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[November 20 1966] Doctor…Who? (Doctor Who: The Power Of The Daleks [Part 1])

November 20, 2021 Jessica Holmes 1 Comment

By Jessica Holmes

It was with a mix of curiosity and trepidation that I tuned into Doctor Who this month. The character we know and love has vanished forever, and in his place is a stranger– A stranger who calls himself the Doctor. But is it really the same man? Once again, we have to ask the essential question that the programme was founded on. Doctor…who?

EPISODE ONE

The first episode begins with a great deal of confusion as the strange man in the place of the Doctor comes to his senses. Polly takes him to be the same old Doctor, but Ben’s not so sure– and neither am I. For one thing, he looks completely different. Even his clothes have changed. So it’s not as if he’s been ‘de-aged’ or something like that. By the way the stranger himself reacts, testing out his muscles and joints, it’s a wholly new body.

And yet, a familiar face peers back at him in his reflection.

He himself doesn’t seem certain of his identity, referring to the Doctor in the third person despite apparently sharing the Doctor’s memories.

Well, if there’s any quintessentially Doctorish trait, it’s being clear as mud.

Oh, and he plays the recorder now, and has absolutely terrible taste in hats. At any given moment in the episode, I think Ben might be about to snatch the recorder from him and use it as a deadly weapon, and to be honest, I can’t blame him. The recorder is not a musical instrument, it is a torture method designed to torment parents of young children.

The group leave the TARDIS to have a look around, finding themselves in the mercury swamps of the planet Vulcan. The swamps are a dangerous place to be, as the Doctor(?) learns when he runs into a bloke who gets shot halfway through introducing himself as an Examiner from Earth. Ben and Polly run afoul of the mercury fumes, and the Doctor himself gets a nasty crack over the head, courtesy of the other man’s killer. The mystery man plants a button in the Doctor’s hand before dragging the corpse away.

Fortunately for the group, they’re found by a couple of men from the nearby colony: Bragen, Head of Security, and Quinn, Deputy Governor. They’re dressed identically to the assassin, but it’s impossible to tell if one of them did the deed.

Believing him to be the Examiner (the Doctor doesn’t bother to correct them), the pair bring the Doctor and company back to the colony, where there’s trouble afoot. A rebellion quietly simmers beneath the surface, and a mysterious capsule has been found in the swamps.

Investigating further, it soon turns out that the capsule perhaps ought to have stayed there. There are Daleks inside! Dead Daleks, but they could still be terribly dangerous.

And there’s something in there that doesn’t seem entirely dead, but it scuttles away before they can get a good look at it. Whatever it is, it can't be good.

Things get off to a mysterious start in this episode, taking its time to introduce our new leading actor before launching into the intriguing mysteries of the Vulcan colony. Why was the Examiner summoned? Who killed him? What are the Daleks up to this time? I'm having a lot of fun.

EPISODE TWO

The group soon discover something even worse– not only does it appear that there are Daleks in here, one of them seems to be missing. The Doctor suspects that Lesterson, the head scientist, has been experimenting. One Dalek, a colony in strife… it’s a recipe for disaster.

He confronts Lesterson on the missing Dalek, urging him to destroy it. With Lesterson refusing to yield to his authority, the Doctor goes in search of a meeting with the Governor.

Which he doesn’t get. But he does get some fruit! Sure, there are listening devices hidden inside, but an apple is an apple and reincarnation/renewal is presumably hungry work. Unable to meet with the Governor, the Doctor decides to send a radio message back to Earth. Hopefully there’s some higher authority who will listen to him.

The Doctor finds the radio engineer unconscious and the equipment broken, and a rather suspicious-looking Quinn holding a pair of shears.

Bragen arrives, and when the Doctor shows him the button from his attacker, he recognises it as one of Quinn’s and arrests him on the spot.

In true B-movie fashion, Lesterson and his team try to wake up the Dalek by pumping it full of electricity. It works a little too well, shooting one of his lab assistants. What did they expect?

Quinn’s hauled before the Governor for an inquiry, and the evidence doesn’t look too good for him. Lesterson interrupts proceedings, bursting in to tell them about his new breakthrough. The Dalek is awake, active, and apparently ready to serve.

And it recognises the Doctor. Somehow. Maybe it can see something we can't?

The new Doctor continues to grow on me in this episode, his more serious side beginning to peep through the clownish exterior. The plot’s coming along nicely, and I’m none too sure what to make of the characters. I don’t feel like there’s anyone we can trust here, except perhaps Ben and Polly.

EPISODE THREE

Despite the Doctor’s protestations, the Governor gives Lesterson permission to continue his work on the Daleks. Continuing Quinn’s inquiry, Bragen accuses him of being in league with the rebels. Quinn protests that he was the one who sent for the Examiner in the first place, so why would he attack him? Unconvinced, the Governor strips him of his position and promotes Bragen in his place.

It’s all coming together for Bragen, who it turns out is in league with Lesterson’s lab assistant Janley to take over the colony. Janley’s in league with the rebels, but she’s planning on betraying them as soon as they cease to be useful. She also reveals that Lesterson’s other assistant died of his injuries, but she hasn’t told him that.

So many twists and turns!

Seeing Polly and her inquisitiveness as a potential threat, Janley lures Polly to the communications room where an accomplice knocks her out. She rewards him with the Dalek’s gun-stick.

The Dalek’s curiosity and intelligence continues to impress Lesterson, and he’s especially intrigued when it offers to build him a perfect computer. However, when he leaves the room it immediately increases the power supply to the capsule. Gee, a Dalek being up to no good, who’d have guessed?

The Doctor and Ben arrive to find two more Daleks emerging from the capsule, and wisely decide to run away. Lesterson still doesn’t believe that the Daleks are dangerous, and asks Bragen (who the Governor has left in charge while he’s away) to give him a guard.

Ben reports Polly’s disappearance to Bragen, but the Deputy Governor has bad news for the Doctor: they’ve found the real examiner’s body out in the swamps.

But how would he know that? The only people to have seen the real examiner were the Doctor and the assassin.

With the Doctor having leverage over him, Bragen backs off on arresting him, but orders him to leave Lesterson alone.

In case the Doctor needs any more incentive, somebody slips a note under the door. Polly’s safe…. As long as the Doctor stops interfering with the Dalek experiments.

Final Thoughts

So far, this is an excellent story that moves along at a good pace, delivering some fun twists and turns without becoming too convoluted. I’m looking forward to seeing where it’s all headed.

I’ll save the further ruminations on the plot for next time. The real point of interest in this story is our new leading actor. Patrick Troughton is credited as Dr. Who, but is he truly the same character?

Let’s look at the facts: He has the same memories, and we saw the original Doctor turn into this second Doctor on-screen. With all the strange things that happen in Doctor Who, a change of appearance isn’t too far out of the ordinary.

What makes it more complicated is the change in personality. Troughton’s a younger man, and he acts like it. His Doctor is quite unpredictable, often somewhat childish and playful, undercut with moments of sudden seriousness. The cadence of his speech is also his own, when he does deign to talk instead of tootling away on that blasted recorder.

He’s a different person…and yet, somehow, he still feels like the Doctor to me. There’s a sort of je-ne-sais-quoi, a vague idea of the Doctor, a spirit of mischief and genius that feels in a way like the soul of the character. I think I still recognise that in him.

It’s all a bit philosophical, isn’t it? After all, my personality when I was a child is different in many ways to my personality as an adult, but I’m still the same person. These changes happen gradually to all of us. Perhaps they just happened all at once to the Doctor.

After all, if he has a whole new body, his brain is different too, so who knows what effect his altered brain physiology has had?

In conclusion, I have no idea.

Perhaps the more important question is: do I like this new Doctor?

That’s a lot easier. Yes. I like him very, very much. He is enormous fun to watch. He’s genuinely funny, and utterly compelling when he turns serious.

This is not Hartnell’s Doctor, but it’s not trying to be, either. I think that’s a good thing. I’ll miss him, but I do feel the new chap has breathed new life into the programme. We’ve just opened the door to a whole new world of character development, and opened a can of unpredictability.

I can’t wait to see what’s in store for our second Doctor.

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 14, 1966] Star Trek: "The Corbomite Maneuver"

November 14, 2021 Gideon Marcus 6 Comments

A Strange Step Backward

by Gideon Marcus

With the round robin review format we've set up for Star Trek, everyone's obligations are pretty small, with the exception of the person assigned the head: the first, summarizing piece of the article. I drew the short straw this week, possibly the most challenging week in the history of this new show.

Because a summary's job is to explain what happened. And in "The Corbomite Maneuver", virtually nothing happened.

Repeatedly.

The episode boils down to this: The Enterprise travels into an unexplored area of space. An alien ship intercepts the Earth ship, traps it, and threatens to destroy it. The alien ship takes many guises — first a multicolored cube, then a giant globe of incandescent lights, then a set of glowing soap bubbles (admittedly gorgeous effects), but the scenario is always the same. The Enterprise tries to break free, dramatic music plays, people fall out of their chairs or bounce around in hallways. The navigator-of-the-week, this time a ‘Lieutenant Bailey’ (anxious, overeager, promoted too early) occasionally has a breakdown. Lieutenant Uhura says "Hailing Frequencies open" a half dozen times, looking rather bored.

"I should have stayed with Ma Bell…"

Eventually, we learn that the whole thing was a test. The alien, Balok of the First Federation (Ron Howard's little brother), never planned to destroy the Enterprise. On the one hand, I appreciate an episode without a villain, one that challenges the hubris that we are the most powerful or the kindest race in the galaxy.

On the other hand, once we know that Kirk and his crew were never in danger, everything becomes a cheat. The tension, the clever attempts to outmaneuver Balok (with warp engines or poker metaphors), all of it is meaningless.

Add to that a certain unevenness of the episode. It is pretty clear this episode was filmed before the others we've seen in the series. Spock is yelling again, is wearing his old uniform, and his haircut is more severe. Shatner has less of a grip on the Kirk character, playing him on a short fuse. As with "Where No Man has Gone Before", everything feels rawer, cheaper, more like an episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Perhaps it was the consciously military mien of the scenario and character interactions.

All this kvetching suggests I didn't like the episode. That's not quite right. There are some great exchanges, particularly any involving DeForest Kelley (Dr. McCoy). George Takei's Sulu is a delight, with a lot of great subtle expressions. Yeoman Rand got an entire episode free of assault (though Kirk resents her existence as a woman). The special effects are really excellent, and probably the reason the episode got delayed.

That's a really big Christmas ornament…

But for the most part, I was just kind of bored. That's a new experience for me with Star Trek, which has hitherto been either great or problematic. However, if "Maneuver" really is an early episode, that means we're actually on an upward rather than a downward trend. Plus, next week's episode, which looks like it will incorporate the terrific first pilot, is very promising.

