Saturday, October 16, 2010

CULT MOVIE REVIEW: Ticked-Off Trannies with Knives (2010)

You just know that any film featuring a character named Helluva-Bottom Carter is really going for the gusto...  

And Ticked-Off Trannies with Knives (2010) -- a recent fave of the film circuit and the scourge of GLAAD (an organization which protested the film during its premiere at this year's Tribeca Film Festival...) -- certainly goes for the gusto. 

What that means is that this low-budget Israel Luna film is gleefully politically incorrect in the presentation of a 1970s, grindhouse-styled "rape and revenge" story.  The film casts a wide net of intentional inappropriateness, lobbing joke-bombs at everyone from trannies to rednecks to those with speech impediments. 

It may not be nice and it may not be correct, but in an increasingly homogenized Hollywood -- where movies are focus-grouped and test-screened until no rough edges are left -- this throw-caution-to-the-wind approach pays homage to the decorum-shattering, taboo-busting essence of 1970s exploitationers.   For instance, the filmmaker's approach to characters here reminded me a little of the indecorous way that Tobe Hooper depicted a handicapped character, Franklin, in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

You just don't see something like that every day, and especially not in this century.

Ticked-Off Trannies with Knives kicks off with an inspirational quotation from Helen Keller (which I suspected was apocryphal...but isn't), then follows five immensely likable Transsexual "ladies," -- Bubbles, Rachel Slur, Pinky La Trimm, Emma Grashun (who just arrived in the country...) and Tipper Somemore -- as they run afoul of a redneck rapist named Boner and his evil minions. This creepy cracker lures the trannies to an out-of-the-way warehouse one night, and then pulls a Last House on the Left-styled assault on Bubbles and the others....with a baseball bat as his weapon of choice.

The remainder of the film finds the survivors of that violent attack launching a revenge campaign against their tormentor, a revenge campaign highlighting switch-blades and other sharp, bladed objects inserted in places where...well, where the sun don't shine.

Ticked-off Trannies with Knives starts off really, really well, introducing theTrannie characters with sharp dialogue, real wit, and strong characterizations.  There's one scene set at a club called "Weenieland" that ably and humorously expresses the existential dilemma of Trannydom: they want to be in relationships with straight-seeming men; but straight-seeming men don't like, well...dick.

In this and the other excellent inaugural sequences -- which raise the specter of contemporary society's seemingly-routine violence against those who are different -- you really grow to like the titular characters.  In particular, Willam Belli -- playing Rachel Slur -- is a stand-out in the cast, perfectly walking a delicate tightrope between dopey earnestness and catty sarcasm.  Every time Belli's Slur is on-screen, the movie works on all cylinders.  The film's lead, Bubbles (Krystal Summers) also does a terrific job anchoring the material; playing the scenes for their organic worth and not attempting to ramp up the campiness or humor quotient just for the sake of getting a laugh.

Filmed in garish, even lurid light and showcasing frequent scratches and jumps in the print, Ticked-Off Trannies with Knives often works overtime to re-create the cheapo vibe of disco-decade grindhouse films.  Unfortunately, it also over-uses the "missing reel" gag (also seen in Tarantino's Grindhouse) and almost uniformly lacks the oppressive sense of danger, pacing and urgency that made efforts like the aforementioned Last House on the Left (1972) or I Spit on Your Grave (1978) such bracing, lightning-rod landmarks of the form.

The well-crafted first act of Ticked-off Trannies with Knives gives way, alas, to a scattershot, disappointing second act that highlights some weak, jokey performances (notably from an actor portraying a doctor). 

Instead of authentically developing the traumatized characters and their dilemma after Boner's vicious first attack, Trannies instead relies on easy fart jokes from the fat tranny, and makes a mockery of the film's "reality" with an off-tone scene involving the martial arts training of the wronged gals by a campy, silly fellow named Fergus (Richard Curtin).  Again, a single performance almost sinks the whole enterprise.

In this interlude, the likable, put-upon Trannies hardly seem to take notice that two of their number are dead, murdered. They don't even craft a plan of revenge on their own.  Instead, Fergus telephones them out-of-the-blue and leads them down the path of revenge.  It's a tonal and narrative misstep.

