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[November 10, 1967] Mudd in the computer (Star Trek: "I, Mudd")

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"And Thereby Hangs a Tale"


by Amber Dubin

"I, Mudd" follows the tradition set by three other episodes we've seen so far, in which the crew of the Enterprise has to out-logic a robot ("What are little girls made of," "Return of the Archons," "Changeling"). Even though this episode recycles many of the same themes we've seen in those episodes, it offers enough unique elements to make it my favorite of its kind.

We open on a hallway conversation between the ship's doctor and chief science officer where the ever-cynical medico's instincts lead him to correctly identify an interloper on the ship in the form of the newest crewmember, Lieutenant Norman.


"What did he call me?"

Unfortunately, Spock rebuffs Dr. McCoy's theory (logically) because his reasoning points out Norman's inhuman behaviors, many of which overlap with those of Spock himself. McCoy insists that "the ears make all the difference" but the damage is clearly done as the supposedly unemotional Spock abruptly extricates himself from the conversation with an acerbic retort.


"I mean, you're one of the good ones."

McCoy is immediately vindicated when Norman's next move is to hijack the ship. He single handedly dispatches two security teams, all of engineering including Scotty, rigs the controls to blow if the ship deviates from the course he assigns it, and barges straight onto the bridge to explain the now-captive crew's new situation. Norman presents Captain Kirk a "choice" to either go on a four day voyage to an unknown destination or face the immediate destruction of the Enterprise. Ever cool under pressure, Kirk demands to know the nature of his attacker. Norman responds only by peeling back a panel under his shirt to reveal an android abdomen full of wires.


An android's navel–note that these robots don't use integrated circuits…

Further inquiries over who sent him are met with "I am not programmed to respond in that area" before he immediately shuts himself off. So confident is he in his power play (pun intended) that Norman leaves his unconscious body standing in the middle of the doorway to the bridge. Apparently no one disturbs him for four days as the crew seems startled from their normal activities when Norman abruptly awakes and makes further demands. He acts as if he's giving the crew another choice as he requests a set of personnel to accompany him on the planet they're now orbiting, but again refusal means certain death. At least he said “please” this time.

It soon becomes clear why Norman was reluctant to reveal who sent him, because we next open up to a throne room centered around none other than the illustrious Harcourt Fenton Mudd. Undeterred by Mudd's declaration of newfound sovereignty, Kirk charges at him and commences a delightful volley of banter where Mudd catches the crew up on what he's been up to since they last left him in custody for his transgressions. Surprising no one, Harry's made a mess of every situation he's been involved in and has found himself marooned on this planet of 200,000 androids while fleeing the consequences of his actions. Through much childish bickering on Harry's part, Kirk manages to wrench the truth out of the scoundrel, soon discovering that Mudd is just as much a prisoner of the androids as the Enterprise crew is.


"They won't let me go!"

A strange detail comes into play when the crew is being led away and stumbles upon the shrine to Stella, Mudd's wife. It seems odd that Harry would be so sentimental as to make an exact replica of the nagging shrew he gratefully abandoned galaxies away. It must follow that either the loneliness of being the only human on an android planet compelled Mudd to seek security in the familiar or he is such an adversarial man that the ability to make a version of a nemesis he could program with an off button proved to be an irresistible temptation. The most ironic element of that situation is that Stella may be shrill and harping but with a husband like Harcourt, the audience can't help but be squarely on her side.

Unsurprisingly, the androids reject Mudd the second they have any other humans to compare him to, and devote themselves to providing everything the crew wants so they can better serve humanity. They explain that serving humans gives the androids renewed purpose and protects humans by taking care of their every need to save them from themselves. Elements of the gilded cage they're presented with tempt each of the crew members in turn, but whenever a wish contradicts the terms of their captivity, the crew begins to notice that the androids balk at the paradox by freezing in place, their ID necklaces flashing until the conflict is resolved. It is subsequently discovered that the androids are part of a partial hive-mind directed by Norman and that they defer to him to avoid overloading individual units when logical computation is stalled. Thus ensues a campaign to confuse and overload as many androids by whatever means possible. Fake music, subterfuge, logical fallacies, play acting and flat-out lies become weaponized against the unsuspecting computers; each crewman performs their ridiculous acts admirably, especially Spock, who befuddles several androids all by himself.


"Sorry, ladies.  I'm just too good for you."

The episode reaches a delightful climax as the crew's play-acting for Norman finally causes literal steam to billow out of his ears and he admits humans are too complex to be managed by anyone but other humans. In the even more satisfying conclusion, after reaching a peaceful solution to coexist with the androids, Mudd's punishment is revealed to be exile on the android planet so they can help him rehabilitate his nefarious ways. Mudd initially rejoices in this reward of a punishment, until the crew unveils his personal attendants: 500 copies of Stella, this time without her off switch.

Not one line of the script is superfluous and every crewman is at their most efficient and capable as they execute every plan flawlessly. The script, plot, performances and design of this episode click together as seamlessly as the gears powering a well-constructed android.

I am a self-confessed, dyed-in-the-wool robot-a-phile. It is thus inevitable that I give this episode…

5 stars

The Shrew in the Ointment


by Janice L. Newman

I’ll admit, the preview for this episode had me worried. “Mudd’s Women” had some good elements, but was overall one of the weaker episodes of the first season. Happily, this episode was much better than that first one starring Mudd. There was just one problem that took it down a star for me – a fly in the ointment, if you will.

It was an old, old, joke even when Shakespeare did it: the harridan wife and her ne’er-do-well husband. Despite the fact that the audience knows that Harry Mudd’s perspective is unreliable, and thus his version of his wife may not represent the real woman, upon seeing the cartoonishly-awful “Stella” android we can’t help but be repelled and thus sympathize with the charismatic Mudd. Yet a moment’s thought makes one realize how nonsensical it is in the context of Star Trek. This is the future. Is it really so hard to get a divorce if one is unhappy with one’s spouse? If two people are so miserable together, is it truly necessary for one of them to flee into outer space? And sure, another moment’s thought is all it takes to realize that Mudd likely married his wife to gain some kind of monetary benefit, and that if we were in her place, we might be shrill, too. Still, Stella isn’t particularly funny, and for me, even Mudd’s comeuppance was poisoned by her sour, nagging presence.


If Harry Mudd put you in a closet, you'd make this face, too.

The rest of the episode is great, though; one of the best “break the computer” ones we’ve seen. Four stars.

A little bit of Vaudeville


by Gideon Marcus

Something I love about the stellar anthology show, Star Trek, is how versatile it is.  One week, we're getting political commentary, with ramifications right from the headlines of today (e.g. "A Taste of Armageddon"), another we're getting a Halloween-themed piece ("Catspaw").  An episode might be a rendition of a classic war movie ("Balance of Terror") or a retelling of Hamlet ("Conscience of the King").

"I, Mudd" takes place almost entirely on a spartan subterranean set, and largely features entertaining characters conversing with each other.  It's like an extended Hollywood Palace sketch.  It really shouldn't work, but it does.

From Kirk's masterful exchanges with Mudd (with Kirk displaying just the right mix of exasperation, anger, and amusement) to Chekov's lively Cossack dances, to the halting…yet endearing…cadence of…the androids, to Uhura's silky mock betrayal (she really is getting a chance to shine this season!), to the grand finale filled with pantomimed absurdity–it's a stage-bound pageant of comedy.  Interestingly, the avante garde Marc Daniels was tapped to direct rather than the more stagey Joe Pevney.  You see his surrealistic influences particularly during the dance scenes.


No caption required.

That the story is actually pretty good is a bonus.  If the show doesn't quite reach five star status for me, it's because while I enjoyed the show thoroughly, it was a bit too frivolous to feel like "real" Star Trek–essentially the same complaint I had about "Catspaw", but with an execution that makes me all but forgive the lapse.

Four stars.

Tonight's episode seems like it will be more of a serious affair.  At least we'll find out what happened to Glenn Corbett after he left Route 66…

Here's the invitation! Come join us.