So, three stars, but I won't hold it against the show.

Zero-Sum Game

by Janice L. Newman

As Gideon notes, The Corbomite Maneuver was a, shall we say, uneven episode. The first time the ship was ‘about to be destroyed’ it was exciting. By the third time, it was definitely less impactful. On the other hand, the story had plenty of great moments. The problem was, these ended up undermining each other.

For example, Captain Kirk pulls off a wonderful bluff where he apparently convinces the enemy that destroying their ship will result in the destruction of their own vessel – the bluff being the titular ‘Corbomite Maneuver’. It’s a desperate, brilliant moment that would have made a fantastic climax for the episode. Everything, from Spock saying that it was ‘well-played’, to Bailey returning to the bridge, to Kirk’s sigh of relief when the ship is not destroyed (not to mention McCoy’s overeager offer to teach Spock the game of poker) makes for a great piece of television.

The gambit pays off.

Unfortunately, it’s not the climax of the episode – or rather, it’s the climax, but not the end. And then, when we do reach the end of the story, we learn something which by itself would have made for a clever plot twist. It turns out that the entire set of encounters were orchestrated by a single entity, a powerful being who claims that it was ‘all a test’.

This is something we haven’t seen before. Yes, in Where No Man Has Gone Before and Charlie X we had immensely powerful beings, be they humans or aliens. And in The Cage we did see powerful alien minds manipulating humans to try to get something from them. But we’ve never seen (presumably benevolent) aliens simply ‘testing’ humans to learn their ‘real intentions’. It would have been a great reversal, if only it hadn’t undermined everything which had come before. The clever parts of the story, rather than building on each other, unfortunately canceled each other out.

"Just kidding!"

Lieutenant Bailey's interactions with the captain rang an odd note in the episode. Kirk's "tough love" attitude toward him reminded me strongly of the captain in "The Bedford Incident", and I kept half-expecting Bailey to fire the ship's 'phasers' when he wasn't supposed to (instead he did the opposite, freezing in the moment of crisis).

I do want to make several notes about special effects. First, the lights making up alien ships were extremely effective (and I understand these effects were so involved that they delayed the release of this episode, which was meant to be much earlier in the line up). Second, the figure of Commander Balock that appeared on the Enterprise’s screen was an unconvincing one, yet it was plausible enough for our generation — after all, we were raised on puppet shows and other primitive special effects. The fact that the episode’s writer subverted these expectations and made the figure an actual puppet was absolutely ingenious. And third, the best special effect in the entire show had to be the dubbing of little Clint Howard with an adult’s voice.

"You Have Two Minutes Until Howdy Doody Time!"

3 stars, for the special effects, the cleverness, and the banter.

Off Kilter

by Lorelei Marcus

I enjoyed the overall message of "The Corbomite Maneuver", but I felt the episode had to make some sacrifices to get there. In particular, the atmosphere of the ship and everyone's characterizations were severely altered from what we've seen thus far. Captain Kirk seemed forced into the role of the hard-edged, authoritarian Captain. The women of the crew were more stereotypically portrayed, pushed aside even, so that the men could have their dramatic moments. Uhura looks bored. Yeoman Rand exists to make coffee and salad and annoy Captain Kirk by being a woman. All in all, the Enterprise felt much more current-day Navy in portrayal, and more militaristic in character.

"Did I say 'at ease', mister?"

The special effects were, as has been noted, a cut above. But I would have liked to have seen this story told with the same Enterprise we're coming to know and love, rather than this odd, warped one, seemingly created to fit the plot's needs.

With a mid-tier story, great visuals, and inconsistent characterization, I give "Corbomite" three stars.

by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

A Different Kind of Man Behind the Curtain

When I first heard Balok speak in this week’s episode, his voice reminded me of Frank Morgan’s booming performance in The Wizard of Oz (1939). The imagery and tactics reminded me of it as well: flowing curtains of light cascaded over Balok’s alien face, the crew of the Enterprise scrambling to bargain and trick their way out of the crisis as a seemingly all-powerful wizard holding hapless visitors to arbitrary and impossible rules.

When we found that, like The Great and Powerful Oz, Balok was a small man, pulling puppet strings to intimidate and test those around him, the twist felt familiar. But that moment was also where these two fantasies diverged: where the Wizard is venal and greedy, Balok is confident and curious. He is not a huckster, but a representative of a technologically-advanced society, able to control a vast space edifice from his tiny ship, and interested in learning the truth about the crew of the Enterprise.

While Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man beg the Wizard to make them whole and take them home, Kirk, McCoy and Bailey don’t need any such boons from Balok. But he offers them anyway, opening up the possibility of cultural exchange between his First Federation and Kirk’s crew. Bailey, who had spent most of the episode as a cowardly lion, gracefully agrees to the exchange as the episode closes.

"We're off to see the Wizard!"

The parallels are not perfect — though if Mr.Spock had filled out the boarding party in the role of the Tin Man seeking a heart he already has, it might have been — but they are productive. Like the friends of Dorothy, Bailey, McCoy, and Spock spend the episode trying to free themselves from traps and get what they think they need. And like the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man, in the end, the powers they were seeking to work around were not what they seemed.

I liked that, in this case, the powers were greater. Perhaps, if Balok had been behind the curtain in Oz, Dorothy and company would have gotten more than toys, but the true connection and understanding they needed in their journeys. I hope that future episodes are more even in tone, but also that they continue to expand our views of the universe the way Balok will for Bailey.

Three stars.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 12, 1966] A Family Tradition (December 1966 Galaxy)

November 12, 2021 Gideon Marcus 2 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Identical cousins

My brother Louis and I diverge quite a lot. He's an observant Jew, I'm an atheist. He served in World War 2 (drafted into the Navy), I did not. He's an affluent pawnbroker. I'm a writer of questionable success.

But where we differ the most is the subjects of our avocational devotion. Lou loves opera. Specifically operas written in 1812 between October and November. I kid, but his musical tastes are really quite narrow; his radio knob never turns from the FM classical stations. I am far more catholic in my interests, enjoying everything from classical, to the swing of my teen years, to the brand new sounds.

Also, Lou hates science fiction.

Interestingly, his son David (thus, my nephew), loves SF as much as I do. Must be this newfangled "generation gap" we're starting to hear about.

For the last 15 years or so, he and I have swapped recommendations, and he's even lent me some of his magazines. Our tastes are not identical. He recently canceled his subscription to The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and he is a big fan of Analog. But we have some strong overlap, particularly where it comes to Galaxy. In fact, that picture is him in his San Pedro home enjoying this month's issue.

I am thankful that my own daughter, David's first cousin, is also a devoted science fiction fan. I'd hate to have to throw her out of the house before her eighteenth birthday.

Kidding, again! I'd surely wait for her to be of age before disowning her.

But, that's not anything we have to worry about, for we are all one big happy family of fen, and we all dug the December 1966 Galaxy — read on and see why!

by Paul E. Wenzel

The issue at hand

by Virgil Finlay

Door to Anywhere, by Poul Anderson

Humanity has developed teleportation technology, and Mars has become a hub for galactic exploration. But a recent jaunt to the edge of the known universe caused the destruction of several portals and the loss of a senator's brother-in-law. Now the politician has arrived on the Red Planet to investigate.

When Poul Anderson sets his mind to it, he can write. Not only is this an effective story, with the mystery disclosed one layer at a time, but it is technically interesting. It's the first depiction of teleportation I've read that takes relative velocities into consideration. A trip to a nearby star could require hops to a dozen intermediaries across the galaxy, or multiple galaxies, to ensure the difference in relative momenta is not too great. I also appreciated the political discussion over the virtues and peril of building a teleporter too close to the Earth.

Where the story falters to some degree is its characterization: Anderson is still in the Kowalski, Yamamoto, Singh habit of defining players by their nationality — and women are strangely absent. Also, the Hoylean/Hubblean fusion of cosmological theories seems like a lot of gobbledegook.

Nevertheless, it's a riveting read. Definitely four stars.

Children in Hiding, by John Brunner

I'm told there are two John Brunners. One is the brilliant Englishman who produced Listen…the Stars! and The Whole Man, both Star-winners and Hugo nominees. The other is the American who produces schlock.

The latter wrote Children in Hiding. The premise: the children on a colony world are born healthy but never develop mental capacities beyond that of infants. A terran troubleshooter is brought in to fix the problem. He does, but not to the benefit of the colony.

There's a lot of angry dialogue and excessive use of exclamation points, and the end is just stupid. I'll give the piece two stars because both Brunners write coherently, but all in all, it's a disappointing story.

The Modern Penitentiary, by Hayden Howard

by Jack Gaughan

Ah, and now we have another story of the Esks, a race of Eskimo/alien hybrids that spawn children every month. Children that mature in five years. Throughout the series, we've seen the Esks explode in population, exhausting their environment and crowding out the real Eskimos. In this, they are facilitated by the do-gooder Canadians, who refuse to see the Esks for the meance they are. Instead, they give the Esks food, relocate them to other areas, etc.

Only one man, Dr. West (who always conjures up the Lovecraft character), knows the truth. When no one listened to his Cassandra cry, he tried to sterilize them with a disease (last story). The plan backfired, killing 23 actual Eskimos. For this, he was imprisoned in the nicest cell ever, complete with a therapeutic nurse-lover. Modern Penitentiary details West's attempts to escape, as well as his rather difficult-to-read sexual adventures.

These installments stand less and less on their own, and they become more implausible every time. Thankfully, we've only one left.

Two stars.

For Your Information: The Sound of the Meteors, by Willy Ley

I really dug this article, all about whether or not one can hear a meteor. It was timely, too, as I read it right before our trip out to the desert to stargaze last weekend.

Four stars (and enjoy these pictures of Borrego Springs!)

At the Bottom of a Hole, by Larry Niven

by Hector Castellon

The latest Niven story is another set on Mars, a locale we've visited in Eye of the Octopus and How the Heroes Die. Hole takes place a good seventy years after the last story. A smuggler on the run from Belter cops tries to take refuge on Mars at the old base. He finds the crew long dead, murdered when someone, or several someones, slashed their bubble. Was it Martians?

The story also features the return of Luke Garner and Lit Schaeffer from World of Ptavvs, tying Mars to that universe. Along with this month's A Relic of the Empire, which ties Ptavvs in with The Warriors (featuring the Kzinti) and the Beowulf Schaeffer stories set several centuries hence, it appears Niven has knit together six hundred years of future history to play in. Fun stuff!

Four stars.