To put it another way, the first act of the film features funny characters who exist -- more or less -- in a real, believable world, even if it is a 1970s-styled exploitation, Russ Meyer-inspired world.  But then the movie slips into unbelievable and broad Airplane-styled antics in the second act, so you can't take the characters or their world seriously.  The suspension of disbelief is sacrificed and -- there's no other way to say it -- the second act is an unmitigated disaster.

The movie veers back on-message for its final, brutal (and brutally funny) third act, but by then, all of the energy and pace is totally evaporated.  What you're ultimately left with then, is a movie that is occasionally funny, often wicked, but which ultimately fails to cohere into any kind of meaningful or affecting story. 

And that's a shame, because there's so much promise here, from the way the film uses 1970s female icons (with mentions of Farrah Fawcett and Lindsey Wagner), to the movie's final, questioning take on vengeance...noted, ironically, post-vengeance. 

Also, as I've noted above, the performers here are uniformly good.  I wished the movie had met their efforts half-way and aimed for a little more consistency of mood and in narrative approach.  These actors (actresses?) clearly have the right stuff to mold real characters and not just one-note jokes, and the movie should have had the courage and artistry to let them do just that.

I once shared a convention panel with one of my favorite film critics, Maryann Johanson -- The Flick Filosopher -- and she memorably noted that as much as a critic might want to, he or she can't award a movie "an A for effort."  I've never forgotten that axiom, and I kept remembering it while watching Ticked-off Trannies with Knives

Everyone clearly had a good time making this film, and there's a lot of raucous, wild energy evident in the proceedings.  The movie has a lot of highs, but some real lows too, particularly in that momentum-killing second act.

So "A for effort" and all, but Ticked off Trannies with Knives needs a little more duct tape in the right places to honestly be judged a good movie.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Sci-Fi on Trial: A Survey of Crime and Punishment in the Cult TV Legal System

Order in the Court! Intergalactic crime and punishment, on Justice League.

It's an odd thing to consider, but Perry Mason (1957-1966) -- a golden age TV series involving a 20th century defense attorney played by Raymond Burr -- has perhaps proven one of the biggest and long-lasting influences on science fiction TV series.

Specifically, just about every cult TV series in history has, at one time or another, put its heroic lead character on trial. 

Through almost universally wrongly accused (President Baltar excluded, of course...), some of these unfortunate souls have even negotiated alien and draconian brands of justice and punishment.

Seeing so many episodes featuring sci-fi heroes standing trial, decade-after-decade, franchise after franchise, I began to wonder about the "why."   Is it just the fact that court-room drama is intertwined with mystery...and who doesn't love a good mystery?

Or has the sci-fi court room drama become a staple of the genre because we all wonder about the shape of justice in our future, a future of new breakthroughs, no doubt.  Since sci-fi deals with technology and with shifting senses of morality, the sci-fi "crime and punishment" episodes from various programs really get to the heart of human nature and the human quest for justice. 

Humanity Fading in the Shadow of the Machine: Star Trek's "Court Martial"

A court room of the 23rd Century.
I'll start this survey with the original Star Trek (1966 - 1969), created by Gene Roddenberry. 

In the first season of the original series, in an episode entitled "Court Martial" Captain Kirk (William Shatner) is tried by Starfleet Command. 

The charge is criminal negligence in the death of a crewman named Ben Finney (Richard Webb). 

The ensuing trial is prosecuted by Kirk's old girlfriend, Areel Shaw (Joan Marshall), though certainly she should have recused herself, given the nature of the relationship with the defendant. 

During the course of the trial, Shaw presents incontrovertible computer evidence against the good captain.  Kirk choked at a crucial moment, according to the computer testimony, and ejected Finney's pod before a true emergency existed...thus killing Finney. The cost of this error: Kirk's command.

But the beleaguered Captain Kirk retains a delightful, book-loving defense attorney named Cogley (Elisha Cook) -- think of a "cog" in a wheel -- who dynamically makes the case about Kirk's primary accuser, an inhuman, unfeeling computer.  He puts a stop to the steam-roller of injustice by throwing himself into the proceedings.

"The Bible, The Code of Hammurabi, and of Justinian, Magna Carta, The Constitution of the United States, Fundamental Declarations of the Martian Colonies, The Statutes of Alpha III. Gentlemen, these documents all speak of rights," Cogley asserts in a dramatic presentation.  "Rights of the accused to a trial by his peers, to be represented by counsel, the right of cross-examination. But most importantly, the right to be confronted by the witnesses against him; a right to which my client has been denied.

