Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Toymaker" (January 25, 1967)

In “The Toymaker,” Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris), Will (Bill Mumy) and The Robot encounter another vending/catalog machine from the Celestial Department Store (see: “The Android Machine.”)

This machine is in disrepair, however, and when Smith fiddles with it -- attempting to get a birthday present for Penny (Angela Cartwright) -- he is transported to the domain of a cosmic toymaker Walter Burke). This personality wants to make Smith a Christmas present for 75 ft. tall children of the Andromeda Galaxy.

Will attempts to get help, but his dad (Guy Williams) and Don (Mark Goddard) are too busy searching for a dangerous new “fissure” on the planet to help.  Will also disappears to the realm of the toymaker, but fortunately his disappearance is witnessed by Penny.

Before long, a Celestial Department Store manager, Zumdish, arrives on the Robinsons’ planet and seeks to destroy the malfunctioning machine…

I can’t argue that “The Toymaker” is a great episode of Lost in Space (1965-1967), or even a particularly good one. It is a marginal improvement over last week’s installment, “The Questing Beast.”

Again, a cast-off or stock prop -- the alien vending machine -- is the center of the narrative, but at least on this occasion, the Robinsons’ recognize the device, and there seems to be some continuity with the earlier story, the aforementioned “The Android Machine.” I still find it baffling, however, that John and the Robinsons don’t ask Zumdish for help getting back to Earth, or even, simply, back to his department store.  Couldn’t they catch a bus from there to a new home?  Or buy a used spaceship from the used spaceship lot next door?

One moment in this episode is even more baffling.  Penny describes for her parents the disappearance of Dr. Smith. Yet, as the opening scene of the episode makes plain…she was not present to witness it.  She goes pn and on here, describing the sounds and sights of an event she never was privy to. This is a sign, I submit, that the creators of the series were literally asleep at the wheel by this juncture. 

With a little tweaking, this episode could have been stronger. For instance, the toy soldier in the Toymaker’s warehouse is creepy as hell, and there’s a tradition of creepy Christmastime stories that the series could have mined.  Instead, the film is never particularly frightening or memorable. 

Still, this story punches a hole in at least one fan theory that has been brought up here on the blog.  I have written before how I find it crazy-making that alien races from a society much like Earth’s never stop to help the stranded Robinsons make their way home, or to a habitable world. Fans have suggested that these advance aliens may have a prime directive-like edict preventing them from helping the primitive Earthlings.

This week, however, we see visual evidence that the Toymaker creates toys for Earth-children.  Smith and will attempt to get home to Earth, but the Toymaker stops them.

This is the final Lost in Space episode I’ll be reviewing for the blog. I began 50^th anniversary blogging of the series back in January, and reviewed 47 episodes.  I am planning to launch an e-magazine called “In Review” soon (definitely in 2016) and one issue will be devoted to the entirety of the series, so I will review the remaining 37 or so installments there.

My final thoughts about this Irwin Allen series?  For the most part, the first season is an imaginative, worthwhile endeavor, and a series I recommend watching. Sure, it’s fifty years old, so you have to accept some old fashioned values (and sexism).  But overall the series looks good, and has some amazing installments like “Wish Upon a Star” and “My Friend, Mr. Nobody.” 

However, the second season is worse than I imagined it possibly could be.  I hope the third season is better!

Next week, for 50^th anniversary blogging, I take on a new series: Star Trek (1966 – 1969).

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Questing Beast" (January 11, 1967)

In “The Questing Beast,” Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris), Will Robinson (Bill Mumy) and the Robot -- while repairing an atomic regulator -- encounter an elderly knight in armor, Sagramonte (Hans Conried). 

This knight hails from Altair and has been pursuing a deadly dragon, Gundemar (June Foray) for forty years. Now, his long quest is coming to an end.

Will becomes Sagramonte’s squire, and learns that the dragon is a nice, well-spoken, intelligent being, and one who wishes for Sagramonte to continue hunting her across the universe.

Here’s my recipe for producing a Lost in Space episode of the second season:

First, take a trip to the studio wardrobe department.

Second, pick out some stock costume from an old series or film, the more colorful the better (like a pirate, knight, or sultan outfit). 

