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[August 6, 1966] I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me (Anna Halprin and the Dancers Workshop)

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by Victoria Lucas

Actually, thanks, I'd love to dance

Good day, readers. It's been a long time since I wrote about music in San Francisco, but when I did you might remember that I wrote about the San Francisco Tape Music Center and its experimental music.

321 Divisadero, as their venue is known, is not just the TMC. It also houses Radio Stations KPFA/KPFB (the San Francisco part) and something (on the 3rd floor) called the Dancers Workshop Studio.

But I'm not a dancer

Even after becoming curious about the people "upstairs" – namely Anna Halprin, who runs said studio – I've mostly seen her group dances outside around San Francisco, too busy with other things to get to indoor workshops or to her famous deck in Kentfield (north of San Francisco), built for her by her architect husband Larry Halprin.


Larry and Anna Halprin, architect & dancer

And my boy friend Mel and I have a sort of budget of both time and money that is pretty loose but by which we hope to avoid both bankruptcy and fatigue. (As I've written here before, there is a LOT to do in San Francisco and surrounding area.)

Halprin left the dance of the theatre for the dance of life

Eventually I learned that Anna Halprin studied contemporary dance and started a performance company with dancers AA Leath and John Graham, her daughters Daria and Rana Halprin, and designers Joe Landor and Patrick Hickey. They toured nationally and internationally before starting the San Francisco studio in 1964. There they worked with a dizzying array of avant-garde composers, filmmakers, poets, and other dancers, including dancer Merce Cunningham, John Cage's partner.


Cage & Cunningham pose with artist Robert Rauschenberg

Like Cage, Halprin uses pictorial scores and chance operations, but always with her focus on self-awareness as her pupils perform movements. She's also tackled issues of race and sexuality head on.

Radical refers to "root" & I can dig it

In "Parades and Changes" she introduced full-on nudity to San Francisco audiences and, even more radical, the idea that anyone could dance with "more like 10 seconds" of training rather than the 10 years dance maven Martha Graham laid down.


Halprin during a workshop

Unfortunately, I missed the performances at the Playhouse where I volunteer my time, since they were before my move to The City. After the "Trunk Dance" in 1959, the name of Terry Riley appears on the 1961 program for "Four Legged Stool," and Morton Subotnick and David Tudor (who also acts as electronicist for Cage and Cunningham) created the music for her revision called "Five Legged Stool" the following year.

She eventually realized, according to what I've read, that she wanted to get beyond dance as a performance piece or something based on specific music or a programmed narrative. She worked with Gestalt-psychologist Fritz Perls and engaged with the audience after "Parades and Changes," with a vision of "spontaneity and freedom." That is a performance I wish I had seen – sometimes there are so many things going on that if you're not at the right place and time to see a notice about something you miss it entirely! This is why I buy the Sunday Chronicle with the pink section in it every week–their event lists are pretty thorough. (But they might not cover "workshops.")


Anna Halprin by herself

I hope to still be able to make at least one of her workshops or events in future. Ms Halprin, if you live to be 100 I suspect you will not be able to realize all the talent and compassion within you. Good luck! (And thank you, Ms Michaels, for the honorific "Ms"!)




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[August 4, 1966] Up, up, and away! (the Superman musical)

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by Aaron Grunfeld

[Every so often, one of our readers submits a guest article.  We're always delighted to receive such unexpected bounty, and this one is particularly fun and relevant.

Aaron Grunfeld is a former journalist and dramaturg. In the past he has worked with playwrights and theaters on and Off-Broadway, and written for publications like Playbill. Aaron lives in New York City with his wife and daughter, and he’s preparing to teach high school English this fall.

As a science-fiction fan, Aaron is enjoying Adventure Comics, where Edmond Hamilton is currently writing a light-hearted space opera starring Superboy and a team of teen super-pals in the 30th century. Highly recommended!]

Batman may be the biggest superhero of 1966, but his pal Superman can still draw a crowd. This past spring, the Man of Steel was featured in a brand-new Broadway musical with a tongue-in-cheek title: It’s a Bird… It’s a Plane… It’s Superman! But a marriage between the Great White Way and the Funny Pages isn’t as strange as it sounds. Television, comic books, and American musicals are all forms of ‘pop art,’ the trendy term for work that’s meant to be popular, mass-produced, and ephemeral. That definition clearly applied to Superman’s show, which only ran for four months. It was a flop by most measures, but not the one that counts: the producers recouped their costs.

Onstage at the Alvin Theatre, Superman faces a mad scientist who’s teamed with a gossip columnist at the Daily Planet; together they hope to ruin the superhero’s reputation. The newsroom is also the setting for the comic’s legendary love triangle, with reporter Lois Lane at its apex and Superman as his own rival. This angle is played as romantic comedy, and as a result, Superman feels less like a comic-book adventure than a generic musical with a superheroic twist.

All the action takes place in Metropolis, which is identical to Broadway’s vision of New York—a cynical, seen-it-all borough that breaks into song & dance every so often. Superman floats gently into the chorus of hoofers like he’s gliding off the movie screen at a Saturday matinee. He’s just as earnest and good-natured as he ever was, and his fellow citizens can’t take him seriously in the red cape and blue tights.

Neither can the show’s creators, Charles Strouse and Lee Adams, who had a hit a few years ago with Bye Bye Birdie. Strouse and Adams have developed Superman with book writers David Newman and Robert Benton and director Harold Prince (Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster originated the concept in 1938). Their Superman is a galoot with a big heart, and their impulse is to mock him. His super-feats are played for knowing laughs; when Superman swoops in on wires, he strikes a pose like Mary Martin in Peter Pan. I’m not sure why Strouse and Adams wrote a musical about Superman, rather than, say, Li’l Orphan Annie. I’m not sure they know either.

The actors are uniformly better than their material, and many received acclaim for their efforts. Bob Holiday plays the dual role of Clark Kent and Superman as so essentially decent that the show’s mockery just bounces off him. In the second act, he laments, “Why can’t the strongest man in the world | Be the happiest man in the world?” and for a moment, it seems like he’ll reveal his secret identity to Lois. Wouldn’t that be a twist!

Those who remember Lois Lane from the radio, or those incredible cartoon shorts during the war, will be disappointed that the musical’s newshound is more focused on wedlock than journalism. It’s a retrograde portrayal that feels out-of-step with the current decade; I’d like to think Lois is still reporting on civic corruption and civil unrest, not that she’s writing the Daily Planet’s advice column. However, the audience enjoyed her romantic antics, as executed by Patricia Marand, and, if her Tony nomination is anything to go by, so did her peers.

I found the show’s two villains more lively. Michael O’Sullivan plays a generic mad scientist, a “ten-time Nobel loser” who blames Superman for his failures. A veteran of vaudeville, O’Sullivan mugs and hams his way through the show like a cut-rate Bert Lahr. He’s at his best opposite Jack Cassidy, who plays a Walter Winchell type and goes for every laugh he can find. They’re a pair of old-fashioned entertainers who give the audience what we paid for: Broadway schtick done slick. For that, both men also earned Tony nominations. None of the show’s performers won their categories, but all three are professionals enjoying their work, and in the theater, that feeling is infectious.

The spotlight, however, is stolen by an up-and-comer named Linda Lavin. She plays a secretary who flirts with Clark Kent in a number called “You’ve Got Possibilities.” The lyrics suggest she views the mild-mannered reporter as a fixer-upper, a groom to be groomed. But in performance, Lavin’s character finds Kent genuinely, carnally attractive, and she’s not afraid to say so. “Possibilities” is the show’s strongest number, and Lavin uses it to make a big impression. All the critics agreed, Lavin is Superman’s high point. I’ll go further: Lavin is the only modern, original part of the entire Superman musical.

In its cultural attitudes, Superman is a throwback to the era between the War and Kennedy’s assassination. This is clearest in its treatment of Lois Lane, but it permeates the show. Lavin’s character, by contrast, doesn’t want to marry Superman, or even Clark Kent. She enjoys her independence, and she’s too busy living her own life to bother with the heroic melodrama of Superman. Lavin’s creation is looking forward, not back, and her moments onstage elevate the Superman musical from light entertainment to pop art.

Two and a half stars.



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[August 2, 1966] Mirages (September 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

The popular image of a mirage is a shining oasis in a desert replete with shady palm trees and sometimes dancing girls. That’s not how mirages work. We’re all familiar with heat shimmer, say on a hot, empty asphalt road, casting the image of the sky onto the ground and resembling water. Less common is the Fata Morgana, which makes it look as though cities or islands are floating in the sky. But the popular idea of the mirage remains: something beautiful and desirable, yet insubstantial.

Heat Wave

July was a real scorcher in the United States as a heat wave settled in over much of the Midwest. A heat wave might make a fun metaphor for passion if you’re Irving Berlin or Martha and the Vandellas, but as the latest hit from the Lovin’ Spoonful suggests, it can be a pretty unpleasant experience. As the mercury rises, people get pretty hot under the collar.

On July 12th, the Black neighborhoods on Chicago’s West Side exploded. The sight of children playing in the spray of a fire hydrant is a familiar one, but the city’s fire commissioner ordered the hydrants closed. The spark was lit when, while shutting off the hydrants, the police attempted to arrest a man, either because there was a warrant for his arrest (according to them) or because he reopened a hydrant right in front of them (according to the locals). As things escalated, stores were looted and burned, rocks were thrown at police and firemen and shots were fired. There were also peaceful protests led by Dr. Martin Luther King. Mayor Daley called in the National Guard with orders to shoot. Ultimately, the mayor relented. Police protection was granted to Blacks visiting public pools (all in white neighborhoods), portable pools were brought in and permission was given to open the hydrants.


Children in Chicago playing in water from a reopened hydrant

As things wound down in Chicago, they flared up in Cleveland. On the 18th in the predominantly Black neighborhood of Hough, the owners of the white-owned bar the Seventy-Niner’s Café refused ice water to Black patrons, possibly posting a sign using a word I won’t repeat here. Once again, there was looting and burning and the National Guard was called in. Things calmed after a couple of days, but heated up again when police fired on a car being driven by a Black woman with four children as passengers. It appears to be over now and the Guard has been gradually withdrawn over the last week. City officials are blaming “outside agitators” for the whole thing.

These riots are a stark reminder that the passage of the Civil Rights Act two years ago didn’t magically make everything better, and that problems also exist outside of the South. We have a long way to go before racial equality is more than just wishful thinking.