Furthermore, Cogley states: "I speak of rights! A machine has none. A man must. My client has the right to face his accuser, and if you do not grant him that right, you have brought us down to the level of the machine! Indeed, you have elevated that machine above us! I ask that my motion be granted. And more than that, gentlemen. In the name of Humanity, fading in the shadow of the machine, I demand it. I demand it!"

"Humanity fading in the shadow of the machine," that's what this futuristic tale of the legal system is really all about; the notion that our technology -- even in the happy Starfleet of the 23d century -- is on the verge of diminishing us; diminishing the human race. 

Though later Star Treks have by and large abandoned this conceit in favor of "Technology Unchained", the Original Series of the 1960s frequently involved planetary cultures "controlled" by computers, and the resulting enslavement of the human populations at those locales ("Return of the Archons," "The Apple," "For The World is Hollow and I have Touched the Sky.") 

On occasions such as "Court Martial," and later "The Ultimate Computer," Kirk's position as starship captain is explicitly threatened by technology, by "the machine."  The specific question of "Court Martial" is one that it is not hard to imagine in our near-future.  Who programs the computers that might be used to give testimony against us?   What are their agendas, and do the computers reflect those agendas?  Computers can be manipulated -- if there's a will, there's a way -- so who is to say they can bear impartial witness?  Just because a machine lacks emotions and subjective, "human" attachments, that does not mean it can detect the truth; or prove objective.  Does it?

Star Trek returned to the milieu of the legal trial for the two-parter "The Menagerie," which saw Mr. Spock threatened with the last death penalty still on Starfleet books.  There was another trial too, in "Turnabout Intruder," during which Spock was tried for mutiny when a usurper, Janet Lester, appropriated Kirk's body.  Even Scotty (James Doohan) himself was accused of murder, and required defense, in the second season episode of the series, "Wolf in the Fold."

In these cases, the court-room milieu was largely utilized as a means to leading viewers through a dramatic mystery.  Why would an advanced society still have the death penalty on the books?  Encoded in the answer we learn what Starfleet and the Federation deeply fears, and where it expects to experience that fear, Talos IV. 

In the case of "Wolf in the Fold," Mr. Scott is held in custody and Kirk must prove his innocence, but again, it's a mean to an end, a "whodunit."  In this case, the culprit is actually Jack the Ripper and -- surprise -- he gets inside the Enterprise's main computer...where he can really do damage. Once more, technology proves the focal point for conflict; whether threatening Kirk's command or housing the Eternal Spirit of Evil.

Past and Precedent: Battlestar Galactica and "Murder on the Rising Star."

Solon (Brock Peters) vs. Boomer (Herb Jefferson, Jr.)
Glen Larson's Battlestar Galactica (1978 - 1979) postulated alien "brothers of Man" from a distant galaxy. 

These humans hailed from a system of Twelve Colonies, and considered Earth to be the lost Thirteenth Colony.  In other words, as expressed by the series, the Colonials and the Terrans share a common, root culture. 

This conceit or leitmotif is played throughout the series with names of people, places and technology that suggest a shared mythology or history.  Characters are named Adama ("First Man"), Apollo (after the Greek God), etc.  Villains are named Lucifer, Iblis and Baltar (after Baal).

In "Murder on the Rising Star," which first aired on ABC on February 18, 1979, the Colonial legal system is displayed for the first and only time on the space opera series.  In particular, Lt. Starbuck (Dirk Benedict) is accused of murdering Wing Sergeant Ortega (Frank Ashmore) after a game of triad, and prosecuted by the most experienced "Opposer" in the fleet, Solon (Brock Peters).  Apollo (Richard Hatch) and Boomer (Herb Jefferson Jr.) act as Starbuck's defense team ("Defenders") while Commander Adama (Lorne Greene) acts as the judge in the case.

What's most interesting in this "mystery" about who really killed Ortega is, again, how that conceit of connecting Earth mythology to our "Brothers" in space is applied.  For instance, Solon is a famous name from Greek history.  The archon Solon, who lived cira 600 BC was known as one of the Seven Wise Men of Ancient Greece, remembered for ending enslavement as a means of paying debt, and for splitting the Athenian population into four classes based on wealth.   Importantly, Solon was also a lawmaker presiding over Athens in a time of perceived moral bankruptcy or decline.