Also, copies of The Tricorder are still available — drop us a line for details!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 2, 1967] Trouble and Toil (Star Trek: Catspaw)

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Such stuff as dreams are made of


by Joe Reid

For the first several episodes, this second season of Star Trek was solidly impressive.  We got to attend a Vulcan wedding.  We saw a mythological deity from human antiquity in a sci-fi setting.  We saw a transistorized deity faced and defeated.  Then a dark alternate universe, followed by a giant cornucopia of doom!  I regret that I must mention the episode with the red colored rock lizard worshippers, since that was undoubtedly the low point of this season.  Sadly, this week’s episode, titled “Catspaw” comes very close to hitting the low that “The Apple” achieved.

Dear readers, in my opinion, futuristic sci-fi shows should avoid doing holiday themed episodes.  I have no desire to watch sci-fi episodes about Christmas or Thanksgiving.  Nor Easter, the 4th of July, Passover, Saint Patrick’s Day, or Columbus Day.  So, watching what clearly stood out as "made for Halloween" was disappointing.  Especially since I do not feel that the episode was served by the inclusion of said theme.

We started this seventh episode of the second season on the bridge of the Enterprise as our heroes awaited a report from the landing party composed of Scotty, Sulu, and a Crewman Jackson.  A message came in from Jackson, with no word about the others.  As Jackson beamed up to the ship, he arrived on the transport circle dead on arrival.  Then from the non-moving mouth of the dead man came a ghostly warning to leave the planets and that the Enterprise was cursed.


"There is a curse on you!  Also, you've left the oven on"!

Determined to find out the fates of Scotty and Sulu, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy beam down to the planet to find their people.  Arriving on the surface they find that it was a dark and foggy night.  What comes next, I was not expecting: As the trio begin their search, they are confronted by three ugly witch apparitions, and wouldn’t you know it they have a poem to share.  “Winds shall rise, and fog descend, so leave here all, or meet your end.” Poetry so bad that it even garners a negative review from Spock.


"Hail Captain Kirk, Thane of Cawdor!"

If that isn’t a blatant enough holiday reference, Kirk and the others soon find themselves at a dark and eerie castle.  Upon entering they are startled by a black cat which leads Kirk to make the first explicit Halloween reference of the night about trick or treat.  They follow the cat hoping to see where it would lead them only to be knocked unconscious as the floor collapsed below their feet.


"There's my litter box!"

They awaken to find themselves chained to the walls of a dungeon next to a skeleton that looks exactly like what it is: a Halloween decoration, or maybe a model skeleton from my kid’s science classroom.  As the doors to their cell open, we get our first looks at Scotty and Sulu as they enter the dungeon.  Both are under some sort of magic spell and can’t speak but make it clear that they will take Kirk and the others to the people in charge.


I hope they weren't paid by the line for this one…

They meet two aliens that have taken the forms of a wand-sporting wizard named Korob, and the beautiful witch, Sylvia.  Kirk, Spock, and McCoy find themselves at the mercy of powers that could endanger the Enterprise in orbit, conjure items out of thin air, and mind control their crewmembers.


Korob and Sylvia–a tale of two coiffures

It is here that the spooky themes began to subside as the magicians reveal themselves as truly alien, with little understanding of humans or even having physical bodies.  They need humans and our minds to allow them more of the new experiences that they had created.  An interesting premise, but since this is Halloween, it is drowned in hocus pocus.

In the end, Kirk is able to learn about and destroy the magic wand…er…transmuter, the item that allowed their powers to work.  The defeated aliens returned to their original forms and promptly die.  The conclusion of the episode comes fast with virtually no transition, save for a brief explanation from Kirk to his newly liberated crew.


"The missing pages of the script are right there."

Outside of the unnecessary holiday theme, this episode managed to stay true to the elements of what makes Star Trek good.  The characters' behaviors were consistent with what we have come to expect.  Kirk was smart and brave.  Spock was insightful, and others, so long as they were not mind controlled, behaved as they should.  Also the aliens had actual, explained reasons for their actions. All this combined made this episode passable and not the absolute debacle that “The Apple” was.

3 stars.

A fool thinks himself to be wise


by Janice L. Newman

It wasn’t a surprise to learn that the same author who wrote "What Are Little Girls Made Of?", one of the worst episodes of the first season, also wrote "Catspaw". Robert Bloch is famous for his horror writing, particularly the movie Psycho. But his horror fantasy scripts simply do not translate well to the grounded science fiction of Star Trek.

"Catspaw" was a frustrating experience. Not just because it didn’t feel at all like a Star Trek episode (and naysayers in the fanzines will no doubt comment, as they did with "Miri" in the first season, that they happened to catch this episode and weren’t impressed), but also because it had the potential to be an interesting episode but simply couldn’t make it work.

Firstly, the idea that the ‘collective unconscious fears’ of our species would be reflected in a gothic castle, Shakespearian witches, and black cats, is simply ridiculous. If there is some kind of collective unconscious for humanity, the reflection of it must necessarily be both much more chaotic and universal to the human experience. This flaw could have been overcome either by saying that the aliens drew their ideas of us from our popular culture, or perhaps that they drew on one particular crewmember’s unconscious fears. Alternatively, rather than using the traditional gothic symbolism, the show could have tried something more innovative, imagining what might frighten any human anywhere throughout all of history.

Another flaw was the pacing. The scene of Sulu unlocking everyone’s chains took far too long, for example, while the final scene felt rushed. The scenes on the bridge were dull, especially with the wooden DeSalle in charge.


"I am acting!"

A particularly annoying problem with the episode was that it set up situations to be resolved and then didn’t follow through. The most egregious example of this occurs when the bridge crew finally manage to ‘dent’ the forcefield around them—only to have the forcefield lifted by one of the aliens before they can escape it on their own. While I would have been mildly irritated at the similarity to "Who Mourns for Adonais?" if the crew had cleverly managed to escape, I was far more irritated that the crew was set up to escape and then not given the opportunity to do. What was the point of those scenes on the bridge, then?

The ‘horrific’ aspects to the story often came across as comedic instead. Perhaps the ugly witches might scare a young child watching the show, but the room full of adults I was watching with chuckled at their appearance and their sung proclamations. One of the saddest pieces of wasted potential was the aliens’ true appearance. They looked like little birds made of pipe cleaners, and when they came on the screen they got the loudest laugh of the evening. A scene which could have and should have been poignant or grotesque was again turned comedic by poor writing, pacing, and framing.

I’m torn as to what rating to give this episode. On one hand, it didn’t even feel like an episode of Star Trek. On the other, there were some interesting elements, and it wasn’t confusing like "The Alternative Factor" or dully exasperating like "The Apple". Plus, there was a cat. Still, when all is said and done, the wince-inducing scenes between Kirk and the Sorceress canceled out what good there could have been. I can’t give it more than one star.

Signifying Nothing


by Amber Dubin

It's ironic that this episode is called "catspaw" because the plot is about as cohesive as a heavily pawed ball of yarn; a tangle of threads that don't hold together or go anywhere.

The acting quality of the episode peaks early with the deeply convincing collapse of ensign Jackson off the transporter pad. Yet the fact that he is the only non-essential crewman sent down to this clearly hostile planet makes less than no sense. Continuing the madness, after Jackson's corpse is used to deliver a message of warning that's immediately ignored, Kirk, Spock and McCoy are subjected to another gratuitous display from disembodied witch heads spouting Shakespearian-esque poetry. You would think this theme of theater-obsessed eccentric illusion-projectors would continue, but you would be wrong, as the only further theatrical implications come in the form of the heavily made up and costumed Korob, whose appearance is given no explanation.


Though you must admit: the camera loves him!

In further defiance of explanation, the crew wakes up chained to the walls of a dungeon after the floor of the castle they enter haphazardly collapses beneath them. Next ensues an absolutely mystifying scene where a zombified Sulu painstakingly unlocks their restraints cuff by cuff. This gesture is immediately made unnecessary when they are teleported into a throne room with Korob, one of their captors. As we've seen in "Squire of Gothos" or "Who Mourns for Adonais?" Korob reveals himself to be overpowered alien attempting to understand the nature of man. He doesn't get too far in his speech, however, before he is upstaged by the real star of the play, the necklace-wearing black cat that transforms into Sylvia, a beautiful woman.

