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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[Oct. 20, 1966] Crimes against Humanity (Star Trek: "Mudd's Women")

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My kind of scoundrel


by Erica Frank

Let’s start at the beginning: the Enterprise is pursuing a smaller ship as it careens into an asteroid field. Captain Kirk orders his crew to protect the ship, burning out nearly all of their lithium crystals, and then beam the crew onboard. Mister Scott first beams over a man who initially introduces himself as "Leo Walsh". Then Mister Scott beams over three women — Eve, Ruth, and Magda — who pose elegantly on the transporter pad.

"Walsh" shows up wearing some kind of swashbuckler's outfit with a bejeweled earring just a little smaller than a golf ball. He says the three lovely women he's escorting are not his crew but his "cargo." He quickly explains: he's delivering them to their husbands-to-be on a mining colony.


Introducing: Leo Walsh, matchmaker from the stars

Right away, we can tell there's something sketchy about him. He smiles too widely, brushes aside questions, and tries to sneak away to talk with the women. They're all terrible liars, so it quickly comes out that his name is not "Leo Walsh" but Harry Mudd… in more ways than one.

Mudd's got a rap sheet: He's wanted for crimes like smuggling and counterfeiting, not for anything violent. He lies; he cheats; he steals; he runs away and does it again at the next port. He swindles people out of money, but he's not trying to ruin lives; he's just trying to enjoy his own.

Sure, he's trying to scam the potential husbands for the three ladies he's escorting (more on that shortly), but the women are planning to be good wives, to be partners and helpers to the men they marry, and they're willing to live in a very isolated place for that.


Eve, Ruth, and Magda, wearing the only clothes they own after being rescued

While Mudd and "his" women are involved in some kind of scam that the crew is trying to figure out, the ship itself is having problems. It's out of lithium crystals and can't travel faster than a slow crawl. Fortunately, there's a lithium mining planet with — as luck would have it — exactly three men, all single and desperate for wives. The three women immediately agree to abandon their former betrotheds (whom they'd never met) to latch on to these new, closer, wealthier strangers.

By the middle of the episode, we have a tangle of conflicting interests. Mudd wants to get paid (needs to get paid; his spaceship was destroyed) and would really like to stay out of prison. The three women would like husbands who can keep them in the type of luxury they'd enjoy. The Enterprise needs crystals or it's dead in space. Captain Kirk would like to know what the scam is so he can deal with his prisoner appropriately. The miners would like wives, and would be especially happy with beautiful, alluring wives. Doctor McCoy would like to know why every man on the ship (except Spock) acts like they're being enthralled. (This is difficult when he himself is subject to their charms.) The cops presumably would like Mudd behind bars for his past crimes.

I was worried this was yet another "mind control powers" episode, and was delighted to discover it was not. Mudd's been giving the women "the Venus Drug" which makes them beautiful and sexy. All three women are homely, unable to find husbands because they are so ugly. Their plan was to get married on a remote planet; by the time they ran out of the drugs, their husbands would be stuck with them and Mudd would be long gone.


As you can see, his name really is Mudd.

Kirk throws Mudd in the brig while he tries to figure out what's going on. However, in accordance with standard Enterprise security, the women are free to come and go as they please, visiting officers at work, breaking into Kirk's cabin, and coordinating to help Mudd. Mudd can't leave the brig, but they can not only visit him, they can bring him a communications device. He contacts the miners and arranges a deal for his own freedom.

The lithium miners must have a powerful union, almost as strong as the fashion industry: Mudd, not Earth (or starship command, or whomever Kirk reports to), tells Kirk that he's not only to be set free, but delivered safely to another planet after the women are settled. Presumably, Kirk verifies this with his superiors instead of just taking Mudd's word for it, but I'm never sure how much anyone on this ship pays attention to chain of command.


The crew beams down to the mining planet. Even when the plot is hokey, Star Trek's visual impact is breathtaking.

Eve has second thoughts about the whole thing. She runs off into a sandstorm, gets rescued by the head miner, and winds up telling him the whole truth. At first, he rejects her because she's ugly; eventually, after some shenanigans between Kirk and Mudd, both she and the miner realize that the drug isn't (entirely) what made her enticing — it may have removed a few wrinkles and added a bit of sparkle, but it's her own actions that made it effective: She was beautiful because she believed she was.

Kirk tells her: "There's only one kind of woman–" Mudd interrupts him to say, "–or man, for that matter," and Kirk finishes with, "you either believe in yourself, or don't."


