60 Years Ago: The Time Tunnel: "Rendezvous with Yesterday"

"Two American scientists are lost in the swirling maze of past and future ages, during the first experiments on America's greatest and most secret project...the Time Tunnel..."

-opening narration to Irwin Allen's temporal opus, The Time Tunnel (1966-1967)

Love him or hate him, it's fair to state that producer Irwin Allen boasted a unique and distinctive take on science fiction television throughout the 1960s. His genre programs are undeniably kiddie-oriented, but they also reflect (in an almost reflexive, unthinking way...) a major philosophical conflict of the epoch.

In particular, Allen's adventurous cathode ray tube fantasies straddled the line between almost hysterical "techno-phobia" -- the fear that new inventions (like nuclear weapons or computers) would annihilate us outright, or at least put us out of work -- and, oppositely, the age's burgeoning Camelot/Kennedy-style "can do" optimism. This was, after all, the dawning of the Apollo Age; a period in which America's space program would achieve what was once believed impossible: a trip to the moon.
If you gaze across the wide array of Allen's TV programming from this age, you can detect how this unusual conflict plays out in various forms and colors. In Lost in Space (1965-1968), the future man of 1997 was able to reach the stars in advanced spaceships (such as the Jupiter 2) and build robots with human personality and individuality, but the first space flight also became hopelessly and irrevocably lost in the stars.

In Land of the Giants (1968 - 1970), the same conflict between techno-phobia and techno confidence was also present. In that series, man has developed (by the far-flung year of 1983...) high-tech "sub-orbital" spaceships like The Spindrift...but it still plows through a storm and ends up marooned on a planet of giants.

And in The Time Tunnel (1966-1967) -- which has aptly been described as "Lost in Time" -- mankind has developed the technology to conduct time travel at a top-secret facility (a huge subterranean complex in the Arizona desert...). 

But the behemoth, when activated, almost immediately misplaces two scientists (Dr. Doug Phillips and Dr. Tony Newman) in the corridors of time. 

Permanently.

On one hand: technological achievement and advancement. 

On the other, technological terror plus error. 

What these Irwin Allen speculative programs seem to tell us, I suppose, is that humans boast the intellect and skill to create amazing devices; but not the wisdom, perhaps, to adequately control them.

Of all Allen's storied sci-fi series, The Time Tunnel was perhaps the least successful on its original sortie. It aired for just a single season of 30 hour-long episodes on ABC. Broadcast from September 9, 1966 to April 7, 1967, the series involved the aforementioned scientists -- Newman (James Darren) and Phillips (Robert Colbert) -- tumbling (literally...) through various historical (and future!) time periods, a circumstance which enabled the series to frequently re-use footage and costumes from such films as Titanic (1953), The Buccaneer (1958) and Khartoum (1966).

Despite this crafty, cost-saving measure, the Time Tunnel pilot was still one of the most expensive ever produced at the time, costing a then-whopping $500,000 dollars. You can readily observe where all the considerable expense went in the pilot episode: there are some amazing matte-paintings of the Time Tunnel complex. The whole facility looks like it was outsourced to Krell construction workers. 

Also, the Time Tunnel control room set is vast and impressive: a testament to 1960s-style futurism. There are banks of giant computers with lots of blinking lights, reel-to-reel tapes, and that massive, whirly-gig tunnel itself taking center stage. The visual effects are opulent too, particularly views of the lead actors somersaulting through a moving, glittering temporal vortex.

The Time Tunnel's first episode, "Rendezvous with Yesterday" (written by Harold Jack Bloom and directed by Irwin Allen), features guest star Gary Merrill as Senator Clark, a budget-obsessed politician who visits Project Tic-Toc (location of the Time Tunnel device...) in the Arizona desert. The colossal underground complex, which houses over 12,000 technicians and stretches over 800 floors, has already cost the U.S. government a whopping 7.5 billion dollars. This is simply unacceptable!

"Is time travel worth it?" Senator Clark asks pointedly.

The response from Dr. Phillips is that time travel is "potentially the most valuable treasure man will ever find."

Still, the impatient senator isn't convinced that time travel is a worthwhile endeavor, and he demands a demonstration of the not-yet-operational time tunnel. Scientist Tony Newman impulsively complies and -- without permission or preparation -- jumps through the machine.

The result? Lots of smoke and explosions. And then Tony lands on the HMS Titanic on April 13, 1912, just hours before the "unsinkable" liner is destined to strike an iceberg and go to a watery grave.

Unfortunately, the techs at Project Tic-Toc, including the lovely Dr. Ann McGregor (a woefully underutilized Lee Meriwether), can't return Tony to the present. Not even with their high-tech "location probes" or other tools. They are able, however, to visualize Tony's chronological location with a "tele screen." And, as a last resort, the technicians can also yank Tony out of one time period and into to another random one...and hope they get lucky.

It's sort of...a temporal crap shoot.