I was hoping Sylvia's introduction would lead to a McCoy-centered episode, as Bones seems to be unable to take his eyes off her.. necklace.. from the moment she enters. That theory is immediately banished as they are all teleported back to the dungeon and McCoy re-enters as a zombie (a role to which he is well-suited). The task of seducing the femme-fatale then predictably falls on Kirk, who delivers his clunkiest and least believable performance in the series so far as he outright fails in his attempt to make her feel too pretty to harm them any longer.

Despite this entirely nonsensical plot, somehow the biggest disappointment of the episode is yet to come as the aliens descend into madness. Korob is killed by a giant door, which is as easily avoidable as it is imaginary, making it therefore harmless to a being capable of casting such illusions. Even more absurdly, these magical beings, who are said to be powerful conjurors with no abilities of sensory perception, are suddenly revealed to resemble tiny, delicate bundles of exposed nerves.


Jim Henson presents: rejected muppets!

The episode abruptly ends, nothing is resolved, no one understands anything better and I'm baffled by the fact that a simple framing device of a crewman explaining Halloween to Spock at the beginning of the episode could have cleared up where these aliens got material for all the imagery in the episode. Instead, we spent more time watching Sulu unlock imaginary restraints than we do deciphering the nature or motivations of crusty blue pipe-cleaner puppet-gods.

Ridiculous. Two stars.


by Gideon Marcus

The Play's the Thing

I must confess–I did not hate this episode.  Not because it was good; heavens no!  It wasn't even Star Trek.  Just our favorite characters having a Halloween lark.  In fact, in my mind, I've completely disregarded it as a Star Trek episode.  Just as Spock and Uhura sometimes jam together in the lounge (why haven't we seen that this season?), and just as Kirk insists that real turkey be served on Thanksgiving, I've concluded that it is an Enterprise tradition that Halloween is celebrated with a big todo.

I can see Sylvia actually being Lt. McGivers' replacement, and with a minor in theatrics.  Once aboard the Enterprise, she began penning her magnum opus: a play involving all of the senior officers of the ship.  Suddenly, all the nonsensical bits make sense.  The beaming down of Scotty and Sulu as a landing party, the spooky settings and effects, the endless kissing scenes ("Oh, but Captain, these are vital to the plot!  Really, it won't breach protocol at all…")


"Did I hear a door slam?  Darn.  We'll have to do the whole take over!"

Taken as such, suddenly the episode is palatable.  It does move pretty well. Theo Marcuse is always a delight (and a genuine war hero, and he has a great last name; he's probably my cousin).  The score was nifty, particularly in the fight scene.  Less so in the five minute bit when Sulu unlocked Kirk's fetters.

And there was abundant display of a cat.  That, alone, is worth a star.

So, again, "Catspaw" isn't a good episode.  But I would watch it in reruns three times before I suffered through "The Apple" again…

Two stars.

Something Wicked this way Comes


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

I rather enjoyed this episode. As Amber said, it wasn't good. But it was fun. Maybe it's because I enjoy camp. I liked Theo Marcuse's silks and jewels and perfectly shaved eyebrows. I liked the kitschy sets – perhaps borrowed from a recent vampire flick? – and as other writers have noted, the cat was a special treat.

I was less impressed by how many of the so-called ‘collective unconscious fears' involved woman-hating. Crones and seductresses, liars and cheats, the non-crewwomen in this episode were like something from Jesse Helms' fever dreams, no collective I'm a part of.

Janice's proposition that the episode would have been better if it had featured truly universal fears sparks my imagination far more than anything in the episode itself. What truly scares everyone? In a world with apocalypse-worshiping churchgoers, can we say everyone is afraid of death? I would say that many, many of us are afraid of a nuclear attack from our friends across the Bering Strait, but people living outside of the blast zones could be reasonably excused from the universality of that fear.

Stepping away from the philosophical mindtwister Janice gives us and back to this rather silly episode, I am looking forward to seeing this one in reruns. There's just something so fun about our heroes getting tied up – several times – like maidens in a gothic novel.


I think the Captain is starting to enjoy it…

Watching Captain Kirk once again try to kiss his way out of trouble was made all the more fun when his captor/target caught him at his game and refused to play anymore. Despite Sylvia's embodiment of a mushy handful of cruel gender stereotypes, I found myself enjoying her time on screen more than almost anyone aside from the core cast. Cheers to Antoinette Bower for taking a two-dimensional role and turning it into something fun and memorable.

There were many, many, many ways this episode could have been improved. I would be disappointed if next week's episode shared in the same nasty stereotypes of women. I fear it will, as it centers on one of my least favorite characters in this series, Mr. Mudd.

Perhaps Sylvia will make a guest appearance and turn him into a toad before he hurts more women.

Three stars.

I don't know how likely it is that Mudd will get his comeuppance, but we can certainly hope!

The episode airs tomorrow night.  Here's the invitation! Come join us.

Also, copies of The Tricorder are still available — drop us a line for details!




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[October 26, 1967] Duet in G(ray) (Star Trek: "The Doomsday Machine")

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by Gideon Marcus

Remember, thou are but a mortal

For the past year and a half, we've thrilled to the sight of the Enterprise, a graceful vessel that calls to mind the spindly beauty of tall ships and the blunt power of a battleship.  We've seen her proudly sailing the ether, shaken about by time streams, canted oddly after an attack.

But until last week's episode, we never saw one of her class utterly wrecked.

In the opening scenes of "The Doomsday Machine", when the Enterprise comes across the wrecked Constellation, accompanied by a most effective dirge, it is a gut punch.  The misaligned warp pods.  The charred saucer.  It calls to mind visions of Pearl Harbor, of kamikaze-ravaged ships.  A starship is mortal, we realize.

So, too, is its captain.  The sight of Commodore Decker, mute with shock when Kirk first beams aboard the Constellation, is all too believable.  This is a man we can believe has been stunned out of his mind first by the wreck of his ship by an enormous, extragalactic planet-wrecker, and then by the destruction of his helpless crew by the same implacable menace.  That he alone should be the sole survivor of this disaster is all the more painful–to him, and to us.

If we sympathize with poor Decker, ably played by the ubiquitous character actor William Windom, we can feel little but revulsion for the planet killer, a cross between Saberhagen's berzerkers and Marvel's Galactus.  Plated with impenetrable armor and self-regenerating, the juggernaut has the power of Nomad, but with none of the human-induced fallibility.  It is simply a mindless killing machine.

In the battle that ensues, we root for the crippled Constellation, helmed by Captain Kirk and held together by Scotty, Washburn, and two unnamed crewmen.  We root for the Enterprise, crippled by the presence of a maniacally driven Matt Decker, who assumes command over vociferous and constant objections by Mr. Spock.  If the three-cornered fight is occasionally hindered by inconsistent special effects, it is immeasurably helped by fine acting and an incomparable, Emmy-deserving score.

The drama that takes place on the bridge of the Enterprise is no less compelling, drawing strongly from The Caine Mutiny, complete with Decker fondling tape cartridges like Queeg's ball-bearings.  And unlike in that tremendous book (and less successful movie), Spock has no stomach for mutiny. Deliverance of the Enterprise must wait until Kirk can reestablish command.

"The Doomsday Machine" sees the death of Commodore Decker and the near death of Captain Kirk, both vital to the destruction of the planet killer.  Decker's suicide run with a shuttlecraft establishes the enemy's weakness; Kirk's determination to ram the Constellation inside the machine proves the strongest weapon against it.  But it is really the loss of the Constellation, sacrificed to immolate the destroyer from inside, that impacts the most.  One of the Enterprise's 12 sisters is dead.  Its skipper and complement of 400 will have no thrilling adventures, no end-of-the-episode laugh line.  And if one starship can die, any of them can.

While credit must be given both to the regular cast and this episode’s guest star, and I have already praised the music, there are yet laurels to pass out.  Marc Daniels has consistently impressed with his tight and creative direction, especially in contrast to the competent but rather staid work of the fellow he seems to alternate episodes with, Joe Pevney.  Whomever edited this episode also did a terrific job, often cutting seamlessly between two dialogues to ratchet up the pace.  And, of course, writer Norm Spinrad is no stranger to good science fiction, having been writing it since 1962.  It is probably him we can thank for the "hardness" and plausibility of this episode.

There are a few quibbles, a few scientific gaffes, and my comrades may discuss them.  But for my money, this was perhaps science fiction's finest hour on television.

Five stars.