Third: write an entire episode about a character in that costume visiting the Robinsons on the edge of space.  

Most importantly, make no mention of how odd it is that this personality from Earth’s history should be operating on a distant planet, in a future era.

Rinse and repeat.

So far on Lost in Space, we have had alien department store managers, alien cowboys, alien thieves, alien pirates, alien soldiers, alien prospectors and the like.  This week, in “The Questing Beast,” we get a knight in armor, one who has been using “enchantments” to hunt a dragon from planet to planet.   The dragon ends up liking being hunted, and helps the knight continue his quest…to kill her.

For my money, “The Questing Beast” is the worst Lost in Space (1965-1967) episode yet.  The dragon costume is absolutely pathetic, the knight himself is doddering and unsympathetic, and -- in keeping with the series at this juncture -- there is absolutely no rhyme or reason for the existence of these characters in any universe that makes the remotest bit of sense. 

And how, exactly, does Sagramonte joust without a steed?

Game of Thrones this ain’t.

My friend Steve, a regular reader here on the blog, last week observed that by this point in the series’ history, the program was widely considered by the producers and network a children’s program, not a legitimate sci-fi affair. That background detail explanation helps one understand why an episode like “The Questing Beast” exists.  

It doesn’t need to make sense, because it’s for the kids.

Unfortunately, the networks and producers made a terrible mistake, and a terrible argument. The assumption that children don’t know a good story when they see it -- or one that makes sense -- is terribly condescending. 

The makers of the series should be doubly ashamed, not just for producing nonsense like this during the Space Age -- the most exciting age in human history -- but for foisting incoherent, nonsense stories on kids. 

A series that can create an episode like “My Friend, Mr. Nobody,” “The Magic Mirror,” “The Sky is Falling” or even “The Wreck of the Robot” is clearly capable of doing so much better than this; and of doing right by curious, imaginative children.

Is there a deeper message here?  That it is important to have a quest, no matter its nature?  Yes, absolutely.  Having a purpose is an important thing for people.  “The Questing Beast” attempts to get across that notion.

As Smith notes “It’s not the quarry that makes the hunt, nor the goal the game.”  I like the line, but it sounds completely incongruous coming from Smith, especially because Smith had earlier termed the quest for “the unobtainable” pure nonsense.

For me, the line -- poorly placed -- is but a list-minute attempt to paint meaning on another wardrobe raiding exercise.

Next week: “The Toymaker.”

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: The Girl from the Green Dimension" (January 4, 1967)

In “The Girl in the Green Dimension,” the space siren who once attempted to lure Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) to the stars (in “Wild Adventure”) returns. This time, Athena (Vitina Marcus) is in love with Smith and believes him to be a handsome warrior.

Smith realizes that Athena, from the “green dimension,” has the ability to see the future, and decides she is worth having around.  At least, that is, until a suitor shows up for her: the green-skinned space Viking named Urso (Harry Raybould). 

Because Smith refuses to fight Urso for Athena’s hand, the alien turns Will (Bill Mumy) green too.

It’s not easy being green. It’s also not easy reviewing this spell of Lost in Space’s (1965-1968) second season. It would be difficult to name a sillier, more inconsequential title than this week’s installment, “The Girl in the Green Dimension.”  It’s sub-Gilligan’s Island fare.

The absurdities pile up pretty past, but I’ll enumerate some of them here to give you a taste.  The first involves the fact that Athena is apparently in love with Smith and considers him a brave warrior.  He is hardly suitable courtship material.  She is gorgeous and exotic…he’s a middle-aged pear.  So why the attraction?

Secondly, Will gets turned green – and then back to normal – by means that can only be termed magic.  Apparently, only Urso, not Athena, can change the molecular structure of people by touch. Does this mean all green men of the Green dimension have this power? 

Thirdly, we are asked to believe that the Robinsons would hold a funeral for a piece of Jupiter 2’s equipment.  The family members literally bury the equipment, gather around the mound, and then say kind words about it; they eulogize it.  This occurs, naturally, so Smith can see a vision of the “future” and think that it is his funeral the family has witnessed.  After witnessing this vision of his death, he walks around the planet surface carrying his own half-carved tombstone.