Back aboard the Titanic, Newman realizes immediately attempts to change the time line by warning the ship's captain, a regal Michael Rennie, of the impending disaster. The captain doesn't believe Newman's stories and voices a variation of a line oft-repeated on this series; something along the lines of: "you don't expect me to believe that wild story, do you?"

One might also note, at this juncture, that Tony seems to have no preparation or schooling whatsoever for the event of actual "time displacement." He's one of the key designers/inventors of the time tunnel juggernaut and yet he has no plan, no philosophy, no agenda whatsoever about dealing with the temporally-challenged natives of other time periods. Apparently on instinct, he simply warns people about the future and is immediately incarcerated or beaten-up for his trouble (another tiresome convention that is repeated throughout the series).

Now, my point here is simply this: whether or not time can actually be altered, why does Tony want to change the flow of time at all? 

Was the time tunnel constructed so that the American government can interfere in the past? 

I mean, if the captain of the Titanic had actually listened to Tony's warning and averted the nautical disaster, some several hundred additional souls would have survived the maiden voyage and thereby altered Tony's entire time-line (since he is born in 1938, after the Titanic accident).

Let me make this even more basic: what if one of those "new" Titanic survivors caused a car accident that killed Tony's Mom before she gave birth to him? See my point?

Besides wanting personally to survive the Titanic disaster (and I don't blame him for that...), what could possibly motivate Tony to reveal the details of the future to the denizens of 1912? 

When Doug returns to the past next, he mindlessly adopts the same plan. He even brings a newspaper from the day after the disaster to convince the Captain of Tony's veracity. I mean...jeez, what's the end game here? Saving the Titanic? Changing the course of 20th century history? Altering the time line? What?

Closely examined, the motives of the characters in this story make no sense. By my reckoning, Tony and Doug should be focused on one thing: keeping a low profile and escaping the disaster. They don't need to be sounding alarm bells, and they sure as hell don't need to commandeer the Titanic's radio room! One might expect more dispassion and weighing of variables here. Especially from two genius scientists, right?

It occurs to me while watching The Time Tunnel that the series would have been much more interesting if in stories like "Rendezvous with Yesterday," the heroes had to preserve the flow of time as they had already experienced it. Wouldn't it have been more interesting if Tony and Doug landed on the deck of the Titanic and realized it wasn't going to sink at all? That they had to aim it at an iceberg themselves, to ensure that their histories remained sacrosanct? I realize there would be moral questions there, but they'd still be "heroes" in the conventional TV sense, since they'd be preserving our chronology.

Oh wait, this was the premise for Voyagers! (1980)...

Anyway, I'm not trying to be dismissive of The Time Tunnel. It is what it is: a product of the time period from which it arose (the 1960s), and for a very specific audience (children). It's harmless escapist fantasy, nothing more...and if you saw it as a child, I'm sure you would get a nostalgic rush watching it. 

That established, it's not a very smart series by today's standard (and remember, Star Trek was a smart series, and it also aired in 1966). Oh, there's definitely an occasional moment of real drama here, such as the instance in "Rendezvous with Yesterday" when Doug and Tony must inform the captain of the Titanic that he is destined to die that very night. However, for the most part, time travel mysteries and human emotions are curtailed, slighted, or outright ignored in favor of James Bond-ian fisticuffs and action. It's all cowboys, Indians, soldiers, spies, aliens, and disasters. Color! Action! But not much real characterization or drama.

During the over-two-dozen episodes of The Time Tunnel, Tony and Doug visited the "Crack of Doom" (don't laugh...), the volcanic eruption at Krakatoa on August 27, 1883. They went to Pearl Harbor on December 6, 1941 (but didn't encounter the U.S.S. Nimitz there....) They experienced the French Revolution first hand ("Reign of Terror), averted the (first) assassination attempt on Abraham Lincoln ("The Death Trap") in 1861, witnessed D-Day ("Invasion") at Normandy, met General Custer ("Massacre"), Billy the Kid ("Billy the Kid") and...Robin Hood ("The Revenge of Robin Hood.")

Yes, before watching The Time Tunnel, I too always thought Robin Hood was a mythical hero, not a historical one, but who's counting? Doctor Who played with this very idea recently, too.  Another episode "One Way to the Moon," landed our wayward heroes on a rocket ship in flight, one bound for Mars...with a saboteur aboard.

As the series wore on, The Time Tunnel increasingly lapsed into empty-headed, monotonous phantasmagoria. The final episode, "Town of Terror" was set in the future year of 1978 and involved strange aliens with tin-foil faces and black capes who, for some unfathomable reason, are referred to as "androids"(!). 

These fishy-looking invaders have taken over the idyllic town of Cliffport, Maine (population 700), where they begin sucking all the oxygen from the Earth. Tony and Doug land in the town and put a stop to the plan, but not before an alien saboteur gets to Project Tic-Toc and starts sucking the air out of the room there too. It takes an inordinate amount of time for the brilliant project scientist, Dr. Swain -- gasping for air -- to realize the oxygen is being depleted.

The last moments of the series are actually the most interesting, at least from a certain perspective. Following the landing in Cliffport, Doug and Phillip are shunted back in time again...to the Titanic. 