Childress, the head of the mining colony, and Eve, the woman too ugly to find a husband on her home planet

They decide to make a go of it, and so do the other women, thus avoiding the likely violent reaction to the truth if the change had happened without giving them a choice. Hurray. The women get husbands who are willing to accept them as they are; the men get wives who are willing to put up with the isolation of a mining planet; the Enterprise gets the crystals it needs to function; and Harry Mudd gets a presumably fair trial.

Harcourt Fenton Mudd is obviously a conniving, selfish liar and con artist, but he's not trying to hurt anyone, and he's devoted to a life of leisure and flamboyance. That's hard to manage as the captain of a tiny ship drifting between the stars. It's not mentioned in the episode, but he must spend some of his time managing the ship and addressing its technical needs, and much of the rest looking out of viewports into the inky blackness of space.


Would you buy a used spaceship from this man?

Mudd's a ruffian, a scalawag, a scofflaw: a criminal to his bones… but he's relatable (we all know someone like him) and has managed to stay mentally sound, to be optimistic even, in a setting that could drive men mad. Humans are social creatures; we need each other to survive. Any sailor will say that ocean life is lonely; a starship is even more isolated — and yet Harry Mudd rejects companionship on his journeys.

It takes a strong will to maintain enough social skills to wheel and deal with those who are planetbound — and an even stronger one to be a maverick, obviously not following society's rules or moral standards, but in a way that says "I'm a rebel outlaw" rather than "I've been living alone for so long I've forgotten which fork is used for ice cream." 

I don't know that I'd like Harry Mudd in person, but I am certainly entertained by him at a distance. I admire his dedication to his chosen lifestyle, and the skills and mental strength he must have to pull it off.

Three and a half stars. It would be four, but there are no shirtless men in this episode.

The Message


by Robin Rose Graves

The introduction to "Mudd’s Women" is ripe with promise. Action and intrigue. How did these three otherworldly attractive women end up traveling with a space pirate like Mudd? And what makes them so irresistible that even a crew of professional men can’t help but gawk? These questions ensnared my initial interest, filled my head with theories. I was ultimately let down.

“Confidence is beauty” is the moral of the story upon the revelation that the pills did nothing to change the normal human girls’ appearances, but instead gave them confidence, leading to them being perceived as supernaturally beautiful. While I don’t disagree with the message, I was nonetheless disappointed. Confused, even, at how the show decided to depict the beauty of the women. Under the influence of the Venus pills, the girls have glamorous makeup and clothes. Once the pills wear off, the women are stripped of their make up and they, along with those around them, act as if they are appallingly homely looking. Otherwise, they appear the same as before, particularly to me, who still found the actresses chosen to play the parts to be attractive.


Disheveled, maybe… but ugly?

The overall message feels out of place in a science fiction world. It’s one that felt unchallenging compared to the better episodes we’ve seen thus far. The final act of the episode feels as if it could have happened in any mundane situation comedy program. I’m not opposed to science fiction tackling issues of our society (in fact science fiction at its strongest does) yet I felt this episode didn’t go far enough. Compare it to a favorite Twilight Zone episode “Eye of the Beholder” where the plot differs greatly, but the question answered remains the same – “What is beauty?”

“Eye of the Beholder” subverted expectations. The episode built you up to expect the main character to be as ugly as everyone around her treats her, only to reveal her face looks like ours but everyone around her has large noses, sunken in eyes, and puffy lips – what is considered attractive in their universe. Twilight Zone went to greater lengths than “Mudd’s Women” to challenge the beliefs of their viewers, and six years before Star Trek. I expected more from a show that has at its best moments challenged modern television programs, and the way the episode began promised more than what was delivered.

3 stars.

Clear as Mud


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Many moments in "Mudd’s Women" beg us to ask: are Eve, Ruth, and Magda property or people?

The episode follows a fairly simple structure: a chase, passengers rescued at great cost to the Enterprise necessitating an emergency refueling using fuel which Captain Kirk can only attain by trading the passengers’ lives, which he does. Or does he trade valuable cargo to the lithium miners of Rigel 12, with the cargo's willing consent?

The women explain what drove them from their home planets: hardship, unequal treatment, and a lack of hope for a real future. But we are not getting the whole story:

We discover that Mudd is supplying them with “Venus drugs,” that seem to alter the women’s appearances and charisma for a short time. Or do they? Towards the end of the episode, Kirk gives Eve a placebo pill without her informed consent and it has the same effect as the real thing. We are left to wonder: were the women’s transformations like those in The Man Trap, where Nancy Crater’s face aged depending on point of view? Or were these women actually aliens with a natural talent for appearing, as Erica described it as we watched, to have undergone a four hour hair and make-up treatment within moments of downing a sparkling pill?