National Guardsmen outside the Seventy-Niner’s Café

Pretty, but insubstantial

Some of the stories in this month’s IF are gorgeously written, but lacking in plot. Sometimes that’s enough, sometimes it isn’t.


This fellow’s having a very bad day, but he’s not in The Edge of Night. Art by Morrow

The Edge of Night (Part 1 of 2), by A. Bertram Chandler

Commodore John Grimes has resigned both as Superintendent of Rim Runners and from the Rim Worlds Naval Reserve, effective as soon as his replacement arrives. The monotony of the situation breaks when a mysterious ship appears out of nowhere, refusing to answer any hails. Although there’s no hurry, he quickly assembles a crew, including his new wife, late of Terran Federation Naval Intelligence, and his usual psionics officer, whose living dog brain in a jar, which is used as an amplifier, is clearly nearing the end of its life.

The strange ship proves to be highly radioactive. It bears the name Freedom, painted over the older name Distriyir. Everyone aboard is dead, all humans dressed in rags. The only logical conclusion is that the ship is from an alternate universe (the walls between universes are thin at the rim of the galaxy) and the crew escaped slaves. Taking the ship back to its original universe, Grimes and his people learn that intelligent rats have enslaved humans out in the Rim Worlds in this universe. They resolve to correct the situation. To be continued.


The enemy fights like cornered rats. Art by Gaughan

Chandler has written several stories about John Grimes, though his only appearances so far at the Journey have been cameos in other stories set in the Rim. This story seems to be a direct sequel to Into the Alternate Universe, which was half of a 1964 Ace Double.

The story is wonderfully written, pulling the reader along in a way that can only be compared to Heinlein. The characters are strong and distinct, including a woman who is smart, tough, active and above all believable. There’s also a wealth of detail, such as the placement of instruments, clearly stemming from the author’s years serving in the merchant marine of the United Kingdom and Australia, which give verisimilitude to the ships and their crews.

While reading it, this absolutely felt like a four star story to me, but after letting it sit for a while, I’ve cooled slightly. A very, very high three stars.

The Face of the Deep, by Fred Saberhagen

In Masque of the Red Shift, Johann Karlson, the hero of the Battle of Stone Place, led a Berserker, an alien killing machine out to destroy all life, into an orbit around a collapsed star. In the story In the Temple of Mars, we learned of a plan to rescue Karlson. Here, we follow Karlson as he gazes in awe at the collapsed star and its effects on space. The Berserker pursuing him is unable to shoot his ship, but are the people who appear to rescue him the real thing or a ruse?

There isn’t much story here, but the prose is beautiful, pure sense of wonder. Saberhagen is clearly building up to something, probably a confrontation between Karlson and his half-brother, all no doubt to eventually wind up in a fix-up novel. This is only a brief scene in that larger tale, but the sheer poetry of the thing is enough.

Four stars.

The Empty Man, by Gardner Dozois

Jhon Charlton is a weapon created by the Terran Empire. Nearly invulnerable, incredibly strong and fast, he can even summon tremendous energies. Unfortunately for him, for the last three years, he has shared his mind with a sarcastic entity called Moros, which has appointed itself as his conscience. Now, Jhon has been sent to the planet Apollon to help the local rebels overthrow the dictatorial government.


Jhon Charlton deals with an ambush. Art by Burns

Gardner Dozois is this month’s new author, and this is quite a debut. It’s a long piece for a novice, but he seems up to it. There’s room for some cuts, but not much. The mix of science fiction and almost fantasy elements is interesting and works. The only place I’d say a lack of experience and polish shows it at the very end. The point is a bit facile and could have been delivered a touch more smoothly, but it’s a fine start to a new career. Mr. Dozois has entered the Army, though, so it may be a while before we see anything else from him.

A high three stars.

Arena, by Mack Reynolds

Ken Ackerman and his partner Billy are Space Scouts for a galactic confederation. They’ve been captured by the centauroid inhabitants of Xenopeven, who refuse to communicate with them. After several days of captivity, they’re separated, and Ken next sees Billy’s corpse being dragged from the sands of an arena. Vowing revenge, he finds himself the next participant in something like a Spanish bullfight, with Ken as the bull.


Ken after his encounter with the picadores. Art by Virgil Finlay

This is far from Reynolds’ best work. The action is decent, but the parallels with bullfighting are pointed out too explicitly (though maybe it’s necessary for readers who aren’t familiar with the so-called “sport”). However, there is a bit of a twist at the end – one that made me go back and double-check the text – that lifts the story out of complete mediocrity. So-so Reynolds is still pretty readable.

Three stars.

How to Live Like a Slan, by Lin Carter

This month, Our Man in Fandom takes a look at the fannish tendency to give names to inanimate objects. He starts off with the residences of fans sharing apartments and expenses, going back to the Slan Shack in Battle Creek, Michigan right after the War. Alas, the whole thing is largely just a list of in-jokes and things that were funny at the time. And I’ve known plenty of people with no interest in SF who have named their cars. It’s hardly restricted to fans.

Two stars.

The Ghost Galaxies, by Piers Anthony

In an effort to test the steady state theory and perhaps find out what happened to the first expedition, Captain Shetland leads the crew of the Meg II on a voyage to or beyond the theoretical boundary of the steady state universe. The ship’s logarithmic FTL drive increases speed by an order of magnitude every hour. As the ship passes one megaparsec per hour, the crew grows increasingly worried, and their mental state can affect the drive and the ship’s ability to return home.


Somnanda maintains the beacon which keeps the ship in contact with real space. Art by Adkins

This was a difficult story to summarize, or even understand. The writing is very pretty, with a dreamlike quality that mirrors the captain’s mental state and thought processes, but often left me unsure just what was going on. I came away with the feeling that there’s something here, but I have no idea what.

A low three stars.

Enemies of Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke is deep behind enemy lines, this time with the B’lant Fazool and Ralph Perry from earlier Gree stories. They’re spying on a Gree excavation not far from the place where Gree first entered the galaxy. Strangely, there are animals here not native to the planet. There may also be an intelligent species nearby, watching both Steve and the Gree slaves.


The ull-ull aren’t native to this planet. Art by Morrow

I’m tired of these Gree stories. Even those that aren’t terrible have a sameness to them. In each of the last few stories, MacApp has made us think that those fighting Gree finally have what they need for victory. It’s time to wrap this series up. This one isn’t helped by the fact that every time Fazool gets mentioned I think of Van and Schenck or Bugs Bunny.

A low three stars.

The Hour Before Earthrise (Part 3 of 3), by James Blish

Dolph Haertel and Nanette Ford have been stranded on Mars, thanks to Dolph’s invention of anti-gravity. They’ve managed to survive, and last time Dolph discovered a radio beacon and set up an interruptor to attract attention. As the installment concluded, they encountered a feline-like predator. This proves to be an intelligent being. They manage to establish contact with Dohmn (the closest they can come to pronouncing its name) and make friends. Eventually, Dohmn leads them to the last surviving member of the original Martian race.


Dohmn introduces Dolph and Nanette to the last Martian. Art by Morrow

And so we reach the end, with everything wrapped up nice and neat. For humans anyway. I’m bothered by the last Martian bequeathing Mars to humanity rather than Dohmn’s people. It’s all a bit too facile, and I find myself returning to my original conception of this as a parody of SF juveniles, from Tom Swift to Heinlein to more recent examples as the story progresses. This certainly wouldn’t be my first pick to give a young reader.

A low three stars for this part and the novel as a whole.

Summing Up

There you have it. An issue that starts off hot and gradually grows tepid. Parts of it sure are pretty, though, even if they’re just hot air.


Dickson, Niven and the rest of the Chandler look promising. A new McIntosh novel less so.




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Magazine, Serial

[July 31, 1966] Dimmed lights (August 1966 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Blackout

This morning, Janice noted sparks coming from the socket by her typewriter desk.  With great swiftness, she unplugged the lamp and radio.  There was a respite, but only briefly, and soon the wall was spurting flame again. 

I heard her calm bellow, "Gideon, hit the circuit breaker.  Now."  You never saw someone descend a flight of stairs so fast (at least in control of their feet).  She called an electrician – fortunately the phone company have a separate power supply – and we went out for breakfast until the fellow could arrive.

That afternoon, we got a stern lecture on overloading our poor house's circuits.  We thanked and paid the fellow and were back to work by 1 pm.

Whereupon the entire neighborhood's power went out.

And that, dear readers, is why this article was typed by the light of the window rather than artificial incandescence!

Flicker, flicker

It was fitting that we should be failed by the men and women of our investor-owned, business-managed electric light and power company just as I turned to write about this month's Analog.  It's not that the stories were horrible, but I've definitely seen better in these pages.


by John Schoenherr

Too Many Magicians (Part 1 of 4), by Randall Garrett

To date, the Lord d'Arcy stories, set in an alternate 1960s with Victorian technology but replete with magic, have all been novellas or shorter.  This latest piece is the first full length novel.

A naval courier has been killed, perhaps while bearing crucial intelligence.  The Anglo-French Empire's most renowned magical detective is contracted to get to the bottom of the case.  Meanwhile, Sean O'Lochlainn, d'Arcy's sorcerer assistant, is thrown in the Tower after witnessing a second death at a wizards' conference; this locked-room murder has a similar murder weapon to the first.

And so, the setup for a magical who/howdunnit.  As with the rest of the series, Garrett's tale compels (though none engage so thoroughly as the excellent first d'Arcy adventure.) If I have a complaint, it's that Garrett is starting to rely a bit too much on pastiche: d'Arcy gets more like Holmes with every installment.  Indeed, his cousin, the Marquis, is Mycroft in all but name.  I half-expect our hero will take up the violin and acquire a cocaine habit.

Four stars so far, but we'll see.

Spirits of '76, by Joe Poyer


by Leo Summers

A representative from the UN pays a visit to a lunar squatter, who has illegally laid claim to a piece of the Moon's surface and established a distillery.  After a great many homebrewed drinks, the agent decides that free enterprise and private ownership are actually just fine.

I suspect maintaining an independent habitation on our airless neighbor will be a lot harder than this story would have us believe.  Still, the libertarian spirit of the piece surely tickled Campbell's capitalist heart.

It'll go in one eye and out the other, but it's harmless, at least.  Three stars?

One MOL Step Forward , by Lyle R. Hamilton

Hamilton opens up this non-fiction article with a promise to explain how the X-20 "Dynasoar" spaceplane was killed by paperwork.  Instead, he offers up a meandering piece, told largely in contractor interviews and press releases, which culminates in a description of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory.  This budget space station, serviced by an Air Force Gemini, is the current DoD space project of size.