Call him Ishmael


by Amber Dubin

The tale this episode follows is a well-worn one in sea-faring lore, but I was nevertheless pleasantly surprised to see Star Trek take on the classic story of Moby Dick. Commodore Decker is cast as Ahab, a shipwreck of a captain on a wrecked ship maddened by the obsession with the entity that took everything from him. His illogical pursuit of his white whale is just as turbulent as the protagonist of the famous novel, but what sets this retelling apart from the rest is the gracefulness with which the crew of the Enterprise strike a delicate balance between adherence to duty and survival.

This is on full display in the way Spock does his best to ignore the commodore's obvious madness in order to follow the rules of his station. I found myself shouting, "just nerve pinch him!" as I was forced to watch Decker spit on every opportunity Spock offered him to choose a logical path. Kirk, on the other hand, ever the space cowboy, immediately undermines all the subtlety of the crew's struggles by exclaiming "blast the rules" and outright calling the commodore a ship-stealing tyrant. I found this to be a refreshing deviation to the plot, because Kirk was very much speaking my mind and I was grateful to see the crew rally behind him in exhausted, fearful relief.


A happier crew

While I wasn't thrilled about the spacial reasoning behind the climactic battles, it's incontestable that the score and cinematography in this episode were phenomenal. The last scene, when the transporter kept malfunctioning up until the last seconds before the explosion, had me literally biting my nails with suspense. Likewise, the pulsating droning of the music that started when the crew boarded the shipwrecked vessel left me authentically unsettled and made me wonder what horrors they would stumble upon. This thematic wariness provided the perfect backdrop to introduce the commodore, as he was essentially a discarded shell of himself, a dead man cursed to haunt the abandoned halls of his once mighty and powerful ship.

The place where this episode lost points for me was the forced simile Kirk kept pushing about the killer robot being a doomsday device like an H-bomb. It felt like a ham-fisted attempt to force relevance to our times, which I found unnecessary when a story of a powerful man driven mad by failure was timeless in itself. Moreover, stating that this robot must have been used as doomsday device is a view as limited as the potential usages the H-bomb, or the power behind it. True, the mahine has the destructive power of a powerful bomb but the robot could just as easily have been once used to convert inert material into energy to feed a planet, not destroy it. I'm most disappointed that there's a gaping hole in Kirk's logic over the origin of this device and Spock isn't even tempted to close it. Possibly Spock doesn't challenge his captain's theory because he has been burnt out from challenging illogical authority figures all day, but I have to stretch to make this explanation fit.

Four Stars

There but for the grace of God…


by Janice L. Newman

The Traveler nicely summed up how painful it was to see a sister-ship of the Enterprise fatally wounded. But what held my attention was Commander Decker’s plight and performance. Though some of my companions gently mocked his scenery-chewing tendencies, I found his first appearance and his explanation of what had happened to his ship to be compelling. This was a man at the end of his rope, who had endured the greatest loss any starship captain could imagine: the loss of his ship and crew.

If Captain Kirk should ever live through such a nightmare, I firmly believe he would behave in much the same way. Starfleet must choose captains who have a certain, shall we say, obsessive streak when it comes to their ships and crews. We’ve seen Kirk become aggressive and irrational when his ship is threatened. We’ve also seen him brought back from mind-altered states more than once when giving in would have meant the loss of his ship. For Kirk, the Enterprise and its complement mean everything to him. It’s all too easy to picture him in Decker’s place, a broken, desperate, suicidal, and vengeful man.


Would Kirk face the death of his own ship so calmly?

Four stars.

By the way, we're just burning to see what happens in the next episode of Star Trek, coming out tomorrow night!

Here's the invitation! Come join us.

Also, copies of The Tricorder are still available — drop us a line for details!




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[October 20, 1967] Spoils the Bunch (Star Trek: "The Apple")

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by Gideon Marcus

The Aper

My brother likes to quip that "imitation is the sincerest form of mockery", and boy howdy did last night's episode make a mockery of this amazing show we've come to love.

There has now been a season of Star Trek plus five episodes in season two.  As often happens with brilliant new shows, we're starting to see repetition of plotlines, reliance on clichés rather than innovation.  "The Changeling" recalled "Return of the Archons."  "Who Mourns for Adonais" recalled "Space Seed" and "Charlie X".  However, these mild echoes are nothing compared to what is easily the worst episode of the second season thus far, and possibly of the entire show: "The Apple".

Investigating the planet Gamma Trianguli VI (a real star – one of the three that make up Triangulum, a somewhat obscure constellation most noteworthy for containing the lovely galaxy M33), Kirk beams down with a whopping eight other crew to enjoy what appears to be an absolute paradise planet a la "Shore Leave".  Why the captain, first officer, and the chief medical officer are required for this mission of preliminary exploration is never explained.  The garden aspects of the planet are mostly conveyed by dialogue; unlike "Shore Leave", Gamma Trianguli VI is composed of an obvious set with lots of potted plants.


"Captain, you might stop playing with every flower.  One did just kill a crewman."

For the next twenty minutes, we watch the hapless party mowed down in turn by: 1) spore-shooting plants (like "This Side of Paradise" but deadly), 2) exploding rocks, and 3) lightning bolts.  Eventually, Kirk concludes that it's too dangerous for the ship's senior personnel to stay any longer, but now the Enterprise has no power because something from the planet has drained it.


"Cap'n!  This is the fifth week in a row something's kept us in orbit!  Are ye sure it's not in the Writer's Guide?"

It is only then, almost to the third act, that the story begins.  Kirk captures and slaps "Akuta", a red-skinned caucasian tribal chief with Peter Graves' hair, who is "the eyes and ears of Vaal".  Vaal, it turns out, is a giant Gorn head made out of papier mâché with steps leading into his mouth.  Said head controls the weather, the flora, and the people, using immense machines located underground a la Forbidden Planet.  And yet, it requires that the natives periodically shovel explodey rocks into its mouth to top off its gas tank (with music lifted from "Amok Time").  In return, Vaal grants peace, tranquility, and virtual immortality.  Like Landru in "Return of the Archons."  The only difference is, unlike "Archons", where the citizens get a night of wild abandon every so often, the Triangulans must abstain from sex.


"But it's been 20,000 years!  Can't we go steady now?"

Which is why Vaal doesn't want Earthmen around.  They just can't keep their hands off each other.  But, instead of telling Kirk and co. to go home, it kills the landing party one by one, ultimately ordering the tribesmen (but not the women, despite their not being involved in child rearing or motherhood by order of Vaal, so there's really no basis for discrimination) to kill the rest of the starmen.  Despite their ineptitude at violence, they do manage to brain the last male security guard, though the lone female guard displays an unusual degree of competence in fending them off.  I think I know what changes I'd make to the Enterprise's duty roster…


Kato's got competition…

Finally, with the Enterprise spiraling into the atmosphere due to Vaal's grasp (no green hand as in "Adonais", but the effect is the same), and with Kirk's team depleted by half, the captain hits upon the idea of denying Vaal food.  This makes Vaal mad, so Kirk orders that the Enterprise shoot Vaal with phasers.  In a scene lifted directly from "Adonais", complete with special effects shots AND MUSIC, the Enterprise deactivates Vaal.


"Tyrannosaurus!  Diplodocus!  You were right.  Triceratops… you were right…The time has passed. There is no room for dinosaur gods."

This despite the fact that Scotty said he'd tied "everything but the kitchen sink" into the impulse engines to try to break away from Vaal.  I guess he meant "everything but the kitchen sink and the energy from the most powerful weapons ever invented." Which, by the way, we know can be transferred to engine power because we saw Scotty do it in "The Galileo Seven".

Anyway, now the people of GTVI are free to experience the joys of hard labor, disease, and death in childbirth.  Of course, there is some hand-wringing about violating the "non-interference directive", mostly by Spock, and countered by McCoy, who feels a world without sex isn't one worth living in.  Never mind that the point is moot–Kirk has no choice but to destroy Vaal lest he lose his ship.  Which makes the whole conundrum both repetitive and pointless.

Add to that a really tic-laden performance from Shatner, and "The Apple" sinks to the bottom of the barrel, recalling and, at the same time, displacing last season's "The Alternative Factor".

One star.