Setting aside for a moment these mixed-up metaphysics, Eve, Ruth, and Magda clearly believe they need the drugs that Mudd controls access to. There is a harrowing scene where he goofily searches for more pills as the women rot and wither around him, bodies wracked with discomfort and with physical changes they believe they are powerless to control. This desperation and enforced dependency must color every other statement we hear from them about their consenting to their impending futures.

On Rigel 12, Mudd offers to trade Eve, Ruth, and Magda for his own freedom and crystals to fuel the Enterprise. What follows are several deeply upsetting scenes where Captain Kirk first refuses, and then — without any on-screen consultation with Eve, Ruth, or Magda — agrees to Mudd and the miners’ demands. Kirk transports them down to the mining camp to become wives of the miners. On the surface, we see a party where Magda asks a man to dance and men fight over her; a man asks Eve to dance and she says no, after which he publicly shames her for not consenting. Furious and distraught, Eve shouts: “Why don't you run a raffle and the loser gets me?” before running into a deadly sandstorm, with men baying after her.

Seven hours later, the miner who tried to shame Eve has her in his cave, where she is cooking for him. They fight, and he lays hands on her, only to growl: “I didn't touch her” when Captain Kirk and Mudd materialize, looking for lithium crystals. Moments later, Kirk gives Eve the placebo. Then he lectures her on womanhood and the importance of self-confidence before leaving.


“I didn't touch her.”

The episode ends without us seeing what became of Magda or Ruth. But we do see Kirk abandon Eve on a remote mining post with a violent man, taking Harry Mudd along with him for trial.

If Eve, Ruth, and Magda are “cargo,” then there is nothing wrong with Captain Kirk, Harry Mudd, or the miners’ actions. You cannot bruise a sexy automoton. Its tears have no meaning. It has no will or sense of adventure or right to privacy. It cannot yearn for freedom. But if Eve, Ruth, and Magda are people, then Mudd was cruel to withhold medical care they believed they needed; Captain Kirk was cruel to trade their bodies and lives for fuel; and the writers are cruel for writing a narrative that expected us to go along with it.

All in all, the metaphysics and the intended humanity of the women in this episode were as clear as mud.

One star.

(Will the next episode be better? Join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) to find out!!)

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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Two for the Price of One


by Janice L. Newman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five stars.

The Flip Side


by Gideon Marcus

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four stars.

A Color Theory of Good and Evil


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

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

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

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

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

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

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


Pauline Boty, Colour Her Gone (1962)

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

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

Four stars.

In the picture


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

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

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

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

4 Stars

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

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 6, 1966] One Trek, neat (The Naked Time)

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by Erica Frank

We return to our weekly adventures aboard the Enterprise, in the first episode that does not feature the dangers of psychic powers gone mad. We're still dealing with madness, of a sort — "The Naked Time" features people who have lost their self-control and run wild throughout the ship, endangering everyone on board.

The episode began with a trip to a planet on the verge of destruction; the Enterprise planned to record the event, collecting rare scientific data while avoiding being caught in its implosion. When they arrived, they found the on-planet base crew dead of mysterious causes. One bright fellow – we'll call him "Ensign Stupid" – takes off his gloves to scratch his nose while poking around the base, and he gets a scratch.


Ensign Stupid in his very fashionable orange-and-silver safety gear, completely undermining whatever protection it offered.

He catches a mysterious alien disease that eventually kills him, but first he manages to share it with several other crew members. One of them, Riley, starts singing old Irish ballads, takes over the engineering department, and locks the captain out of both control and communications. This would be funny if the ship weren't on a deadline: if the ship doesn't leave orbit before the implosion, the Enterprise will become part of the rubble.

Oh, and while that's going on, the disease is spreading: we see wild swashbuckling from Sulu, a heartfelt confession of love from Nurse Chapel, a tearful breakdown from the normally stoic Spock, and various drunken-seeming shenanigans from random crewmembers.


Nurse Chapel declares her love for Spock while clutching his hands in hers.

By the time the Captain regains control of the ship, it's too late for a safe departure; Riley's turned the warp engines completely off and they need to warm up. Scotty, the chief engineer, warns him: "I can't change the laws of physics. We've got to have thirty minutes." (They have eight minutes.) But Kirk has an idea: maybe they can jump-start them using antimatter… but for that, they need Spock sober enough to run the calculations for them.