In "Murder on the Rising Star," this Solon has taken on the task of punishing the guilty, those who have transgressed against the moral code of the Colonies.  Unfortunately, he targets the wrong man, and Starbuck is guilty.  The idea here is of Solon as perhaps too zealous a crusader against moral bankruptcy.

Also, as I pointed out in my book, An Analytical Guide to Battlestar Galactica, the solution to the mystery in "Murder of the Rising Star" involves landing Starback between two criminals: Baltar and a man named Charybdis, another name from Greek myth.  In myth, Charybdis was a treacherous whirlpool which devoured any and all unsuspecting sea vessels that happened by.  In this case, Charybdis is just as destructive a personal force: a man who hatches a scheme for murder and nearly takes down the innocent Starbuck with him.

Finally, this episode of Battlestar Galactica today plays as very cliched.  For instance, Commander Adama. sitting as a judge, even gets to say that Starbuck's defense (as managed by Apollo) is "highly irregular" that wonderfully cliched line of all TV and movie judges, through the last hundred years of cinema and television.

Testifying Against Yourself: Buck Rogers and "Testimony of a Traitor."

Buck Rogers' memories are used against him in a court of the future.
 An episode of the second season of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (1979-1981) reveals that due process, and specifically the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution don't survive beyond the Holocaust in the year 1987. 

The Fifth Amendment declares, in part, that  no person "shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself," and that's the portion I shall refer to here.

In "Testimony of a Traitor," a twentieth century videotape found in the ruins of Anarchia incriminates Buck Rogers (Gil Gerard), suggesting that he was actually part of a cabal of nuclear hawks in the 1980s and therefore played a critical and specific role in starting World War III. 

Aboard the Searcher, no one believes that Buck could be responsible for genocide, but the videotape seems convincing.  To clear his name, Buck uses Dr. Goodfellow's (Wilfrid Hyde-White)  "memory probes" to determine what happened to him, and his own memories are used as evidence against him on trial -- actually played on the screen as if a live video feed  This is a clear violation of the principle of the Fifth Amendment, but I guess Buck didn't have many options left.

In the end, Buck's memories reveal that he was actually a double-agent, infiltrating the cabal at the behest of the U.S. president, and all charges against Buck were subsequently dropped.  But still, he bears witness against himself, appearing guilty, until the trial "reaches" the memories that prove exculpatory.

"If Men Don't Trust Each Other, This Earth Might As Well be Hell: Star Trek visits the Planet Rashomon.

Even in the 24th century, truth is a matter of perspective.

One of best the most influential Japanese films of the twentieth century is Rashomon (1950), directed by the legendary Akira Kurosawa.

The film tells the tale of two terrible, criminal acts: the rape and murder of a woman, and the ensuing death of her samurai husband.  During the course of the film, the events of the rape and possible murder are recounted four times, from  four different perspectives.

The first time the story is depicted, we see it as the bandit (Toshiro Mifune) -- the accused -- remembers the events. 

The next time,  the rape victim, the samurai's wife, recounts the story as she remembers it. 

Then, oddly, the story is recounted a third time by a supernatural medium who claims to be channeling the Samurai's spirit.  Finally, a kindly woodcutter -- a legtimate eyewitness -- tells the story, in the least biased presentation of the bunch.

One of the great and enduring qualities of Rashomon is that it artfully suggests that there is no such thing as objective truth.  Eyewitnesses may be more or less impartial, but in the final analysis, everyone is a prisoner to his or her own sense of perspective.  We all view the world through our own eyes, and we cannot escape that limited viewpoint, no matter how hard we try.  The stories depicted in the film are personal accounts that may be lies, but may also, simply, be how the percipients remembered them.  Those memories may be self-serving, but aren't all memories, at least to some degree, self serving?

In its third season, Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987 - 1994)  unexpectedly adapted Rashomon to its format as an epiosde titled "A Matter of Perspective."    Here, jovial Commander Riker (Jonathan Frakes) is accused of murder after a visit to Botanica Four, a research space station over Tanuga Four.  The victim is Dr. Apgar, who dies in an explosion right after Riker departs the facility.