Now, on one hand, this return to the beginning was no doubt a lead-in to summer reruns of the first season. However, considering that there was no second season of The Time Tunnel, viewers might interpret this twist of fate to mean that our heroes were not merely stuck in time, but trapped in a loop too. 

Alas, we may never know...

Again, I don't want to rain on anyone's parade here -- and all sci-fi TV has its fans and adherents -- but The Time Tunnel is sometimes difficult to take seriously. The lead characters - Doug and Tony - are about as cardboard as could be, not to mention the most physically fit and physically skilled "scientists" of all-time. Some of the technobabble on the series is inconsistent too. Sometimes the scientists in the tunnel control room can talk directly with the time travelers on a microphone, and sometimes the men can't hear them.

And you have to wonder, too, why are the time tunnel techies always rolling the dice and scrambling these unlucky guys from one time period to another? 

I'll tell you what...if I came from 1968 and ended up in 1978 (as Tony and Doug did in both "One Way to The Moon" and "Town of Terror"), you know what? I'd just call it a day. 

I'd rather live ten years in the future,than risk ending up in 1184 BC ("Revenge of the Gods"), or 1215 AD ("The Revenge of Robin Hood.")

Close enough for government work, and all.

60 Years Ago: Star Trek: "The Man Trap" (September 8, 1966)

Stardate: 1513.1

The U.S.S. Enterprise visits planet M-113 to check in on archaeologist Dr. Robert Crater (Alfred Ryder) and his wife, Nancy (Jeanne Bal). Together, they have been studying the ruins of a long-dead alien civilization.

Nancy also happens to be Dr. McCoy’s (De Forest Kelley) old love, and Captain James Kirk (William Shatner) teases the physician about her nickname for him: “Plum.”

Soon, however the light-hearted visit turns deadly serious. An Enterprise officer accompanying the others in the landing party, Darnell (Michael Zaslow) is found dead, with strange markings on his face.  

Another officer, Green (Bruce Watson) meets the same grim fate.

The crew soon learns that Nancy is actually a shape-shifting alien, the last of her kind on this far-flung world. To sustain herself, this alien draws all the salt from living human beings.  

When Nancy is brought aboard the Enterprise for her own safety, however, she changes form again, becoming Green, a Swahili officer, and even, finally, Dr. McCoy himself. She eventually kills Crater, even though he has been her protector over the years.

Although the Enterprise crew expresses reservations about killing a being that is the last of its kind, it is given no choice when the salt vampire attempts to feed on Captain Kirk.

The very first episode of Star Trek (1966-1969) that aired on NBC -- “The Man Trap” by George Clayton Johnson -- remains an involving story 60 years later, one that draws its primary interest from the focus on the “lower deck” characters in the ensemble: Mr. Sulu (George Takei), Lt. Uhura (Nichelle Nichols) and Yeoman Janice Rand (Grace Lee Whitney).

The episode’s central threat -- a salt-sucking vampire -- is memorably depicted, but in the end the story does not quite go far enough in pursuing Star Trek’s peaceful philosophies. 

For example, Kirk and Spock both express regret about the death of the alien (by phaser fire).  They make mournful comparisons to the buffalo of North America. They clearly don’t want to kill the alien they encounter here.  

And yet, that’s exactly what happens.

At its best, Star Trek employs the philosophy that, to paraphrase Kirk in "A Taste of Armageddon" -- suggests man does not need to kill…today.  

Kirk, Spock, McCoy and the others often find ways NOT to kill the alien or enemy of the week, and instead hammer out some sense of understanding with it.  

In a way, “The Devil in the Dark,” a story about a silicon-based life form, the Horta, is a superior or perfected remake of “The Man Trap” story.  There, a monster scorches and kills human beings, but Kirk and Spock don’t merely speak regretfully about killing it, they find an alternative to doing so.  

They reach out, communication is forged, and humanity makes -- if not a new friend, at least not a new enemy -- to quote Captain Picard in “Darmok.”

In “The Man Trap,” it is never quite clear why the salt vampire feels it must continue to kill, instead of simply asking for the salt it needs to survive.  Captain Kirk could easily make a ship-wide announcement noting that no action will be taken against the alien if it reveals itself now. That though crewman have died because of it, no more need to do so.  

Again, Kirk loses crewmen in other episodes (like the aforementioned “Devil in the Dark,” or the personnel of Cestus III in "Arena,") but if peace can be forged with the perpetrator, he nonetheless makes the attempt to forge that peace.  I know it's early -- the first Star Trek episode, essentially -- but no real olive branch is extended to the alien.

What seems more genuinely intriguing about “The Man Trap” today is the upper deck/lower deck kind of character/narrative structure.  

On the bridge, we have Kirk, Spock and McCoy contending with the mystery or threat of the creature.  

But the supporting characters are also given a lot of fun stuff to do.  As a consequence, we begin to get to know them.  

For instance, we see Sulu in his botanical garden, caring for his plants (including Beauregard). 

We follow Janice on her rounds, as she brings Sulu dinner, and is stalked by the unreal Green (really the monster).