One rotten apple…


by Janice L. Newman

What is there to say about The Apple that hasn’t already been said above? It was bad, offensively so. Not just because the story was inconsistent and at times nonsensical. We’ve come to accept such stories with varying degrees of equanimity on other shows, like Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. What made this episode particularly bad and offensive was that it didn’t have the quality we’ve come to specifically expect from Star Trek. Other shows rarely, if ever, give us the well-written science fiction we crave. "Star Trek" has set a standard for itself, especially with two of the early second season episodes, "Amok Time" and "Mirror, Mirror", both of which my fellow Journeyers rated highly. To know that it can be better and watch it fail spectacularly was far more painful than if we’d had low expectations going in. After waiting all week to watch the new episode and inviting friends to watch it with us on our new color television, we ended up wasting an hour of our lives.


I don't think RCA is going to sell many sets with this episode…

There were a couple of bright spots. Apparently the writer wanted to see Spock get hurt repeatedly. In the course of the 50 minute episode, Spock gets shot with poisonous spores, nearly blown up, struck by lightning, and zapped by a force field. While this series of events almost became comedic, Nimoy’s low-key performance is excellent as always.


"I said I like my steak well done, not my Spock!"

McCoy, too, delivers a snappy and acerbic comment that was one of the highlights of the episode ("So much for paradise"). And as annoying as I found her romance with Chekov, I was thrilled to see Martha-the-security-guard successfully flip and subdue a man much larger than she was. It’s about time we see a little equality in the security forces on the ship. We have an equal-opportunity bridge crew, yet the people wearing red are almost always men.

These pinpoints of light were few and far between, like stars at the edge of the galaxy. Unfortunately, they couldn’t save the vast stretch of nothing that was the rest of the episode.

One star.

Something Borrowed


by Joe Reid

The other day I saw a TV advertisement for a child’s toy.  It was a hat with propellers on it.  The children in the commercial ran around and laughed.  They behaved as if these hats were the most fun that they had ever had.  Conversely the child in me looked at that hat and said, “that has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.” The creator of the propeller hat didn’t appear to have put much thought into making a toy that was either interesting or fun, or God-forbid, educational.  He likely saw a child in an old comic strip with a propeller beanie on and thought, “This must be what real children think is fun.  There’s a child in this comic strip with one.  Think of what we could do with two props!”


(not with "The Apple", he didn't)

This week’s episode of Star Trek felt very much to me like that hat.  It looked and felt uncomfortable.  It was utterly pointless and in the end, it just wasn’t very fun at all.  It was a collection of pieces of what one may have thought a good episode of Star Trek was made up of without actually being good, nor relevant, nor consistent.  It was just empty.

“The Apple" was penned by Max Ehrlich, known for his acclaimed non-SF novels, The Takers and Deep is the Blue.  He must obviously be up on Star Trek, because he couldn't have cribbed so many bits from other episodes so far, otherwise.


(not with "The Apple", he didn't)

Up until now, episodes of Star Trek showed our heroes going to strange and amazing settings.  To worlds that have histories and that have been shaped by powerful forces.  They traveled to a ruined world where only children exist, due to a disease that killed the adults.  To a paradise where a lonely god waited millennia for humans to re-join him.  To a ranch where an intelligent fungus gives you perfect health but mind controls you with euphoria.  These were stories set in fantastic places where strange things happen for reasons that serve those worlds.  “The Apple” blatantly lifts elements from these previous episodes.  Story elements that grounded and explained the worlds of the episodes exist in this episode devoid of what meaning they held before and bearing no meaning for the story we saw them in this week.

Ehrlich is like the marketing executive who came up with the idea for the propeller hat.  After all, hats are big; propellers are keen; surely, combining them would be a gas.  All that's needed to sell the idea is to show kids having a blast wearing it!

And so, Ehrlich takes elements from beloved episodes, gussies them up with exploding rocks, giant lizard heads, and innocent naïve natives turned killer, and hopes we'll buy "The Apple" because, hey, it's Star Trek, ain't it?

Sure. Like the 40th copy from a ditto machine is the original.  And efforts to include new elements fall flat, too.  I'm thinking of the uncharacteristically forced romance that we witnessed between Chekov and the female Ensign, and the awkward attempts at comedy at the expense of the same Ensign, which even flustered the ever-logical Spock.  The one exception to this being any comedic line delivered by Mr. DeForest Kelly, Dr. McCoy.  That man is so funny he makes even bad dialogue work when he performs it.


"Jim, I've got an idea.  Why don't you give me all the lines?

At the end of the day, “The Apple” was unfocused, derivative, and uninteresting television.  Borrowing good story points from others that do not serve a new story does not make for a good episode, any more than sticking fans on a beanie makes a good toy.  Instead of things happening for a reason they simply existed so that something happened.  Without the reasons why things were as they were, “The Apple” came across vapid and empty.  Here’s hoping that next week we return to tales that have more meaning than this. 

1 star

Well, maybe the next episode, airing TONIGHT, will be better.  Looks like the Enterprise is in for a bumpy ride..

Here's the invitation. Come join us!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 12, 1967] See you on the flip side (Star Trek: "Mirror, Mirror")

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by Joe Reid

A Shadowy Reflection

As this most intriguing and excellent season of Star Trek continues on we find ourselves delighted week after week with more thoughtful and fantastical stories.  This week takes the cake!  I have stated repeatedly that Star Trek is a mirror to society here on Earth, today in 1967.  This episode took that mirror and held it up to its own world and its characters.  Appropriately, the writers called it “Mirror, Mirror”.  Let’s take a gander at it and see what’s on the other side.

The episode opens on an alien world as a storm rages.  Captain Kirk is in discussion with the very human looking Halkan Council to allow the Federation to mine dilithium on their planet. Uhura, Dr. McCoy, and Scotty are with him as part of the landing party.  With negotiations stalled, as the Halkans don’t wish to see their dilithium used by those who may cause harm to even a single person, Kirk decides to return to the ship due to the coming ion storm.


"Do not try to adjust your communicator. We control the horizontal and the vertical." (Vic Perrin, head Halkan, is the narrator for The Outer Limits)

As the four of them are transported to the ship, something goes wrong and instead of appearing on the USS Enterprise they find themselves wearing different clothing as they appear on a different Enterprise.  They are immediately confronted with Spock sporting a goatee who then calls for the eradication of the Halkans for not giving their dilithium to the "Empire" and who is quick to painfully punish Transporter Chief Kyle for an issue with the transporters.


Performance reviews are brutal on this Enterprise

Kirk soon figures out that the four of them are in a parallel universe.  Finding themselves isolated among violent familiar looking strangers, the quartet seek to find a way to save the Halkans from destruction and get themselves back home.  As they attempt to masquerade as "themselves" on the brutal ISS Enterprise while trying to carry out their secret mission, Urura is forced to resist the advances of a savage and craven Sulu, while Kirk barely survives an assassination attempt by an ambitious and bloodthirsty Chekov.


"You die, Captain, and I get to sing Mickey's songs."

Soon thanks to the male voiced, magically capable ship's computer, Kirk and McCoy confirm how they ended up on the opposite side of this dark looking-glass and learn of a way to return to their universe.  As amazing as that was, we soon meet the other Captain Kirk's mistress and confidant, Marlena, waiting for him in his quarters, who shows our Kirk the powerful assassination weapon that he has at his disposal to wipe out all of his enemies.  Marlena threatened to use it on Spock after he made clear to Kirk that he was under orders to kill him if he failed to purge the Halkans for refusing to allow the Empire rights to the dilithium.


The new Admiral TV not only has the brightest color, but it eliminates unwanted personnel!

The action and excitement then gets fast and intense as our crew carry out their plan to get home.  Uhura gets into another struggle with the wicked Sulu and has to strike and almost shank him to save herself.  Goatee Spock realizes things aren't right and captures our righteous four crewmembers for answers.  This leads to another fight against the powerful Vulcan.  Just as they found a way around Spock, the devious Sulu returns to kill everyone and murder his way to command of the ship.  After an amazing save by Marlena using the weapon she told our Kirk about, she approaches the captain, explaining that she had learned everything about them and wanted to return to their world with them.

In the end it is the unerringly logical Spock of the violent universe helps our people return to their world as Kirk made a passionate, Nomad-level logical plea for him to rescue the people of this dark universe.