I suppose there's useful information in the piece, but not much point.  I've gotten much better insight from my subscription to Aviation Week and Space Technology.

Two stars.

Psychoceramic, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The fearless editor follows Hamilton with a shorter piece on a ceramic that can apparently extract pure oxygen and produce power at the same time.  Typical Campbellian kookery, or is he onto something?  I guess only time will tell.

Two stars for the unnecessary smugness and having cried wolf too many times.

By the Book, by Frank Herbert


by Kelly Freas

An aged troubleshooter is summoned from retirement to fix a big beam.  It's some kind of launching laser that propels seed packets (vegetable and human) toward colony worlds.  Problem is, it keeps killing technicians trying to service it.

I had many problems with this story, the biggest of which was the devotion of so many words to setting up a technical problem whose resolution I had no interest in.  A real snoozefest of gizmo-speak.

One star.

Technicality, by Norman Spinrad

The MPs have arrived, fearsome conquering aliens whose greatest strength is their ability to vanquish whole armies without firing a shot.  But does their nonviolent rapaciousness hide an Achilles Heel?

While the gimmick falls a little flat, Spinrad tells this no-blood-or-guts tale with fine detail and not a little subtle satire.

Three stars.

Light of Other Days, by Bob Shaw


by Kelly Freas

A quarreling married couple touring the Scottish Highlands come across a purveyor of "slow glass."  This remarkable substance passes light so slowly that, after ten years of absorption, will replay the scene that played across it for the next decade.  Thus, a city dweller might install one of these wonder panes and enjoy ten years of a view of the rugged north of Scotland rather than local squalor.

The technical bits felt a little overdone, but Shaw tells the story with a light, domestic touch that reminds me of Cliff Simak.

Three stars, and eagerness to see him tackle a longer subject.

Something to Say, by John Berryman


by Leo Summers

Last up, the fellow who gave us the Walter Bupp psychic stories gives us, instead, one of his more nuts-and-bolts tales.  The Earth Federation (apparently an evolution of the UN) has reason to believe that Soviet-aligned agents have infiltrated a primitive world to poison the natives against the West.  Said planet has a breathable atmosphere some six times as dense as Earth's.  This affords a far more airborne ecology, and even the indigenes have Bronze Age flying machines.

A troubleshooter is dispatched to thwart the Soviet plot, but is overpowered by a Communist.  The two crash land and are taken prisoner.  The Sovworld agent seems to have the leg up, as she is fluent in the indigenous tongue, but our plucky hero has an ace up his sleeve: an encylopedic knowledge of gliders.

There is a good story lurking in here, with a great setting and a decent setup.  It is hampered by its truly insufferable and two-dimensional characters.  As well, Berryman seems to have forgotten much that he's learned about pacing.

An uneven three stars.

After the lights go out…

2.7 stars is not a great score, though it's actually the median for this year's crop of Analogs.  And also for the month.  Coming in below it are IF (2.6), Galaxy (2.5), Worlds of Tomorrow (2.2), and Amazing (1.9).  Note that three of those four are Fred Pohl's triplets.

Ahead of Analog are Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1), New Worlds (3.2), and Impulse (3.4)

There was exactly one woman-penned new story this month, and four/five-star stories would have barely filled two slim magazines (and one of them is a reprint of Make Room, Make Room!).

Ah well.  At least there's only one more month of summer, after which, ironically, things should get brighter!

Have you gotten your copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue?  If not, get down to your local newsstand and pick it up!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 28, 1966] Cat People and Overpopulation (SF Impulse and New Worlds, August 1966)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After my brief mention at the end of last month about England and the soccer World Cup, I had better start by congratulating them on their tournament win since last time we spoke. The country does seem to have got behind them – indeed, there’s been little else talked about here since they won. Whilst I’m not a fan of football (soccer to you!) particularly, I must curmudgeonly admit that the mood of the country has been rather pleasant.

In this spirit of optimism and change, there’s also been some interesting changes with the British magazines. At the moment I’m not sure whether these changes have been made for good reasons or bad, but they might just stir life into the magazines that have rather been treading water on the whole over the last few months.


Cover by Keith Roberts – again!

To Impulse first.

Or rather SF Impulse. Notice the subtle change? The magazine seems to be trying to attract the interest of traditional readers by nailing its genre roots firmly to the mast. Interestingly, I understood that this was something the editor Kyril Bonfiglioli was keen not to do when the magazine changed its name to Impulse.

In fact, where is Kyril? The magazine has no Editorial at all this month, instead going with a “Critique” by Harry Harrison instead. This was mentioned in last month’s issue, although I was rather expecting Kyril to be about as well. Has he been deposed? Perhaps after his complaints about not knowing what an Editor does in the last few issues this leaves Kyril with more time to – you know – edit.

Let’s move on. To this month’s actual stories.

Make Room! Make Room! (Part 1 of 3), by Harry Harrison

When this was mentioned as coming up, I was very pleased. The magazine was going to have to do something big to cap Keith Roberts’ Pavane series for me, and this was clearly it.

Mind you, I have been less impressed with Harrison’s last two serialised novels, Plague From Space and Bill, the Galactic Hero (shudder.) But this one sounded great.

Whereas this is just the first part for us in Britain, being in the USA fellow Galactic Journey-er Jason Sacks has had the chance to read the whole novel, lucky thing. His wonderful review goes into much more depth and detail than I would here. So I will point out his review, with thanks, and say that so far I agree with everything he has said.

This is the best Harrison I’ve read in ages, if not one of the best stories in Impulse to date. Admittedly, its scenes of shabbiness and squalor are rather depressing, but its description of a world of overcrowded excess, crime and a lack of resources is done with imagination and flair. The situation is entirely possible and the characters appropriate for that setting. I hope the quality continues. I was so impressed, I’m awarding it 5 out of 5 – my first, I believe.

Wolves by Rob Sproat

After such a great start it would be difficult to maintain such a standard, and so we go from the great to the typical “Bonfiglioli filler”, had Kyril been here. This is the third story we’ve had in the magazines from Rob, none of which have particularly impressed me, sadly. And so it is again here. A story of creatures that have haunted Mankind for millennia and yet are rarely seen. When their presence is noted by a drunken man, he is killed. Lots of talk here about Ancient Ones that doesn’t seem to mean much. A weak horror story that is bleak and yet strangely predictable. 3 out of 5.

The First, Last Martyr by Peter Tate

Another relatively new author, who seems to be liked by many readers. His last story was The Gloom Pattern, in the June 1966 issue of New Worlds. This one is a tale of Hubert Flagg, a window dresser whose occupation makes him part of the pop-culture and yet inwardly he hates it. As an act of rebellion against current trends and to become a celebrity, Flagg attempts to kill people at a concert by the current pop favourite The Saddlebums, which I guess is not just a comment on society but also a bit of a dig at bands like The Beatles. On a good day this could have been a satire in the same vein as Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius, but instead it just seems odd, and not in a particularly good way. 3 out of 5.

Disengagement, by T. F. Thompson

Another surreal ramble through the viewpoints of various characters. Think of it like an inferior Frankenstein story from multiple perspectives, a similar re-tread of clichés that seems all too similar to Robert Cheetham’s The Failure of Andrew Messiter in last month’s New Worlds. (Are new ideas really that hard to come by?)

It seems more like a Hammer Horror film than the “really chilly horror” the banner attempts to persuade me it is. Although actually I like Hammer Horror movies… this less so. Some of the characterisation is awful. Any story that has a character named “Doctor Dog” and tries to make a joke out of it deserves not to be taken seriously. Marks for effort, not originality. 2 out of 5.

A Comment by E. C. Tubb

E C Tubb returns with an opinion piece on the state of science fiction, rather akin to Harrison’s Critique at the beginning of the issue. Here Tubb takes on the thorny issue of sex in science-fiction, pointing out that it has been around longer than sf and it is wrong for the New Wave to “dwell on it”. To quote, “The more sex you put in a story the less action, characterisation, futuristic background, scientific content and plain, old, entertainment value you leave out.”

Whilst I understand the author’s point of view, it does read a little like one of the oldsters complaining about the new kids on the block.

The Scarlet Lady by Alistair Bevan

Lastly, back to the stories. Here we have the return of Alistair, a regular author but who is also author/editor/artist Keith Roberts. Both names have appeared regularly in these magazines.

Here Alistair continues an ongoing theme of motor car stories. His last was a rather excitable story of future traffic congestion, road rage and restrictive laws in the story Pace That Kills back in the May 1966 issue of Impulse. By contrast, this is a tale that attempts to emulate Weird Tales in its story of a possessed car and its effect on two brothers and their respective families. No reason is given for the automobile’s actions, which show a constant drain on the owner’s monetary funds and a taste for blood. Whilst it is – please pardon the expression – as cliched as hell, I must admit that I quite enjoyed it for all of its silliness. Some of the passages reminded me in style and tone of Roberts’ version of contemporary lifestyle as read in The Furies in July – September 1965. It is too long, but was a fun read. Much better than the last story, for all of its limitations. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

And that’s it for SF Impulse this month. At over 80 pages most of the magazine is taken up with Harrison’s novel, which is its selling point. As a result, I liked the issue a lot, even when the rest of the material suffers by comparison. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the Bevan story, even if it is repeating old cliches.

And with this, onto issue 165 of New Worlds, hoping that it is also better this month.

The Second Issue At Hand


Cover by Keith Roberts – him again!

Like last month’s New Worlds the Editorial is not by editor Moorcock, but a film review by a guest reviewer. Last month, La Jetee was praised by J. G. Ballard as something extraordinary.

This month, Alphaville directed by Jean-Luc Godard has a rather different response. Guest reviewer John Brunner begins his review with “Let’s get one thing straight to begin with. Alphaville is a disgracefully bad film, reflecting no credit to anybody – especially not on those critics who have puffed it as a major artistic achievement.” Well, that should certainly grab the reader’s attention!

To be fair, Brunner makes some good points, although the review really reminds me that all reviews are little but opinions and in this world the New Wave will gain as much criticism as praise. Our own Kris Vyas-Myall reviewed Alphaville, for example, and had a very different response. Interestingly, Brunner does add that La Jetee, reviewed by Ballard last month and seen by Brunner as a double-bill, completely overshadows Alphaville.