“Wild Adventure” is one of the absolute worst episodes of the second season, so it’s a baffling choice to pick up that story line in “The Girl from the Green Dimension.”  Worse, nothing about this story makes the slightest bit of sense, from the telescope that can show the future to Athena’s affection for Smith as a brave, handsome warrior.  It all seems to take place in some bizarre universe where up is down, black is white, and green is, well, green.

Some folks have seen “The Girl from the Green Dimension” as a commentary on racial differences and belonging, because of Will’s tribulations as a green boy.  He is afraid to show his face to his family, after turning green, fearful that his siblings will reject him because he is “different.”

Indeed, that could have been the point of the episode, but it isn’t.  Instead, it’s the only bearable subplot the episode has to offer.  A better episode would have featured Will’s change as the main point, and challenged his family’s thinking on what is ‘normal,’ and the importance of skin color.  “The Girl from the Green Dimension” barely touches on those notions, and certainly not enough to merit a positive review.

In two weeks: "The Questing Beast."

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Golden Man" (December 28, 1966)

In “The Golden Man,” Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) and Penny (Angela Cartwright) encounter a landed alien ship and finds it manned by a green being who calls humans “stupid and avaricious.” 

They return to camp and warn Mrs. Robinson (June Lockhart) about the visitor since John and Will are away on an expedition.

Before long, a second alien -- a golden man, Keema (Dennis Patrick) -- also appears, and reports that he is at war with the other alien.  He claims it is sinister and dangerous and must be destroyed.  Dr. Smith agrees with this assessment, but Mrs. Robinson is her judicious self.  “There are two sides to every argument,” she notes.  Penny agrees, and she attempts to befriend the green, frog-like alien.

As the Robinsons choose sides in this conflict, the danger of a shooting war between alien races looms large.

In some crucial way, one might consider “The Golden Man” Lost in Space’s (1965-1968) version of “Let that Be Your Last Battlefield,’ on Star Trek (1966-1969). Both episodes concern aliens of diametrically opposed viewpoints (as Spock might say), and both stories are didactic in nature.

“Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” exposes the utter idiocy of racism though its use of the two-toned Cheron-ian aliens, and “The Golden Man” warns humans not to judge a book by its cover. 

In this case, the beautiful, resplendent Golden man is evil, and the hideous frog creature is not.  Smith can’t see through the Golden’s Man’s “beautiful” appearance (and gift-giving) to detect the truth regarding his character.  Only a child, the perceptive Penny, can do that. 

Accordingly, the best part of the episode involves Penny’s attempt to befriend the frog alien, even though he isn’t a very sociable sort.  

The point is that she keeps trying, and is willing to judge the being not on his physical appearance, but on other factors. As humans, we gravitate towards those people, places and thing we find beautiful, ignoring the fact that what is beautiful is not, by definition, good.

On other fronts, “The Golden Man” showcases Lost in Space at its second season worst.  Here for instance, Smith and Penny encounter a minefield composed of terrestrial beach balls.  I don’t believe any explanation is provided for the fact that the mines resemble beach balls, but it’s an absurd, campy touch.  

The shooting war between the aliens, while pitched, is also small-potatoes, visually. 

June Lockhart, playing the matriarch of the Earth family, gets out of this episode with her dignity intact. Even in the worst stories, Maureen Robinson is a great character, and someone worth looking up to. She makes a damn fine leader, too.

Next week: “The Girl in the Green Dimension”

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Dream Monster" (December 21, 1966)

In “The Dream Monster,” an alien scientist called Sesmar (John Abbott) approaches Penny (Angela Cartwright), and marvels at her emotional reaction to a beautiful flower. 

He has constructed a biped android, called Raddion (Dawson Palmer), who is perfect in every way except for one: he cannot experience human emotions.

Sesmar realizes, however, that he can transfer emotions from human beings to Raddion using a strange camera and “transpirator” cards. 

The scientist recruits the cowardly Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) to rob the Robinsons of their emotional states, including John’s leadership, Maureen’s love, Will’s curiosity, and so on. 

Only Major West (Mark Goddard) sees through the plan, but he is not able to prevent the family from losing its humanity.