But perhaps Uhura fares best among the supporting cast. Early in the episode, we see her upbraid Spock about his failure to respond emotionally when he learns that someone in the landing party has died.  She notes that Captain Kirk is the closest thing he has to a “friend.”  This tells us not only about Uhura's courage and forthrightness, about about the Spock/Kirk friendship.

The moment in which Uhura talks with Spock about Vulcan’s lack of moon is also flirtatious and delightful. 

The only drawback, of course, is the sixties sexism inherent in that moment. Uhura complains, for example, that she is sick of the word “frequencies” and just wants Spock to compliment her looks. 

I don’t often hold it against Star Trek for being sexist in a sexist time period or context, especially because it looks ahead, to the future, so often. But on the other hand, the series' evolved view of humanity is so well-enunciated over time that its accomplishments in that regard makes moments such as this stand-out all the more for their egregious backwardness. This hour feels a genuine, sincere and serious-minded trip to the future, but the sexism of this moment drags us right back to a mid-1960s mind-set.

Imagine, for instance, if Mr. Chekov were to approach Spock and informally note that he is tired of the navigation panel, and he would just like to be seen as a carefree young man.  

It would be ridiculous, right?  

Uhura is an accomplished communications officer, in the upper hierarchy of command on a state-of-the-art starship. There is no way she would voice distaste for her own chosen field (communications) with her supervising, or superior officer.  She is on the Enterprise because she wants to be there. Because she deserves to be there. And I can tell you, as a teacher of communications, that her subject of study is fascinating, even if opening hailing frequencies (like setting a course, activating the warp speed, or conducting crew physical exams..) can be a bit of a bore at times.

I do love the interaction between Uhura and Spock on a more general basis, and I believe that the interaction we see in “The Man Trap” validates the relationship we see between the characters in the J.J. Abrams alternate universe.  

It’s clear, in other words, that there is a bond and attraction between the two characters.  We also see it played out in next week’s story, “Charlie X,” wherein Uhura sings a kind of naughty song about Spock in the rec room; teasing him to his face.  I just wish that in "The Man Trap," Uhura’s malaise with her profession wasn’t about, specifically, wanting to be seen by her co-workers and fellow officers “as a woman.”  

A far more intriguing moment for this character involves “Uhura’s Crewman,” who speaks Swahili to her, and reminds her of her home-sickness for her own country.  

This seems far more realistic a problem, to me, than being tied to a console, doing the job you love.  It seems like Uhura, Sulu, Kirk and the others would feel lonesome and isolated at times, but that they would keep such feelings close to the vest.  

Here, only the alien (apparently reading Uhura’s thoughts...) is able to sense her connection to her home-land, and her sense of mourning over its absence in her life.  This scene tells us that Uhura has layers and characteristics we don't know; and that she keeps to herself.

“The Man Trap” works as well it does because it delves into these “lower deck” characters and makes them seem relatable. We see Sulu’s obsessions and curiosities (which he revisits, in other forms, in “The Naked Time” and “Shore Leave,”), we get a sense of Uhura’s sense of humor and loneliness, as I’ve noted, and we even get some notation about the ship’s gossip mill. Rand, for instance, wants to know what happened on the planet surface.

There’s a feeling of family here too. When a transporter officer is instructed to beam up the dead body of a comrade, he notes, “We’ll bring him home.” That’s a surprisingly informal and touching way of affirming an order, or fulfilling a duty.

In terms of the main characters, "The Man Trap" establishes Kirk and McCoy's banter and occasionally argumentative relationship well.  Kirk is all jokes and smiles with McCoy until his crew is jeopardized.  Then he becomes hard-headed and demanding.

.

 I often note that Star Trek is two things: funny and kinky.  

Season One is probably the least humorous of all the seasons, but the kinkiness is already in place.

The opening act of “The Man Trap” -- in addition to being effectively filmed -- fits the bill. Here, Kirk, Bones and Darnell beam down to the planet an meet Nancy.  

They each see her differently.  Kirk sees her as she should be, a “handsome,” age-appropriate gray-haired woman.  Perhaps he sees her in this fashion because the creature knows that Kirk is the captain, and she can't kill him.  Or perhaps because Kirk is not looking to feel attracted to McCoy's old love.

Then McCoy sees Nancy how he remembers her from their love affair, as a very attractive younger woman.  His memory comes back to life perfectly.

And finally, Darnell sees Nancy -- wildly -- as a bombshell, a fantasy woman he met on “Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet.”  

I love and admire the editing of this opening sequence. We go from a character’s line of sight (Kirk, McCoy, Darnell) right to the different woman they are gazing at, with no explanation for the fact that there are three women where there should only be one. It’s direct and well-done, and captures the strangeness and intellectual nature of Star Trek right off the bat.

But in terms of kinkiness, we also have a mention of a planet devoted to pleasure, and later, a notation about Crater’s private paradise on M-113. On the latter front, Kirk suggests that Crater has lived a life of sexual fantasy, which is why his research has largely stopped. The alien monster is apparently his sex slave, turning into any partner he desires…all for the necessary salt tablets in payment.  