"And we have better donuts."

Our crew finally made it home and things were back to normal.  The final scene has all four members of the landing party stricken with surprise as they meet the normal universe’s version of Marlena for the first time.

The range that we saw in some of the actors was chameleon-like. In particular, Sulu was a completely different person with a different deck of facial expressions than we are used to.  Truly unlikeable. 


"Peel your apple?"

From concept to story to acting, this was the best night of television that I have seen in a dog’s age.

Five stars.

The Enemy Without


by Janice L. Newman

This week’s episode of Star Trek was about a good Kirk and an evil Kirk. Sound familiar? If you watched The Enemy Within, this episode might sound like it’s just the same idea revisited. Don’t be fooled! It’s not.

The premise of the episode, that there is a “parallel” universe similar to our own but where history took a different course, leading to a totalitarian empire instead of Starfleet and the federation of planets, is an intriguing one. The people in that universe are shaped by their environment: they are vicious, self-serving, traitorous, and sadistic. And yet, there are exceptions. Spock is still Spock, even when he is enforcing the empire’s orders. He describes McCoy as ‘soft’ and ‘sentimental’ (if McCoy is as dedicated to being a healer in this harsher world, it’s no wonder that Spock would think so).


A kinder McCoy?

The Enemy Within was a story of ‘man versus himself’, exploring what makes us human from the inside. Mirror, Mirror asks the opposite question: “How much does our environment make us who we are?” It’s an intriguing thought: who we might be if born under different circumstances. What kind of an environment creates a Hitler? Are we but one universe over from a world where someone – maybe you – pressed the button to start World War 3?

If there is anything this well-paced, well-acted episode lacked, it was screentime for the landing party’s counterparts. Unfortunately, the story simply couldn’t fit a focus on them in the hour-long runtime. I did appreciate that ‘our’ crew immediately realized that there was something wrong and locked up the alternates.

If you missed this week’s episode, I highly recommend catching the re-run next summer if you can. As much as I liked The Enemy Within, this episode is even better.

Five stars.

The middle road


by Lorelei Marcus

Star Trek gives us a future that is aspirational, and perhaps brighter than our own. The Starfleet Federation borders on utopian, with scarcity of resources becoming almost nonexistent, and the main military body existing solely for goodwill and scientific exploration. It is refreshing to see a future where people of all colors and sexes (and even nonhumans) can work and be treated equally, particularly on the decks of the Enterprise.

In today's episode, we were presented with an alternative universe completely opposite to the Star Trek we are used to. Rather than a utopia, the world order resembled a totalitarian dictatorship with security police and brutal forms of punishment. It was a shock, to say the least, to see all of our favorite characters in this new environment and how they and their hierarchies changed. The lack of women on the mirror ship particularly stood out to me, and those that were left were no longer equal with the men – forced to prostitute themselves to gain any power and security.


How to win friends and influence captains.

The parallel universe possibility intrigued me. Star Trek's main universe and this mirror universe are two ends of the spectrum. Could there be more parallel universes? And what would one that falls right in the middle of that spectrum look like? How closely would it represent our modern world? I can imagine a ship where there is still some distinction based on race and sex, if only systemically. The Enterprise would probably be sent on missions to settle the protests of disquieted colonies, or to do tactical phaser strikes on rogue planets that have sided with the Romulans. I see a universe with more poverty and more discontent with the Federation. Maybe Kirk would have an episode where he falls in love with a poor colonist girl, but she is an anti-Federationalist, and ultimately he must reject his personal life to reaffirm loyalty to his cause.

This thought experiment only makes me appreciate the world of Star Trek even more. Roddenberry really has done a spectacular job of building an independent universe that is not just a gussied up copy of our own. When I am watching, it is never hard to believe that what is on my television screen is truly the future. (Except for sometimes when they show Chekhov's hair).

The episode as a whole was fantastically done with an interesting premise and phenomenal acting.

Five stars.

"A Well Oiled Trap"


by Amber Dubin

Although this episode was most likely meant to repel the viewer with horror at the savagery exhibited by the mirror universe, the entire episode was so charged with the kind of raw, animalistic energy that it had the exact opposite effect on me.

From the very beginning of the episode, it becomes clear that the unrelenting barbarism of the mirror universe necessitates the exposure of the Starfleet's most exceptional qualities; both literally, with the flashy and extremely flattering improvements to the crewmen's uniforms, and figuratively, in the way all of them rise to the challenges they are faced with. This is displayed most dramatically by Uhura, who, bolstered by Kirk's faith in her, manages to overcome her initial fears and slips on the camouflage of a violent seductress as easily as putting on a second skin. Similarly, on the other ship, Spock's notorious intuition proves itself almost comically effective when he immediately recognizes the landing party as dangerous imposters and goes straight to work trying to get his real Captain back.


A most entertained Spock.

An even more intriguing theme in this episode is that as savage and chaotic as the behavior of the crew in this alternate universe is, their selfishness and barbarity only served to make them more human. Mirror Chekov and Sulu's actions are self-serving and violent, but their motivations are neither unreasonable nor excessively malicious in the context of their environment. If anything it could be argued that, stripped of the need to adhere to formalities, the way they behave is more honest and truer to their desires than their more 'civilized' counterparts. As our Spock says, the mirror crew were "In every way, splendid examples of homo sapiens. The very flower of humanity." This is shown best by the introduction of Marlena, a woman whose intelligence and impressive powers of intuition and seduction have allowed her to not only survive but to wind her way around the heart of a violent and psychopathic Captain Kirk. She even proves that she has not lost her moral center by saving Kirk's life even after he has revealed himself to be an imposter and wounded her ego by not succumbing to her wiles after she "oils [her] traps" for him. The alternate version of Spock shows this same level of integrity when he chooses to help the landing party return to their universe, despite the fact that this version of Kirk would logically be much easier to usurp and control than his stubborn, unreasonable, greedy and angry counterpart. The actions of these two mirror crewman suggest that this universe is not in fact evil, but may just be stripped bare of inhibitions that cause the crew we know to control or polish their true selves.

With the smooth delivery from its cast, brilliant script and mind-teasing metaphors, this episode acted upon me as a siren song that by the end had me echoing Marlena's plea to "take me with you."


Sexy Spock with a beard didn't hurt either…

This episode deserves all the stars in the universe, but since the rating system limits me to five, I give it all of them.

Women's Liberation


by Erica Frank

Uhura found herself in a universe where women’s uniforms are made with a fraction of the fabric used in men’s, where they have to endure sexual advances at work, where some women get ahead by sleeping with the boss, and nobody dares object.

So…. not too different from our world, hmm?

After the initial shock of realizing her officer's uniform was smaller than some swimsuits back home and that Sulu’s spark of interest in her own world (“I’ll save you, fair maiden!”) was an obsession here, Uhura quickly adjusted her expectations and behaviors.

She didn’t cringe from the lustful gazes that followed her everywhere. She didn’t frantically check her wardrobe, trying to find something, anything that covered more skin and was still considered a Starfleet Empire uniform. She didn't demand one of the other men escort her and protect her.

She got herself a knife.


Chief Security Officer Sulu discovers that some women prefer to manage their own security.

She knew exactly how to cope with a workplace where men are allowed to demand sexual favors… and where women are allowed to set whatever terms they’d like, as long as they back them up with force.

As much as Uhura wanted to go home — back to a world where women have status based on their skills in the workplace and not between the sheets, where promotions are assigned by talent and not assassination, where Starfleet operates on principles of compassion instead of conquest — she knew how to operate in this one.

Drawing that knife on Sulu must have been tremendously vindicating. She wasn’t just facing him, but every faculty advisor who ever stood too close, every regional manager who said “come back to my place and we'll talk about your promotion,” every police officer who did a pat-down that was more grope than inspection.

In that shining moment, Uhura acted for all of us, every woman who's been told, "Smile more; women should be pretty!" (Followed by, "What was I supposed to think? You were always smiling at me!") The mirror-universe is a dark, twisted version of our own… but that moment on the bridge explained why some women are proud and happy to belong to the Starfleet Empire.

A world where men openly harass women and require them to be sexy at all times is not unknown to us. A world where we can strike back…that’s new.

Five stars.