In the end, Dr. McCoy figures out the problem – something on the planet converts water to "a complex chain of molecules" that acts like alcohol; it's transmitted through sweat. He injects people with a cure in time for Spock to manage the math for the risky maneuver; somehow, Kirk is the only person whose shirt gets torn during the vaccination.


Is this how vaccines are normally administered in the future? Or does the Federation just issue Kirk shirts with tear-away sleeves?

By the end of the episode:

We all hated Riley and his singing.
We all cheered for shirtless Sulu, even if he was being disruptive.
We were all fascinated by Spock's emotional outburst.

As usual, some details needed a bit of hand-waving to accept, but I will forgive quite a bit of "instant alien disease" and "having to remind security not to use lethal force on their crewmate" if it means I get to see dashing young men leap around with swords and without shirts.

I may start keeping a tally. Shirtless men in this episode: 1.25 (counting Kirk's torn shirt).

Five stars: the story moved fast and kept me engaged. I only noticed flaws later as I was trying to write up notes about it.

A Shocking Scene


by Janice L. Newman

This week’s episode was a departure, not only from the kinds of episodes we’ve seen from Star Trek so far, but from the kind of science fiction we’ve seen on television in general. There was no monster to fight, no human with special powers bent on taking over, no alien menace. The enemy, such as it was, came from within. (Which, coincidentally enough, sounds like next week’s episode title.)

A lot of interesting and character-revealing things happened during the show, but one moment stands out in my memory with a sharp clarity: the moment when science officer Mr. Spock, under the influence of a virus, breaks down. Although we don’t know Mr. Spock very well as a character yet, the scene was incredibly powerful. When was the last time you saw a man cry in a movie or TV show? I’m not talking about camera-friendly ‘manly’ tears when a comrade dies in a war flick, or the sniveling of a villain. I’m talking about a main character sitting down and sobbing, all while desperately trying not to.

Mr. Spock, as we learned this episode, is a half-human, half-alien person who fits into neither culture and has had to spend his whole life suppressing his emotions. He speaks of how he couldn’t tell his mother that he loved her, of his shame at his inability to control his feelings.

And yet, is this so very alien? Men are not supposed to cry, after all. Which was why it was so shocking to see Leonard Nimoy sit down and bawl onscreen, made even more compelling by his obvious struggle for control. Everyone has had that moment when they’re fighting back tears. Ironically, the ‘half-alien’ felt the most relatable and human of everyone in the episode.

It looks like I have a new favorite character. I’m looking forward to seeing more of “Mr. Spock” in future episodes.

Four and a half stars.

The Crew Stripped Bare

by Robin Rose Graves

This episode was an emotional whirlwind. I couldn’t help but laugh as Sulu rampaged the halls, sword in hand (as fun to watch as I imagine the actor had while filming it), and be irritated by Mr. Riley’s incessant singing.

Yet these moments are juxtaposed with two exceptionally serious and jarring scenes. Lt. Tormolen, the first to contract the disease, has a breakdown in which he questions humanity’s presence in space – wondering if they are doing more bad than good – quickly spiraling into taking his own life. This scene is emotionally impactful, despite the audience’s lack of familiarity with this character (though it seems to be a common pattern, introducing a new character who dies that episode) and raises a question I wish the episode, or series overall, took time to explore:

I am in favor of scientific discovery and am thrilled by the space travel depicted in the show. Yet I can’t help but question the consequences of such a journey. While Tormolen focused mostly on its impact on humanity, I wonder about the effect on alien lifeforms. Could our common cold be potentially lethal to other species? What if we accidentally introduce an invasive species on an alien world, dramatically changing their climate and causing it to be uninhabitable for its native species? Beyond physical issues, there's the possibility of destroying an alien culture just by contacting it.

But I digress.

It’s Spock’s breakdown that stood out most about this episode and led to significant revelations about his character. He’s half-human! Up until this point, Spock’s character has been entirely defined by his alien biology. As exemplified in the episode, during a medical exam he assures the doctor that the bizarre readings are perfectly normal for his species (though you’d hope medical staff on a ship like this would be well versed in the alien biology of its occupants). While some answers are given, more questions arise. Are interspecies relationships common? And judging by Spock’s revealed shame about his mixed identity, is Spock a Vulcan outcast? That would explain how he is the only Vulcan (and alien, for that matter) among a crew of all humans.