Brunner’s writing is entertaining, though, and as a deliberately provocative read is a much more interesting read than any of the other Editorials of late.

To the stories!


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Amen and Out, by Brian Aldiss

Another appearance from Harry Harrison’s friend Brian Aldiss, who was also here last month. (Again: has anyone ever seen the two of them in one room together?) The cover describes this story as ”Irreverent, thought-provoking stuff that only Aldiss can do well”, which I agree with, although I would further qualify by pointing out that such irreverence can also lead to wildly uneven material from Mr. Aldiss.

(Where has “Dr. Peristyle” gone to, by the way? Just a thought.)

The good news is that this one is not quite as madcap as it could have been. Amen and Out is a story of a future where a number of characters with different backgrounds are at the Immortality Investigation Project – one is a supervisor of the immortals, one a young assistant, one an acid head itinerant and the other a doorman. They each communicate with their Gods, and are all consequently given instructions with various consequences for themselves and the Immortals held in the Project. The twist in the story is that the Gods are actually an AI. It’s good fun, and feels like Aldiss wrote it with a permanent grin on his face, though will no doubt offend anyone seriously beholden to a religion. A 4 out of 5.

The Rodent Laboratory, by Charles Platt

Charles Platt’s been a regular here for a while. This is a story of rats in a laboratory being observed as a group social experiment, and what can happen when the rats develop new behaviour and the scientific community watching them are put under stress. It gains points from me for being a ‘proper’ science-experiment-based story with a touch of the laboratory experiment pulp stories of the 1930s, although the ending is almost something out of Weird Tales. Overall, it reads well enough but feels like minor-league stuff, nothing we’ve not read before. 3 out of 5.


With a lack of artwork this month we have instead this quote, which seems to have inspired the story.

Stalemate in Time, by Charles L. Harness

I’ve mentioned in the past of Charles being a veteran author who seems to be trying to embrace the New Wave of writing. If sales of his novel The Rose are anything to go by, this has been popular, if met with varying degrees of success.

Here we have a reprint. The story was first published as Stalemate in Space back in 1949. Now renamed, it does feel like an old-style piece of pulp fiction. This is clearly intentional – the story begins with a purple-prosed quote from Planet Stories which seems to sum it up nicely. I’m not quite sure what Mike is trying to do here. Is this one of those examples to show that ‘the old stuff’ is still worth reading, as he did with Harness’s Time Trap back in the May 1965 issue? Or is it just filler? Whatever the reason, Stalemate in Space is an engaging if dated Space Opera story, which makes up with enthusiasm what it lacks in logic – but I wish the magazines would stop trying to sneak reprints to bulk out their issues. 3 out of 5.

Look On His Face, by John Kippax

William Kibbee is a Christian priest on a mission to the planet of Kristos V. Unsubtle, heavy-handed religious allegory. 2 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Transfinite Choice, by David Masson

The return of recent genre superstar David Masson whose sudden and dramatic appearance in these magazines has been stellar, although with slightly diminishing returns. Here is the story of Naverson Builth, who finds himself transported from 1972 to the year 2346. Lots of difficulties with language, which seems to be a Masson specialty, before we discover that Naverson finds himself working for a world government known as Direct Parameter Control. There are some interesting concepts put forward to Builth in this future, and some in turn suggested by Bulith, before the story crashes to a halt with a poor ending that we’ve come across before. Masson’s writing is still readable and still involves ambitiously big ideas, but I rather feel David has passed his peak. A slightly disappointing 3 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Keys to December by Roger Zelazny

I have repeatedly said that I think that Roger is one of the best American writers of recent years to have taken on the New Wave of science fiction and run with it. He keeps producing quality stories which are thoughtful, readable and also genuinely original. His last story here, For A Breath I Tarry, has been rightly nominated in this year’s Hugo Awards. So any return to these Brit magazines is something to be pleased about, I think.

And this is another cracker. The key premise is that in this future people can be adapted pre-birth in order to cope with the environment they will live on. It is different to the usual Zelazny fare, beingless philosophical and surprisingly hard-science-based, something that I could see Poul Anderson or Hal Clement writing.

To this Roger sets up a situation that Jarry Dark, a homeless Coldworld catform, his betrothed Sanza and his friends in the December Club who have put up the money, move to a planet where they will terraform the planet into something they can use. Whilst reconnoitring the planet they observe a species that they call Redform that even though thousands of years will pass to allow for adaptation will be unable to adapt in the face of their impending catastrophic event.

Knowing that the intelligent species will die but at the same time being unable to do anything about it sets up the sort of dilemma that challenges both the reader and the characters, and at the end gave me an emotional reaction akin to Tom Godwin’s The Cold Equations.

Surprisingly different for Zelazny, both elegaic and emotional, I can see this one being nominated for future awards. A high 4 out of 5.

Letters and Book Reviews

We begin this month with Bill Barclay giving a potted biography of writer and anthologist Sam Moskowitz and then reviewing Moskowitz’s latest book of biographical essays. It does sound interesting.

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) then covers a broad range of material. A highlight this month is Colvin being rather unsurprisingly unimpressed with Asimov’s novelisation of the movie Fantastic Voyage. The subtitle for this review, Per Ardua Ad Arteries did make me laugh, as well as the clinical evisceration of the novel.

The shorter reviews, all written by initialled reviewers, include story collection The Saliva Tree by a certain Brian W Aldiss, many of which have appeared in these magazines, Judith Merril’s 10th edition of The Year’s Best SF and the 15th volume of The Best from Fantasy and Science Fiction. All are liked – Zelazny comes out particularly well – though these three books show me the divide in style and content opening up between the old style stories and the so-called New Wave. Things are still changing….

Lastly there is a great review for Edgar Pangborn’s A Mirror for Observers, which ”stands head and shoulders above most sf”.

Very pleased to see the return of Letters pages this month. Generally detailed and thought-provoking, though generally still raking over the same themes of "What is SF?" and "What is this new SF?"

Summing up New Worlds

A stellar line up, with many of Moorcock’s favourite writers here. Whilst I could quibble and say that some of these stories from writers with a proven track record are not the author’s best, there are many that are very good. Aldiss is good but, unsurprisingly, Zelazny’s story is better. It’s not quite perfect (Kippax, I’m thinking of your story), but there’s a great deal of range and a good deal of quality. One of the best issues of New Worlds for a long time.

Summing up overall

A tough choice this month. Harrison’s novel is the best thing I’ve read here and dominates Impulse, quite rightly, although most of the rest are unmemorable. By contrast, the stories in New Worlds are not quite as good, but the range of the quality is greater. Zelazny’s story in New Worlds is as good as Harrison’s and this is the best New Worlds I’ve read for a few issues.

So – very pleased to say that both magazines have (thank goodness!) improved enormously this month. Whilst Harrison’s serial novel seriously impresses in the new SF Impulse, the range and breath of quality makes New Worlds the best this month. Let’s hope this continues. Must admit, the next New Worlds sounds good…

Until the next…



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Movies

[July 26, 1966] Along for the Ride ( This Island Earth)

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by Robin Rose Graves

Sunday night and nowhere to go with heavy rains keeping me housebound. Luckily, I was in good company, my equally single bosom friend warming the couch besides me. We split a bottle of wine as the tube lazily played before us. We weren't paying the screen much attention until red credits superimposed over a starry background displayed the title of the rerun movie of the night.

This Island Earth originally showed in theatres in 1955. Being that I was only sixteen at the time and hadn’t quite yet discovered my passion for science fiction I missed my opportunity to view it then. Later is better than never, right? I knew nothing of what awaited; I’ve yet to read the book that inspired the film and our TV guide remained folded and ignored on the coffee table. The title and design of the opening credits suggested it was a science fiction film, though of what type, I did not know. We wished to let the story sweep us away with no hint of what was to come – which meant I went in with no pre-formed assumptions of the movie.

The first hint of any unusual activity occurs right off the bat, when main character Dr. Cal Meacham’s plane fails, only to be rescued by a mysterious green light. This was the first suggestion of alien intervention in the movie, but the strangeness only continues from there.

Now at his lab, Dr. Meacham receives peculiar mail from an unknown sender. Parts and instructions to build a device called an “interociter.” Upon assembling the device, a not-quite-human face appears on the screen. Exeter, the man is called. He informs Dr. Meacham that he has passed his test, and offers him a job working with other scientists deemed worthy, with the noble goal of ending war.

This phrase rang a bell of familiarity. I had seen the chilling Twilight Zone episode “To Serve Man,” in which aliens came to Earth; in an attempt to uncover the aliens’ motivations, their book was translated into the titular phrase “To Serve Man”, promising something more noble than their true intent.

I thought, what could these aliens really mean when they say they want to end war? What was in it for them?

A windowless plane arrives to take Dr. Meacham away. Inside, the plane is empty, with no one to pilot. Dr. Meacham is curious enough to board the vehicle and allow it to carry him away. He is greeted upon landing by Dr. Ruth Adams. Dr. Meacham recognizes her as an old flame. She insists she has never met him before – at this point, my suspicion was through the roof. Mind control? I thought. Brainwashing? There was definitely more to be seen and this thought was further supplemented by the odd appearance of the assistant lab workers – all looking similar to Exeter. 

Dr. Meacham notes every scientist chosen to work on this project is involved with uranium. His point being that if this project really was to end war, wouldn’t they need scientists of other specialties as well? I found myself nodding in agreement and worried that what the aliens really wanted was to build an ultimate weapon of destruction.

Together with Dr. Adams and another doctor who isn’t worth mentioning by name (for he quickly is killed off) they escape the facility, pursued by a disembodied laser I could only associate with the aliens. Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams make it to a plane, which the former flies in an attempt to outrun the aliens. It’s then they witness their facility destroyed in an explosion, and their plane becomes trapped in a tractor beam.

This is where the movie truly got exciting.

Exeter reveals to the two surviving scientists that he is an alien (I knew it) and explains his true motivations. His planet, Metaluna, is caught in a losing war with another species of aliens called the Zargons. Metaluna is protected by a failing ionization layer. It requires uranium to fix. Here, I became sympathetic to the Metalunans and thrilled as the movie ventured out into space.

My intimate friend and I are fortunate to both be college educated women, and thus took issue with some of the “science” in this part in the movie. Namely, magnetic handles that restrained Dr. Meacham's and Dr. Adams' hands. Science was not my major, but I am confident magnets do not have that effect on human flesh.

