikaze-ravaged ships. A starship is mortal, we realize.
So, too, is its captain. The sight of Commodore Decker, mute with shock when Kirk first beams aboard the Constellation, is all too believable. This is a man we can believe has been stunned out of his mind first by the wreck of his ship by an enormous, extragalactic planet-wrecker, and then by the destruction of his helpless crew by the same implacable menace. That he alone should be the sole survivor of this disaster is all the more painful–to him, and to us.
If we sympathize with poor Decker, ably played by the ubiquitous character actor William Windom, we can feel little but revulsion for the planet killer, a cross between Saberhagen's berzerkers and Marvel's Galactus. Plated with impenetrable armor and self-regenerating, the juggernaut has the power of Nomad, but with none of the human-induced fallibility. It is simply a mindless killing machine.
In the battle that ensues, we root for the crippled Constellation, helmed by Captain Kirk and held together by Scotty, Washburn, and two unnamed crewmen. We root for the Enterprise, crippled by the presence of a maniacally driven Matt Decker, who assumes command over vociferous and constant objections by Mr. Spock. If the three-cornered fight is occasionally hindered by inconsistent special effects, it is immeasurably helped by fine acting and an incomparable, Emmy-deserving score.
The drama that takes place on the bridge of the Enterprise is no less compelling, drawing strongly from The Caine Mutiny, complete with Decker fondling tape cartridges like Queeg's ball-bearings. And unlike in that tremendous book (and less successful movie), Spock has no stomach for mutiny. Deliverance of the Enterprise must wait until Kirk can reestablish command.
"The Doomsday Machine" sees the death of Commodore Decker and the near death of Captain Kirk, both vital to the destruction of the planet killer. Decker's suicide run with a shuttlecraft establishes the enemy's weakness; Kirk's determination to ram the Constellation inside the machine proves the strongest weapon against it. But it is really the loss of the Constellation, sacrificed to immolate the destroyer from inside, that impacts the most. One of the Enterprise's 12 sisters is dead. Its skipper and complement of 400 will have no thrilling adventures, no end-of-the-episode laugh line. And if one starship can die, any of them can.
While credit must be given both to the regular cast and this episode’s guest star, and I have already praised the music, there are yet laurels to pass out. Marc Daniels has consistently impressed with his tight and creative direction, especially in contrast to the competent but rather staid work of the fellow he seems to alternate episodes with, Joe Pevney. Whomever edited this episode also did a terrific job, often cutting seamlessly between two dialogues to ratchet up the pace. And, of course, writer Norm Spinrad is no stranger to good science fiction, having been writing it since 1962. It is probably him we can thank for the "hardness" and plausibility of this episode.
There are a few quibbles, a few scientific gaffes, and my comrades may discuss them. But for my money, this was perhaps science fiction's finest hour on television.
Five stars.
Call him Ishmael
by Amber Dubin
The tale this episode follows is a well-worn one in sea-faring lore, but I was nevertheless pleasantly surprised to see Star Trek take on the classic story of Moby Dick. Commodore Decker is cast as Ahab, a shipwreck of a captain on a wrecked ship maddened by the obsession with the entity that took everything from him. His illogical pursuit of his white whale is just as turbulent as the protagonist of the famous novel, but what sets this retelling apart from the rest is the gracefulness with which the crew of the Enterprise strike a delicate balance between adherence to duty and survival.
This is on full display in the way Spock does his best to ignore the commodore's obvious madness in order to follow the rules of his station. I found myself shouting, "just nerve pinch him!" as I was forced to watch Decker spit on every opportunity Spock offered him to choose a logical path. Kirk, on the other hand, ever the space cowboy, immediately undermines all the subtlety of the crew's struggles by exclaiming "blast the rules" and outright calling the commodore a ship-stealing tyrant. I found this to be a refreshing deviation to the plot, because Kirk was very much speaking my mind and I was grateful to see the crew rally behind him in exhausted, fearful relief.
A happier crew
While I wasn't thrilled about the spacial reasoning behind the climactic battles, it's incontestable that the score and cinematography in this episode were phenomenal. The last scene, when the transporter kept malfunctioning up until the last seconds before the explosion, had me literally biting my nails with suspense. Likewise, the pulsating droning of the music that started when the crew boarded the shipwrecked vessel left me authentically unsettled and made me wonder what horrors they would stumble upon. This thematic wariness provided the perfect backdrop to introduce the commodore, as he was essentially a discarded shell of himself, a dead man cursed to haunt the abandoned halls of his once mighty and powerful ship.