Despite how much I enjoyed this episode I can’t help but think it came too early in the season. This episode has grand revelations for characters we are meeting for the first time (i.e. Sulu, Scott, Chapel…even Tormolen). The episode would have been more impactful had we had a chance to know these characters before their deep secrets were revealed. Spock’s breakdown would have been all the more moving had we had more than three episodes with his character beforehand.

This episode would have been the perfect season finale, rewarding long time viewers with new details about the characters they’ve come to love and setting up promising new plots to explore within the next season. Even the unexpected (to the crew and viewers alike) time jump suggested an ending. It left me with a sense of peace, the opportunity for much needed healing after a particularly trying adventure and emotions rubbed raw. I have to wonder if this episode was moved up in the schedule for some reason.

Four stars…though easily could have been five.

Questioning Boldly Going


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

I'd like to expand on an excellent point Robin brings up. Zoom in with me for a moment on just one line from this moving episode:

Lt. Tormolen: We bring pain and trouble with us, leave men and women stuck out on freezing planets until they die. What are we doing out here in space? Good? What good? We're polluting it, destroying it. We've got no business being out here. No business.

Lt. Tormolen’s monologue begs us to question the underpinnings of the Federation. We do not currently know if his nihilistic view of space exploration is accurate, though my optimistic heart hopes it is not. But his focus on the evils of expansionism felt particularly poignant to me today as I read of Botswana declaring independence. Last week, that hilly country joined 28 other nations who have declared themselves independent from the United Kingdom since the end of the Second World War. (Lest my friends across the pond complain that I am picking on them, below are the names of each imperial power, and the number of countries who have declared independence from them since September 2, 1945: France (26), Belgium (3), Japan (2), Italy (2), Spain (1), New Zealand (1), Malaysia (1), Saudi Arabia (1), and the Netherlands (1)).


Independence ceremony for Botswana

Were there people on Psi 2000 who could have declared independence from the Federation? Did they survive great wars too, before succumbing to frost and madness? Captain Kirk calls Psi 2000 “a wasteland” and perhaps the worlds in the universe of Star Trek are often barren of locally-evolved cultures.

I hope not. I loved watching Captain Kirk treat with the Thasians as equals in Charlie X and like other reviewers, was deeply affected by the half-Vulcan Commander Spock’s breakdown. The best moments of Star Trek so far have been when the crew strives to understand the vast diversity of the universe around them using what academics might call “cultural relativism” and I might call “voracious curiosity.”

Or, to quote Nigerian author Chinua Achebe’s powerful anti-colonial novel Things Fall Apart (1958):

“The world has no end, and what is good among one people is an abomination with others.”

I hope that, in Star Trek the worlds will have no end, and we will continue to explore both the stars and our reasons for reaching for them.

Five stars.

Score One for Star Trek


by Gideon Marcus

The latest Star Trek adventure takes us where some men have been before — the crew has settled into a consistent ensemble (though the second pilot, "Where No Man has Gone Before", was shown last week and must have been bewildering to folks tuning in); the fine director of "The Man Trap", Marc Daniels, returned as well.

But we got to see new sides of many characters, particularly Spock and Sulu, to a lesser degree Kirk. We were introduced to Nurse Chapel, who has an implied depth to her history that suggests this is not her first filmed episode even if it is her first appearance.

There are pacing issues.  I felt the second half of the episode was more riveting than the first.  There were scientific issues, particularly the collapsing planet.  The casual introduction of time travel was shocking — is Star Trek about to become Time Tunnel?


"My chronometer…it's running…backward!"

A few things stood out to me as truly superlative, though.  Janice mentioned Nimoy's tour de force portraying Spock's breakdown (which Robin notes came a little too early in the season for full impact).  What thoroughly impressed me was the scoring for the episode: The Irish-tinged phrases for Riley.  The "disease theme", punctuated with snake rattles that indicated transmission.  The entire suite from when Kirk reenters the bridge at the end, all the way to the end of the episode.  I wish I'd taped it on reel-to-reel for later listening as I have with the music from Secret Agent.  I'll have to do that during the summer reruns.  Or perhaps they'll release a soundtrack album a la Victory at Sea.

I liked that all of the bridge crew were cross-trained.  Both Uhura and Rand took the important navigation and helm stations, reinforcing that women are not just auxiliary crew in the future, but full-braid officers.  I wonder if we'll see female ship captains in future episodes.

And it's a small thing, but I really appreciated the exchange between Kirk and Uhura when, tempers frayed, they snap at one another.  Kirk then apologizes, and Uhura smiles in forgiveness.  It was a very human, very professional interaction.