Once our heroes make it to Metaluna, the reality of the aliens’ situation is put on display. Zargons attack the planet by guiding meteoroids into collision with Metaluna. I was simultaneously horrified and stunned by the setting of this alien world. The background was richly done and absolutely convincing.

With a nonstop shower of meteorites falling in the background, our heroes meet the alien in charge: the Monitor. All hope for a peaceful ending flies out the window as the Monitor reveals his plan to abandon the doomed planet Metaluna and instead take the Earth, brainwashing all human inhabitants into submission – starting with Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams. Fortunately for our heroes, the time Exeter has spent on Earth has caused him to grow fond of human beings. He initially resists his order to brainwash our heroes, until a brutishly strong Mutant appears.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, scream or cry with the appearance of this bug-eyed monster. One thing was for sure, its presence jump-starts a series of intense action scenes right to the end of the film, as the doctors, accompanied by Exeter, make for a hasty exit from the dying planet, with the mutant in pursuit.

The movie ends on Earth, somewhat triumphantly (depending on which character you ask). I shan't give away anything, but I can say that I was left with a somber feeling, knowing I had witnessed something horrifically tragic. I could only be thankful this was a movie and not reality.

Except this science fiction tale did not come from nowhere. Earth’s role in the story, claims author Raymond F. Jones, was inspired by the way Pacific Islands were used as bases and transshipment points during World War II. This also explained the way human characters are utilized in the story. Our heroes do nothing heroic except survive. In fact, characters Dr. Meacham and Dr. Adams offer little to the plot except to serve as witnesses for a greater story they only know a small part of.

While some of the science veered too close to the farfetched for me, I found the storytelling to be deep and compelling, with a backdrop of brilliant special effects that still hold up a decade later! It was truly a treat for a rainy day.

Four stars.




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Science / Space Race

[July 24, 1966] Doubling Up (Gemini 10)

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by Kaye Dee

A few days ago, Gemini 10 returned from the most ambitious US spaceflight to date. It literally took the Gemini programme to new heights and has firmly cemented the United States’ lead over the Soviet Union in the race to the Moon. Featuring not one, but two orbital rendezvous and two EVAs, Gemini 10 was a complex mission designed to increase NASA’s experience with these two techniques vital to the success of the Apollo lunar programme.

Designed by astronaut John Young’s wife Barbara, the Gemini 10 patch is simple, but highly symbolic. It features the Roman numeral 10 and two stars representing the two rendezvous attempts; Castor and Pollux (the two brightest stars in the constellation Gemini); and the two crew members. A stylized rendezvous is also depicted.

Crew for a Complex Mission

The Command Pilot for Gemini 10 was US Navy Commander John Young (left in the picture below), making his second spaceflight after acting as the Pilot of Gemini 3. Sitting in the right-hand seat as Pilot was US Air Force Major Michael Collins. A member of NASA’s third astronaut group, he is the first astronaut born outside the United States: his father is an Army officer and was stationed in Rome at the time of Collins’ birth.

Critical Timing

Blasting off on July 18, Gemini 10 was the first dual launch of a target vehicle and a manned Gemini flight to occurr exactly as planned. Launch timing was crucial, as Gemini 10 had only a 35-second window if it was going to rendezvous with two Agena targets in different orbits. The launch of the first rendezvous target, Agena 10, could not be delayed by more than 28 minutes, or it would result in a two-day wait until the second Agena already in orbit (originally launched for Gemini 8) would again be in position for the dual rendezvous plan to succeed. Agena 10 lifted off just two seconds late. One hundred minutes later it was followed by Gemini 10, launching exactly on time.

An amazing timelapse photo of Gemini 10's launch, showing the supporting rocker arm tower falling away

First Rendezvous

Despite the perfect launch, the path to Gemini 10’s first rendezvous was not completely smooth. An error made by John Young during the second burn – needed to rendezvous with the Agena about 160 miles above the Earth – required two additional burns to correct. By the time Gemini 10, on its fourth orbit, rendezvoused and docked with Agena 10, 60% of its fuel had been consumed. This placed constraints on the remainder of the mission, leading to the cancellation of several scheduled scientific experiments and additional docking practice.

Fortunately, the docking itself was successful and Mission Control decided to keep Gemini 10 docked to the Agena as long as possible. The target vehicle carried 3,400 pounds of fuel, some of which could be used for attitude control of the docked vehicles.


Docked to the nose of Agena 10, Gemini 10 Pilot Michael Collins took this impressive photograph of the Agena's engine firing as it boosted them to a record altitude

Rocketing to New Heights

Most of that fuel was needed for the second phase of Gemini 10’s mission. About seven and a half hours after launch, an 80 second burn of the Agena engine hurtled Young and Collins to an altitude of 474 miles, the farthest anyone has so far been from the Earth. This new record completely eclipses the previous record of 310 miles set by Voskhod 2 last year.

As the Gemini was docked nose-to-nose with the Agena, Young and Collins were flying ‘backwards’ as the rocket thrust them towards the higher altitude in a wild ride. Despite their unique vantage point, much of the view from the crew’s windows was blocked by the bulk of the Agena in front of them, so Young and Collins took very few photos: instead, they concentrated on their spacecraft’s instruments, especially the radiation dosage. The crew was particularly concerned about the radiation levels at their record-breaking altitude, as the lower edge of the inner Van Allen radiation belt was only about 150 miles above them. Fortunately, their instruments showed that the radiation levels at that altitude posed no danger to human life.


One of the few photos taken by the Gemini 10 crew at their record altitude, showing the curvature of the Earth. The Straits of Gibraltar are visible, with Europe to the left and North Africa to the right

Speaking of radiation, while Gemini 10 was orbiting aloft, France tested another nuclear weapon at Mururoa Atoll in the South Pacific. Although the astronauts were high too high above the blast zone for radiation to be an issue, Young and Collins were warned not to look at its blinding flash as they passed overhead.

When is a Spacewalk not a Spacewalk? When It’s a “Standup EVA”!

The Gemini crew began their second day in space with the news that they had enough fuel to complete the next phase of their mission, the rendezvous with Gemini 8’s Agena target vehicle. Another wild ride, pushed by Agena 10, lowered the Gemini to a new orbit with an apogee of 237 miles. Now the crew began to prepare for the mission’s first EVA, which would not see an astronaut actually leave the spacecraft. 

As an orbital sunset approached, Collins opened his hatch, exposing both astronauts to the space environment to perform a “standup EVA”. Standing in his seat with the upper part of his body outside the spacecraft, for a view unconstrained by its small windows, Collins commenced a photographic study of stellar ultraviolet radiation. He took 22 images of the southern Milky Way, scanning from Beta Crucis to Gamma Velorum (though, unfortunately, few of the images have proved scientifically usable). As Gemini 10 passed from night back to day, Collins also photographed a colour patch on the exterior of the spacecraft, to see if film could accurately reproduce colors in space. This task was cut short, though, when both Collins and Young experienced an eye irritation that caused their eyes to tear, making it difficult to see. As I write this article, the cause of this irritation is still uncertain, although it is thought to be a leak of lithium hydroxide in the environmental system.

Second Rendezvous

Gemini 10’s third day in space was its most complex and hazardous, commencing with the rendezvous with Agena 8. For the final time, Agena 10 fired its engine, to bring the docked spacecraft within 70 miles of Agena 8. At this point Gemini 10 discarded the Agena, which remains in orbit for use as a target by a future Gemini mission. Gemini 10 continued under its own power, for the first time in almost 48 hours, to reach Agena 8.

The former Gemini 8 target, having been in space since March, was essentially dead, without any power. Commander Young completed the critical final stage of rendezvous without the help of bright running lights and target radar, while trying to conserve enough fuel to let Collins take a one-hour spacewalk. He successfully guided the Gemini to within 10 feet of Agena 8, maintaining station close to the target vehicle without docking. This unique rendezvous simulated the rescue of astronauts from a spacecraft that had lost all electrical power.

A “Working” Spacewalk

With enough maneouvring fuel still available, Collins’ second EVA was now Go! Dubbed a “working spacewalk”, this EVA involved activities around the exterior of Gemini 10 and a traverse across to Agena 8. Like Gene Cernan on Gemini 9, Major Collins experienced difficulties in conducting his EVA tasks, demonstrating the need for more hand- and footholds on the exterior of future space vehicles. Nevertheless, he retrieved a micrometeorite collector from the exterior of the Gemini, containing experiments from Britain, Israel and West Germany. Unfortunately, this collector was later lost in space, apparently floating out of the spacecraft before the final hatch closing. 

Another micrometeorite collector was located on Agena 8. After one failed attempt to retrieve it, Collins used an experimental nitrogen-propelled “jet gun”, the Hand-Held Maneuvering Unit, to propel himself back to the Agena. This time he successfully retrieved the micrometeorite experiment, which is of particular scientific interest because of its long duration in orbit. There are no photos of the spacewalk available, but these training images give some idea of the complexity of the operations. However, low propellant quantity curtailed the spacewalk after only 39 minutes, instead of the originally planned hour. The crew experienced some difficulty in closing the hatch, due to the snake-like 50-foot umbilical used for Collins’ spacewalk and it was later jettisoned, along with the chestpack used by Collins and some other equipment an hour later. 

Return to Earth

About 63 hours into the flight, Young and Collins awoke to homecoming day, completing some final experiments, mostly involving photography of the Earth. Then, 70 hours and 10 minutes after liftoff, re-entry commenced and Young steered Gemini 10 to a pinpoint landing in the Atlantic only three and a half miles from the aiming point. The crew of the prime recovery vessel, the USS Guadalcanal, watched the spacecraft hit the water, as did millions of television viewers via the Early Bird satellite (though not us here in Australia, as we do not yet have access to satellite communications: it’s coming soon, though!).


For the first time the children of the recovery ship crew were allowed to be aboard to watch the splashdown and recovery. Here they join the party celebrating Gemini 10's safe return from a record-setting mission

Gemini 10 was certainly a mission for the record books: I can’t wait to see what further developments Gemini 11 will bring in just a couple of months’ time.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 22, 1966] Ridiculous! (August 1966 Amazing)

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by John Boston

The Sublime Don’t Work Here No More

. . . Not that it showed up very often when it did.  But the previous issue, which at last attained the status of “not bad,” raised hopes, now dashed again.