Decoy System, by Robin Scott

This is a Mack Reynoldsy thriller featuring an American agent's meeting with his Soviet counterpart. Some third party has been sabotaging both the US and USSR's early warning systems so that they will indicate massive nuclear strikes. Aliens are determined to be the culprit. An era of peace and cooperation ensues.

Of course, it was all a Yankee plot. I think I'd have liked this story if I hadn't read the premise before (and seen it as recently as The Architects of Fear). It feels a lot like an Analog story. Also, it's a lot of buildup for an ending that is obvious early on.

Two stars.

The Palace of Love (Part 2 of 3), by Jack Vance

by Gray Morrow

Last time, if you'll recall, I hadn't been overly enamored with Jack Vance's latest novel, a direct sequel to The Star King. Kirth Gersen, a rich and supertalented assassin, is on the hunt for Viole Falushe, one of the "Demon Kings" of crime who murdered his parents. The prior installment took us to Earth, where Gersen, disguised as a reporter (working for a paper he has purchased), investigates Falushe's childhood home. Back then, he was known as Vogel Filschner. His best friend and inspiration, before he went into kidnapping and slaving, was the poet, Garnath.

It is the houseboat-dwelling, nigh-incomprehensible Garnath, who provides Gersen his opportunity to meet and kill Falushe. Along the way, he becomes increasingly entangled with Garnath's ward, "Zan Zu of Eridu", who is an exact likeness of Falushe's childhood infatuation.

The first two thirds, in which Gersen plays a cat and mouse game with Falushe, is riveting. The final section, which sees Falushe invite Gershen to his private sanctum ("The Palace of Love") in the far reaches of space, is heavy on description but light on interest.

Still, I'd give this section four stars. It'll be up to the last installment to determine if the whole affair ends up on the three or four star side of the ledger.

Primary Education of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty

Last up, an obtuse piece on the differences in educational policy and success between two planets. It's supposed to be whimsical (when isn't the word applied to Lafferty?), but it's mostly tired.

Two stars.

Summing up

Finishing up at 3.1 stars, I'd say Fred Pohl has done his job to keep Galaxy on our subscription lists for another year at least. And I do mean our — you have to count me in, too!

[Speaking of stories you and your family will enjoy, Sirena, the second book in The Kitra Saga, is out! Fun for adults, young and old.

Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 10, 1966] Star Trek: "Dagger of the Mind"

November 10, 2021 Robin Rose Graves 12 Comments

Poetic Justice

by Robin Rose Graves

Star Trek has often been uninspiring of late — but this episode reminded me why I keep watching week to week.

The opening scene is unassuming. The Enterprise fails to transmit a delivery to the planet Tantalus. Kirk calmly reminds the transporter operator that prison colonies such as Tantalus are equipped with force fields. After receiving the needed permission from the planet, the delivery is allowed to go through, and in return, the Enterprise receives a mysterious box labeled “Do Not Open” (as if viewers don’t already have a good idea of what could possibly be inside).

"Under no circumstances are you to open this, you hear?"

Tantalus informs the Enterprise that a person is missing and could pose a danger to the crew. Unsurprisingly, the box housed the runaway. Now loose on the Enterprise, he becomes aggressive upon being discovered. He asks for asylum on the ship while holding Kirk at gunpoint. Spock subdues the man, and the Enterprise informs Dr. Adams on Tantalus that they found their runaway. Said fugitive identifies himself (with much pain and difficulty) as Dr. Simon van Gelder. A computer check reveals that he is not actually an inmate, but rather Dr. Adams’ assistant. It is at this point my interest was piqued. Why is an assistant being treated like an inmate? What led him to acting like the wild man he is now?

Van Gelder remains on the Enterprise while Kirk beams down along with the Enterprise’s psychiatrist – Dr. Helen Noël – in order to investigate Tantalus. They are immediately met by Dr. Adams and welcomed to the colony. Dr. Adams has gained celebrity for his humane rehabilitation methods on inmates. While on tour, Kirk and Dr. Noël encounter several reformed inmates, now acting as employees. Kirk notes their strange emotionless behavior. Dr. Adams shows off a device called the “neural neutralizer”, which he says he uses to calm agitated inmates. He explains that it is harmless at low increments.

Back on the Enterprise, a frantic van Gelder reveals to Spock and McCoy that it was the use of the neural neutralizer that left him in his current state. As Spock presses him further, van Gelder writhes in pain, struggling to speak (the actor’s performance makes it particularly difficult to watch). Finally, McCoy convinces Spock to use an ancient Vulcan psychic technique in order to calm van Gelder and allow him to speak freely about his experiences back on Tantalus.

The ancient Vulcan technique introduced in this episode. Remarkable for the intimacy required and the vulnerability displayed.

He explains the true nature of the neural neutralizer: that it empties the mind, leaving those afflicted vulnerable to suggestion, and that Dr. Adams has been using it on inmates and staff to gain control over them. Now understanding the danger Kirk and Dr. Noël are in, the Enterprise attempts to beam down backup, but are unable to because of the colony’s forcefield. They discover all communication with the planet is severed as well.

After voicing his concerns to Dr. Noël, she and Kirk secretly investigate the neural neutralizer. With Dr. Noël at the controls, Kirk volunteers as the test subject. She is able to alter his memory of their first meeting, converting an innocent flirtation into a more serious affair. But while Kirk is under, Dr. Adams takes control of the neutralizer, turning up the intensity. He then forces Kirk to believe he has been in love with Dr. Noël for years and being apart causes him physical pain. He is then released to his quarters along with Dr. Noël, awaiting his next treatment.

Thankfully, as we saw in Naked Time, Kirk's capacity for love is constrained to the Enterprise, and Adams' conditioning fails to take, at least not to a debilitating level. At Kirk’s suggestion, Dr. Noël escapes the room through a duct. Kirk is collected once again for his next treatment, but Dr. Noël is able to sabotage it by shutting off the power. Kirk fights Dr. Adams and leaves him unconscious in the neural neutralizer. Dr. Noël gets her own action scene when she is discovered and single-handedly takes down the guard. (It’s nice to see female characters do more than look pretty and lust after Captain Kirk). With the power now down, Spock is able to beam down to the planet. He resets the power, which activates the neural neutralizer with Dr. Adams still inside. The neutralizer, without anyone to man the device, empties Dr. Adams' mind entirely, killing him with loneliness. Poetic justice for him to be killed by the same device he had tortured countless people with.

The episode ends with Kirk looking morose. McCoy questions how loneliness is able to kill a human being, but Kirk groks, having experienced the effects of the neural neutralizer himself.

"Dagger" features some of the best performances we’ve seen so far (only matched by Leonard Nimoy’s performance in "Naked Time"). Upon meeting the blank workers of Tantalus, I was alarmed by their listless speech and stoney faces. Morgan Woodward (van Gelder) chokes on every word as he struggles to fight his conditioning through physical pain and speaks of the horrors he has been through at Dr. Adams’ hands (I clenched up in sympathy watching these scenes). So much was relayed on performance alone that no fancy looking technology was needed, and while I love a vivid set design, the comparatively plain look of this episode was fitting, allowing the acting to shine without competition.

This episode earns a five star rating from me.

The Mythopoeia of Star Trek

by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Nine episodes into Star Trek and we’re beginning to see some of the myths that float just under the surface of this world. J.R.R. Tolkien called this kind myth-making “mythopoeia,” though it has existed for as long as storytellers have called upon “rosy-fingered Dawn” or “the evil Jinn.” The Cage had the Talos star group, named presumably for the ancient greek robot who protected Europa in Crete; Charlie X had the cargo vessel Antares, meaning “rival-to-Mars”; Where No Man Has Gone Before, had crewmember Gary Mitchell reciting “The Nightingale Woman,” which he says was “written by Phineas Tarbolde on the Canopius planet back in 1996.” Canopius is probably a mistranscription of the name of the man who steered the ship of King Menelaus of Sparta to Egypt during the Trojan war. More than just referencing the existing Western mythical names of heavenly bodies, Star Trek layers those stories onto future histories, adding meaning and depth.

When I first heard the name of the penal colony in this week’s episode, I remembered that in Greek mythology, Tantalus is the founder of the House of Atreus, and his story is one of the more gruesome in a genre often marked by gore. Tantalus wanted to test the gods’ omniscience, and so when he was a guest on Mount Olympus he killed his son and served him to the gods as a feast. For killing his child and challenging the gods, Tantalus was sentenced to starve forever in a pool of water with ripe fruit hanging above his head, the water always receding when he bent to drink, and the fruit always raising itself just out of his reach.

Tantalus, by Gioacchino Assereto (1600–1649)

These themes of taboo, hunger, challenging powerful people, consent, hubris, punishment, and abuse of power move throughout Dagger of the Mind. When I saw Captain Kirk writhing in a pool of blue light as he tried to escape torment and artificially implanted lust, it reminded me of that final image of Tantalus in his pool, trapped by forced hunger and cruel punishment.

The parallels are not perfect — Captain Kirk is a victim of Doctors Adams and Noël, not a child-killing cannibal — but mythical references don’t have to be perfectly in-tune to be resonant. They just have to tantalize us into thinking and feeling more deeply about these characters.

Four stars.

Holding out Hope

by Janice L. Newman

This episode was deeply disturbing in many ways. The idea of the erasure of memories, of self, is creepy at best and horrific at worst. It is a kind of death, for who are we without our memories?

Nonetheless, beneath the horror I found a hopeful note. McCoy, when asked if he's visited a penal colony since the Federation began following Dr. Adams' theories, says simply, "A cage is a cage, Jim." Captain Kirk immediately contradicts him, saying that McCoy is behind the times, and that penal colonies are more like "resort colonies" now. Throughout the episode, despite the horror, runs a theme that prisoners should be treated with humanity, and that the purpose of such places is not to punish, but to help.

Furthermore, the prisoners themselves are never portrayed as 'deserving' the torture and the erasure of their minds. No matter what they've done in the past, they are shown as victims of Dr. Adams' machinations. Once it is understood what Dr. Adams is doing, no one other than Adams himself suggests that the prisoners are 'better off' for having part of their mind cut away. Compare this to the practice of lobotomizing people, either 'for their own good' or for 'the good of society'. Performing a lobotomy was outlawed in the Soviet Union in 1950 on the grounds that it is "contrary to the principles of humanity", yet it is still legal in the United States. It seems to me that "Dagger" is an indirect attack on this barbaric, inhumane practice.

Dr. Adams, a latter-day Dr. Moniz.

These twin themes: that of a drive to help disturbed minds, while at the same time retaining an awareness of and belief in a criminal's basic personhood and right to dignity and self, paint a picture of a more humane, thoughtful world. Imperfect, yes, but with a determination to improve despite individual setbacks. As with "Miri", I find myself heartened by a vision of the future where punishment is no longer considered the first and best option for dealing with misbehaving people of any age.