Four stars.

(P.S. Has anyone else noticed that one of the themes in this episode's soundtrack sounds a lot like a common refrain in Twelve O' Clock High? I think I heard it in "The Cage" as well.)

(Join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the next episode of Star Trek!)

Here's the invitation!



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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

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A New Tradition


by Janice L. Newman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three stars.

A faltering step


by Gideon Marcus

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

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

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

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

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

Three stars.

What makes Charlie X so frightening?


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

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

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

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

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

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

Three stars.

Of Gods and Magic

by Robin Rose Graves

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three stars.

The Silent Treatment


by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

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

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

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

Two stars

From the Young Traveler


by Lorelei Marcus

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

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

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

Space Fashion


by Erica Frank

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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TV

[September 12, 1966] Boldly Going (Star Trek's "The Man Trap")

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[For this exciting occasion, we've put together the reactions of several of the Journey team as well as a new phace…er…face!  Come join us as we recount our experiences with this exciting new science fiction epic called Star Trek…]


by Gideon Marcus

Where No Show Has Gone Before

Last night marked an exciting new day in science fiction: the debut of a new science fiction anthology.

Science fiction on television has always been kind of a backwards sibling to science fiction in print.  While there have been entertaining and even thoughtful episodes of The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits, for the most part TV SF has been some of the worst schlock.  Stories that wouldn't have been accepted in third-rate mags in the 50s.  Shows like Lost in Space, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, and My Favorite Martian — kiddified frivolity with zap guns and giant monsters.  Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials with inserts for soap commercials.

We fans had an inkling this new show would be something different pretty early on.  Its producer, Gene Roddenberry, previously put out an interesting, mature show about a Marine Lieutenant called…The Lieutenant.  At Westercon, one of the Star Trek pilots was previewed over the 4th of July weekend to much acclaim (we missed it as we had planned a birthday celebration at our house just 20 miles away from the convention!) There have been promo spots on NBC pitching the show, plus promotional pictures and coverage in both conventional newspapers and news 'zines.  They were all quite compelling.

At Tricon, I got my first direct glimpse of the beast.  The last two days of the convention, Roddenberry showed the two pilots to the show.  I left the convention both hopeful and concerned.

You see, the first pilot, "The Cage", was a masterpiece.  Without hyperbole, it was probably the best science fiction made for a screen (of any size) as of 1964.  Brilliantly written, scored, special-effected, and directed (if just competently acted), it was also daringly progressive.  Women were on equal footing with men, something I rarely see even in written science fiction these days.  There were no villains, per se, merely beings resorting to desperate measures to save themselves.  Call it Forbidden Planet but done right.

"The Cage" was rejected, I don't know why.  Too expensive, perhaps, or maybe too cerebral.  But it was liked enough that a second pilot was greenlit.  "Where No Man Has Gone Before" was the result.

It was a disappointment.

The beautiful sets and cinematography were gone, the cheap result looking like an episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.  We had a new actor in the role of captain, and while I didn't think Jeffrey Hunter stretched himself much in "The Cage", William Shatner, on the other hand, was a contortionist, playing every scene to the maximum.  To be fair, he was new to the character, and the script did him few favors, shedding little insight into the character.  John Hoyt, who did a lovely job as the ship's doctor in "The Cage", was replaced by a non-entity.  Indeed, the only consistent cast member was Leonard Nimoy as the oddly strident "Mr. Spock", who in the second pilot, was reduced to something of a "wise Indian" role.

With pacing issues and a rather thin story, "Where No Man” augured poorly for the show, especially since it seemed more indicative of what we were going to get.

Still, a dozen or so of us gathered around our 25" color Admiral for the TV premiere of the show, set for 8:30 PM on September 8.  We'd set up a signal with our friends on the East Coast, since they got to watch it three hours before us: If the show was a stinker, at 6:30 our time, they'd phone us, letting the line ring once.  If the show was good, they'd ring twice.  (We wouldn't actually pick up the phone — long distance calls, especially during prime time, are prohibitively expensive).

As we ate our dinner, the jangle of the telephone made us jump.  What would be the verdict?  The bells chimed once.  We waited with bated breath.  Then a second ring.  Then silence.  We grinned at each other. 

And so, we sat through the latter half of Tarzan (also debuting on NBC that night).  At 8:30 PM, the main event began.