Captain Picard takes up Riker's defense, and the story of Riker's visit to the station -- and his alleged entanglemant with Apgar's wife, Manua -- is recreated several times using that wonder of Star Trek technology, the holodeck

In this case, we get the testimony of Cmdr. Riker, Dr. Apgar, and his female assistant.  But disappointingly, and rather determinedly unlike the cinematic source material, the mystery on TNG is resolved without real questions of viewpoint or world view. We learn that one man. the victim (Apgar), was duplicitous and corrupt,  and that he brought on his unfortunate death himself. 

Accordingly, the "lesson" of Rashomon is lost here and easy, spoon-fed answers substituted for human truth.  But at the very least, "A Matter of Perspective" suggests an interesting new technology to be used in court rooms: virtual reality re-creations, like those seen on the Enterprise holodeck.  In this manner -- with the right data input (though it could be suspect, as "Court Martial" suggests) -- a crime scene and indeed a crime itself could be re-created for juries and judges.

Other series over the years have also seen heroes entangled in difficult, alien-seeming court-room systems.  In the mid-1980s, Colin Baker's Sixth Doctor was tried by the Gallifreyans -- his own Time Lord people -- in the season-long Dr. Who serial "The Trial of a Time Lord."  There, he was prosecuted by a twisted future incarnation of himself, "The Valeyard" (Michael Jayston).  It turns out, the Doctor is actually being framed for a crime committed by his people, and his old enemy the Master proves to have some knowledge of that in a later episode.  Interestingly, and in keeping with his Time Lord nature, the Doctor presents as exculpatory evidence an adventure from the future; one that has not yet occurred ("Terror of the Vervoids.")

Green Lantern, John Stewart, was similarly famed for a crime he did not commit -- the destruction of a planet -- in the November 19, 2001 Justice League episode "In Blackest Night."  As is often the case in these court-room stories, one of the accused's most staunch allies plays the critical role of attorney/defender.  We have seen Captain Apollo, Captain Picard and other heroes take this particular assignment, and in this superhero episode, it is The Flash who serves as John's attorney and tries save his friend from a frame-up and conspiracy.

In 1994, Star Trek Deep Space Nine also featured an episode about a court-room trial, "Tribunal."  There, Chief O'Brien (Colm Meaney) ran afoul of the Cardassian legal system, a Kafka-esque labyrinth in which the edict "guilty until proven innocent" thrives. 

Again, a heroic Starfleet officer, Commander Sisko (Avery Brooks) stepped in to prevent a miscarriage of justice and defend his friend.  And -- as in the case of Starbuck and Green Lantern -- it was learned that O'Brien had been framed. 

Just once, wouldn't it be cool to find out that a Starfleet Officer or other white knight really was guilty of the crime he had been accused of?

Perhaps one of the best uses of the trial, court-room format came in the year 2002 as Chris Carter triumphantly ended his long-running series, The X-Files.  There, in the final episode, "The Truth," Carter used the milieu of the court room (and Fox Mulder's trial) to link together almost ten years of clues, events and characters from the program's intricate conspiracy. 

 Rather than merely being a clip show or obvious rehash, "The Truth" proved an elegant summation of the players, plots and possibilities fans had speculated about across the program's long and decorous run.  And, delightfully, the episode didn't end with Mulder acquitted and all charges dropped...but  rather with him on the run from authorities (at least until I Want to Believe, in 2008).

Much of this essay has involved the trials and legal defensess of characters like Kirk, Buck Roger, Starbuck, Green Lantern and Fox Mulder, but the title of this survey involves "crime" and "punishment," and there have certainly been some interesting, imaginative "sentences" carried out in the history of sci-fi TV too.


The Twilight Zone (1959): "The Lonely." - A man named James Corry (Jack Warden) is sentenced to lifelong solitary confinement on the uninhabited world of Ceres.  Rod Serling describes the planet as a "dungeon made out of mountains, salt flats and sand that stretch to infinity."  Eventually, Corry's exile ends, and he is to be taken home to Earth, but in the meantime, he must say farewell to a beautiful android who helped him pass the time, portrayed by Jean Marsh.

Doctor Who: (1969):  "The War Games:" - The second incarnation of the doctor (Patrick Troughton) is stripped of his very life at the hands of the fearsome Time Lords, and forced to regenerate (into Jon Pertwee).  His companions are sent away to their various times, and the Doctor is exiled to Earth in the twentieth century for a time.