It’s crazy to think that this suggestion makes it into the episode, and aired on network TV in 1966.

In Star Trek lore, “The Man Trap” is remembered as being a kind of “monster” show, and a poor choice for a premiere episode.

So, yes, it is disappointing that “The Man Trap” doesn’t offer fully realized Trek philosophy. It is disappointing that it is not about actually saving a creature that is the last of its kind instead of giving the act of murder a note of contrition.

And yet one can still see the series inching already towards its full potential.

Abnormal Fixation Preview: The Stuffadryl Challenge (and Sleep Paralysis)

 

60 Years Ago: The King Kong Show (1966)

"You know the name of King Kong..."

In the autumn of 1966, ABC TV first aired the American/Japanese co-production called The King Kong Show (1966).  The companies involved were Videocraft, and Toei Animation. Arthur Rankin and Julie Bass served as executive producers.

The series ran for 25 episodes, and was a sort of omnibus show. By that I mean that each twenty minute show featured three stories.  Two were devoted to Kong, and one was devoted to a different animated program called Tom of T.H.U.M.B.

As far as the premise goes, The King Kong Show saw the mighty ape of the movies transformed, essentially, into the friendly over-sized pet of the globe-hopping Bond family.  The family consisted of a father, Professor Bond (Carl Banas), a teenage daughter, Susan (Susan Conway) and a pre-teen boy, Bobby Bond (Billy Mae Richards).  Kong and Bobby were playmates, and especially close.  Bobby was too "young" to consider Kong dangerous, and so became his friend, instead.

Kong, meanwhile, was described as being "ten times as big as a man."

So the Bonds found Kong on Mondo Island, and took care of him, only to become involved in numerous adventures with the giant ape and those who sought to control or dominate him. The adventures concerned aliens ("The Space Men") the evil-mastermind, Dr. Who ("Dr. Who," "Rocket Island") and other challenges.  A supporting character, Captain Englehorn, came straight from the 1933 King Kong.

And, of course, elements of this cartoon re-appeared in the live-action King Kong Escapes (1967), particularly the character Dr. Who (visualized differently in the film), and the Mondo Island setting.

Today, I'll look at two six minute segments.  The first is "The Horror of Mondo Island."  in this tale, the discovery of a "rare and important element" known as "Fantasium" -- which can make steel elastic and bendable -- brings a mining crew, and their destructive vehicles, to the island.

Seeing Kong's island paradise spoiled by strip-mining, Bobby warns the workers about "the Horror Mondo Island" in an attempt to scare the out-landers away.  He describes a monster that attacks by night, and then disguises Kong as the fearsome beast, painting him white.

The ruse is successful, and the miners are driven off.   The episode' s highlight is a scene in which Kong battles a bull-dozer or crane, and makes short work of it. Since this is a kid's show, however, he only crushes the vehicle after the driver has vacated.  It's also intriguing that Kong, in disguise, actually resembles the character's son, as seen in the 1933 sequel to the original film.

The episode ends with the miners realizing (thanks to Captain Englehorn) that the island possesses "natural obstacles beyond our control."  In other words, Bobby has saved the beautiful island both for Kong, and future generations.

One can see how this six minute story is simple, and aimed at children. The message, about conservation, is plain, and Bobby is the protagonist, the one who -- independent of his father's wishes and plans -- saves the day.

The second six minute story I'll look at for this special Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging is "Dr. Who." This is the tale that introduces the mad scientist villain to the series.  He is visualized as a very short, bald man in a lab coat. He also wears thick, black glasses, and thick black gloves.

As the story begins, Professor Bond introduces Dr. Who to Bobby. Dr. Who wants to take Kong away from the island, on a two day trip. Bobby refuses to give permission.  Dr. Who then holds the family at gun-point, and launches an attack on Kong.

Helicopters assault Kong, but fortunately Captain Englehorn arrives to help, and Kong breaks out of his prison aboard a ship.  The episode ends with the foreboding (and accurate) observation that "we haven't seen the last of Dr. Who."

This episode does a good job of establishing the friendship and symbiosis between Kong and Bobby. One would assume that Kong is the great protector in the relationship because he is strong and, well, gigantic.  But here we see that Kong must also be protected too, and that Bobby steps into that breach. He is Kong's guardian as much as Kong is his.

Both of these episodes from the 1966 animated series are short and sweet, and filled with adventure. Kong himself is portrayed as a gentle giant, which is appropriate, given the intended audience.

30 Years Ago: The Burning Zone (1996-1997)

The Clinton Era (1992 – 2000) represents the golden age of conspiracy and horror genre television.  This development was due in large part to the unexpected and transcendent success of Chris Carter’s The X-Files, which became a ratings hit in the early 1990s and ran for an incredible nine seasons. 

In The X-Files’ wake came Nowhere Man (1995 – 1996), Strange Luck (1995 – 1996), American Gothic (1995 – 1996), Dark Skies (1996 – 1997), Millennium (1996 – 1999), Sleepwalkers (1997), Prey (1998), Strange World (1999), and other efforts, including UPN’s The Burning Zone (1996 – 1997).