The theme of this August 1966 Amazing is plainly announced on the cover, a crude and silly-looking image by James B. Settles, from the back cover of the July 1942 Amazing, titled Radium Airship of Saturn.  You might also think that it doesn’t make much sense, but you’d be wrong!  What you see is actually the top two-thirds of the 1942 version; what you’re missing is the surface of Saturn, and a caption: “The motor in this air-ship is a disintegrating rocket-blast caused by the breaking down of a copper core by a stream of powerful radium rays concentrated on it.  It acts like a giant fireworks rocket.” It’s science!


by James B. Settles

Inside, the theme is carried forward with the conclusion of the Murray Leinster serial begun in June, a new novelet by Philip K. Dick, and five reprinted stories, particulars below.  The brightest spot in the issue is the absence of an editorial, though the usual brief and praiseful letter column is present.

While the editor misses no chance to bad-mouth the magazine’s prior regime, directly and through his selection of letters to publish, one thing has remained constant, and has seemingly intensified: the abominable proofreading.  (“Strickly speaking,” indeed.)

There's also a different sort of difficulty facing Amazing and Fantastic now.  It's been rumored for a while that they are not paying the authors for the reprinted material, which is now confirmed for those not plugged into the more authoritative gossip channels.  Kris Vyas-Myall has helpfully flagged the new issue of the fanzine Riverside Quarterly, in which the editor mentions that he confirmed with Kris Neville that he did not get paid for his recently reprinted story, and confirmed with Damon Knight, president of the newly constituted Science Fiction Writers of America, that this is the general practice. 

I suppose this may reflect the publishing practice prevalent in earlier years of buying "all rights" (sometimes simply by so noting on the author's check, with no more formal contract than that).  So maybe it's legal, but it stinks.  Knight has called on the members of SFWA to boycott the publisher until it changes its ways, and editor Leland Sapiro suggests that readers do the same with the magazines.  I'd take that advice, but duty dictates otherwise.

Stopover in Space (Part 2 of 2), by Murray Leinster

Murray Leinster’s latest Western treads a familiar path.  There’s a new sheriff, but he’s not really quite in town yet, because somebody doesn’t want him there, and it probably has to do with the stagecoach full of gold that is expected to arrive any day now.  It seems like business as usual from the author of Kid Deputy, Outlaw Guns, and Son of the Flying ‘Y’.

Oh, wait.  Sorry.  Wrong rut.  Trying again:

In Murray Leinster’s latest space opera, Lieutenant Scott of the Space Patrol is on his way to take over his first command, Checkpoint Lambda, a station orbiting the star Canis Lambda, whose system is of no special interest except that no fewer than six space lanes cross there.  (Didn’t know space has lanes?  People established them, I suppose so no one will get lost.) En route, Scott learns that several passengers had been supposed to leave Lambda on a ship recently, but didn’t, under peculiar circumstances—and one of them was “a girl.” This bears repetition, to the author and to Scott; a few pages later, Scott is reviewing the available facts, and notes that “passengers—including a girl—hadn’t left the checkpoint when they should.”


by Gray Morrow

Now, what could be happening?  Scott doesn’t know, but he does know the Golconda Ship is expected to show up at Lambda in the near future.  That ship is owned by a bunch of guys who went somewhere nobody knows and came back with a load of “treasure” which made them rich, and they go back for more every four years or so.  What kind of treasure?  Gold, platinum, radioactives, miracle cures from an unknown planet, the secret wisdom of an ancient civilization?  Doesn’t say, now or at any other point until the end of the story.  For the author’s purposes, you don’t need to know.  It’s just a game piece.

So what seems to be going on here?  Owlhoots!  Er, sorry.  Gangsters!  Scott is strongly discouraged from debarking onto Checkpoint Lambda, but insists, and finds himself going through the motions of normality with some slovenly types pretending to be the station crew.  He meets their nominal mastermind, one Chenery, who pretends to know Scott—and, before too long, he encounters the real power, whom Chenery recruited, and who is known as—Bugsy!  He is there to provide and direct the muscle, er, blastermen.*

* No, Bugsy and the Blastermen did not play at last Saturday’s sock hop.  That was somebody else.

So, here are the pieces in play: a good guy, some bad guys, treasure to be fought over, “a girl” to be protected.  What else do we need?  Oh yes, an external menace.  How about the Five Comets?  The Canis Lambda system has no planets—they all blew up eons ago, and the Checkpoint is attached to one of the bigger pieces—but it has some really fine comets, and they are all going to arrive at about the same time, right athwart the Checkpoint’s orbit—and there’s no astrogator, except for Scott!  (One might ask why the powers that be wouldn’t put the Checkpoint in some other location than the entirely predictable convergence point of multiple comets, but one would be wasting time to do so.)

The “girl”—an adult woman, of course—does have a name, Janet, though no others are disclosed.  Her full name would have to be (apologies to Alfred Hitchcock) Janet S. MacGuffin (“S” for Secondary), since she drives a part of the plot.  One of Scott’s challenges is to keep her safe from . . . well, let her tell it.  She says that Chenery “did keep the others from—harming me.” Such an eloquent dash! 

But clearly, as in last year’s Killer Ship, women have no role in tough situations other than to create the need for men to protect them.  At one point, Scott parks Janet for safekeeping in one of the Checkpoint’s lifeboats, gives her a snap course in operating it if necessary, and reassures her: “It’s not a very good chance.  But there aren’t many women who could make it a chance at all.  I think you can.” She doesn't have to try.  Later, though, Scott gives her something to do—maneuver the station to avoid comet debris while he’s busy elsewhere—and she blows it.  But he promises himself not even to hint at criticizing her, and at the end, after all is safely resolved, she is performing women’s other function in Leinster’s fiction as she and Scott get better acquainted.

This one is a little less vapid than Killer Ship, and considerably less irritating, since it lacks the constant reminders that interstellar travel will be just like the eighteenth century.  It’s just as verbose as Killer Ship, but the padding is a little better connected to what is actually going on in the story, and there is a bit more cleverness to the plot.  So, two stars for this played-out and left-behind author. 

Your Appointment Will Be Yesterday, by Philip K. Dick

The other new story is Your Appointment Will Be Yesterday, by the more-prominent-every-day Philip K. Dick, which once more vindicates my warning: when big names show up at the bottom of the market, there’s a reason for it.  This is a story about time running backwards.  It starts with a guy getting up in the morning (wait a minute—morning?), getting some dirty clothes to put on, and picking up a packet of whiskers to glue evenly onto his face, presumably to be absorbed over the course of the day.  So where do these whiskers come from, and who puts them into packets, and how are they distributed?  What happens if you run out?  And why does anyone bother with them?


by Gray Morrow

It goes on.  People begin conversations with “good-bye” and end with “hello,” but they don’t talk backwards in between.  Et cetera.  Sorry, it doesn’t work.  PKD’s specialty is making preposterous ideas at least momentarily plausible, but this one is too long a stretch.  It’s not enough for the reader to suspend disbelief; for this story you’d have to shoot it out of a cannon.

There’s more, of course, but not better.  Dick does have enough knack as a storyteller to keep things readable as the reader fumes over the contradictions, so, two stars.

The Voice of the Void, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The Voice of the Void was John W. Campbell, Jr.’s fourth published story, from the Summer 1930 Amazing Stories Quarterly, and at first it’s sort of refreshing: the story of humanity’s quest for survival as the sun is burning out, first disassembling large parts of the solar system and moving pieces closer to the sun, then looking for a new home around a younger or longer-lived star. 


by Hans Wessolowski

The story is about 98% character- and dialogue-free, though the astronomer Hal Jus has several cameos along the way.  Instead, it chronicles a long course of human discovery and problem-solving, grandiose and grave in equal measure.  It is a little reminiscent of Edmond Hamilton’s Intelligence Undying of a few issues back, if that story had been administered a mild sedative.

But things turn dark soon enough.  Humanity wants Betelgeuse for its new home.  But it turns out there’s no vacancy there—that system is inhabited by energy beings who don’t take kindly to human invasion.  Allegedly they are not intelligent, but their facility at fatally repelling unwanted visitors suggests otherwise.  Now, Betelgeuse is not necessary to human survival.  There’s another star handy; it doesn’t have planets, but the human fleet is so large that humanity could hang out for a few years in orbit and build some suitable planets.  But we want Betelgeuse!  So the indigenes have to go, and are exterminated in a siege of human-devised energy rays.

Well, that puts a damper on things.  Gratuitous genocide can ruin one’s whole reading experience.  Two stars with clothespin on nose.

The Gone Dogs, by Frank Herbert

Frank Herbert’s The Gone Dogs (November 1954 issue) is a slightly more interesting bad story than many, rather crudely written—surprisingly so, since it appeared only a year before Herbert’s much more capable and ambitious Under Pressure a/k/a The Dragon in the Sea.  On the other hand, it’s free of the turgidity of his current work, especially the characters’ internal monologues about the motives and intentions of one another.  Pick your poison. 

In the story, an artificially mutated virus is killing off all the world’s dogs, abetted by the fact that humans carry the virus; how to save the species?  One solution, highly unauthorized, is to give the last few to the Vegans, who are trying to breed dogs, or something like them.  Matters are enlivened along the way by a psychotic dog lover who’s determined to grab one of the last living dogs for herself (and will kill it with the virus she’s carrying).  At the end there's a slightly silly and anticlimactic twist.

One thing that’s annoying here is the hyper-facile and acontextual (thoughtless, for short) deployment of standard components from the SF warehouse.  At one point the main character needs to dodge a congressional subpoena.  What better way than to flee to Vega?  All by himself, with a forged pass to a faster-than-light spaceship which any idiot, or at least a biologist, can apparently navigate solo across interstellar distances, without notice and whenever the need arises.  There’s no reason in the rest of the story to believe in this capability.  This sort of thing was common in ‘50s SF but that doesn’t make it more palatable.  Two stars.

The Pent House, by David H. Keller, M.D.

David H. Keller, M.D., is in the position, unusual for him, of providing the least ridiculous story in the issue, chiefly because he essays so little.  The Pent House, from the February 1932 Amazing, is a minor exercise in benign crankiness.  A rich guy who is also a doctor discovers that humanity is about to be wiped out by the spread of a cancer germ, so he sets up a nice sealed-off apartment on top of a tall building, makes arrangements for a generous supply of life’s necessities and amenities, and advertises for a couple who really like each other to take on a lucrative job for five years.  The lucky winners persuade him to stay with them in the (large) apartment. 


by Leo Morey

Blissful years pass.  The woman of the couple is not feeling well, so the old rich doctor goes in to look at her and some hours later tells the husband, “It’s a girl.” He hadn’t noticed his wife’s pregnancy.  Maybe this is not the least ridiculous story here after all.