Four stars.

Chemicals, by any other name

by Gideon Marcus

I don't know if this is a phenomenon unique to Star Trek, but I often find myself noting similarities between a given episode and previous ones, and to other stories in general. Lorelei pointed out that, once again, we have Kirk exploring an underground complex. Once again, the captain must treat with a megalomaniac scientist and his powerful device (q.v. "What are Little Girls Made of?").

But the biggest comparison I draw is to Norman Spinrad's recent story, Your name shall be…Darkness. In Spinrad's tale, an American officer is captured in Korea and subjected to a novel application of electroshock therapy. Bit by bit, his captor strips away all of his memories until all that is left is raw ego. Then his identity is restored, presumably with additional programming. We saw something like this in The Manchurian Candidate, too, as well as The Mind Benders, but Darkness feels like the closest fit. In Darkness, after his ordeal, the officer is compelled (perhaps by programming) to use the brainwashing technique to cure the mentally disturbed. He becomes a psychiatrist, one of the most prominent in his field. Essentially, he is Dr. Adams with his machine — but whether this is ultimately a good or a bad thing is left open. After all, we don't know what the officer's real mission is, or what he might be implanting in his patients.

The brainwasher from "Darkness".

Dr. Noël posits that the Neural Neutralizer is a better, more permanent solution to insanity than constant injection of tranquilizers (which is the way Dr. Van Gelder is treated by McCoy). In the end, Trek teaches us that brainwashing is not the answer either.

The episode does suggest that there is an answer, however: when Spock establishes the ultimate empathy with Van Gelder, using an "ancient Vulcan technique", only then is he able to soothe the tortured mind of the doctor. We may not have Spock's psychic powers, but perhaps we can discover a similarly effective psychotherapeutic treatment for the heretofore incurably disturbed.

Who says science fiction can't be aspirational as well as cautionary?

Four stars.

Paved with Good Intentions

by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

I don't know how much more I can take from the security team. Fortunately, the predictable ineptitude of the security force on the Enterprise wasn't the cause of events spiraling out of control. I'll give it a pass this time because "Dagger of the Mind" is a bit of a return to form. I've been unimpressed by the recent episodes, but I love a good moral dilemma.

Another Tuesday aboard the Enterprise

The contrast between the affable, accommodating attitude Dr. Adams displayed, and that of his work, was eerie from the audience's perspective. We only know there's something wrong because this wouldn't be a very entertaining show if there wasn't, but Kirk's trust of Adams was only natural considering how renowned his work is. Even Dr. Noël's admiration was to be expected, and it was only McCoy's insistence of a thorough report that raised any suspicions. I wouldn't have been surprised if this operation had continued to go unnoticed indefinitely.

I hope to get more episodes like this where we are faced with the ethics of the implementation of technology in the future. How far would we have allowed Adams to turn that dial before stopping to consider how wrong it is? How far would we turn that dial if we thought we were making a positive impact? Going where no man has gone before isn't necessarily always to a physical place.

Five stars

(You don't have to wait long to see the next episode of Star Trek — join us tonight at 8:30 PM (Pacific AND Eastern — two showings)!!)

Here's the invitation!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 4, 1966] Star Trek: "Miri"

November 4, 2021 Gideon Marcus 5 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Growing pains

On the trail of an old-style distress call, the Enterprise crew makes an astonishing discovery — a (cloudless) planet that looks exactly like the Earth! Moreover, upon beaming down to the planet, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Yeoman Rand, and two security guards find the replication goes down to the culture, language, and architecture. Indeed, where they land is indistinguishable from a town in the 1960s. Mayberry, perhaps.

But one thing is missing: people. The planet has been abandoned for three hundred years. Well, not quite abandoned. Skulking amongst the buildings are prepubescent children, dirty, careless, parentless. And there are…things. Distorted, mindless creatures that attack on sight. But Kirk and co. find a liaison of sorts, a young teenager named Miri. She is terrified of the adults ("grups") at first, recalling scenes of violence and arson, but Kirk wins her over with a tender manner and a dazzling smile.

The Enterprise crew quickly discovers that all of the adults were wiped out by an artificial virus (ironically created to extend life). It has prolonged the life of the children incredibly, but any human who has reached, or is reaching, puberty, becomes one of the monsters and dies. And all of the crew who beamed down are now infected. It becomes a race against time — Kirk vs. the disease, and the hostile youth population.

This episode is something of a head-scratcher. We have the revelatory opening, which ultimately serves just as an excuse to reuse the Desilu backlot.

The setup does not work with a three hundred year timeline. The children would be virtually unrecognizable, culturally, if they were still alive. Surely, they would not remember adults, who would only occupy, at most, a 30th of their lifespan's memories. Their food would not have lasted this long, either.

Yeoman Rand was along for this mission, but she didn't get to do much but repeat other people's lines and confess her attraction for Captain Kirk. I'm not sure I like where they're going with their relationship.

And then there's the dramatic scene, where McCoy injects himself with an untested vaccine. As it turns out Kirk convinces the children, who had stolen their communicators at a critical juncture, to give them back their talking boxes so that they can confirm the dosage and efficacy of the serum with Enterprise computers. So while the moment is interesting in terms of character it's ultimately pointless.

A pointless act, but Kelley really sells it, I have to say.

On the other hand…

I found that the episode hangs together much better if one disregards the three hundred year timeline. And indeed, Spock could be mistaken on that point. Sure, they've beamed down to a place that looks like 1960, a year three centuries in the Enterprise's past, but who's to say that the two Earths followed the exact same chronology, or started at the same point. If the children have been on their own for just, say, three years, the episode makes a lot of sense. Then, the global descent into madness is recent enough to explain Miri's visceral fear of adults. It explains why the kids still retain memory of their life as civilized children (and, indeed, why they ultimately decide to work with the adults).

And it makes the behavior of the kids, which is admittedly rather annoying, much more acceptable. These are children who watched their world end, saw their own parents try to kill them. Leaders like Jahn helped keep them alive in that dangerous transition. They may seem like they are enjoying a Neverland existence, free from responsibilities, but they are still children, and they miss their parents.

The original premise, that three hundred years had passed, could have been interesting, too, with the Enterprise making contact with a population of aliens in the form of children. But that's not what writer Adrian Spies gave us. Instead, we got an episode that fits a three-year timeline, and with that accepted, it's actually a compelling story.

Plus, we have on-location filming for the first time, and it is quite lovely. Credit goes to Vincent McEveety for some excellent direction, too. Musical cues seem to be a mix of cribbed and original scoring. It's an effective soundscape. I feel Nimoy has finally settled into the role of Spock. The exchange with Kirk when he indicates that he "does want to go back to the ship" was compelling.

So, I think "Miri" merits three and a half stars. It's better than "Charlie X" but worse than the three really good episodes aired thus far.

Child labor

by Tam Phan (Secret Asian Man)

I never seem to find child actors very convincing. Miri and Jahn were no exception, failing even to pass for teenagers, let alone children that hadn't gone through puberty yet. Beyond that, it's hard to believe that 300 year olds, even in children's bodies, would continue to act like juveniles.

13 years old?!

Despite that, the music and pacing really saved this episode. The music brought complexity to each moment, and thanks to excellent direction, even though the far too Earth-like planet made for an odd setting, each scene moved the story along convincingly. There was enough suspense that the situation felt more dire and desperate as the disease progressed. We all knew what the Doctor was going to do as soon as Spock left the room, but the music made the decision come to life.

I’m really looking forward to the episode where they get it all right because music and pacing don’t make a show. Star Trek has so much potential, but this episode falls well short of that.

3 Stars

Bang! Zoom! Right in the kisser!

by Janice L. Newman

“Miri” was a lackluster episode in many ways. But one thing did stand out to me, especially as I thought about it afterward: Kirk never punishes the children.

Twice he is attacked by the children, and we do see him twice throw one child off his perch on a desk and to the ground. But other than that, we do not see Kirk raise a hand against his juvenile attackers. He never uses violence to establish dominance over them or force them to do what he wants. Instead, he explains the situation to them, pleads with them – and shows them the same respect he would adults. He treats them as though they are capable of reason and empathy. And in the end, they are.

I usually catch the last few minutes of the cartoon version of The Lone Ranger when I tune in to Mission Impossible. The end of last week’s Lone Ranger episode had him capturing the villain, who I think was meant to be some sort of boy who never grew up, and giving him a spanking before sending him to jail. It’s clearly supposed to be a ‘funny’ moment.

In “Miri”, whether one accepts the episode’s timeline of 300 years or the Traveler’s more plausible three, the child characters are obviously meant to have the minds of children. They behave ‘badly’, mocking the Enterprise crew, stealing their communicators, kidnapping Yeoman Rand, and even attacking the captain.

It wouldn’t have surprised me if Star Trek followed a similar path to The Lone Ranger, showing the children getting punished, perhaps even spanked. The fact that the show did not take this easy way out, the fact that the futuristic society it portrays values diplomacy and reason over coercion and punishment, is something that I find tremendously heartening. I can only hope that in our future we really will learn to raise our children with respect and without violence.

Two and a half stars: two for the episode, and an extra half for the hopeful message.

Child Vampires Without the Blood

by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

It’s the time of year for spooky stories and while Miri wasn’t pure horror, it had its fair share of unsettling moments: chanting children, violence in familiar settings, prosthetics designed to look like symptoms of Hansen's disease.

Horror, like science fiction, gives us a lens through which to view our own world. In most horror, creators draw from what they think their audiences are afraid of: in this case, unruly children, certain forms of disease, and growing old. As set-dressing, they can also pull ideas from the news or culture: a headline about the 1963 measles vaccine that prolonged millions of children’s lives might inspire a writer to write a story such as Miri, twining together the wonders and the potential failures of mass vaccination.

Other creators have used the fears listed above to craft stories about vampires: immortal, living outside of the bounds of human society, violent, and mercurial. With different make-up and set-dressings, this episode could have taken place in a European castle or Soviet forest, with its hidden and chanting hordes of unaging, feral children, lost to time and civilization.

But this is Star Trek, not Blood Bath, The Blood Drinkers, Queen of Blood, Dracula: Prince of Darkness, The Empire of Dracula, Billy the Kid vs. Dracula, or any of the other vampire-focused horror films of the year (although, if Christopher Lee would be willing to make an appearance in a future episode, I am sure we would all welcome it). Rather than capes and coffins, we have tricorders and transporters, communicators and vaccines-on-demand. But the anxieties being addressed are still the same, and the episode gives the audience a chance to walk through our fears, reaching a satisfying conclusion.