Created by Coleman Luck, The Burning Zone boasted important antecedents outside The X-Files as well.  The mid-1990s also happened to be the great era of “virus”-centric pop-culture entertainment, from the book The Hot Zone -- a true-life account of an Ebola outbreak in Virginia -- to Outbreak (1995), a horror film which pitted scientists Dustin Hoffman, Rene Russo and Kevin Spacey against hemorrhagic fever in California. 

The Burning Zone brought a similar premise to TV on a weekly basis: “Today’s battle to save humanity is fought in sterile labs with petri dishes and test tubes for weapons.  Virologists and geneticists are the new warriors,” described Coleman Luck in SFX  #18, November 1996 (page 10).

Accordingly, The Burning Zone, which ran for nineteen hour-long episodes, followed the dangerous missions of a small bio-crisis team dedicated to eradicating new and deadly diseases in what the series described as “The Plague Wars.”  

The team leader was Daniel Cassian (Michael Harris), a no-nonsense doctor with “Level 92” clearance and a firm grip over his emotions. 

He was assisted by Dr. Edward Marcase (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a virologist who survived a childhood case of Ebola but lost both parents to the disease. Edward’s controversial approach to medicine considered the curing of disease a “mystical” experience, a supernatural quest. 

Other team members were Kimberly Shiroma (Tamlyn Tomita), a molecular-geneticist-pathologist recruited from the World Health Organization, and Michael Hailey (James Black), the man responsible for the team’s overall security.

After eleven episodes, The Burning Zone endured a dramatic format shift and cast change.  

Shiroma and Marcase left the team, replaced by Dr. Brian Taft (Bradford Tatum), a motorcycle-riding, rebellious James Dean-like physician.  The re-boot of the series largely abandoned the (much-criticized) supernatural angle and featured more action-oriented stories.  Only Harris and Black appeared throughout both formats.  Cassian became the primary hero, after playing a kind of Dr. Smith-like thorn in the side for the first run of shows.

As you might well expect, critics were not particularly kind evaluating this genre series. Writing for The Skeptical Inquirer in May-June of 1998, Peter Huston observed that the series made him “want to throw shoes at the television” and noted that it featured “Snarly fashion-model scientists chasing intelligent hive-mind vampire zombie viruses with flame throwers.” 

And yes, that may be the best line ever written in a TV review.

Meanwhile, The New York Times’ Caryn James opined that the UPN series mostly served to remind viewers just how good The X-Files really was, and noted that The Burning Zone offered “the loopy delights of a cut-rate, over-the-top horror movie.”  

Only Roger Fulton’s and John Betancourt’s The Sci-Fi Channel Encyclopedia of TV Science-Fiction (Warner Books; 1997, page 106) reserved such harsh judgment, calling The Burning Zone a series that “went thought so many transformations in its brief 19-episode run that no viewer who saw the first show would recognize the last.”

I watched The Burning Zone when it aired, and although I wholeheartedly concur with the largely-negative sentiments. I’ve always considered The Burning Zone a kind of “disease-of-the-week” show.  But what made it so memorable were indeed the goofy plot-lines and various diseases that had to be cured.  

Among these were ones that caused fear (“The Silent Tower”), rage (“St. Michael’s Nightmare”) spontaneous combustion (“Arms of Fire,”) insanity (“Critical Mass”), skeletal collapse (“Death Song”), hypothyroidism (“The Last Five Pounds are the Hardest”), and hemorrhagic fever (“Night Fever”).  

Other stories dealt with a dimension of death (“Lethal Injection”), the disease that destroyed the Mayan civilization (“Touch of the Dead”), psychic surgery (“Hall of the Serpent”), an occult Nazi weapon called “The Eyes of Odin” (“Midnight of the Carrier”) and a flesh-eating virus (“Elegy for a Dream.”)

The quality that distinguished and perhaps harmed The Burning Zone the most was its insistence on blending hard science with spiritual or religious sub-plots. 

Most of the protagonists in the series are highly-trained physicians who had gone through years if not decades of training. Yet in story after story, these men and women of science found themselves exploring the “spirit” in ways they certainly couldn’t have anticipated back at med school. 

Now, if this idea had been applied consistently, intelligently and believably, it could have proved an interesting subtext for the program: medicine vs. spiritualism. But The Burning Zone never seemed to understand that science had to come first for these doctors working the front lines of the plague war.  One episode involved a cure that was made from the “venomous fruit” of the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden.  It was just…wacky.

“Touch of the Dead” followed a similarly bizarre trajectory.  In this tale, Cassian was infected by a terrible disease with no scientific cure. He survived because he found a “reason to live:” a healthy soul!  RFK would no doubt approve.

Next time I’m sick, remind me to save my thirty dollar co-pay and see if this technique works.

Meanwhile, “Arms of Fire” pushed the same anti-science notion when a boy in danger of spontaneously combusting (!) survived the horrible ordeal by expressing his willingness to pray.