In brief: the spaceship Enterprise is paying a visit to the planet M113 to conduct an annual medical check-up of scientific personnel based there.  The only residents of the barren world are an archaeologist man-and-wife pair, the latter of whom was the old flame of the Enterprise's third medical officer in as many episodes.  Said woman appears to each member of the ship's landing party in a different form, some kind of telepathic camouflage.

Said woman is also a killer, stalking humans individually and then draining them of their salt.  She ends up aboard the Enterprise, changing forms and continuing her deadly hunt. 

On the face of it, it's a stupid plot.  The biology seems nonsensical, and Lord knows we've had enough monster plots on Voyage and The Outer Limits.  And yet…

"The Man Trap" is beautifully put together.  It's not quite "The Cage", but it's definitely not "Where No Man".  The Enterprise is a somberly lit, "lived-in" vessel with hundreds of crew.  For the first time, I had the impression of a real space-going vessel.  I appreciated that the Enterprise appears to be the equivalent of a Hornblower-era frigate, a second-line vessel doing routine business around the galaxy.  I quite like Forester's series, and given the youth of the ship's captain, the Hornblower analogy might be extended.

The three main actors, Shatner, Nimoy, and newcomer DeForest Kelley, were excellent, settled, and even understated in their roles.  The supporting cast was quite good, too.  George Takei, who I'd just seen in the Cary Grant flick, Walk, Don't Run, and in a couple of episodes of I, Spy, turns in a particularly pleasant, if brief, performance.  Gone was the powerful woman first officer of "The Cage", but we did get a Black woman bridge officer named Lt. Uhura.  So daring was this casting choice that there was some fear that she would be one of the victims of the episode's monster!

The special effects are quite masterful, from the superb optical effects of the ship orbiting the planet, to the shimmering fade out/in of the "transporter" (which beams people from the Enterprise to planetary destinations), to the blast of the phaser (no longer laser) guns. 

Verdict: Star Trek is back on course.  With two out of three episodes being excellent, I've got confidence that this is a show that will reward consistent viewing.  You can bet we'll all gather together again next Thursday.

Rating for "The Cage": 5 stars.
Rating for "Where No Man has Gone Before": 2.5 stars.
Rating for "The Man Trap": 4 stars.

Thoughts from Galactic Journey’s editor:


by Janice L. Newman

The traveler has already said most of what I would have written about (I was the one saying, “I hope they don’t kill her off!” when Lt. Uhura was being menaced by the creature). A few additional thoughts about last night’s episode:

The cinematography was impressive. When the crew encounter the creature in the first act and each crewmember sees it as a different woman, this was done so smoothly and seamlessly that there was never any question which person’s POV we were following.

The story was nuanced. Though this was a ‘kill the monster’ story, the morality of killing a creature that is ‘the last of its kind’ is called into question, with comparisons being made to the American buffalo and the passenger pigeon. It adds to the story’s poignancy, and the viewer is left wondering whether it might have been possible to resolve the situation without deaths on either side.

Particularly exciting was seeing women in interesting roles, though their ‘uniforms’ were VERY short! I wonder why the men don’t wear short tunic and pantyhose combinations like that?

Rating for "The Cage": 4.5 stars.
Rating for "Where No Man has Gone Before": 2.5 stars.
Rating for "The Man Trap": 4 stars.

A Hippie's Opinion


by Erica Frank

Star Trek has certainly been interesting so far — even "fascinating," as Mr. Spock might say. The ship's controls seem complex but plausible: none of the "three dials and a lever" that plague cheap movie productions, and yet each console seems within the range of a trained technician's skills. Lt. Uhura even mentions being momentarily fed up with her desk work, a nice bit of "office life" banter as she tries — unsuccessfully — to flirt with Mr. Spock.

However, the Star Trek universe is showing signs of predictability. None of it is bad, so far, but if it's going to last, it'll need more variety in its settings and plots. It won't take long for these themes to become clichés.

Three rocky, dusty desert planets.
Three hostile encounters with beings with psychic powers.
Three doctors. The Enterprise seems to go through them like some rock bands go through drummers.

The psychic elements of the creature in "The Man Trap" were minimized; the focus was (understandably) on the creature's murderous habits. However, its "shape-shifting" was actually a kind of mental illusion, although more limited than we saw in "The Cage." And the fact that its victims could not rally themselves to escape, even when called, showed some kind of mind control ability that the Talosians and Mitchell both lacked.

My favorite scene in the episode: Professor Crater showed Kirk and McCoy his dwindling supply of salt, and said, "Nancy and I started with 25 pounds. This is what we have left." McCoy took a few tablets from the nearly-empty vase and tasted one. "Salt," he declared.