Unlike much of the popular horror released this year, that conclusion did not involve buckets of blood; as Janice wisely notes, instead we got a hopeful vision of non-violence towards children, along with a diplomatic and science-driven solution to a centuries-long crisis. Endings like this are one of the reasons I often prefer science fiction flavored with horror over horror flavored with science fiction: I like the chance to live in Captain Kirk’s bright, utopian future each Thursday evening as the fall grows cooler and the shadows grow long.

(I can always catch Mr Lee’s latest flick if I find myself with an unholy craving.)

Happy Halloween!

Four stars.

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 2, 1966] An Ending? (Doctor Who: The Tenth Planet)

November 2, 2021 Jessica Holmes 1 Comment

By Jessica Holmes

Where do I begin? The latest serial of Doctor Who, penned by Kit Pedler for the first two episodes and Gerry Davis for the latter two, delivers some exciting twists and turns and real surprises, one of which may change the programme forever– or spell its doom.

EPISODE ONE

The Doctor arrives at the Antarctic base of International Space Command in the year 1986. The men inside (and yes, even in 1986 it seems rocket science is a bit of a boys’ club) take notice of the new arrivals, but there’s no time to worry about them. The latest launch has run into trouble, reporting the sudden appearance of a new planet in the sky. Worse still, their ship is losing power.

I rather liked the presentation of future space exploration as an international affair. There’s men from all over the world among the staff of International Space Command, and one of the astronauts is played by Bermudian actor Earl Cameron. Nobody can do a good fake accent to save their lives, but they tried!

The new planet looks just like Earth, but upside down. It takes a weirdly long time for people to realise that. The Doctor explains that the Earth once had a twin planet, and it has now returned. How this happened is unclear. Maybe it went on its holidays.

Things really kick off when a ship from this strange planet lands just outside the base. From it emerge men with faces made of taut fabric, bodies made of machinery, and curiously human hands.

A chill runs down the spine as one looks directly into the camera. There is something about the design of this entity that feels deeply… not just unnerving, but wrong. There’s a coldness in its gaze that penetrates the very soul.

EPISODE TWO

Here we get a name for these newcomers to Earth: Cybermen, from the planet Mondas. They were like us, once. But their race was dying, so they had to augment their bodies with cybernetics in order to survive. They kept going, upgrading every inefficiency in the human body, until there is almost nothing left but the brain– and even that hasn’t been spared some tinkering. Considering emotion and empathy to be inefficiencies, they have removed them.

The result is one of the few truly nightmarish monsters to come from Doctor Who. I think they're scarier than the Daleks. They should be naff, with their cobbled-together costumes that leave the hands visible. It’s as rough a costume as I’ve ever seen on the programme. However, every bit of it works to their advantage, visually telling the story of their cobbled-together cybernetic enhancements– you can imagine them transforming piece by piece into the horrors they are today. With their fabric ‘skin’ drawn taut over their faces, leaving them only with the suggestion of a nose, and wide, blank eyes, their visage is genuinely frightening. It’s even worse when they open their mouths, as an unnatural, almost sing-song approximation of human speech emerges from their gaping jaws.

The Cybermen tell the ground crew that it’s impossible to get the astronauts out of orbit, as the pull of Mondas is too strong. The crew don’t listen, and continue to try to no avail, as the ship explodes…for some reason.

Ben, along with Polly, a recent companion of the Doctor, has the bright idea to try nicking a gun and making a break for the TARDIS. One of the Cybermen takes the gun away and bends it in half before locking Ben in another room. Surprisingly merciful, considering they killed a couple of blokes on their way in.

The Cybermen say Earth is in danger, and to save them, they must send a message to their leaders. The energy of Mondas is almost expended, so now it’s draining the energy from Earth. Let’s not think too hard about that. It’s more magic than science.

All life on Earth will stop, but the people don’t have to die! They can go to Mondas. The implications are clear. Well, nice of them to offer, I suppose, but while I wouldn’t say no to a stronger robotic body, I draw the line at having my brain tampered with. I wonder why they bothered telling the humans, given that they have no reason to. They say themselves that everyone on Earth dying wouldn’t affect the Cybermen in any way. So why extend the invitation? Politeness?

This shot zooming out through the Cyberman's nether regions might be the weirdest I've seen in all of television.

Ben starts trying to escape, managing to kill one of the Cybermen with their own weapon. He succeeds in sneaking this weapon to the General in charge of the base. General Cutler (Robert Beatty) promptly dispatches the Cybermen holding everyone hostage. This comes as a bit of an annoyance to the Doctor, given that the Cybermen were helpfully explaining their intentions.

Still, it’s bought them some time to radio their commander in Geneva and fill him in on what happened. It’s then that they learn another astronaut was sent into orbit to try and rescue the others. It's the General’s son.

The whole team starts scrambling to get him down, but there’s something else on the radar. Hundreds of spaceships in formation, heading right for Earth!

EPISODE THREE

The whole planetary energy-draining thing hits the Doctor first, with him collapsing mere moments into the episode. He spends the following twenty minutes having a nice nap.

Desperate to save his son, General Cutler decides that the only way to save Earth is to ensure the destruction of Mondas. He will have to use Earth’s greatest weapon… the Z-bomb. A planet-destroying bomb doesn’t sound that useful to me, but I can think of a couple of countries who would probably want one.

He can’t actually get express permission to use the bomb, but apparently there are no safeguards against him using it anyway. Ben and Polly urge him to wait, as the Doctor has a hypothesis that eventually Mondas will absorb too much energy from Earth and disintegrate. However, the General is unwilling to leave it to chance, even if the blast from the bomb would also kill everyone on the side of the Earth facing Mondas. Of course, he’ll be careful to ensure his son’s spacecraft isn’t on that side.

With the General beyond reason, Ben and Polly turn to the only other authority figure on the base, the head scientist Barclay (David Dodimead). Barclay clearly has doubts about the General’s plan, and it doesn’t take long for Polly to convince him to help her. Having designed the base, Barclay is able to show Ben and Polly a convenient ventilation shaft that leads right to the missile silo. With instructions from Barclay, Ben slips into the silo and tampers with the bomb. However, the General catches him red-handed, and gives the order to launch the missile.

EPISODE FOUR

It turns out that Ben was successful in sabotaging the missile as it fails to launch. Oh, and the Doctor’s feeling better now. Goody!

The General, rather put out, pulls a gun on a defiant Barclay, but his son gets in contact before he can bark any more orders. However, when the base loses the capsule’s radio signal, the General immediately assumes the worst. Convinced that his son is dead, the General threatens to kill the Doctor for causing the delay in the launch. I suppose he missed that the Doctor was napping through that whole incident.

Luckily for the Doctor, more Cybermen burst in before the General can do him any harm, and shoot General Cutler dead.

The Doctor thanks them for saving his life, and offers them a chance to save their own. Mondas is doomed, but the Cybermen don’t have to die with it. If they ask nicely and agree not to go around shooting people, they could all come and live on Earth in peace.

Well. I think various governments might have a thing or two to say about that, but it’s an idea. The Cybermen agree to think about it, but they’d like the missile to be disarmed first, which is a fair enough request. What feels less fair is their insistence that they take Polly as a hostage, but the Doctor agrees to that too, in the interests of keeping the situation under control.

Nobody bothers to ask Polly what she thinks.

However, it soon turns out that the Cybermen have not been honest about their intentions. They’ve landed all over the world, and they’ve decided they’d rather keep their own planet. They’ll save it by destroying Earth with the Z-bomb.

Gee, who would have thought having a planet-destroying weapon could possibly be dangerous to the survival of the planet we live on?

The idea is that with Earth gone, Mondas will stop absorbing its energy, and it won’t disintegrate. I don’t suppose they’ve thought about the colossal release of energy involved in a planet-destroying explosion. The Doctor manages to warn Ben and the others, who are currently disarming the bomb, against helping the Cybermen. It’s then that Ben realises that there must be a reason that the Cybermen are using humans to handle the bomb. What if the Cybermen are vulnerable to radiation?

Aren’t we all?

Having had enough of the Doctor’s meddling, the Cybermen take him on board their ship, where his health immediately takes a turn for the worse.

Ben, meanwhile, comes up with the bright idea to use the fuel rods from the on-site nuclear reactor as a weapon against the Cybermen. And these men of science go along with it.

I’m starting to get the feeling that science wasn’t the writer’s best subject at school.

The radioactive death-stick does the job nicely, and Ben somehow gets back to the control room without coming down with a nasty case of acute radiation poisoning, managing to get rid of all the Cybermen on the base in the process.

They’re about to start luring in other Cybermen with their own communication devices, but Mondas chooses that moment to conveniently melt. With it the Cybermen also disintegrate, having been reliant on energy from Mondas.

Oh, and it turns out that the General’s son is alive after all. With the Cyberman menace gone for good, he can come back home.

Ben rushes to the cybership to rescue Polly and the Doctor, and finds the old fellow unconscious. He manages to rouse the Doctor, who seems in a bad way. Agitated, the Doctor hurries back to the TARDIS.

And then something happens.

Something weird.

The Doctor collapses to the floor as the TARDIS takes off, and the screen brightens until the Doctor’s face is completely obscured. As the light fades away, the Doctor is gone.

No, not gone.

Replaced.

There’s a man lying in the exact same spot– but it’s definitely not the Doctor.

Final Thoughts

It’s safe to say I liked this serial well enough. The Cybermen are a great enemy, but the plot doesn’t do much for me. It’s fine, I just don’t think it really uses the Cybermen to their full advantage. They feel almost tangential to the whole plot, and ultimately the Doctor defeats them by…wasting time. Not a terribly interesting resolution.

What I really want to talk about is what in the world just happened to the Doctor? I’m sure I made half the neighbourhood jump with my sudden outburst of ‘WHAT?!’ at the end of the final episode.

Where did he go? Did he go anywhere, or is that man in fact our same dear old Doc? I don’t know what to make of this development.

It’s no secret that Mr. Hartnell’s health has been rather up-and-down of late (in fact, his absence in Episode Three was due to ill health), and I had wondered how much longer he’d be up to continuing with the programme. Certainly I’d rather that he takes care of his health than continue to force himself through an intensive filming schedule. A friend of mine did find a tiny notice in the Manchester Guardian that mentioned that Mr. Hartnell was to be replaced by Patrick Troughton, and there have been rumours flying around, so I suppose the departure isn’t that much of a surprise.

I think what really flabbergasts me is the suddenness of the changeover. We’ve barely even started the new series, and the lead’s gone and vanished! If we are to assume this new man is in fact the Doctor (which seems more likely, what with the name of the programme), what does that mean for him as a character? Is he more-or-less a new person, having nothing in common but a name? I hope not.