The place where this episode lost points for me was the forced simile Kirk kept pushing about the killer robot being a doomsday device like an H-bomb. It felt like a ham-fisted attempt to force relevance to our times, which I found unnecessary when a story of a powerful man driven mad by failure was timeless in itself. Moreover, stating that this robot must have been used as doomsday device is a view as limited as the potential usages the H-bomb, or the power behind it. True, the mahine has the destructive power of a powerful bomb but the robot could just as easily have been once used to convert inert material into energy to feed a planet, not destroy it. I'm most disappointed that there's a gaping hole in Kirk's logic over the origin of this device and Spock isn't even tempted to close it. Possibly Spock doesn't challenge his captain's theory because he has been burnt out from challenging illogical authority figures all day, but I have to stretch to make this explanation fit.
Four Stars
There but for the grace of God…
by Janice L. Newman
The Traveler nicely summed up how painful it was to see a sister-ship of the Enterprise fatally wounded. But what held my attention was Commander Decker’s plight and performance. Though some of my companions gently mocked his scenery-chewing tendencies, I found his first appearance and his explanation of what had happened to his ship to be compelling. This was a man at the end of his rope, who had endured the greatest loss any starship captain could imagine: the loss of his ship and crew.
If Captain Kirk should ever live through such a nightmare, I firmly believe he would behave in much the same way. Starfleet must choose captains who have a certain, shall we say, obsessive streak when it comes to their ships and crews. We’ve seen Kirk become aggressive and irrational when his ship is threatened. We’ve also seen him brought back from mind-altered states more than once when giving in would have meant the loss of his ship. For Kirk, the Enterprise and its complement mean everything to him. It’s all too easy to picture him in Decker’s place, a broken, desperate, suicidal, and vengeful man.
Would Kirk face the death of his own ship so calmly?
Four stars.
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There really isn't much more to say that hasn't already been said. I'm inclined to give it that fifth star along with the Traveler.
Windom's performance is a little over the top, but it works. The role calls for just those sorts of scenery-chewing histrionics. Along with the Queeg-like fumbling with the cartridges, the way he slumped and slouched in the captain's chair was well done. It really showed how far he slipped from Starfleet discipline. Probably the only place his performance didn't work was the death scene. Hatred and grim determination would have been more appropriate.
This has been a consistently up and down season so far, and every high has been delivered by a professional science fiction author. I hope they can keep it up, but given the alternating pattern I'm not expecting much out of the next episode.
Other than that, I'll just say that Spinrad owes Fred Saberhagen a meal in a nice restaurant the next time they see each other.
One of the topmost Star Trek teleplays — it's really well written — so far. In a list of the best half dozen from the first season and the second season so far, it would have a place. It's not just that it's positively good (plot, conflicts and dialogue, pacing), but that it's free or nearly free from the faults we meet in Star Trek shows too often — for example, romance elements that don't really belong. Let's hope the show's crew can attain this level again.
5/5 without doubt.
Twilight Zone had adapted some classic science fiction and even employed ‘main stream’ SF authors , especially Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont. Star Trek paid solid tribute to the mature prose form. Star Trek’s world building was borrowed in detail from classic SF as it appeared on the page. Especially the nomenclature and milieu as it had been honed on the pages of Campbell’s magazine Astounding in the 1940s. Source material like Fredric Brown’s 1944 ASF story Arena was adapted for an episode.
The Doomsday Machine was written by veteran prose SF writer Norman Spinrad. Star Trek was unique in having Jerome Bixby, Robert Bloch, Max Ehrlich, Harlan Ellison, David Gerrold, Richard Matheson, Jerry Sohl, Norman Spinrad and Theodore Sturgeon , outright SF writers contribute screenplays. A rare thing is TV and Film.
Window does fine as a tragic hero; essentially a decent person, but one who has been broken to the point where he is nearly undone by hubris and inherent character flaws, yet achieves a sort of triumph at the expense of his life.
I like how Star Trek actually has SF writers onboard every now and again, and not just TV writers. A lot of episodes have the same basic premise of "The Enterprise encounters some weird (often hostile) anomaly," but as far as that goes, "The Doomsday Machine" is rock solid. While it doesn't have the high points of "Arena" or "Amok Time," Spinrad's teleplay is arguably more structurally sound than either. And of course Windom's performance is a contender for best one-off performance in the series thus far.
Amber – The character from Moby Dick that Decker should be compared to is not Ishmael – it's Ahab. Ahab is the one who's seeking revenge on the white whale for the loss of his leg – to the point he's willing to sacrifice his own life if it means bringing down Moby Dick.
Ishmael survives the book. He's found by the Rachel, who was searching for her captain's lost son, and so survived to tell the tale.
Of course you're right, and the typo is the fault of the dumkopf editor! Thank you for that.
You caught me. I didn't read the book. But I think the title of my peice still stands because technically Kirk would be cast as Ishmael in this case. Or would you say Spock?
This episode is simply brilliant. Decker's performance compels attention; I couldn't look away.