Speaking of Star Trek, it's on tomorrow!  And it seems to star Godzilla…

Here's the invitation! Come join us.

Also, copies of The Tricorder are still available — drop us a line for details!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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God is in the Details


by Janice L. Newman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A finely tuned machine, or Deus ex Machina


by Lorelei Marcus

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

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

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

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

5000 YEARS OF LONGING


by Joe Reid

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

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

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

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

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

3 stars

A Woman’s Place is on the Enterprise


by Robin Rose Graves

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

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

But Star Trek did not give in to social pressure!

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

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

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

Four stars.

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

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

Lackluster Elegy to a God


by Amber Dubin

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

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

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

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

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

Two stars.


by Gideon Marcus

With Great Power…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because we are now gods. 

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

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

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

Would that we not suffer the same fate!

Four stars.

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

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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by Janice L. Newman

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


The dynamic duo.

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

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

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

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

No!

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


Kato and Hornet.

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

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


District Attorney Scanlon pays the Hornet team a visit.

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


Kato–poetry in motion.

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

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


Britt's not buying what Mabuse is selling.

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


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

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



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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Time, the subtle thief of youth


by Janice L. Newman

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


Edith Keeler: Focal point of history

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

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

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

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


Kirk knows.

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

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

Four stars.

One for the Birds


by a special guest

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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


"…and don't forget to invest in IBM."

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

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

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

Three stars.

War = Progress?


by Erica Frank

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Right on Time


by Lorelei Marcus

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

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


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

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


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

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

Four stars.

A Mixed Manipulation


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

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

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


The demographic melting pot that is The Big Apple

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


Kirk and Spock reliving their dorm days at Starfleet Academy

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

Four stars.

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

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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by Janice L. Newman

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

Until now.

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


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

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

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


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

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


"Bad" Lazarus choking on a piece of scenery

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

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

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


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

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

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

One Star.

Bad Comedy


by Joe Reid

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

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


Trek optical team's finest hour

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


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

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

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

2 stars


by Gideon Marcus

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

We didn't get the good one.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Here's the invitation!



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TV

[March 8, 1967] Absolute perfection (Star Trek: "This Side of Paradise")

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by Gideon Marcus

The place: Omicron Ceti 3.

The hazard: A lethal showering of Berthold Rays, destructive to all animal tissue.

The mission: The Enterprise has the sad duty of following up on a new Omicron colony, where there are unlikely to be any survivors.

Yet, when the starship arrives, the colonists are not only alive and well, but in perfect health.  Too perfect–even scars and excised organs are healed.  Colony head Elias Sandoval talks of the new paradise they have found, and he flatly refuses to leave the planet.  If only the Earthers knew what they were missing, they'd understand.

They soon do.  First Mr. Spock, then the rest of the landing party, and finally the entire crew of the Enterprise succumb to the same spell as the Omicronites.  All facilitated by a particular plant (fungus) that has taken root on Omicron.  Each of the humans is hit by a shotgun blast of spores, and immediately they feel a burst of contentment and connection with their fellows, as well as an overriding urge to live on the planet. Spock, in particular, has extra incentive to stay: for the first time, he is capable of expressing love, and one of the colonists is a scientist who has held a torch for the Vulcanian for the past six years.


Love in the green grass.

Kirk, whether through happenstance or strong will, is the last to be infected by the Omicron disease.  Nevertheless, fall under the spell he does, leaving a moment of utter bathos for the viewer.  Is all lost?

But we know Jim Kirk.  This has happened to him before, in "The Naked Time".  In the end, his love of his ship (which is not just the girders, engines, and phasers, but also the people who crew it) snaps him out of his Lotus-Eating trance.  Realizing that violent emotions are the key to breaking the hold of the spores, the captain beams Spock back aboard the vacant ship and hurls insult after insult at his first officer until the ensuing scuffle returns Spock to sanity.


A risky and painful maneuver.

Together, they then induce irritation in the colony members and deserted crew on the planet through a subsonic communicator transmission.  A mass fracas breaks out, freeing the humans from the thrall of the spores.  A much-chagrined Sandoval realizes that he and his people have accomplished nothing in the three years they have been on the planet, but produce minimal food and tend to the spore-plants.  He accedes to Kirk's orders, and the colony is abandoned.  Paradise lost, indeed.

This is the story in thumbnail, of course.  I am leaving it to my colleagues to expand upon the myriad aspects of this episode that make it so brilliant.  We've seen elements of this plot before: the stagnant, placid society with an external controller was just seen in "Return of the Archons".  The members of the crew acting uncharacteristically emotional/somewhat intoxicated was explored in "The Naked Time".  But the execution of these married threads, the bared souls of our favorite characters, the implications, both technological and philosophical, all are eminently fascinating.

This is my favorite episode of Trek yet.  Five stars.

To thine own self be true


by Abigail Beaman

I would like to start off by noting that I have not seen the earlier episode, "The Naked Time", and from what I’ve heard, these two episodes are extremely similar. Which in all honesty, is sad, as I very much enjoyed this episode and hate the idea that it might be a retread. I also feel that, if I had seen "The Naked Time", I might have a lot more to say, but alas you’ll be getting whatever crummy ideas come to my head based on my incomplete knowledge.

Now even though I missed Naked Time, I’ve also heard (as I am a doll who fancies a bit of tittle-tattle) the episodes may air over the summer! So if you missed any Star Trek episodes (and I pray that you haven’t like I have) free up your schedule now for the reruns during 1967’s summer! Now back to the topic at hand.


Pull up a chair.

How would you describe Mister Lieutenant Commander Spock? Would you say he’s stoic? Or maybe the word emotionless comes to mind? My impression of the half-human, half-Vulcanian, is that Spock is a calm, logical, and controlled being who is amazingly portrayed by Leonard Nimoy. He in fact plays the normally cold Spock so well, that, seeing Leonard Nimoy happy and swinging on a tree was actually extremely off-putting for me (although I did love seeing Nimoy smile)!


Spock, just hanging around.

What I’m trying to say is that Spock is a being who simply can’t or won’t show emotions. That’s who he is, who he wants to be (and who I've come to fully accept). Now we don’t know if Spock has ever shown emotions, but none of the Enterprise or past co-workers for that matter, has seen Spock show emotions (except, I hear, in that "Naked Time" episode…). They all knew it was due to his Vulcanian heritage, and that Vulcanians either don’t feel emotions or flat out avoid them. When he gets sprayed with the spores, we see Spock show pain, as he seems to be fighting back his emotions, and even if it isn’t physical pain and just him trying to prevent showing even a sliver of emotion doesn’t that tell you something? He doesn’t want his emotions. To him emotions are illogical. Perhaps, even shameful.


Love hurts.

I haven’t forgotten the elephant in the room, that being Leila. While yes I want Spock to be happy (as his wife, I want the best for him always), Leila is not the girl for him. What she wants can never be achieved. She wanted to change Spock into someone who would love her, but that wouldn't be Spock. Even when she is off the spores (drug parlance intended), and knows what they did to her mind, she still wants to be on them so she can be happy and love Spock without all the pain it brings her. That’s why I feel nothing but pity for her. At the end of the episode she does, in fact, accept that Spock is who Spock wants to be. He is in his own “self-made purgatory” and so is she. Spock’s is to shun emotions, while hers is being in love with a man who shuns emotions.


"We all live in our own self-made Purgatories…"

That’s why one of the biggest lines uttered in this episode, “For the first time in my life, I was happy” feels like a stab in the back to fans (and might I say lovers) of Spock. Some people believe it’s Spock being wistful for an emotion he felt, at last, and can no longer feel again (and it’s torturous, to say the least, as a wife of Spock, to know I can't make him happy), but I would argue Spock is instead ashamed of showing that emotion. It’s something he has, and will likely continue to actively avoid his whole life. He was happy, but at what cost? Being happy isn’t Spock. Being logical and computerized is Spock. He is in his own “self-made purgatory”, and it seems Spock is himself, when in it.


Not happy, but at least, perhaps, satisfied.

This episode did have some downers, like the introduction of spores being able to regrow organs, and the crew just sorta saying “doesn’t matter, let’s leave”, but it’s a solid episode I can get behind. I would rate this episode a high 4.5 stars.