More time passes, the five years are up, and the old guy goes downstairs to check things out.  Turns out the cancer epidemic was thwarted by medical science.  So things are the same?  No—noisier, dirtier, generally less civilized (to summarize an extensive rant).  “It seemed to me that the world has escaped the cancer death so it could die from neurasthenia,” pronounces the doctor.  He’s ready to pay the couple the fortune they have earned and bid them adieu, but the wife says forget it, just order up some more supplies and let’s lock the door for another five years of "Heaven in a penthouse."  Two stars for competent rendering discounted for triviality.

The Man Who Knew All the Answers, by Donald Bern

The Man Who Knew All the Answers, from the August 1940 Amazing, is bylined Donald Bern, who was actually Al Bernstein, who has half a dozen or so credits in Amazing and Fantastic Adventures in 1940-42, and nothing else in the SF magazines.  Frankly, just as well.  This is a silly story about a nasty guy named Scuttlebottom, who stumbles (literally) into Ye Village Book Stall, and encounters the proprietor (“He wore a pince-nez.  He looked exactly like a person who wears a pince-nez.”), who sells him a book called The Dormant Brain.  The book teaches him to become telepathic, so now he knows what everybody thinks of him, which is unpleasant, and he then comes to a contrived bad end as a result of his new talent.  One star per the ground rules, despite this story’s utter lack of any reason for existing. 

The Metal Martyr, by Robert Moore Williams

Robert Moore Williams’s The Metal Martyr, from the July 1950 Amazing, is a mildly clever but overall pretty silly story about a robot, named Two, who develops the delusion that he is a man—this in the far future, long after a rumored rebellion by robots against humans, and the fall of human civilization.  Two flees the robot enclave to avoid having its brain dissolved and replaced, and comes across a couple of humans, named Bill and Ed, never mind the intervening millennia.  Two visits them at their home cave, but some of the humans get scared and threaten it, so Two flees deeper into the cave.  There it discovers the remains of an ancient mining site full of machinery, skeletons, and books explaining the past and how things got to their present metal-poor state—and showing no robots, revealing that humans once did just fine without them.  Two recovers from its delusion of humanity.  After giving the humans their past back (although they, unlike robots, can’t read), Two heads back to robotdom and its rendezvous with the acid vat.


by Edmond B. Swiatek

Williams was once a titanically prolific contributor to pulps of all genres, but most frequently SF and fantasy, and within them, most frequently to Ray Palmer’s Amazing and Fantastic Adventures, where he was part of the regular crew that filled those magazines with juvenilia.  Palmer was gone before this one appeared, but it is true to the tradition.  Two stars, charitably.

Summing Up

There’s not much to say.  The last issue finally achieved consistent readability, a first for the Sol Cohen regime.  Now, back into the murk and muck.




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Serial

[July 20, 1966] An Endless Summer (August 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Surf's up!

My daughter and I are dyed-in-the-wool beach lovers.  We live just 10 miles from the shore, and now that Highway 78 is a real two-lane throughway, it's a snap to head down to Carlsbad for a jump in the waves.  I'm not a real surfer, mind you.  Water terrifies me.  But every year, I muster enough courage to try body surfing and belly boarding, and after the first wipe-out or two, it's "Cowabunga!" and fun for the rest of the afternoon.

We came back from our latest coastal excursion to pick up a viewing of The Endless Summer, a documentary of two Malibutians as they traveled around the world in pursuit of the perfect wave (which they find in the most improbable of places!) It's a great film, and highly recommended.

Hang Ten

I was in for a pleasant surprise when I got home.  According to Mike Moorcock, summer is when sf mags publish their worst stuff since readership is at its lowest.  I wasn't looking forward to this month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction, but aside from one dud, it actually turned out to be quite a decent book.


by Gray Morrow

The Productions of Time (Part 1 of 2), by John Brunner

Murray, a sauced-up actor on the wagon, is hired for a most unorthodox production by a most unorthodox producer, name of Delgado.  Murray is sequestered in a country inn with a number of other talented but problematic performers.  One has a heroin addiction.  Two are homosexuals.  One has a pornography habit.  Moreover, all of them have their weaknesses tempted: our hero keeps finding booze in his room (he angrily calls for its removal), the addict discovers a two ounce flask of horse in his, the obscenity-junky is well-supplied in copies of Fanny Hill and the like, etc. 

Things get even weirder when Murray discovers that all of the beds in the inn are wired with tape recorders.  When confronted, a testy Delgado says they're for hypno-learning, but the recorders don't have speakers!  The televisions are also strangely equipped with extra electronics, and they are wired to a central control system in a locked room.

The producer's eccentricities and the cast's friction notwithstanding, the troupe manage to put together a pretty good impromptu show.  Whereupon Delgado denigrates Murray's perfect performance and demands the whole thing be scrapped.  Is it part of his technique?  Or is the play never meant to be completed, part of a larger experiment.

This story feels very Leiberian, perhaps because of the subject matter.  It was slow to engage, but by the end, I was sorely disappointed that I'd have to wait a month to read the resolution.

Four stars thus far.


by Gahan Wilson

Matog, by Joan Patricia Basch

A contemporary of Paracelsus is retained by a local Baron to summon a demon.  He succeeds but is unaware of the deed as the fiend appears behind him.  For the duration of the creature's captivity on our plane, he is kept company by the summoner's charming young daughter, who has fallen for the Baron's son.

What ensues is an all's-well-that-ends-well tale involving a much-put-upon demon, whose reputation for evil and mischief is largely human ascribed (though not entirely), a thwarted romance, and a surprisingly effective set of veterinary medicines.

Fun fluff in a pleasantly archaic style.  Three stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

The Seven Wonders of the Universe, by Mose Mallette

Humans pierce the boundary between universes and find themselves in need of a travel brochure to encourage tourism.  This is that brochure.

One of the dumbest non-fact articles I've yet read and too obsessed with sex.  One star.

For the Love of Barbara Allen, by Robert E. Howard

This hitherto unpublished story is perhaps the last composed by the Conan creator before he killed himself.  It involves time travel, the Civil War, and enduring love.  Pleasant enough, though more interesting for the circumstances around its creation than its content.

Three stars.

Meteroid Collision, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas suggests in this science fact vignette that micrometeoroids be used to power spacecraft.  They'd hit a piezoelectric hull that would harness their intense energies.

Cute, but 1) I suspect the efficiency would be very low, and 2) there just aren't that many micrometeoroids.  Solar cells are cheaper, lighter, and work all the time.

Think harder, Ted.  Two stars.

Letter to a Tyrant King, by Bill Butler

Cute doggerel composed at the end of the Cretaceous, one dinosaur to another.  Three stars.

A Matter of Organization, by Frank Bequaert

A cog in the corporate machine ends up in a Hell that is all too familiar.  Can his cunning and bureaucratic prowess keep him from eternal torment?

A nice twist on the classic formula.  Three stars.

Near Thing, by Robin Scott

Expansionist aliens call off an impending invasion of Earth after encountering smog.

Silly, overdone, and eminently forgettable.  Two stars.

BB or Not BB, That Is the Question, by Isaac Asimov

I've been waiting for a good piece comparing the Steady State and Big Bang theories of cosmology, and The Good Doctor has delivered.  One of the best articles of the year from any source.

Five stars.

Come Lady Death, by Peter S. Beagle

Bookending this issue with quality is the first story I've read by Mr. Beagle (apparently a reprint from 1963).  A wizened socialite decides her swansong party shall include an invitation to Death.  The encounter is unusual in many ways.

I shan't spoil the plot as this lovely piece is worth reading.  Suffice it to say that the author has a light, compelling style, and I look forward to more fantastic works by him.

Four stars.

Back to Shore

That was pleasant.  Sure, there was a lot of mediocrity 'round the middle, but the take-off and landing were quite nice.  And there's every indication that next month's reading will be excellent: it will feature the second half of the Brunner novel and a new The People story by Zenna Henderson!

Here's to a nice long summer.




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[July 18, 1966] Arrivals and Departures (Doctor Who: The War Machines)

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By Jessica Holmes

The third series of Doctor Who comes to a close, and it ends on a high note! Ian Stuart Black returns as a writer to bring us a high-concept sci-fi thriller set in modern London: The War Machines.

EPISODE ONE

The first thing that strikes you when watching this serial are the high-tech and creative title cards. It’s fitting to the theme of the serial, and I hope more serials will do the same. It’s a nice touch.

Arriving in contemporary London, the Doctor and Dodo take notice of the recently completed Post Office Tower. Here, it’s a front for a top-secret science project. In real life, as we all know, it’s where all the pigeons of London go to roost in between delivering the post. You can look it up if you like.

The Doctor, curious about the tower and following his gut instinct, heads up for a tour. The pair meet a computer scientist, Professor Brett (John Harvey). He eagerly shows them his life’s work: the thinking computer, WOTAN (Will Operating Thought ANalogue). Wotan also happens to be another spelling of Wōdan, a name for the Norse god Odin. Odin was associated with both wisdom and war. Additionally (and if this is deliberate, it’s absolutely brilliant), the name stems from the proto-Germanic *Wōđanaz, which has the meaning ‘leader of the possessed’. This is incredibly apt, as you’ll soon see.

The computer soon shows itself to be as smart as Brett claims, even correctly guessing what the acronym TARDIS means. But how did it know?

Prof. Brett introduces him to his secretary, Polly (Anneke Wills). We’ll be getting to know a lot more of Polly. While the Doctor continues to poke around the machine, Polly invites Dodo to the hottest nightspot in town – the Inferno.

At the bar, the pair meet Ben (Michael Craze), a down-in-the-dumps seaman stuck on shore duty. After Polly tries and fails to cheer him up with a bit of a flirt, she finds herself accosted by an impertinent idiot who doesn’t understand the word ‘no’. Ben comes to the rescue. That's all good. I was impressed with him for standing up to the creep. And then he had to go and RUIN it. How? By scolding Polly and telling her she ought to be careful who she encourages. The cheek!

I would have handled it a lot less gracefully than Polly does, and with language that would even make sailor-boy blush.

The Doctor attends a scientific club meeting led by Sir Charles Summer (William Mervyn), whose role in all this I’m not entirely clear on. He is extraordinarily posh. At the meeting, Sir Charles explains that WOTAN is going to be connected to an international network of computers. It will act as a central, impartial controller for all these computers – including those used for military applications. What could go wrong?