Space:1999 (1976): "The Rules of Luton" - On a distant world of intelligent (but blood-thirsty...) plants, Maya (Catherine Schell) and Commander Koenig are convicted of homicide after accidentally picking a berry ("Murderers!") and -- as sentence for their transgression -- they forced to compete in a battle with three other humanoid criminals from space. This is a variation of the Fredric Brown short-story, "Arena," also seen as "Fun and Games" on The Outer Limits and "Arena" on Star Trek (and recently used again as the basis for Predators [2010]).

V: The Series (1985): "The Champion:"  Following the murder of the V leader, Charles (Duncan Regher), suspects Diana (Jane Badler) and Lydia (June Chadwick) realize they could both be buried alive in his casket with him -- afloat in space forever with the rotting corpse -- unless a "patsy" is set-up and convicted.

The Outer Limits: (1994): "The Sentence."  This 1994 episode of the popular anthology remake sees the invention of a "virtual prison," an incarceration which lasts seconds but which, to the person imprisoned, seems togo on for a real lifetime.  The episode speculated about the idea that in this case, the legal punishment in fact becomes a crime against humanity.

Ex Post Facto: Does the punishment fit the crime?
Star Trek: Voyager: (1995): "Ex Post Facto."  Lt. Tom Paris (Robert Duncan McNeil) is accused and convicted of murder on the Delta Quadrant planet called Banea.  His punishment is strange and draconian. 

Once every twenty-four hours,Paris is forced to relive in his mind's eye the last memories from his victim's life.  In other words, he must relive being murdered -- apparently by his own hand -- again and again, every day, for the rest of his life.  Excessive or just?

Deep Space Nine: (1996): "Hard Time."  Much like The Outer Limits story, "The Sentence," this episode finds Chief O'Brien (why is it always Chief O'Brien?") tried and convicted of a crime on the planet Argrathia.  As is custom there, O'Brien is sentenced and forced to endure a virtual twenty-year sentence in his mind.  He is nearly overcome with guilt during his mental sentence, and emerges from the experience depressed and even suicidal.

There are many, many more examples of sci-fi trials and criminal sentences/punishments in sci-fi history, and I invite you to add some of your favorite episodes of the form in the comments.  In the meantime, it's useful, perhaps to consider the questions all these episodes raise.

What is the best way to determine a person's guilt?  What role should new technology play?  And what is the best way to "punish" the guilty in the name of justice?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Dark Skies to be De-classified on DVD

My buddy in California, Fred, just made me aware of this interesting upcoming release.  TV Shows on DVD announces the impending "de-classification" of the 1996 NBC conspiracy/alien series, Dark Skies.

From the site:

In 1996, television audiences were introduced to John Loengard (Eric Close) and Kimberly Sayers (Megan Ward), two heroic freedom fighters charged with the unearthly task of protecting humanity against an alien infestation known as the Hive, while showing us - through their own experiences and actions - the truth behind our own recent past. Call it alternative history, or call it the unthinkable truth. Either way, call it...Dark Skies.

NBC's mid-90s scifi drama comes home to DVD at last, thanks to Shout! Factory's now-officially-scheduled release of Dark Skies - The Declassified Complete Series. This 6-disc set will land on January 18th, with every episode from the show's run including the feature-length pilot, "The Awakening". Shout! will announce the bonus material for this set at a future date, but we know they are working hard to include as many extras as possible on this long-awaited set (and yes, they are already aware that one of the items fans would love to have included is the alternate "international cut" of the pilot telefilm)...stay tuned for the final word on the supplements!

Here's my my review of the series, from a cult-tv flashback:

"Here’s a decent a science fiction TV effort from the 1990s that probably didn’t get the love it deserved during its original network broadcast. In fact, the expensive, highly-promoted Dark Skies suffered cancellation after a pilot and just nineteen hour-long episodes aired on NBC.

Variety termed Dark Skies “shamelessly derivative” of the X-Files and The Invaders, while The Skeptical Enquirer dubbed the series a “clone” of Chris Carter’s series. Entertainment Weekly noted Dark Skies boasted “amazing gall” and concluded that the sci-fi proceedings -- if not laughable -- were “at least snickerable.”

The tantalizing premise of Dark Skies is that – simply stated – American history as we have learned it and experienced it is a sham. It's nothing but a carefully-constructed confabulation. Assassinations, natural disasters, presidential elections, economic upheavals and foreign wars are all merely the cover story for something else, something far more sinister.