Debating Paradise in a Vacuum


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

What would you give to have perfect health and no worries? At first glance, it looks like Sandoval and the colonists have it all figured out. There’s no clear reason as to why they should leave, but Kirk says otherwise. Is he right? Initially he wanted to save them from the radiation. Yet, he continues to press the matter even after he quickly discovers it’s no longer a threat, which leads me to believe that his version of paradise is not the same as Sandoval’s.


Sandoval's paradise.

Kirk’s version of paradise requires some type of progress. For him, living in a world without it might be the furthest thing from paradise, but that’s not necessarily true for others. How does Kirk know what kind of progress is acceptable? Sandoval just wanted to build a garden. Couldn’t that also be considered progress? If one is content with life, isn’t achieving enlightenment a form of paradise? Does Kirk have the right to take that away from someone?


Kirk's paradise.

On the surface, one could interpret this episode as yet another bout of Kirk imposing his ideals and beliefs onto other cultures. But is it? Where “Return of the Archons” fails, “This Side of Paradise” succeeds, giving us a slightly different perspective where (I believe) Kirk’s intrusion is warranted. In both episodes, everyone is under some influence that causes them to behave in a way that is abnormal, and though the difference is subtle, it makes all the difference. In “Return of the Archons”, there’s an already existing culture. They’ve been living this way for a very long time, and the only justification for interference is that an uprising might well have been inevitable; Kirk just sped up the process. In “This Side of Paradise”, however, the colonists had desires and goals before they came under the influence of the spores. Kirk’s interference was necessary to break the colonists free from behaving out of the norm, and that none chose to go back to the spore-drugged existence is telling. Of course, one could argue that Spock and Kalomi might have been perfectly happy together (indeed, Spock implies it would be the only way he could be happy), but Spock chose a different path in the end.

There is a clear anti-drug metaphor in this episode, which I appreciate. It’s not much of a paradise to me if you’re not in your right mind and don’t have the capacity to make decisions for yourself. It may have made them physically healthy, but mentally, it was a different story. Then again, maybe ignorance is bliss.

Five stars

The Best of the Best


by Janice L. Newman

I have to agree with my friends above: this was one of the best episodes of Star Trek yet. As I watched I was drawn into the emotional core of the story, but I also couldn’t help but note how well crafted it was. The writing, the pacing, and the carefully set up reveals were very, very well done.

One sequence stands out in particular. Kirk, having avoided being infected by the spores, makes his way to the bridge. He encounters one of the flowers that his own crew have brought aboard, and tosses it aside in a rage. Several scenes later, he returns to the empty bridge and sits there, alone, expressing to the uncaring computer his frustration, helplessness and grief at the loss of his crew. And just as the audience thinks Kirk has reached the lowest point and are wondering how–nay, expecting that he’s going to turn things around…he gets hit with a blast of spores from the forgotten flower. It’s masterful.

This script was also particularly well-written, with memorable lines like, “I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else's.” And although the music was once again mostly recycled from earlier episodes, it was carefully integrated: the musical stings and cues emphasized the action without overwhelming it.

This episode is one of the best examples of how different Star Trek is from other so-called science fiction shows on television. It’s a nuanced, bittersweet story written for adults, and as such, it’s already miles ahead of Time Tunnel and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Maybe even The Twilight Zone. I cannot wait to see what the Star Trek writers, actors, and directors come up with next.

Five stars.

Too Many Shirts


by Erica Frank

This is Sulu's third incident of mind-altering effects resulting in bliss. If this keeps up, he's going to become known as the Enterprise's resident accidental "stoner." (He is a botanist, after all…) I suppose the need for agricultural labor kept his shirt on this time. Pity.


Happy Sulu

Nobody else is shirtless in this episode either. Is the planet a bit chilly? Are there no nudists aboard the Enterprise? Does Kirk only lose his shirt to violence, never to joy? And even the spores cannot overcome Spock's modesty. Such a shame.

Setting aside the emotional effects, the spores have tremendous medical possibilities. Surely Starfleet will want to study them—a plant that protects people from deadly radiation and heals past injuries? Incredible! Side effects include… happiness and contentment? What an amazing retirement colony Omicron Ceti 3 could be!


"And they've got shuffleboard at 3:30!"

Of course, in order to get such a place built, they'd need a way to regularly snap people out of the influence. The colonists have managed to sustain themselves but failed at their development plans. Also, we saw no children on this "colony" planet. That may be one of the other side effects of the pollen—one that would prevent it from functioning as a growing colony, but could be a tremendous benefit for a medical center or retirement home.

Alternatively, it could become a prison planet: used to house violent offenders who've been deemed to have no hope of integration with society. Would Khan's people have accepted this planet instead? I suppose Kirk would consider that a "waste of potential." And the Federation itself may have uses for this one.

The Federation should immediately start researching how to set up a permanent center, possibly with a starbase in orbit to snap key personnel out of their euphoric stupor. Perhaps the ground crews would wear gas masks while residents breathe freely. Of course, there are the deadly Berthold Rays to consider: the spores give immunity; anyone without them is limited to short-term visits. But even with that problem, I'd expect the Federation to value a planet where people return to perfect health while living in blissful peace.

Unless there are some unknown after-effects that McCoy failed to discover, OC3 seems like a wonderful planet, just not suited for the plan the Federation originally had for it.

It would, however, be delightfully suited for a planet-wide Be-In, a sprawling agrarian society with no violence (no ambition, I can hear Kirk's voice in my mind), no competition (no innovation), no war (no progress). And—if the settlement were in the warmer parts of the planet—no shirts.

Five stars; this one leaves me with happy thoughts, even though I know the possibilities will probably be ignored.

This Side of Potential


by Robin Rose Graves

After the episode’s close, I realized the true message and how the spores are ultimately nothing more than a device through which to convey it. This is a topical episode, representative of the issues that plague us now: the false respite of heroin abuse, the sirensong of Communism. Social commentary absolutely has a place in science fiction, and I don’t entirely hate how this episode is shaped by the message it tries to get across, but I feel it’s at the sacrifice of further exploring the fascinating nature of the spores.

In order to maintain a symbiotic relationship with humans, the spores keep their hosts alive in an environment that would otherwise kill them within a week. In return, the humans cultivate the plants that release these spores. The strangest part of all, this is posed as a problem rather than a brilliant discovery.

The spores not only kept the colony in perfect health for three years, but allowed them to regenerate organs as well as allowed humans to live on the planet despite the presence of harmful Berthold rays. I can’t help but think these plants are the perfect tool for the spacefaring crew of the Enterprise. It would allow them to venture on planets with otherwise hostile environments and to provide lifesaving medical treatment crew probably couldn’t even receive in a hospital, let alone on a starship.

This has been part of a trend I’ve noticed in Star Trek. Interesting ideas are introduced when convenient and abandoned the moment they no longer serve the story they’re trying to tell. Androids. Planetary computers. Time travel (twice!) This, of course, is a symptom of television's episodic nature, necessary to a degree so one doesn't necessarily have to watch all of it to understand what's going on.

Yet it still frustrates. Perhaps even more frustrating is when it happens with characters – particularly whenever there is a female guest star. In this episode, it’s Leila, a woman who has a history with Spock that has never been mentioned before this moment (and I have full confidence will never be referenced again as the story progresses), and who just so happens to be on Omicron Ceti 3.


It was nice knowing you, Leila. I'm sure we won't see you again.

We’ve seen the same thing happen with random past love interests appearing and disappearing in episodes “What are Little Girls Made Of,” (Chapel's Roger Korby) “Shore Leave” (Kirk's Ruth), “Court Martial” (Kirl's Areel Shaw) and even in the series debut episode “The Man Trap” (McCoy's Nancy). Not only is this giving us flat female characters and then sweeping them aside the moment they are no longer needed, but it is also cheating our male characters of development as well. If the series isn’t going to explore the science of its world, at least it could give better attention to its fascinating cast of characters. I say that out of love, because I like the crew (maybe not Kirk so much…) and I want to know more about them, but Star Trek isn’t delivering.

I give this episode 4 stars for what it did, but not 5, because I know what it never can.

Next episode promises to be very different.  Join us tomorrow at 8:30 PM (Eastern and Pacific) for a Star Trek:

Here's the invitation–beware the Blob!



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