Prof. Brett is late for the meeting, having become suspicious that there’s an intruder in the building. He can’t shake the feeling that someone or someTHING is watching him. Then a discordant buzzing sound comes from the supercomputer. It turns almost melodic as it takes control of him, pulling him towards the machine…

The press conference is about to wrap up when Brett suddenly bursts in and asks to speak to another scientist, Krimpton (John Cater), and they both head back to the tower.

There, Major Green (Alan Curtis), the representative from the Ministry of Defence on the project, is the next to be ensnared by the machine’s siren song. He makes a call to the Inferno Club and asks to talk to Dodo. She answers, and the Major connects the phone to the computer, transmitting the hypnotic tone, and bringing Dodo under WOTAN’s control.

Brett drags Krimpton before WOTAN. The machine has thought it over, and come to the conclusion that the world can’t progress further with mankind running things. It’s time for WOTAN to take over.

The Doctor comes to the Inferno club to find Dodo missing, but where could she be?

Where else, but with WOTAN?

In a genuinely unsettling moment, the machine laughs as its plans begin to come together. It’s an unearthly, warped sound, but definitely a laugh. The machine instructs Dodo that Doctor ‘Who’ is required, and commands her to bring him to the tower.

This is a very good start to the serial. It’s all rather sinister so far, and things are moving along at a good pace, but not so fast that it feels rushed.

EPISODE TWO

For WOTAN’s plans to take over London, Washington and Moscow to come to fruition, it must have an army. An army of machines. Considering it’s about to link up to all the military computers, couldn't it just nuke the world into submission?

Then again, that’s not as much fun. While it is tempting (and fun) to point out logical holes in fiction, or smarter ways for characters to achieve their goals, sometimes it’s just more fun if the characters do things the hard way. On the other hand, it is meant to be a hyper-intelligent supercomputer, so you'd think it'd do things the smart way.

For another thing, if this machine was really all that smart, it’d know that the Doctor is not literally called 'Doctor Who'. Yes, it’s the name of the programme, and yes, that's his name in the credits. That much is true. But nobody calls him that, including himself. That, and it just sounds weird.

At the club, Polly is about to start phoning round the hospitals when Dodo shows up, claiming to have been visiting some old friends. Nobody notices how odd she’s acting, and Dodo almost succeeds in leading the Doctor into an ambush while waiting for a taxi – which then shows up, scuppering her plans.

In a nearby warehouse, WOTAN has made short work of mind-controlling a bunch of workers, who are beginning to build a War Machine. An unwitting homeless bloke finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and WOTAN sets the workers on him.

Then the first of the War Machines emerges in all its tin-can glory. It’s like the offspring of one of NASA’s big computers and a Dalek.

The next morning, the Doctor is at the home of Sir Charles when he sees the homeless man’s face in the paper, and recognises him, having seen him the previous night. To Sir Charles’ surprise, Polly shows up, having been sent by Major Green (most likely to keep her out of the way).

Dodo is still acting strangely, and she suggests that she and the Doctor go and call on Brett. To be polite, the Doctor decides to call his office first. Krimpton can’t believe his luck, and puts him through to WOTAN.

The result is more funny than scary, if I’m honest. It’s like a scene from a rubbish B-movie: Attack Of The Living Telephones! He eventually gets the phone away from his ear and collapses into a chair. The mind control doesn’t appear to have taken, but Dodo gives herself away before realising this. Deducing that WOTAN has hypnotised Dodo, the Doctor takes advantage of her trance and puts her to sleep. Sir Charles offers to have his wife look after her at their country residence, so off she goes.

And she was never seen again.

No, really. But I’ll get to that later.

Polly returns to the Post Office Tower, but gets a nasty surprise, immediately realising that something is very wrong with the Professor.

Ben turns up at Sir Charles’ house (the neighbours must think there’s a party with all these people coming and going), having arranged to meet Polly for lunch. She’s not here, and the Doctor lets Ben know of the goings-on with regards to WOTAN, and Ben offers his assistance.

The Doctor asks him to look into the area where that homeless chap got murdered last night. Off Ben goes, soon finding the War Machine factory – and a War Machine being tested.

EPISODE THREE

Ben makes a narrow escape from the War Machine, soon running into a mind-controlled Polly, who locks him inside the warehouse. The workers capture him, and poor Ben faces death at the hands of the Machine when Polly intercedes, saying that WOTAN needs more workers to complete the War Machines on schedule.

They get to work, and while they toil Polly tells Ben about the coming attack. Ben notices that the workers haven’t even bothered to guard the door. I’m no omniscient supercomputer hell-bent on taking over the world, but if I were, I’d make sure ALL my underlings were mind-controlled. After all, we know WOTAN has the ability to hypnotise people remotely. It would have only taken one phone call and Ben wouldn’t even be able to think about escaping!

At the first opportunity, Ben slips away. Polly sees him go, but for some reason she doesn’t raise the alarm. Perhaps because deep down, she remembers that he’s her friend. On learning this, the Major sends her back to WOTAN for punishment.

Ben makes it back to Sir Charles and the Doctor and tells them what he saw. Realising they must act quickly, Sir Charles calls the army in to deal with the factory. The Doctor thinks it’d be a better idea to strike at the heart of the problem and shut down WOTAN, but for some reason Sir Charles won’t believe that Prof. Brett and WOTAN have anything to do with all this. The Watsonian explanation would be that he’s…I don’t know, stubborn? The Doylist way of looking at it would be that it would cut the serial an episode short. I think we have to cycle back to my point that sometimes it’s just more fun if characters aren’t 100% logical all the time.

The army arrives (with an array of quite obviously recycled shots to make it appear that there are more of them) and send in an advance squad.

It does not go well for them.

I thought initially there was a failure in the sound department as I couldn't hear any shots, but it seems that the War Machine has the ability to jam conventional weapons.

The Doctor and Ben arrive as the few survivors emerge from the warehouse, pursued by the Machine.

Everyone at the site flees, but the Doctor stands his ground…

EPISODE FOUR

…And we start off with a bit of a cop-out as the War Machine rolls right past the Doctor and then shuts down. Why? The workers hadn't finished programming it, so it didn’t know what to do with itself. Seems a little convenient if you ask me.

The news of the War Machine begins to spread over the airwaves. The Ministry of Defence warn the public that more attacks are expected, and to be on guard. It has a bit of a wartime feel to it that will surely strike a chill in all of us old enough to remember.

The other War Machines are ready for launch. One machine while receiving orders destroys the transceiver and then kills one of the men who built it, to the puzzlement of Brett back at the tower…and me, come to think of it. This plot detail doesn’t really seem to go anywhere? It seems as if this machine might have developed its own sense of self-awareness independent from WOTAN, but nothing more really comes of it. Perhaps WOTAN is issuing its own orders without human intermediaries.

At the warehouse, the Doctor talks to the Major, who seems to have come around from his hypnosis with no memory of his actions. I don’t really understand what made him come around. After all, WOTAN is still active.

Meanwhile, some poor bloke gets killed while trying to raise the alarm about having seen one of the War Machines.

Ben continues to worry about Polly, but the Doctor keeps fobbing him off. This is weird, and I had initially thought that the Doctor had some sort of plan to make use of Polly’s hypnotic state or something to that effect, but it seems that he just doesn’t care all that much. In fairness to him, he’s trying to save the world and Polly is just some woman he barely knows, but it does seem out of character.

The second War Machine is heading for the Battersea power station. The Doctor thinks they should capture it. He devises a trap to capture the War Machine within an electromagnetic field.

The War Machine rolls right into the trap, and the Doctor strolls up to have a look at it, knowing it can’t hurt him. Not that it doesn’t threaten to, for which the Doctor scolds it, which is pretty funny as it impotently waves its hammer about. The Doctor reprograms the War Machine to make it an ally, and sends it off to the Post Office Tower to destroy WOTAN.

The Doctor still doesn’t seem to care about Polly, so Ben runs off ahead to get her out of there. With some gentle persuasion (read: physically picking her up and carrying her out the door) he gets her out of the way before the War Machine shows up.

Krimpton dies trying to protect WOTAN, but the War Machine manages to finish the supercomputer off. Now that I think about it, the War Machines were nigh-indestructible, but WOTAN was just like any other computer. I think one guy would have done the job just as well with a sledgehammer. Or a really big magnet. Or a cup of coffee.

With WOTAN deactivated, all the other War Machines freeze in place, waiting for orders that will never come. Everyone who was mind-controlled returns to normal. All’s well that ends well…mostly.

The Doctor slips away to avoid dealing with the aftermath, and waits by the TARDIS for his faithful companion…who doesn’t show up. Ben and Polly arrive with a message from Dodo. She's feeling much better and has decided to stay in London. Oh, and she sends her love.

Gee.

The Doctor takes her through time and space and she doesn’t even come along to say ta-ta in person? If there was a contest for Worst Companion Exit, Dodo’s departure would win. From what I can gather, Jackie Lane’s contract expired mid-filming, but could they not have found a more elegant solution? Why not have the farewell mid-serial, and do it properly? If they wanted to be really bold, they could have killed her off a la Katarina.

Rather put out, the Doctor retreats into the TARDIS, with Ben and Polly following him. The doors shut behind them, and the ship departs into time and space.

Final Thoughts

So, that was The War Machines. Personally, I really enjoyed it. The serial has a very cinematic feeling to it. There's lots of interesting shots and location shooting, making it one of the most dynamic serials we've seen. I enjoyed the technological thriller aspect, minor quibbles with the plot aside. Though it definitely dropped the ball when it came to giving Dodo a proper sendoff, this is however a very strong companion introduction. Ben and Polly were worked into the story in an organic way, and I like them already (despite Ben’s shaming of Polly at their first encounter).

Polly is the sort of cool modern woman we’d all like to be. It’s a shame that she was mind-controlled for much of her appearance. All we really know is that she’s cool and she’s nice. Ben, though definitely a bit condescending, especially towards Polly, seems like a good soul at heart. He’s very brave, which is an important trait to have.

I’m a little surprised at the brevity of Dodo’s tenure as the Doctor’s companion. It feels like she’s barely even arrived and already she’s out the door. I liked her, but she didn’t really get a chance to distinguish herself much as anything other than Replacement Susan.

Polly’s already more distinct, and she’s only been around five minutes.

I look forward to seeing how this new TARDIS team work together– I think the rotating cast helps to keep the programme from getting stale.

Let’s see where things go from here, shall we?

4 out of 5 stars




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