Now, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with faith or belief. Only that for a science-oriented series to continually fall back on religion as a basis for its medical cures is ridiculous.  If this were the direction the show wanted to go in, it should have featured clergy, not scientists, as main characters.

Perhaps the most memorable expression of The Burning Zone’s spiritual philosophy occurred in the installment called “Lethal Injection.”  There, Marcase visited a hellish “after life” dimension after taking an experimental drug.  In the after-life, he encountered whispering, black-shrouded ghosts who could remove a man’s spirit by touch.  But he was protected from the loss of his soul by beings he termed “angels.”  At the end of the episode, Marcase – again, a well-educated scientist, remember – theorized that this alternate dimension was actually an entrance to Hell for angels who had fallen from grace.  

Quite a significant discovery for someone working on a bio-crisis team, huh? I wonder why he never shared his confirmation of a spiritual plane with the rest of the world, however.  Seems like an important thing for the human race to be aware of… 

If science and religion didn’t fit together well in the stories, then the science component by itself was a frequent stumbling block on The Burning Zone.  The series relied on the straight-faced belief that a disease could be isolated, diagnosed, cured, and its effect totally reversed in every single episode.  

Though this is drama we’re talking about and some rule bending is necessary and expected, this series simply asked viewers to suspend disbelief too much.  

The Burning Zone wanted the audience to believe that this elite medical team could stop outbreaks faster than a speeding bullet.  

On the series, there was never once a disease the doctors couldn’t overcome, and most of the horrible plagues and viruses didn’t even leave behind scars or pock-marks on their victims. Had some of these horrible diseases left at least a residual indication of their presence, The Burning Zone might have felt a little more real.  

Or, maybe it could have taken a three-or-four episode arc to cure a particular disease, showing the process over a period of several weeks or months.  That kind of approach would have been much more true to life as we know it, especially given our experience with COVID-19.

As far as the format changes go, The Burning Zone only went from bad to worse.  Visually, the show developed a new visual sheen in its last dozen or so programs, with sudden and largely purposeless zooms, distorted angles, fast-motion photography, hand-held camerawork and so forth. These stylistic bells and whistles, however, could not hide the basic banality of the new stories. 

One episode (“Death Song”) actually re-hashed The Bodyguard (1991) with Hailey protecting and romancing a beautiful rock star. Another episode was a variation on David Duchovny’s Playing God (1997), with Taft forced to administer medical care to a sick gangster.  

At least the original approach -- the juxtaposition of the medical with the miraculous – offered something to think about, even if you dismissed it as ridiculous. The later approach was The Burning Zone...lobotomized.

And believe me, that is really saying something.

50 Years Ago: Star Maidens (September 1, 1976)

I remember watching this cult-TV series on WNEW Channel 5, out of New York, when it originally aired in American syndication. I was six years old at the time, and the series had the look and feel of a state-of-the-art sci-fi series.  I can't believe it was 50 years ago.

Star Maidens is (weirdly) related to Space: 1999 (1975-1977), one of my all-time favorite space programs. Star Maidens was designed by Keith Wilson, the genius production designer for the Andersons’ series, and so shares in common a kind of post-2001/pre-Star Wars visual aura. 

Similarly, the sound effects on this series are also, largely, ported over from Space: 1999, which was between seasons when Star Maidens was produced at Bray Studios in 1975. Even key performers on Star Maidens -- Judy Geeson and Liz Harrow -- are recognizable from Space: 1999 episodes (“Another Time, Another Place,” and “The Testament of Arkadia,” respectively).

Surprisingly, the premise of Star Maidens has some touches in common with Space: 1999. The central planet in the series, Medusa, is one torn out of its orbit (by a comet named Dionysus), and sent hurtling on an interstellar voyage, like the Earth’s moon in the Landau/Bain series. 

As the series begins, however, Medusa reaches Earth. (So it’s like Space: 1999, but with the rogue space body traveling in the opposite direction.).

Star Maidens is a British/German co-production created by Eric Paice, based on a premise from Jost Graf Von Hardenburg. This short-lived series made the war between sexes its central dramatic issue.  Specifically, Medusa is a female-run planet (one set off its path by a comet named after a male, incidentally), wherein men are second-class citizens. 

The context for such a plot-line is clearly the late-1960's and early 1970’s second-wave feminism in the UK and the USA. For instance, From 1970 to 1978, the National Women’s Liberation Conference was held in England. And the Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was re-introduced in 1971, and sent to the states for ratification in 1972. By 1979, the necessary number of states had failed to ratify the amendment.

What is Star Maidens’ point of view on this war of sexes? I believe the series makes a satirical point about sexism. It is utterly ridiculous to American, male ears, to hear women discussing how men are too fragile, too childish, to fly space yachts, or do other high level activities. 

That’s the point. 

When the “tables are turned” – and men are the victims of sexism -- we are able to fully detect how foolish the sexism towards women actually is.  

It’s silly.  