West and Smith team up to defeat Sesmar, and save the Robinsons from a future without emotions.

“The Dream Monster” is not a terrible episode of Lost in Space (1965-1968), and is actually pretty good in light of some episodes of the second season.  

Although it lacks the frightfulness of “The Wreck of the Robot” and the intrigue of “Prisoners in Space” (both season highlights…) this story nonetheless makes a good point about human emotions.  They may be troublesome, and dangerous at times, but they are worth it. 

They are the things, actually, that drive us to achieve, to be our best.

“The Dream Monster” commences with a heat wave on the planet. The Jupiter 2’s air conditioning system has failed, and everybody is hot…and irritable. West acts, literally, as a “hot-head,” finding fault with John’s (Guy Williams) comments; believing they are directed at him. Maureen, meanwhile, can’t find Penny, and is agitated.

Everyone is short-tempered with one another because they are physically uncomfortable. They let their mood be dictated by their discomfort, and act badly.  

But this kind of short-tempered behavior is the price we all willingly pay for having emotions. For without emotions, John can’t muster the energy (or loyalty…) to be a leader.  Maureen is robbed of the essential quality of love, and as we have seen in the series, it is her love that holds the family together on so many occasions.

And, in the end, West’s emotion of aggression, or bull-headedness combines with Smith’s cunning to save the family. The audience thus understand that even the negative emotions experienced by the Robinsons serve an important purpose.

On those terms, “The Dream Monster” is an intriguing and worthwhile story. I didn't feel debauched watching it.  On the terms that Lost in Space has set for itself in the second story, this particular tale can be described as having some value or virtue.

Other aspects of the narrative don’t seem to work nearly as well as the didactic through-line about emotions.  

There is no valid science behind biophysicist Sesmar’s technology, which robs people of emotions, for example.  

On the other hand, we have all heard those legends of indigenous peoples who didn't want their photographs taken, for fear that the photos would rob them of their souls.  In a very real way, Sesmar's technology -- resembling photography -- does that very thing.  If one accepts that the "science" of Sesmar is beyond the understanding of the Robinsons -- just as the science of photography was beyond those early, indigenous folk -- perhaps the issues of technology aren't so troubling here after all.

I do find it of concern, however, that there isn’t really any motivation for Sesmar to act in the fashion he chooses here.  I would like to know more about him. 

Does he possess emotions?  If he doesn’t, it’s difficult to understand why he would prize them so much for his android.  

And if he does possess them, Sesmar shouldn’t react with such surprise to the presence of emotions in others, right?  

Indeed, his science in the episode automatically and instantly categorizes the emotions of Dr. Smith and the others.  So if his tools so completely understand them, he should do so too.  Yet if that’s the case, why does he react with such surprise and wonder to Penny’s emotions?  

So we are to believe he knows of emotions, doesn't possess them, but prizes them for his android above all other things?   Huh?

The solution at the end of the episode -- destroying the “transpirator” cards holding the Robinsons’ emotions -- doesn’t make a lot of sense, either. If the cards storing the emotions are destroyed, wouldn’t the emotions within them also be destroyed?  Why do these emotions just fly back, as though guided missiles, to those who spawned them?  

The whole point of this technology seems to be to interchangeably move emotional states between people.  So why is there an automatic recall to the source once the emotions are out of the cards?

“The Dream Monster” also feels like a step backwards in the series’ treatment of Dr. Smith.  Here he is right back to the first season’s “Invaders from the Fifth Dimension,” selling the Robinsons down the river to preserve his own skin, and possibly get a ride home to Earth. He is back to his despicable phase here, for sure, and it is a poor creative choice.

But as always, Lost in Space’s merit is not in its deep or consistent science fiction plotting. 

Contrarily, the series' merit rests, in some sense, on its understanding and excavation of the nuclear family and its interrelationships .  We may gripe and bitch with our family members, but we also love them. That's a good lesson to remember as the Thanksgiving holiday approaches, right?

That whole equation of "family" breaks down without emotions underlining it.  If we don't "feel" for those around us, they are mere acquaintances.  If we don't feel empathy for others, why bother to go to another planet in the first place and rescue the human race?