Dr. McCoy tastes the "salt"

This is exactly how hippies get cops to take LSD, although they normally put it on sugar cubes, not salt tablets. (LSD has no color or flavor; the active elements are too small for people to taste.) I spent the next several minutes waiting for the hallucinations to kick in.

The producers could've given us a wild psychedelic color extravaganza instead of four more murders. I think we've been cheated.

I don't mind "psychic powers can make people callous or predatory" stories; they're a science fiction staple. I'm hoping we also get some episodes where extra-sensory perceptions lead to more harmonious communities or solve problems instead of creating them.

I enjoyed the episode despite a bit of hand-waving past some plot details. (For example, tasting the salt instead of using a science lab to confirm its identity. The result would've been the same, and this saved time.) The acting was great; I believed these were starship personnel facing a citizen who'd allied himself with a hostile alien. I'm looking forward to more of the series.

4 stars.

Who the %&@$ is Captain Kirk?

by Robin Rose Graves

This first episode didn't give me a good idea of who Kirk is or what his past is, even though I'm pretty sure Kirk is supposed to be the main character of the show. (This is something I also felt was an issue with "Where No Man Has Gone Before".) "The Man Trap" centered more around McCoy, which is fine – I like the implication that with each new episode, a different member of the crew will be at the center of the plot – but for a first episode of a show, I wish they'd spent a little more time getting the audience acquainted with Kirk. When Kirk's life was threatened, I didn't feel any tension since I knew they weren't going to kill him off in the first episode, and his being captain isn't enough for me to root for him.

Pike, the captain in “The Cage”, was better established as a character in the first 20 minutes of his episode than Kirk was in both his pilot and the first episode combined. We know Pike is tired. We know he’s considering retiring. We know he’s from Earth. Kirk? I don’t know anything about him besides his pretty face.

I am left more frustrated than intrigued about his character. Why should I care about the success of this man if I don’t know who he is or what he’s about?

The good story alone in “The Man Trap” convinces me to give this new captain a chance, though I hope the lack of Kirk’s background is something that is remedied sooner rather than later.

This is a great episode, but not a good introduction. 5 stars, despite my complaints.

Home Town Hero

by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

“The Man Trap” is a refreshing debut after the whiplash that resulted from starting with “The Cage” and going straight to “Where No Man Has Gone Before”. In the first few minutes of the episode, we’ve already seen clever camera work, stunning special effects, and a pleasantly paced plot.

It’s a bit concerning that we, yet again, have a new doctor, though I did like his friendship with Kirk, echoing the relationship of Pike and Boyce from "The Cage". The two recurring characters, Kirk and Spock, seem to be the only staple in the show thus far, but perhaps the continued diversity of the cast will prove to be an asset. This is an anthology show, after all.

Seeing Lieutenant Sulu, played by Asian actor George Takei, is nothing short of inspiring. He didn’t contribute much to the plot, but he was an officer with clear officer duties and that is not inconsequential. With at least as many scenes as any of the other supporting actors, I suspect that means the “green thumbed” lieutenant will be a highlight of the show in the upcoming episodes.

Hopefully this show continues to impress. It would be a shame to fall back down after such a great start, but we won’t know until next week.

Rating for “The Cage”: 5 stars
Rating for “Where No Man Has Gone Before”: 2 stars
Rating for “The Man Trap”: 4 stars

From the Young Traveler


by Lorelei Marcus

"Man Trap", though a moodier tale than what I usually prefer, executes every piece of the episode in a superb manner: the acting, direction, and production are all 5-star quality.

Rarely have I seen such a diverse, well-written, and interesting show on television — Star Trek is truly the I, Spy of the science fiction genre (is it any surprise both are Desilu productions?)

It's definitely getting HI-LITED in my TV Guide!

5 stars for this episodes, and high hopes for what's to come.

(And don't forget to tune in in three days at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings) for the next episode of Star Trek!)

Come join us!

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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

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

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by Janice L. Newman

Sibyl Sue Blue was not what I expected.

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

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

She’s right!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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Movies, TV

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

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by Janice L. Newman

TV Christmas

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

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

Devil or Angel

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good Grief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


"Just take a Miltown, stupid."

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

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




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Movies

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

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by Janice L. Newman

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

The Plot

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

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

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

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

Unapologetically Liberal

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

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

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

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

Fantastic Framing and Marvelous Music

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

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

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

Out of Joint

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

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

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

But in the end, Two Hours Well-Spent

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

Four stars.




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