I’ve grown attached to the Doctor as portrayed by Mr. Hartnell, and I don’t think I like the idea of him being effectively replaced and all of his character development wiped away. He’s just done such a good job! Even when the Doctor was a grumpy so-and-so, he was still fun to watch, and I loved his ability to balance the Doctor’s mischievous side with his more serious moments. There’s a warmth and wit to his portrayal that reminds me of my grandpa. It might sound childish, but I don’t want them to get rid of my TV-grandpa!

At the same time, having another actor do an impression of Mr. Hartnell’s Doctor seems sure to invite comparison, and I can’t imagine it would be favourable. I’m familiar with Patrick Troughton, having seen him on television a fair bit, but he’s a rather different kind of actor from Mr. Hartnell. A different temperament altogether. He’s younger for one thing, so will he have the same gravitas? Still, I’m not going to judge the new chap until I’ve seen him in action. I’m sure he knows he’s got some big shoes to fill.

There’s little point in speculating much about how exactly this process works within the actual story. It’ll be a weird vaguely-scientific thing I’m sure, probably to do with the TARDIS.

What does this mean for the programme, though? Will people still want to watch without the real Doctor? The new fellow doesn’t look anything like Mr. Hartnell, so the kids are surely going to notice.

Honestly, I’m at a loss. I don’t know if this is a good thing, or a bad thing. Will this open up new avenues for the Doctor’s story, or is it doomed to failure?

I’m sad to see William Hartnell go, most certainly, and I wish him the very best. Thank you, Mr. Hartnell, for three years of being our Doctor.

Still, I must admit…. I’m incredibly curious to see what comes next.

5 out of 5 stars

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 31, 1966] Respite from the horror (November 1966 Analog Science Fiction)

October 31, 2021 Gideon Marcus 4 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

Boo!

It's a scary world out there. If ever there was an appropriate time to be reminded of it, it's today, Halloween. These days, it's not the supernatural or the spooky that frightens the bejeezus out of us (though UFO sightings are at a record high). No, it's real-world issues like the ongoing, escalating war in Vietnam. Thousands of our boys have died over there, and there's no end in sight. The other day, Stokely Carmichael, head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, said he had no intention of fighting were he to be drafted. He's currently living with the Sword of Damocles of his latest physical fitness exam — will he be judged fit for duty? Is prison preferable to serving in an unjust war?

There are fears on the domestic front, too. Grocery prices have spiraled to ridiculous levels, and an organized army of housewives has picketed the stores in at least 15 cities across America. Can they effect change before basic foods get too expensive too afford?

I think all of this existential dread is why folks turn to fiction. I've now had several fans of my Kitra series note their appreciation that, while they find Kitra's adventures riveting, they take comfort in knowing that she and her crew will come out safe in the end. It's a reassurance they aren't finding in real life

I felt similarly reading the latest issue of Analog. Sometimes science fiction paints grim futures, even seeming to relish in the despondence of the characters who inhabit them (q.v. Harrison's overpopulation nightmare, Make Room! Make Room!). Such works are important. Cautionary tales are important. They show us potentialities to avoid. They challenge us to think. But sometimes, you just want an interesting story where you know things will all work out. Analog's editor John Campbell has given us two quite good ones this month (and some other stuff).

by Kelly Freas

Yay!

Quarantine World, by Murray Leinster

by Kelly Freas

Dr. Calhoun of the Med Service has reason to be suspicious. The planet Lanke is ostensibly perfectly healthy, yet the government is going out of its way to hide something from him. Moreover, Lanke's politicians are keenly interested in the public health specifically for its insuring the bottom line of their economy. It is thus with appropriate shock to all concerned that a plague-infested person, obviously an off-worlder, crashes Calhoun's reception. More shocking — the Lanke government insists Calhoun have nothing to do with the individual, who is shot by the authorities. When he performs a cursory examination of the corpse, he is summarily ejected from the planet.

Whereupon he contracts the deadly disease, and his trusty tormal, the antibodies-producing cat/monkey called Murgatroyd, is unable to synthesize a cure! Calhoun's only clue (and hope!) is the existence of a failed colony on the nearby planet of Delhi. Perhaps there he can solve the mystery of his illness before he…and the population of Linke…succumbs to it.

Murray Leinster is often called the dean of science fiction. He's been writing for decades, and sadly, the tape is starting to wear a little thin. He pads out his work a lot, and his characters mostly sound alike. There is a strange, juvenile character to his writing that feels out of place in Analog. Honestly, it may be less a matter of literary senility, and more that of bilking an extra hundred bucks from Campbell for the extra verbiage; writers are paid by the word, after all.

But.

It's a good story, highlighting several interesting social issues (capitalism uber alles, the treatment of criminals and political dissidents, the role of medicine). It's a great universe, one I've drawn inspiration from for my Kitra books. And Murgatroyd is an absolute joy to read about.

So, three stars.

Facts to Fit the Theory, by Christopher Anvil

by Kelly Freas

The human colony of Cyrene IV is about to be invaded by the rapacious Stath. Yet the Cyrenicans refuse to join the Terran Federation, which would protect them under the auspices of a non-aggression pact with the Stath. All attempts to coerce an application to the Federation are thwarted by increasingly improbable events, all of which point to some kind of religio-psychic interference on the part of the colonists.

Then the Stath arrive. Their attemps to be mean and nasty are also countered by freak occurrences, up to and including a planetary hurricane. They leave, tail between their legs. The human military officers are admonished to write up a full report, but to explain the chronology without invoking ESP.

Could there be a more archetypical Chris Anvil Analog story?

Tongue-in-cheek? Check.
Humans come out ahead? Check.
Prominent figuring of psionics? Check.
Authorities are stupid for not acknowleding the existence of psionics? Check.
The Traveler sick of stories like this? Check and Check.

Two stars because it's readable, but please, no more. I beg you.

Dimensions, Anyone?, by John D. Clark, Ph.D.

A fascinating if abstruse piece from Dr. Clark. It's about the importance of a matching set of physical dimensions for rendering useful measurements. Forget the "English" system, and even the metric system isn't truly universal. Clark offers up one of his own, while describing the history of the ones we currently use.

Much denser than Asimov's stuff, but it was in my wheelhouse. Four stars.

Letter from a Higher Critic, by Stewart Robb

by Kelly Freas

In which folks in the 22nd Century, having lost most historical sources of the 19th and 20th Century, deem that World War 2 is too improbable to have occurred as recounted. The primary objection is that the names of all of the major players, from Roosevelt to Churchill to Adolph Hitler to Stalin, are too on-the-nose to represent real people.

Very slight stuff. Blink and you'll miss it. Read and you'll forget it.

Two stars.

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

by John Schoenherr

And now we come to the end, both of the magazine, and of this most promising murder mystery serial from Randall Garrett. Good luck putting it down — it is a rollercoaster from the opening sequence, in which Lord D'Arcy has just dived into the Thames to rescue a bewitched woman, to the final scene, in which Chief Investigator for the Duke of Normandy identifies the culprit from among nine suspects.

It's a well-drawn whodunnit, weakened only by its separation into four parts (which the assured novelization will fix). The solution is plausible and (mostly) independently deducible. The guilty party makes sense. I appreciated the quantum mechanics element of the case, too; it is impossible to observe matters without affecting them. It makes this particular Lord D'arcy case quite dynamic. I also noted the homage to Twelve Angry Men in one scene.

Garrett has gotten much better at handling woman characters: Mary, Dowager Duchess of Cumberland, and Demoiselle Tia Einzig are nicely realized and pivotal players. Hard to believe this is the same fellow who wrote Queen Bee. For the same magazine!

So, five stars for this segment, four and a half for the story as a whole, and I won't be surprised if this gets a Hugo nod in New York next year!

Summing up: Two tricks and three treats

Setting aside the Anvil and the Robb, Analog really delivered the goods this month, providing a bubble of reassuring entertainment in a frightening era. Clocking in at 3.4 stars, it surpasses or ties with the other magazines this month except for the exceptional Science-Fantasy/Impulse (3.7 stars).

Technically, Fantastic (3.5 stars) was also better, but given that it was largely reprints, I don't know that it's a fair comparison. Of the all-new material mags, the order goes Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), New Worlds (3.1), IF (3), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.3).

It was actually a great month for fiction. One could fill three whole magazines with all the four and five star stuff. Sadly, there was not a single woman-penned piece of fiction published in a pro mag with a November 1966 date.

And with that, the unpleasant real world intrudes again. Ah well. I managed to avoid it for most of an article. Maybe next month will bring happier news on this front.

[Actually, there's happier news right now! Sirena, the second book in The Kitra Saga, has been a smash hit, and I think you'll dig it, too. Buy a copy…you'll be supporting me and getting a great read at the same time!]

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[October 26, 1966] Star Trek: "What are Little Girls Made of?")

October 26, 2021 Lorelei Marcus 6 Comments

Fun with Binary!

by Lorelei Marcus

I'm loving this new show called Star Trek. From innovative effects to nuanced plots to interesting characters, Star Trek has often been raising the bar for television's best from week to week. Sadly, I missed the past two episodes due to scheduling conflicts (catching up through our fanzine's weekly episode recap and review). But this week, I ensured that my sacred viewing time would not be overtaken by any babysitting jobs or midterm study sessions.

I sat down in anticipation, the dark viewing room hushed despite the several people who had joined me to watch. Excitement thrummed through me as the thrilling, other-worldly theme started to play…

And in the end, "What are Little Girls Made of?", the seventh episode of the new show Star Trek, was a complete DISASTER!

…but I liked it anyway.

If you happened to miss the broadcast, I will do my best to recount the episode's plot for you, even though it is already rapidly receding from my memory:

Opening on the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Kirk and Nurse Chapel (Majel Barrett), whom we first saw in Naked Time, stare worriedly at a blue planet. We are informed that Dr. Roger Korby (Michael Strong), Chapel's fiancé, has been trapped on the planet for the past five years, presumed dead because the planet's surface has become too cold to sustain life (the system's sun is dying).

Shortly after this remark is made, Korby's voice comes over the radio, requesting that Captain Kirk beam down to the planet, alone, to witness an amazing discovery he's made! Who could have foreseen this?

"Can Nurse Chapel come too?" "Christine? Oh sure. She's a recurring character; that should be fine."

Kirk and Chapel are beamed down into an underground tunnel system where Korby has apparently been living. Yet Korby is nowhere to be found, so Kirk orders down two security guards and heads off with Nurse Chapel to find her fiancé.

"Hey Matthews, you think anything bad will happen to us?" "How could it? My retirement's next week!"