Since this story focuses on a building bock of family -- our emotional lives -- "'The Dream Monster" isn't a bad show, or a bad example of Lost in Space at this particular historical juncture (mid-second season).

Next week: “The Golden Man.”

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Wreck of the Robot" (December 14, 1966)

In “The Wreck of the Robot, Will (Bill Mumy), Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) and the Robot encounter strange, sinister aliens in a cave.

These dark, curious beings want to take the Robot, and offer to pay for it, but Will refuses their ffer.

Later, the aliens make the same demand for the “mechanical man,” and Professor Robinson (Guy Williams) also refuses.   The Robot begins to feel fearful that his “number is up,” and that his days with his “family” are numbered.

When the macabre aliens act again, they board the Jupiter 2 by darkest night, take the robot and dismantle him.  They offer to return him -- though in pieces -- when their examination is through.

The Robot is returned, but soon all the mechanical devices in the Robinsons’ camp begin to act strangely…out of control. 

The family soon realizes that these aliens of “evil ambition” plan to conquer Earth.  And they will do so by turning man’s machines against him!

I won’t pull punches in my review today. 

"The Wreck of the Robot” is the best episode of Lost in Space’s (1965-1968) second season, at least so far.  It vies for this title with “Prisoners in Space,” but I would seat it just a bit higher than that fine, and entertaining entry.

Why such regard for this episode?

Although the episode is shot in color, “The Wreck of the Robot” strongly recalls the expressionist nightmares of season one installments such as “Wish Upon a Star,” and the child-like innocence (but also terror…) of such stories as “The Magic Mirror,” or “Attack of the Plant Monsters.”

This story involves strange, faceless aliens in cloaks and hats who are genuinely terrifying in image and movement. Yet their image is further enhanced by the compositions and shots chosen by the director, Nathan Juran. 

For example, these extraterrestrial creatures -- kind of early versions of Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s fearsome Gentlemen -- are sometimes seen only as shadows reflected on the hull of the Jupiter 2. And by pitch-black night, no less.

And in one thoroughly unnerving scene, these beings steal inside the safe haven of the Jupiter 2, and peek in on the children, Penny and Will, sleeping soundly.  They stand there and watch, before moving on, and the impression is one of real malevolence; real danger.  

On a series that so often feels silly, this invasion of “home” does not feel silly at all.

The fear being expressed in “The Wreck of the Robot,” quite simply, is something akin to “Stranger Danger.”  All children, I believe, understand this fear instinctively; that some malevolent adult stranger has set their sights on us, and wants to take us away from our family.

If one analyzes the images in “The Wreck of the Robot,” one begins to understand that’s exactly the story featured here. The alien strangers are, in terms of symbolism, depicted as strange “adults” in their formal hat and capes.  

Secondly, they arrive to steal one of the family -- the Robot -- who is deathly afraid of them.

And then, worst of all, these alien stranger come by night, as the children sleep, and invade the safety of the home (the Jupiter 2), while the parents are totally unaware, oblivious of the danger posed.  

The Robot is taken, metaphorically, from his home, at night and then “dismantled,” a kind of body image attack that is not far, idea-wise, from physical or sexual assault. After being returned and re-assembled, the Robot readily admits he feels uneasy; that he is not himself yet.  For lack of a better word, he is traumatized.

Given the metaphorical meaning of the tale, “The Wreck of the Robot” plays as something much like a child’s nightmare. The sinister aliens are both grotesque (for being faceless) and representative of adults (in their choice attire), yet also -- in some way -- whimsical or childish. They are the kind of monster a child might be afraid of. They are simultaneously repellent and impossible to stop watching.

“The Wreck of the Robot” also succeeds for two other reasons. First, it features a remarkable and heart-felt scene between John and Will Robinson. 

John wants to tell Will that he will be okay, even if he loses the robot, and one cannot help but think of a parent comforting a child over the loss or injury of a pet.  John tries to tell Will that he will be all right, no matter what happens to his friend.   Also in this scene, there’s a great moment about how fathers love their sons.  For them, John says, it is like reliving their own childhood; like he gets to grow up all over again.  This is, frankly, how I feel almost every day with my son.  I get to relive childhood through his eyes; his experiences. 