In particular, these turbulent events are the results of the American government’s pitched battle against a malevolent extra-terrestrial alien collective consciousness known as “The Hive.”

Battling the Hive is a dedicated, secret American military organization called SHADO.

No, just kidding.

The secret organization is “Majestic 12,” led by Captain Frank Bach (the late J.T. Walsh). Bach’s agency was formed after the Roswell encounter in 1947, and on Dark Skies it was operating well into the 1960s. Like Commander Straker before him, Bach wasn’t interested in pursuing half-measures or courtesies. His mission was to save America from evil aliens. Pure and simple. This mission made him both a patriot and a zealot.

But Bach isn’t even the central figure in the series. Rather, Dark Skies focuses on two idealistic young college graduates who have come to serve in the Kennedy Administration in Washington D.C. during the Age of Camelot: John Loengard (Eric Close) and Kim Sayers (Megan Ward).

These youngsters arrive in DC full of hope and can-do optimism, planning to make their mark on the planet...and the future. They learn in short order of secret conspiracies and corruption, both alien and human. Their discovery -- their unwitting ‘awakening’ from dreamy Camelot -- echoes a very real disillusionment and disappointment that grew up in youthful America after the Kennedy assassination and led to the Vietnam War Era. Dreams die hard.

Over the course of the series, John and Kim travel across these great United States attempting to stop the grand alien invasion plan, and occasionally curb Bach’s worst civil-liberty-crushing excesses. Various Dark Skies episodes involve the Kennedy Assassination, The Warren Commission and even the Watts riot.

On their travels, John and Kim encounter famous historical figures such as Howard Hughes (“Dreamland”), Gerald Ford (“The Warren Omission”), The Beatles (“Dark Day’s Night”) Timothy Leary (“Bloodlines”) and even alien abductees Barney and Betty Hill (“The Awakening.”)

Dark Skies producer James Parriott described the series with this phrase: “Our future’s happening in our past.”

I enjoyed that idea very much, and felt that the period-piece aspect of the series successfully differentiated Dark Skies from The X-Files. Also, Dark Skies featured a continuing enemy: the alien hive. The X-Files (beautifully) alternated between aliens, genetic freaks, serial killers and other antagonists. So I don’t necessarily view Dark Skies as a direct copy except in the most superficial matters. For instance, John and Kim “investigate” cases together like Mulder and Scully, and there’s an overriding conspiracy...

One other notable difference: Dark Skies never evidenced the sense of humor that The X-Files so intelligently cultivated. All in all, It was a rather…dour program.

Dark Skies also underwent an unnecessary cast shift about half-way through the run of twenty episodes. A pre-Seven-of-Nine Jeri Ryan joined the cast as Juliet Stuart -- a no-nonsense but very sexy Majestic agent -- starting in the episode "The Warren Omission."

Abducted by the Hive, Kim Sayers' just....disappeared. The character was all-but-abandoned for the remainder of the program's run. She returned briefly as an alien agent, but the shift never quite felt right. The casting change simply smacked of desperation: the shuffling of deck chairs on the Titanic. Especially since there was incipient sexual tension between Loengard and Juliet. That facet of their relationship felt highly inappropriate, given the tragedy that had occurred to Kim, the love of Loengard's life.

Still, there's much to appreciate in Dark Skies. The idea that the sixties were so turbulent because of the Hive is one that's fun to speculate about. And also, there's a good subtext here that these alien invaders are communists. "We have no color. We have no conflict," one alien tells Loengard in an episode set in Mississippi at the height of the Civil Rights Movement.

Also, the production values of Dark Skies are absolutely top-notch, and the series features the occasional harrowing horror scene (like the forced expulsion of an alien "ganglion" from a human being, during the pilot.)

Dark Skies was extremely popular in Europe in the nineties, and it developed a small but dedicated cult following here in the States.

The final episode of the series, "Bloodlines" featured a voice over narration from an elderly Leongard informing viewers that the alien menace had finally been beaten. It was a stopgap measure to be certain, a stop-gap attempt to bring some closure to a series destined never to return.

But still, you can't help but feel watching Dark Skies that there was a lot of life left in the premise, even with the wrong-headed cast changes.

After all, we haven't run out of interesting American history yet, have we?"

The Cult-TV Faces of: The Host