Before long, they run into Korby's assistant, Dr. Brown, who decides that the most effective way of introducing himself is by standing in front of a giant stadium light. This is one of the many instances of odd editing. Brown turns off his giant headlight, Chapel recognizes him (now that she can see again) and Brown offers to take Kirk and Chapel to see Dr. Korby. Oh, and Guard #1 (Matthews) mysteriously falls off a cliff in the hall and dies. Who could have foreseen this?

Dr. Brown in front of the Bat Signal.

After a brief interlude where security guard #2 dies to a hulking alien creature (that looks like it just finished washing dishes at the Addam's house), we finally get to meet the man of the hour, Dr. Korby. What proceeds is a grueling back and forth that consists of Korby rambling about how he must show and explain his discovery to Kirk, followed by continuous worried glances exchanged between Kirk and Nurse Chapel.

So what is Korby's amazing discovery that the whole episode has been building up to?

Completely lifelike androids!

Meet Andrea, one of Korby's androids, whose purpose is a complete mystery and not at all obvious.

For someone who has an important point he wants to explain, he sure takes a long time getting to it.

It turns out Korby's assistant has been an android all this time. (Maybe he was standing in front of the headlight to recharge?) In a sudden scuffle with Kirk, he is shot by a phaser, exposing his circuits.

Korby doesn't seem too perturbed at the loss of his assistant, though. He has Ruk instead (played by Ted Cassidy). Ruk is an even more advanced android built by the old aliens who left the android-making machinery Korby's been studying and using for the past five years. And not just to make sexy secretaries. He can even entirely replicate a human being! And he's going to show Captain Kirk how it's done.

Cut to Shatner lying completely naked strapped to a turntable.

"Good thing I wore my tear-off uniform today. It made this transition much faster!"

If my summarization seems a bit disjointed or abrupt, it's because this is an absolutely faithful rendition of the pacing of the episode. Anyway, Korby's experiment succeeds, creating an exact copy of Kirk, one that obeys Korby's orders. Copy-Kirk beams up to the Enterprise to take control of the ship.

At this, you may gape. What? The kind, not-suspicious-at-all Korby had ill intentions all along?

The plot runs deeper. Korby explains to Kirk that he has the technology not just to copy a person, but to transfer their soul into an immortal mechanized shell. A shell that can be programmed and controlled to perfection, Kirk points out, refusing to help Korby with his plan. Korby's plans rapidly fizzle out anyway. When Kirk's mind was being transferred into copy-Kirk, he'd recited to himself a message he would never say: "Mind your own business, Mr. Spock — I'm tired of your half-breed interference, do you hear?" It is delivered at the first encounter between copy-captain and First Officer.

Spock, a veteran of dealing with duplicate captains at this point, gets the message loud and clear and beams down to the planet's surface…with armed escort.

Ah, there's an evil duplicate of the captain on the ship? It must be Tuesday."

Finally, we hit the climax. After seemingly failing to win Andrea as an ally with a kiss, Kirk convinces Ruk to disobey his programming and attack Korby. The doctor, without a second thought, zaps his thousand year old android with a phaser, poofing him from existence. Then Andrea zaps copy-Kirk because he won't kiss her like real-Kirk did, and he disappears. Then Kirk tries to wrestle the phaser from Korby and accidentally shoots Dr. Korby's hand, revealing him to be…an android all along! Who could have foreseen this??!

Andrea walks in and kisses Korby. The doctor, horrified that he has become more machine than man, and that Andrea has become more woman than machine, zaps both of them from existence.

The end.

Well, that was an experience. The editing, pacing, and writing for the episode were a complete mess. Still, there were elements that I absolutely loved. The costuming and sets were gorgeous. An expert combination of clever camera angles, colorful pink and purple lighting, and creatively designed walls really made you feel that the characters were in an otherworldly cave.

Everyone on the planet's surface shared an interesting motif in their clothes, and Andrea's outfit was so daring, I wouldn't be surprised if they needed a censor on set while filming! Still, my favorite costume was Ted Cassidy's — between his ominous makeup and his puffy sleeves and high collar, he really felt like something alien.

I also appreciated the acting, even if the actors didn't have much to work with. All of the android characters had a slightly flat affect to their deliveries that made them seem not quite human. Cassidy, as always, did a fantastic job. Shatner was weaker without any of his crew members to play off of, but he still did well differentiating between real Kirk and android Kirk.

Finally, the special effects were topnotch as always. We got the transporter effect and a few phaser beams, which never fail to amaze me, but we also got some incredibly effective split screens which actually made me forget the two Kirks were played by the same person!

So overall, I would say that this episode wasn't just bad, but hardly really felt like an episode at all. The premise and logic were completely internally inconsistent, and the main plot points don't hang together at all. However, I still enjoyed the show, because though the parts refused to fit together properly, they still had a lot of value on their own.

Three stars.

Wasted Potential

by Janice L. Newman

This episode was all over the place in terms of pacing. First, the mad scientist teases Kirk (and the audience) with some grand revelation, then the episode cuts directly to Kirk spinning naked on a giant turntable. Kirk’s message to Spock is cleverly done (and one of the best parts of the episode), but in the end, it makes no difference: Kirk convinces the androids with ‘logic’ and they mostly destroy each other after that point before Spock and his team can even arrive.

It’s a shame, because robot stories have a lot of potential. Between Asimov’s Robot stories, the recent deconstruction of same in Lester Del Rey’s A Code For Sam, and the use of robots in one of the current Space Patrol Orion episodes, metal men are a hot topic right now. Some of the nuanced takes from the early Star Trek episodes would have been interesting and welcome. For example, are the androids capable of independent thought and emotion? What are the moral implications of killing the androids, especially Ruk, who has been on the planet for centuries and is the last representative of a dead race? The androids’ plan to replace humans was obviously not desirable, but could the technology have been repurposed and used to better humankind?

Unfortunately, we didn’t get any thoughtful questions like these. Instead, we got a story in a traditional pulp mold with a newish villain: no bug-eyed aliens, but instead sinister machine-men. I can’t help but hope that the writers go back to storytelling that focuses on the gray areas instead of slam-bang black and white.

Two and a half stars.

Same ol', same ol'

by Gideon Marcus

I think my biggest problem with this episode is that we've seen so much of it before. Eccentric scientist on a remote planet shacked up with an alien being who doesn't want to be found? Check. Two Kirks? Check. A bleak, frigid planet festooned with styrofoam rocks? Check. Even the score seemed largely recycled from previous episodes. Added to that, the clunky pacing and the shallow treatment of potentially thought-provoking topics really dragged this episode into the lower tiers. It's not offensive, it's just not very good.

Kudos where they are deserved: lovely costume design (though I kept expecting Hoss Allen to come out and host The Beat!!! what with the blue and green motif.

The split-screen effects were particularly good, especially with the slanted table. Patty Duke could learn a thing or two (oh wait — she's been canceled).

Ted Cassidy was quite effective as Ruk, easily the most interesting part of the episode. Though I did keep expecting him to give his signature, "You raaang?" when he appeared. And I appreciated how quickly Spock deduced an imposter was on board. Coming on the heels of "The Enemy Within", there really would be no excuse otherwise.

So, better than "Mudd's Women", which I would have rated two stars. Let's call it two and a half, on par with "Where No Man Has Gone Before".

Distinguishing Features

by Erica Frank

In this episode, we see alien fashion disasters, two crewmember deaths, and a return of Shirtless Kirk. (Hurray!) We also get android love (or at least android emotions; it's all very confusing) and the continuation of the " barren landscape; underground dwelling with lumpy stone walls" motif for alien planets.

Let's make sure we cover the important parts of the episode.

My observations from this episode: Nurse Chapel seems like an open-minded, free-love kind of woman. Just a few episodes ago, she was declaring her deep and sincere love for Mr. Spock, and now we discover she's been engaged — and searching for her fiancé — this whole time! If Spock had been part of the landing party, she might've had some very interesting conversations with the both of them.

We did, however, get double shirtless Kirk. Double naked Kirk, in fact, when Doctor Korby throws him into the Carbon-Copy-o-Matic android machine and makes a copy of him, right down to his thoughts and memories.

Which one is the android? Spock will need to know; I'm not sure I care.

Other people have spoken about the plot, the characters, the pacing… which leaves me to mention the lighting, which was excellent, and the fashion choices, of which I have already provided the best in the show.

The lighting and scene direction was clear, showed faces well without obscuring the underground facilities, and made it very easy to follow what was happening. This is a nice change from episodes where it's either pulled back so far that you can't tell where the action is, or focused on two heads that might be anywhere, or dim and shadowed so you can't tell what's going on. The cinematography was excellent in this episode.

The costuming, though… Now I know why the crew members' uniforms change all the time. (Uhura's in red this week.) Obviously, the Terran government is trying to avoid whatever pitfalls destroyed the long-extinct alien races, and while they can't be certain that the aliens' taste in fashion was part of their destruction, they are taking no chances.

This, THIS, is supposed to be a representative of a race that conquered the very building blocks of matter and thought? They could create a whole society of whatever skills, talents, and physical abilities they needed, and this is how they chose to dress them?

Ruk's outfit isn't the only problematic one on the planet. Andrea-the-android was presumably clad to appeal to Dr. Korby. She wears a blue-and-black dress (if that's the word) that barely covers enough body parts to be legal to show on television. Really, this should've been the Enterprise crew's first clue that something was very wrong: unless they were sweltering in their uniforms, she should've been uncomfortable with that much skin showing.

Since it turned out the Korby we met was an android who cannot feel love or baser human urges, this must've been a remnant of the original Korby's interests.

Once we're all done reeling from the… interesting… clothing, we get to deal with the rest of the plot: they're all androids; Korby's gone mad and wants to take over the universe with more androids; Andrea's developing an unseemly level of emotions; Ruk is chasing Kirk through the caverns with intent to kill him, as he did with the two unsuspecting red-shirted crewmembers at the beginning of the episode.

Kirk hids from Ruk while holding a makeshift, err, weapon he's found in the caverns.

In the end, Kirk charms Andrea into turning on her associates; the power of Kirk Kisses is apparently stronger than android programming. Spock, of course, quickly identifies Robot Kirk and incapacitates him. By the end of the episode, all the androids are gone, and for reasons unknown, the Enterprise leaves with no mention of either acquiring or deliberately avoiding the amazing copy-android technology.

I would expect them to report the discovery to Earth to be studied by people less prone to become megalomaniacs. Even if the process cannot create a "soul," I would expect many people in similar circumstances to Korby — near death, badly injured or disabled — to have an interest in technology that could give extended life to their thoughts and memories. If nothing else, it would allow people to record their memoirs, complete their research projects, give messages to loved ones, and so on. I was surprised Kirk abandoned the machinery; I can imagine many good uses for such a device, and I expect that's exactly the kind of thing his "five-year mission" is intended to discover. Perhaps it was reported, and another crew, more scientifically oriented than set on exploration, will return to the planet to find out if it can be used without succumbing to the temptation to take over planets.