“The Wreck of the Robot” also seems to understand that a little Dr. Smith goes a long way.  He is not the center of the story, he does not attempt to deceitfully sell the Robot to the aliens, and his comic antics are not allowed to detract from the narrative’s sense of developing fear or terror.  The worst scene in the episode, in fact, is one in which Don and Judy tease Smith with the Robot’s severed head. But even that doesn’t ruin the episode, overall.

In terms of character development, “The Wreck of the Robot” certainly does a lot for the “Bubble Headed Booby.”  The Robot survives his abduction in the end, and destroys the alien machine -- when no man or machine can -- because of his unique nature.  As he suggests, the Robot is not a man and not a machine, either, but something in between.  He has a soul, perhaps one might conclude.

But even the Robot’s strange journey -- and sense of self-discovery in this episode -- is secondary to what I feel is a deeply psychological story about childhood, or adolescence; the fear of the adult world and its strange rules (again, represented by the aliens’ formal hats, I would suggests), as well as its murky, unspoken dangers.

I absolutely love Lost in Space when it plays on this terrain, as a kind of futuristic fairy tale for kids 

(think “The Magic Mirror” or “My Friend, Mr. Nobody.”) 

I readily confess that I have found some previous episodes of the second season not only tiresome, but actually atrocious.  “

"The Wreck of the Robot” rights the ship, at least for a moment.

Next week: “The Dream Monster.”

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "A Visit to Hades" (December 7, 1966)

In “A Visit to Hades,” Will (Bill Mumy), Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) and the Robot discover a strange lyre in the desert.  

When Smith strokes it, he is transported to a prison cell in another dimension; a complex which he mistakes for Hell itself.

There, the sole prisoner -- Morbus (Gerald Mohr) -- pretends to be the Devil, and tells Smith he will release him from Hades if he does one thing: destroy the lyre.

Smith is returned to the planet, but finds he can’t destroy the musical instrument. 

Before long, Morbus escapes from the prison and begins to romance Judy (Marta Kristen).

Soon, she ends up in the Hell/prison dimension too, and Professor Robinson (Guy Williams) and Don West (Mark Goddard) must rescue her.

“A Visit to Hades” is a strange episode indeed, but at least this week's installment features a solid sci-fi concept, in this case, an extra-dimensional prison, and the exile trapped there.  

As we learn in the course of the episode, Morbus has been trapped for 12,000 years in that cell and is seeking a way of escape.

Unfortunately, Lost in Space (1965-1968) fails to tell a truly gripping story with this premise. Instead, it wallows in high camp, and again, gets one main character very, very wrong.

In terms of the campy aspects of the story, I refer to one scene primarily. Morbus, using a “temporal projector” is able to scan Dr. Smith’s memories and see his sins.  

Instead of showing us Smith’s evil behavior -- sabotaging the Jupiter 2 (“The Reluctant Stowaway”), nearly killing Professor Robinson (“Island in the Sky”) or his attempt to sell Will to aliens (“Invaders from the Fifth Dimension”) -- the episode shows viewers a ridiculous scene of him stealing a chunk of Penny’s chocolate birthday cake.

Then, adding insult to injury, it reveals images of him as a youngster, making mischief, tattling on a fellow student and stealing copies of exams as a high school student. Such scenes might have been tolerable, except for the fact that they cast Harris – not other actors – as a six year old and as a seventeen year old.  They are impossible to take seriously.

Smith pretty much always looks bad, but “A Visit to Hades” does a terrible job developing the character of Judy Robinson. Now remember, she is a twenty-something year-old scientist, and an accomplished one at that.  

But this episode casts her as a fickle teenage girl. Judy flirts capriciously with Morbus, dissing Don and saying girls “like to have a choice.” This scene occurs after she is inexplicably rude to her mother, and complains about wanting to be left alone.  Then, she gets captured in Hell, starts to cry, and throws a temper tantrum at Morbus. She perks up only momentarily, when Morbus presents her with a diamond.  Then she's back to being a crybaby.

So…Judy’s fifteen years old now?

Sadly, Judy is probably the most underdeveloped character on the whole series. She has had one episode focus on her so far (“Attack of the Monster Plants,”) and that’s it.  So this episode should have been an opportunity to explore her persona more fully. 

Instead, the episode totally demeans the character and makes her act like a child. There’s just no way that Judy would reasonably behave in this fashion after roughly two years on the frontier, and everything she has been through. She is a tough survivor, at this point, not some egotistical teen.

The episode reaches its nadir, however, in the final scene, during which a belligerent Major West tries, and fails, to punch out Morbus, and then Judy hits him on the head, accidentally, with the lyre.  

The episode should have just gone all the way and featured animated balloons reading “ZONK!” or “POW!” over the action.

Eagle-eyed sci-fi movie fans may recognize the monster of the week: it’s part Metaluna mutant from This Island Earth (1951) and part Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954).

Next week: “The Wreck of the Robot.’

Lost in Space 50th Anniversary Blogging: "West of Mars" (November 30, 1966)

In “West of Mars,” Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) is mistaken for the “super swift” interstellar gunslinger Zeno (also Jonathan Harris) by a space enforcement officer, Claudio (Allan Melvin).

While Zeno masquerades as Smith on the Robinsons’ planet, Smith and Will are transported by jail-spaceship to the criminal’s home world. There, Smith -- as Zeno -- must overcome a challenge by another swift.

Meanwhile, the Robinsons begin to suspect that the man in their midst isn’t Dr. Smith at all, but an impostor.

Although reputedly one of Jonathan Harris’s favorite episodes, “West of Mars” is merely more evidence of Lost in Space’s (1965-1968) atrocious transition from attempt at real space adventure/sci-fi to campy, Batman-like fantasy comedy.

First, the production values stink.  We get a studio-bound planet set in which only parts of the store fronts have been built (think Star Trek’s: “Spectre of the Gun,” though at least in that story there was dramatic motivation for the threadbare sets.)

Here, we get a spaceship that is a traveling jail cell. 

Here, we see Smith and Will (Bill Mumy) ride around on stuffed animal transportation systems (a giraffe and a tiger, respectively).

The episode also relentlessly re-cycles story ideas. Another episode “His Majesty Smith,” similarly contends with a Smith double (the kindly “Daddy Zack,”) and a case of mistaken identity.

Continuity is again a stumbling block too.  For example, the Robot notes in this episode that he has “been programmed with the galactic legal code.”  Really?  By whom?  When? 

It is actually logical that this might have occurred in the episode “The Prisoners of Space,” but no such background or context is provided. 

In fact, the Robot’s behavior is entirely baffling in this episode, since he doesn’t protect the Robinsons from the criminal (Zeno) in the family’s camp.  Would he really be bullied by a western-style fire-arm?

Also, the Robot states that Dr. Smith never carries a weapon, apparently having forgotten the events of stories such as “The Sky is Falling,” wherein Smith is clearly depicted as carrying a gun.

I guess the big question about a story like “West of Mars” is, simply: does it entertain?  Does it work as what it is (a silly fantasy romp), not as what it isn’t (a decent hour of science fiction TV).

Well, in a sense, yes, the episode entertains.  Harris delivers a strong performance as Zeno, a character quite unlike Smith. The role is devoid of Smith’s affectations, and is quite different from what we usually see from Harris. At some points, we see only his eyes (under his cowboy hat), and Harris actually looks malevolent.

Beyond that, however, “West of Mars” doesn’t hold up.

Why can’t the space enforcer (who wears a space suit from Destination Moon [1950]), determine which being is Zeno, and which is Smith?

They may look identical, but they don’t have identical DNA, one must assume.  If the enforcer comes from an advanced culture, technologically-speaking, why can’t he run a blood test, a DNA pattern check, a brain-wave scan, or even run fingerprints to get at the truth?

On a pure logical basis, then, the story fails.

Secondly, Smith and Will return to the Robinsons’ planet in the stolen jail spaceship. 

What becomes of that ship after their return? 

How can Will fly it, almost instantly? 

Why doesn’t Smith ask Will to drop him off on Earth on the return trip to the Robinsons? 

For that matter, why doesn’t Will gather his family, and bring it back to Earth, or take them to Alpha Centauri?

Watching an episode like this, I’m just left thinking “the pain…the pain.”

Next episode: “A Visit to Hades”