Star Maidens has been described as camp in some circles, in large part because the blatantly sexist dialogue (against men) borders on outright comedic, yet is spoken with straight facet/tone.  Intriguingly, the same jaundiced dialogue, when spoken of women (in series such as Star Trek, for example) is accepted at face value, and not considered funny.

So Star Maidens, it seems to me -- at least at this early juncture -- is all about exposing a ridiculous double standard.

The first episode of Star Maidens, “Escape to Paradise,” written by Eric Paice (Target Luna [1960], Pathfinders in Space [1960]), and directed by James Gatward, sets up the series’ premise via a school-girl’s “historical program.”

This voice over-narration explains the "golden years" of history on the distant planet Medusa. There, in "Proxima Centauri," the planet developed a peaceful, advanced, art-centric culture wherein women were the unquestioned rulers (and thinkers...) and servile, lowly men functioned as "domestics" or servants. 

Then, however, the comet called Dionysus swung too close to Medusa and pulled the planet out of her natural orbit. Consequently, the "vast mass" of Medusa was "dragged" into the "frozen infinity of space." 

The surface of the planet grew uninhabitable as it turned to ice (read: frigid), and the survivors of the disaster moved into underground cities, where the female-dominated culture continued and solidified power due to the crisis. Medusa drifted through space for generations until it arrived here...in Earth’s solar system.

What did the Medusans find on Earth? Well, if you ask the female scientists of that world, only a "great disappointment." Because, "in violation of all common sense," men ruled the planet Earth. Accordingly, this backward planet was judged "out of bounds" for all "civilized" space travelers. It is described in the narration as “disease prone,” for instance.

After this exposition/history lesson, “Escape to Paradise” introduces two male slaves, Shem (the late Gareth Thomas of Blake's 7) and Adam (Pierre Brice), who are planning an escape from the female-managed Medusa.

Adam

Shem

They are tired of being taken for granted. ("Who looks after the kids?" one man asks, citing his importance in Medusa's social strata.) 

However, before Shem and Adam can escape Medusa in Counselor Fulvia's (Judy Geeson) space yacht, Medusa's secretive and hostile-to-men head of security, Octavia (Christiane Kruger) gets a disturbing prediction from the Destiny Computer (think the Oracle at Delphi). 

The computer suggests that the illegal men's liberation movement is about to begin again, and that one such insurgent will be Fulvia's domestic: Adam.

Octavia

Fulvi

Adam and Shem barely escape Medusa in the space yacht. Fulvia and Octavia pursue in their spaceship.

But where are Adam and Shem off to? A "paradise," of course, where men rule over women. In other words, the planet Earth.  Specifically, Adam anticipates “a new life, freedom…submissive women.”

"Escape to Paradise" concludes with Shem and Adam crashing their ship on Earth. ("It's too difficult for a man!" cries Shem, worrying over his landing vectors...).  

Meanwhile, on Earth, scientists from the Institute for Radio Astronomy -- Liz (Lisa Harrow), Rudi (Christian Quadflieg) and Professor Evans (Derek Farr)  prepare to meet the extra-terrestrials, 

"Was life really so bad on Medusa?" asks Counselor Fulvia of her escaped domestic, Adam, during a point of high tension in this episode. 

That's a loaded question, I suppose. On one hand, the security forces of Medusa are all Amazonian women who wear skimpy two-piece uniforms (exposing bare midriff and muscular abs). 

On the other hand, the sexy women really do lord it over the men. It's all "prepare me something to eat," or "prepare my hypno-mat" (meaning bed...). 

Of course, the women also demand sexual service. "Kiss me," Fulvia orders Adam at one point.

This, I admit, is a bit tricky. 

One wonders, during the flirtatious aspects of the episode, if the series is meaningfully discussing sexism, or simply reveling in male fantasies about domination by strong, demanding, gorgeous women.

Despite any tongue-in-cheek tone here, the first 30-minute episode of Star Maidens flashes by at warp speed, and proves both entertaining and provocative. 

The production values are remarkable for 1970’s science fiction, the actors are pretty good, and we get enough glimpses of the Medusan culture (technology and setting) to get a sense of the alien-ness of the planet.  

Also, despite the war of the sexes premise, it seems that, at least so far, the series attempts to contend with some nuances. 

Judy Geeon's Fulvia, for instance, thinks the best of her rebellious slave, Adam, despite his insurrectionist actions. She may command in a female dominated society, but she has affection, even love, for her “domestic.”  

And Shem’s lack of confidence -- in direct contradiction to his apparent abilities with machines and ships -- can be traced back as a direct result of his indoctrination into Medusan politics.“It’s a woman’s world,” he declares, not so much with defeat, but as a statement of fact. Shem has heard all his life that he, as a man, can never be the equal of a woman, and it’s clear that he has internalized that message and made it a part of himself.  This strikes me as a very realistic character touch

Star Maidens is a strange show. 

It boasts the look, feel, and sound of a 70’s state of the art sci-fi epic, like Space: 1999, and yet its obsession is not the stars, but the quixotic mysteries of human behavior and belief systems.