I agree with the comments above that say the episode was scattered. The action scenes were well-done, but the overall story and pacing jumped around too much. However, it was visually stunning, didn't involve evil mind-control, and brought up some interesting questions about the nature of humanity and the mind. Four stars: Three for the plot, characters, and direction, plus half a star for each naked Kirk.

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

Here's the invitation!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

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

October 20, 2021 Erica Frank 14 Comments

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!!)

Here's the invitation!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 16, 1966] Only the Lonely (November 1966 Fantastic)

October 16, 2021 Victoria Silverwolf 4 Comments

by Victoria Silverwolf
with apologies to Roy Orbison

Solitary Confinement

To be a citizen of a nation inside another nation must be a very lonely feeling. Italy contains two of these countries, the tiny nations of San Marino and Vatican City. A third member of that exclusive club came into existence on October 4, when the former British colony of Basutoland won full independence, changing its name to the Kingdom of Lesotho. Lesotho is completely surrounded by the nation of South Africa.

King Moshoehoe II, constitutional monarch of Lesotho.

A Song for the Sorrowful

You don't have to be living in any of those three countries to feel lonely, of course. People experiencing that painful emotion might obtain some solace from the current Number One song on the American popular music charts. The Four Tops have a smash hit with their powerful ballad Reach Out (I'll Be There), with lyrics that are clearly aimed at a lonesome listener.

They seem to be reaching out to the record buyer.

Fiction for the Forlorn

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic is full of stories featuring characters who are literally, or metaphorically, isolated.

Cover art by Bob Hilbreth, stolen from the December 1946 issue of Amazing Stories.

The original, illustrating a story that was part of the infamous Shaver Mystery.

Broken Image, by Thomas N. Scortia

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

The only new story in this issue features a protagonist who feels himself estranged from those around him, human or not.

His name is Baldur, and he has been surgically altered to resemble one of the humanoid aliens inhabiting a planet for which Earthlings have plans. It seems that humanity has evolved beyond sectarianism and violence, and seeks to bring the blessings of peace to other worlds.

(If I sound a little sarcastic, that's because the story's view of humanity is somewhat ambiguous. Baldur is completely loyal to the idea of Man as a perfect being, but his vision of the species is, as we'll see, a little distorted.)

One group of aliens oppresses another, going so far as to execute rebels in a particularly gruesome way.

Such as this.

The plan is to have Baldur act as a messiah for the lower class. Highly advanced technology allows him to perform healings and other miracles.

(At this point, you've probably figured out that Baldur is intended as a Christ figure. The oppressors are kind of like the Romans, the lower class is sort of like the Judeans, and so on. Given that analogy, some of what happens won't surprise you. The character's name also suggests an allusion to myths about the Norse god Baldr, sometimes spelled Balder or — a ha! — Baldur.)

There's a human woman, also in disguise, to help Baldur in his role as the savior of the oppressed. However, it turns out that she's hiding something from him, and that the folks in the starship orbiting the planet have schemes of which he is not aware.

This is a pretty good story, which held my interest all the way through. The Christian metaphor might be too blatant, and there's a twist ending that made me scratch my head. It explains why Baldur thinks of humanity as superior to other species, but I'm not sure if it really works.

(One interesting thing is that Baldur is not only physically changed, but mentally as well. His memories seem to be slightly distorted. Since we see everything from his point of view, although the story is told in third person, he serves as what some literary critics are starting to call an unreliable narrator. This all goes along with the twist ending.)

Three stars.

You're All Alone, by Fritz Leiber

Illustrations by Henry Sharp.

There's a title that suggests loneliness, for sure.

Before I get into the story itself, let me go over the rather complex history of the text. It seems that Leiber intended it to appear in Unknown, the fantasy magazine edited by John W. Campbell, Jr. as a companion to Astounding. Unknown died before the story could be published.

Leiber expanded the work from about forty thousand words to approximately seventy-five thousand, hoping to have a book publisher accept it as part of their fantasy line. The company stopped publishing fantasy before it sold.

Back to the drawing board! Leiber next sent it to Fantastic Adventures, who agreed to buy it if — guess what? — it was cut back to forty thousand words. It finally appeared in the July 1950 issue. That's the version that's been reprinted in the current issue of Fantastic.

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones.

We're not done yet! The seventy-five thousand word version wound up as one half of a double paperback, under the name The Sinful Ones. The publisher came up with the suggestive new title, altered the text slightly to make it racier, and added sexy chapter titles like The Strip Tease and Blonde Prostitute, trying to convince the reader that it was hot stuff.

Anonymous cover art. The companion novel, about a lady bullfighter, looks . . . interesting.

Back to the story itself. (At forty thousand words, it actually justifies, if just barely, its label by the magazine as a Complete Novel.)

Carr Mackay works at an employment agency in Chicago. A frightened young woman comes into his office, followed by a big blonde woman. The younger woman is obviously terrified of the blonde, but tries to ignore her. She talks to Carr, pretending to have a job interview, and asking him if he's one of them.

By the way, the blonde woman has a big, vicious, scary pet dog, but it's not anywhere near as large as shown in this illustration, or the cover of Fantastic Adventures!

Before leaving, she scribbles a note warning him to watch out for the blonde and her two male companions, and leaving a cryptic message to meet her at a certain location if he wants to learn more.

Of course, this all sounds like the paranoid ravings of a lunatic. Things get weirder when the blonde slaps the young woman across the face, and she forces herself not to react. Then a co-worker shows up, acting as if he's introducing Carr to somebody, but there's nobody there. Some kind of practical joke?

It's hard to deny that something strange is going on when Carr shows up at his girlfriend's place, and she goes through the motions of greeting and kissing him, but he's not where she apparently thinks he is. She ignores the real Carr, and continues to interact with an imaginary one.

She should really be smooching the empty air instead of a ghostly figure, but that's artistic license for you.

Although he's reluctant to accept the truth, Carr realizes that almost all humans are mindless automatons, just going through the motions like wind-up toys. Only a very few, like the young woman, the blonde and her companions, and himself, are conscious beings. He meets with the woman, leading to dangerous encounters with sinister folks and wild adventures in a world full of clockwork people and those who take advantage of the situation.

A moment of happiness in a public library after hours. I like the subtle hint that the light above their heads is an eye watching them.

The premise is a fascinating one, and the author conveys it in a convincing manner. There's some philosophical depth to the idea, too. Who among us hasn't felt like a cog in a big machine? It moves very quickly, almost like a Keith Laumer novel. (Maybe the longer version allows for more exploration of the concept.)

I could quibble that not everything about the plot is completely logical. Inanimate objects sometimes act as if they're part of the mindless mechanism of life, and sometimes don't. The conscious people are able to knock off the hats of the automatons, for example, and steal their drinks, but the keys of a piano move by themselves when the person supposed to be playing them isn't there.

The floating hands are more artistic license.

Despite this tiny flaw, and the fact that the ending seems rushed, it's an enjoyable short novel. As you'd expect from Leiber, it's well-written. As a bonus, it provides a vivid portrait of the city of Chicago, in all its bright and dark aspects.

Four stars.

Breakfast at Twilight, by Philip K. Dick

Cover art by Clarence Doore.

From the July 1954 issue of Amazing Stories comes this tale of a family isolated from their own time.

Anonymous illustration.

Mom, Dad, and three kids are enjoying a typical morning at home, although there's some kind of fog or smoke outside, and the radio isn't working. The lone boy heads off for school, but quickly comes back. There are soldiers everywhere blocking his way.

It turns out that their home is now seven years in the future. The Cold War has heated up, leading to a dystopian society. (Apparently a bomb caused the time travel effect.) The soldiers are stunned to see a woman and children out in the open, and are even more amazed at the food available in the house.

A political officer (another sign that the United States government has become authoritarian, along with the casually mentioned book burning) suggests that they wait for another bomb to send them back to their own time.

Although the plot is simple enough for an episode of Twilight Zone, this is a powerful story, sending a clear warning of the dangers of escalating world conflicts. (The theme seems even more relevant today, with the situation in Vietnam, than it did just after the Korean War.)

Four stars.

Scream at Sea, by Algis Budrys

Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

The January-February 1954 issue of the magazine provides this example of extreme loneliness.

Illustrations by Ernie Barth.

A man survives an explosion that destroys his ship. He manages to hang on to a piece of the vessel that's got some canned ham and water, so it serves him as a sort of raft. The ship's cat happens to escape the disaster as well.

The only other character in the story.

The author manages to create a true sense of isolation and desperation. It's not a bad piece, but there isn't a trace of science fiction or fantasy at all! There's a twist in the tail that would have been more appropriate for Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine than Fantastic.

(By the way, the editor's blurbs for the last two stories are backwards! I guess that's a sign of how little the publisher cares for these poorly funded magazines full of unpaid reprints.)

Three stars.

Edgar Rice Burroughs: The Artists Behind Him, by Anonymous

Serving as a coda is this portfolio of illustrations for stories by ERB that appeared in Amazing years ago.

For The Land That Time Forgot (1918, reprinted 1927), illustration by Frank R. Paul.

Same credits as above.

For The City of the Mummies (1941), illustration by J. Allen St. John.

For Black Pirates of Barsoom, same year, same artist.

For Goddess of Fire, same year, same artist.

I don't have much to say about these old-fashioned pictures. They're OK.

Three stars.

Some Solace For Solitude

If you're feeling lonesome, picking up a copy of this issue might provide some relief for a few hours. All the stories are worth reading, and a couple of them are better than average. If that doesn't raise your spirits sufficiently, visiting your neighbors might do the trick.

That astronaut won't be lonely. Cartoon by Frosty from the same issue as the Budrys story.

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Galactic Journey

Tag Archives: science fiction

[November 20 1966] Doctor…Who? (Doctor Who: The Power Of The Daleks [Part 1])

[November 14, 1966] Star Trek: "The Corbomite Maneuver"

[November 12, 1966] A Family Tradition (December 1966 Galaxy)

[November 10, 1966] Star Trek: "Dagger of the Mind"

[November 4, 1966] Star Trek: "Miri"

[November 2, 1966] An Ending? (Doctor Who: The Tenth Planet)

[October 31, 1966] Respite from the horror (November 1966 Analog Science Fiction)

[October 26, 1966] Star Trek: "What are Little Girls Made of?")

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

[October 16, 1966] Only the Lonely (November 1966 Fantastic)

55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction