Breakaway Day 2015: Space:1999: "The Full Circle" (1975)

The reconnaissance team on Eagle 6 has not reported back from the forested planet of Retha. 

Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) orders Paul Morrow (Prentis Hancock) to retrieve the craft by remote control.  When the ship is explored at Moonbase Alpha, a primitive cave-man is discovered dead in the passenger module. He is the ship's only occupant.

Koenig orders a full-scale rescue mission to the planet, unaware that a mysterious mist found on the planet surface is actually a time warp of sorts.  

When the Alphans step through the fog, they are re-made as primitive cave-people. As a primitive man, Koenig becomes Cave Chief, while Helena Russell becomes the tribal healer, and the Chief’s consort.

Unaware of what has happened to her fellow Alphans, data analyst Sandra Benes (Zienia Merton) encounters several cave people, who capture her and bring her back to the cave.  There, a primitive hunter (Oliver Cotton) and the Cave Chief battle for ownership of the beautiful and strange female in their midst.

On Alpha, Dr. Mathias (Anton Phillips) solves the alien riddle during an autopsy.  The caveman in the Eagle has caps on his teeth.  

He is one of the Alphans, not an inhabitant of Retha…

“The Full Circle” is likely not one of the better-regarded episodes of Space: 1999’s (1975-1977) Year One.  And yet, it is an episode that I like very much, and for two key reasons. 

First, the episode is set mostly in natural, real environs, and that fact gives the story a remarkable boost in terms of visuals and excitement.  The planet Retha is a combination of Black Park and Pinewood Studios back-lot exterior locations, and the contrast between sterile, technological Moonbase Alpha and such natural, wild locales is remarkable.

You could not recreate the “primordial” look and feel of Retha on an interior sound-stage, using papier mache rocks, nor, truthfully, by using a familiar So Cal location.  

To American eyes, therefore, “The Full Circle” looks genuinely like a journey to the prehistoric era, to a wild, untamed world.  Director Bob Kellett’s camera-work is also remarkable, especially during the pursuit of Sandra by the cave-man Alphans.

Secondly, the episode’s thematic framework works very successfully. Specifically, "The Full Circle" ponders the (unchanging?) nature of humanity. It compares turn-of-the-millennium, space-age Alphans to Stone Age counterparts, and finds few meaningful differences.  

To wit: Sandra Benes (Zienia Merton) nearly bludgeons Commander Koenig (as cave man) to death with a rock.  And Alan Carter (Nick Tate) literally goes “cave-man,” vengeful and hungry for blood when he worries that Sandra has been injured. These are the acts of rational, modern human beings?

As the episode’s coda suggests, the narrative is really about basic human emotions, about human instincts.  Sandra still acts by fight-or-flight dictates, for example, and this means that she is not far removed, in terms of nature, from the Cave Chief who -- in a manner very unlike Commander Koenig -- desires her.

As Koenig notes “it was only us there,” and the point is made. In 40,000 years, according to the episode’s timeline, man has not really evolved beyond savagery, beyond jealousy, rage, and other primitive emotions.  Those things still drive us, sometimes to survival, sometimes to disaster.

One scene suggests the similarities visually.  

At around the half-way point of the episode, we meet Alan, Victor and Kano huddled around a camp-fire, getting ready to turn in for the night. 

In the very next scene, we see the interior of the tribe’s cave, where a camp-fire is also at the center of the population, at the center of civilization.  The costumes have changed -- from Rudi Gernreich 1999 chic to primitive furs -- but man has not.  He still needs fire. He still huddles with his fellow humans in the dark.  And he still doesn’t understand all the mysteries of nature, and the universe.

Where “The Full Circle” vexes some critics and viewers, I suppose, is in the story mechanism that makes the comparison between primitive man and space age man possible.  Here, a swirling mist is a time warp that changes Koenig, Helena and other Alphans from civilized to primitive. Even their clothes change with them.

The time warp mist is a solid device for making the story’s point, but leaves a lot of questions unanswered.  

How do the Alphan’s change costumes in the mist?  How does the time warp achieve that end? Does all the mist on the planet act in this fashion, or only in this one spot?  Is the time warp naturally occurring, a function of “nature” on Retha, or is it something that was designed by unseen inhabitants?

Personally, it doesn’t bother me that Space: 1999 fails to address such questions. I prefer to speculate, and have always felt that the time warp is some device or entity left behind the planet’s inhabitants.  

Perhaps they created it because they foresaw the end of their race, and wanted to go back to the beginning...get a second chance. Or perhaps they left it behind on Retha to preserve the planet’s natural, unspoiled nature.  Any visitors would lose the capacity to alter the planet’s climate or terrain if reverted to primitive form.

In the end, the details don’t really matter a whole lot, and it is what “The Full Circle” states about human nature that is valuable, and memorable.  When you combine that statement with the beautiful location work, the episode emerges as one that is less disposable, and far more intriguing.  Barry Gray's score is also one of his most unusual contributions, and underlines the action brilliantly.

Also, as is the case in many Year One stories (and “Earthbound’s” coda is an example), “The Full Circle” gains interest and suspense from a twist in the tale.  

It is learned, late in the story, that the cave-man in Eagle 6 is actually an Alphan.  Specifically, he has caps on his teeth.  This information changes the whole nature of the story on the first watch.  Before this reveal, it is a natural assumption that the Alphans have encountered a world of primitive man.  

In fact, as Mathias's discovery suggests, they have encountered only themselves at a different stage of development.  That twist is a surprising one, and like the device of the misty time-warp, makes the final point about humanity’s unchanging nature, all the more powerful.

Breakaway Day 2015: Happy 40th Anniversary to Space:1999 (1975 - 1977)

Every year on the blog, I celebrate Breakaway Day: the occasion (September 13), in Space: 1999 (1975-1977) lore that the Moon -- and the inhabitants of Moonbase Alpha -- are blasted out of Earth’s orbit.

But this is a special year. 

Space: 1999 turns forty this year, which is hard for me to believe, let alone accept.

Of course, one might look at the year “1999” in the series title, and then consider the age of the production, and wonder why Space: 1999 is worth celebrating. 

The answer is simple: 1999 is not an expiration date because the ideas, human and genre-oriented, explored in Space: 1999 continue to hold currency in our culture.

Indeed, many episodes have more social currency today than they did in 1975. The series visuals, in terms of production design and special effects, continue to hold up remarkably well, but the ideas have never, in my opinion, looked better, or carried more value.

So to celebrate Space: 1999’s special Breakaway Day this year, I’ll be starting today, on September 9^th, and going right through September 13^th. 

September 9^th, actually, is an important day in series lore too.  It is the day that Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) assumes command of Moonbase Alpha.

Today through the 13^th then, I’ll be posting new episode reviews (“Earthbound, “The Full Circle,” “The Metamorph”), showcasing new collectibles, and also re-posting Space: 1999 articles from years past. 

I hope you enjoy the show, and I hope you join me wishing Space: 1999 a happy fortieth anniversary.

Breakaway Day 2014: Visualizing Space: 1999

"Space: 1999" had a style, a feel, a look of its own." - Martin Landau (Lee Goldberg. Starlog: "Martin Landau Space-Age Hero." July 1986, page 45).

"...Space:1999 is like Star Trek shot full of methedrine.  It is the most flashy, gorgeous sci-fi trip ever to appear on TV.  Watching it each week is very close to being under the influence of a consciousness altering drug. - Benjamin Stein. The Wall Street Journal: "Sailing Along on a Moon-Base Way."

Though TV reviewers were often quick to criticize the storylines on Gerry and Sylvia Anderson's Space: 1999, most nonetheless agreed that the visualizations of this classic series were unimpeachable. 

For example, TV/Radio columnist Charlie Hanna termed the sci-fi program a "visual feast," and The New York Times critic John J. O'Connor noted that the "visual lavishness is apparent from the dazzling array of electronic gadgets and hardware to the "moon city" costumes designed by Rudi Gerneich."

I can add my own testimony to this effusive praise.  When I initially watched Space:1999 back in 1975, I was certain that this was indeed what the future would look like.  It just seemed right and appropriate that by the year 1999 we'd all be able to communicate across mini-tv screens thanks to devices such as the useful commlock.  And, of course, furniture and interior decoration would be immaculate, minimalist, and stream-lined by the eve of the 21st century, right?

Okay. It didn't quite turn out that way, but you can't convince me that it shouldn't have turned out that way. The sets  for Space: 1999 were created by production designer Keith Wilson, and the exterior miniatures by special effects director Brian Johnson. In both cases, these gentlemen did extraordinary work.  In short, they accomplished three critical things:

First, they created believable technology with one foot in the future and one in the present. 

In Space:1999, for instance, you'll see control rooms, nuclear generating plants, and high-tech medical units, but at the same time, you can note characters reading books, adjusting thermostats in their crew quarters, and even tanning themselves in a solarium ("Force of Life.") 

In practice, this is quite an extraordinary combination.  Despite the clean, minimal lines of Moonbase Alpha construction, crew quarters boast a sense of individuality and recognizable humanity ("Matter of Life and Death."), Areas of heavy use such as laboratories, as seen in "Breakaway" and "Voyager's Return," are cluttered and over-crowded.  In other words -- despite the immaculate white conception of Moonbase Alpha -- man will be man, even in the future. He will use the "space" on the Moon in just the way he does here on Earth; and that way isn't always clean and austere...or even neat.  Victor Bergman's laboratory is another example of this design approach.

Secondly, the designers of Space:1999 didn't skimp on a sense of scope.

This means that the vistas and views of Moonbase Alpha appeared more legitimately cinematic and impressive than virtually any other sci-fi series sets in history up to 1978 including Star Trek, wherein the Enterprise bridge famously did not include a ceiling.  

The control center of Moonbase Alpha, Main Mission, is a perfect example of this aesthetic.  It is a vast, two-story affair replete with a ledge and observation area, as well as a kind of mission control pit where analysts toil on a regular basis.  Attached to Main Mission -- with a wall as a huge sliding door -- is the Commander's office.  For privacy, Commander Koenig can shut the door to Main Mission.  In cases of emergency, he can open the door, and his desk overlooks the Big Screen and his workers.   

What must be noted about this is that both Main Mission and the Commander's office are vast.   The two (joined) sets present the appearance of a real life, sprawling complex.

Scope is sometimes achieved other ways on the series as well.  Miniatures do the trick to convey passage on the useful Travel Tube, and in rare instances, Space:1999 joins live-action footage with rear-projection footage of Eagles and their hangar bay.  Again, there's a powerful aura of a fully-operational Moonbase here.

Third, and equally important, the amazing technology and design of Alpha and the Eagles were merely the starting point of this adventure.

Week after week, our impressive views of Earth's high-tech turn-of-the-century moonbase were one-upped, essentially, by mind-blowing alien landscapes and worlds,  as featured in episodes such as "Guardian of Piri," "Missing Link," "War Games," "The Last Enemy" and so on. 

After many of those trippy adventures, the high-tech environs of Moonbase Alpha felt not like a dazzling vision of a future age, but rather like "home," even fostering a sense of security. By creating alien worlds of such blazing distinction and originality, the makers of Space:1999 actually made their "future" Earth technology seem all the more believable (and desirable).

It would be impossible to write this post without commenting just a little on the Eagle, one of the most beloved spaceship designs of cult-televisions. These craft are perfectly in keeping with Moonbase Alpha: as remarkable embodiment of "near future" technology. No flying saucers or stream-lined nacelles in this world.  Rather, the utilitarian Eagles consist of interconnected modules, retro-rockets, landing pads and nose-cones.  All these facets are recognizable as dramatic extrapolations from the then-current Apollo program.  Again, Space:1999 had one foot in the future, and one in the present.

This is how Brian Johnson described the creation of the Eagles, in an interview with me almost a decade ago (on the advent of Space:1999's release on DVD):

"I was in my "modular" design mode in those days. I reasoned that it made sense to make Pods that were interchangeable. The command pod could serve as a lifeboat, Eagles could be "chained" together, etc...My basic ideas came from looking at dragonflies and insects of all sorts. I copied nature to some degree - I think it made the Eagle believable."

Believability, scope, and then imagination. These are the sturdy foundations of Space:1999's set and model designs.   Below is a brief gallery showcasing Moonbase Alpha as it appeared in Year One.  Finally, I should add that these sets, models and designs look even more remarkable on Blu Ray.

Looking up to the Commander's office.



Minimalism meets clutter: a fully functioning machine laboratory.

A Room with a view.  Note the globe of Earth cast in gray and black to match the rest of the set.



Clock, communicator and more: The comm-post.



Against a backdrop of stars: a repair-man with a tool kit.

Remote control flying an Eagle.

The well-lit travel tube interior track.

The Solarium

Behind our heroes, a hanger bay filled with Eagles.

An Eagle spacecraft, with special module (from "Breakaway.")

Moonbase Alpha

Breakaway Day 2014: Space:1999 "Guardian of Piri"

In “Guardian of Piri,” Earth’s traveling Moon encounters a new and strange world, which Victor Bergman (Barry Morse) mysteriously designates “Piri” during a command conference.

Unfortunately, every attempt to gather more information about Piri seems to go awry, and Computer provides a steady stream of inaccurate or confusing information about it. When an Eagle mission to the planet is believed lost, its crew assumed dead, Alan Carter (Nick Tate) is furious, blaming the tragedy on Computer because the pilots believed what “the lousy computer told them to believe.”

Before long, Alpha’s computer begins to make catastrophic errors regarding the base’s internal operation too. Professor Bergman faints after Computer recalibrates the oxygen in the base’s air-supply, without heed.  Later, another Alphan, Sarah Graham, dies when Computer stops a blood-transfusion in mid-operation.

Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) believes that David Kano (Clifton Jones), head of Computer Section can help determine why the machine has gone “haywire.”  Several years earlier, David undertook a dangerous experiment to link computer memory with the human brain, and now he and Koenig believe this link-up might help pinpoint the problem. Instead a force spirits Kano away from Alpha when link-up is made.

Koenig travels to Piri in an Eagle, and sees that the Eagle pilots and Kano have become mindless drones on the strange planetary surface. He encounters a beautiful woman (Catherine Schell), who identifies herself as the Servant of the Guardian of Piri, and reports that her purpose is to take “transient, imperfect” human life and render it “perfect.”  She also reports that the Guardian has stopped time, because absolute perfection is eternal.

Koenig objects, noting that the Pirian Way is not the human way. But back on Alpha, Dr. Helena Russell (Barbara Bain) and the others are already preparing for Operation Exodus, and a permanent re-settlement on the planet…

In blunt terms, “Guardian of Piri” is a story about the ways that technology and automation can be dehumanizing influences. 

Space: 1999 writer Johnny Byrne told me during an interview that the Gerry and Sylvia Anderson series grapples explicitly with the notion that technology is a double or two-edged sword. Technology gives us something, but also takes away something else. Johnny was talking, specifically, about “Matter of Life and Death” when we had this discussion, but he could have been discussing Christopher Penfold’s visually dynamic and thematically resonant “Guardian of Piri” as well.

“Guardian of Piri” has fascinating origins in Greek Myth. In Homer’s The Odyssey, Odysseus was desperately attempting to return home to Ithaca following the Trojan War, but along the way encountered the sirens. 

These inhuman beings had a tantalizing call, one both irresistible and sexual in nature. Odysseus had himself tied to the mast by his crew so he could hear the song, but not heed the call. That’s how powerful the siren song proved to be.

In “Guardian of Piri,” the Guardian and its servant are created very much in the fashion of the mythical sirens, drawing the Alphans and even Computer to the planet surface.Yet importantly, in this case their song is not overtly sexual (though the episode’s final act features strong sexual overtones...), but rather technological in nature. Specifically, Piri promises a paradise in which machines will tend to every human need, and humans will be left to their leisure. Even the day-to-day matters of “sustenance” will not interfere with human pleasure, as Helena asserts at one juncture. 

What makes all that pleasure possible is the toil and custodianship of the Guardian.

Uniquely, “Guardian of Piri” suggests a continuum in term of dependence on technology (specifically machines or computers).  The Alphans represent an early but still dangerous point on that particularly graph.  

They “believe what the lousy computer” tells them to believe, and thus nearly lose an Eagle crew.  

Similarly Koenig notes that there are simply not enough personnel to run the base on manual control.  The Alphans are overseers of their technology, but they cannot regulate every function on Moonbase Alpha. Sarah Graham dies because her blood transfusion -- considered a routine computer-controlled process --went unobserved by human eyes.  “I am not a computer,” Dr. Mathias (Anton Phillips) declares angrily, and his suggestion is that Medical Section is unmanageable without Computer’s custodianship of it. 

Koenig starts to suspect that this dependence on Computer, while necessary, is having ill-effects. “That computer seems to be telling us exactly what we want to hear,” he observes correctly.  Indeed it is, because the computer has heard the song of Piri and is now in thrall to the siren...the Guardian.

The Pirians meanwhile, stand at a later point on the same continuum, or more aptly, its end point. 

The Servant explains to Koenig how the Pirians were people of “great skill” and how they built machines to run everything. Then they constructed the Guardian to oversee their machines to save them “from decision.”  

The (ostensibly humanoid) Pirians thus abandoned every responsibility they had, even those pesky matters of day-to-day sustenance, in favor of pleasure. But a people that didn’t build anything, didn’t exert themselves, and couldn’t be bothered, even, to feed themselves became...apathetic. In the end, as Koenig realizes, they died.  They could not thrive in a computer’s idea of paradise.

Late in the story, Koenig stumble on the antidote to this mind-numbing apathy: pain. He punches a monitor in Main Mission and cuts his hand. The Servant offers to heal it for him but he objects: “Leave me with my pain. It reminds me I’m human.” Then he descends to Piri and puts Helena through shock treatment to rouse her from her trance of apathy.  The message seems to be that some amount of suffering, or pain (the opposite of pleasure) is necessary if human civilization is to thrive.

One of the most fascinating aspects of “Guardian of Piri” involves the episode’s ending. By destroying the “moment of perfection” created by the Guardian, the Alphans actually restore natural (rather than machine life) to the planet’s surface. They were brought there, essentially, to die in a computer's vision of perfect bliss.  Instead, they upended the machine’s vision and imposed a sense of order more in keeping with human biology. Too bad, as Koenig says, that they didn’t stay.   

As I noted in my book, Exploring Space:1999, several episodes of the series involve the Alphans acting as catalysts, bringing new life or resurrecting dead life on alien worlds. In addition to their catalyzing actions in "Guardian of Piri," the Alphans help Arra to evolve in "Collision Course," and bring the seeds of life to Arkadia in "Testament of Arkadia," 

Beyond the plot line, which suggests a futuristic siren call and a computerized version of paradise, “Guardian of Piri” thrives on its amazing and uncanny visuals.  

In all of science fiction television history, there has never been another world that looks like Piri.  It is unique. The planet’s surface is a strange, technological forest atop a rocky plateau. In the forest, the trees seem to be wrapped in wires bundles instead of organic vines, and instead of leaves, there are giant mechanical white bulbs everywhere. his set was built in miniature and in live-action proportions, and remains, as noted above, absolutely singular in appearance.  

As one Alphan notes, the planet is a “weirdy.”  But an unforgettable weirdy.

This episode always reminds me why I admire Space: 1999 to such a degree.  Its visual presentation is downright stunning, and often incredibly original. Spectacular is probably the right word. And this episode gives us the spectacular Catherine Schell as well, strolling among the strange wiry trees of Piri, suggesting a distant world both alluring…and utterly alien.

Breakaway Day 2014: The Horror Mythology of Space:1999

"We're a long way from home, and we're going to have to start thinking differently if we're going to come to terms with space."

-Professor Victor Bergman, Space: 1999; "Matter of Life and Death."

One important quality that differentiates Space: 1999 (1975-1977) from virtually any other outer space adventure ever created, even after thirty-five years, is its heavy accent on horror.

Unlike Star Trek, wherein planets are joined peacefully across the ocean of space as part of a cosmic, political United Nations, Gerry and Sylvia Anderson's Space: 1999 presents the universe as a realm of incomprehensible and total, abject terror.

Because the heroes of Space: 1999 (1975 -1977) -- the 311 astronauts and scientists stationed on Moonbase Alpha -- are psychologically and technologically unprepared for their unexpected journey into deepest space (it's the result of an accident on the moon's surface...) even the most wonderful or harmless mechanisms of the cosmos appear frightening, foreboding and unknown to these inexperienced, contemporary travelers. It's a metaphor, perhaps, for the way our cave-men ancestors may have regarded thunder, fire, the sun or the moon -- as inexplicable, fearsome elements of existence.

Given this revolutionary and fascinating aspect of Space: 1999, I thought it might prove interesting today to make note of many of the horror myths, legends and concepts that Space: 1999 re-purposed during its two year, 48-episode run. Virtually all of these conceits, you will note, were given a technological sheen or update for the series, a polish well in keeping with an overarching theme that Science Digest's editor, Arielle Emmett termed "the downfall of 20th century technological man."

1. The Premature Burial: "Earthbound"

In the nineteenth century, one of the great human dreads involved being buried alive.

This fear was so widespread, in fact, that some people saw to it that they had emergency signalling devices installed in their coffins upon internment. Gothic author Edgar Allen Poe exploited this societal fear of being buried alive in The Fall of The House of Usher and his 1844 short story, The Premature Burial.

The horror trope of being buried alive has come to be associated with such concepts as claustrophobia (fear of being trapped in a coffin, in a confined space) and body paralysis, the inability to move or function within that confined space.  The primary setting of premature burial fears, of course, is the casket: the narrow, tight final resting place of the human form.   Modern films have also obsessed on the premature burial, namely Wes Craven's The Serpent and The Rainbow (1989) and The Vanishing (1993).

In Space:1999, an episode entitled "Earthbound" by Anthony Terpiloff culminated with a high-tech, futuristic variation on the premature burial conceit.  Earth's Commissioner Simmonds (Roy Dotrice) becomes entombed in a suspended animation device aboard an alien spaceship for a 75-year journey to Earth.  A bully and an opportunist, Simmonds has resorted to extortion and black mail to get this coveted "slot" on Captain Zantor's (Christopher Lee) ship. He pays for his moral infraction, however, when -- just hours into the trip -- he awakens inside the transparent suspended animation chamber, the futuristic equivalent of a coffin..

Simmonds even has an emergency signalling device on his person, an Alphan communicator called a "commlock." He alerts Moonbase Alpha to his mortal plight, but the wandering moon is too far distant to come to his assistance. Simmonds is thus left behind -- alive and conscious -- in the claustrophobic container, without the possibility of help or rescue, a perfect metaphor for the terror inherent in the convention of the premature burial.

2. The Siren: "The Guardian of Piri"


Ancient Greek mythology gave the world the concept of Sirens: seductresses of the not-quite human variety who lured sailors to their isolated island with a tempting song, and then kept them trapped there for all eternity. The Sirens, uniquely, were temptresses of the mind or spirit, not the flesh, and boasted knowledge beyond the confines of linear time. Always depicted as females, the Sirens bore knowledge of both the past and future.

In Homer's epic poem, The Odyssey, sea captain and warrior Odysseus -- on his long journey home -- had himself physically strapped to the mast of his vessel so he could experience the Siren song for himself. Let's just say it drove him to distraction.

In Space: 1999's "The Guardian of Piri," written by Christopher Penfold, the wandering moon (also searching for "home,"much like Odysseus) falls under the tantalizing spell of "The Guardian" on an alien world.

The Guardian, like the mythical sirens of the Greeks, extends its purview beyond the linear progression of time. In fostering "perfection" in its captive wards it can actually freeze time, holding living life-forms in a permanent stasis. Space:1999's Odysseus surrogate, Commander Koenig (Martin Landau), doesn't tie himself to the mast of Moonbase Alpha to resist the lure, but he is the only man on the installation able to resist the beguiling, female face of the Guardian, played by lovely Catherine Schell. Even Moonbase Alpha's oracle, Victor Bergman falls under the spell, describing, briefly, an "old man's fantasies." Finally, Computer itself is tempted by the Siren song and is "removed" to Piri.

3. The Midas Touch: "Force of Life"


In Greek mythology, there was also a man named King Midas of Phyrgia, a man who was gifted with the power to turn everything he touched to gold.

This frightful power soon became a curse, however, when his food and water turned to gold, and even his beloved daughter was transformed into a gold statue. In the end, King Midas returned his power to the Earth, by spreading into a running river. After doing so, Midas left behind his love of the material world and material wealth. He came to despise the gold he had once coveted.

Johnny Byrne's outstanding Space: 1999 episode "Force of Life" involves an Alphan technician, Anton Zoref (Ian McShane), who, because of an alien "gift," develops the terrifying ability to freeze objects and people on contact. The name Zoref is an anagram for FROZE, and Phyrgia even sounds a bit like Frigid. Likewise, when the tale climaxes, Zoref casts off his earthly life, becoming a power of pure energy. In his new form, Zoref, like Midas in a sense, leaves human concerns behind.

The Midas connection in "Force of Life" is perhaps more obscure than some of the other mythology in Space:1999 and story editor Johnny Byrne once described the episode as one in which a life-form "rises above human form." He told me. "The majesty of the creature (though unfortunate for Zoref) was that it was one step closer to attaining the next stage of existence."

4. The Midwich Cuckoos: "Alpha Child"

Our literary, cinematic and TV tradition is filled with examples of sinister, even demonic "changeling" children. John Wyndham's 1957 novel The Midwich Cuckoos (made as the 1960 film Village of the Damned) featured otherworldy but human-appearing children who pursued an evil alien agenda against mankind.

The 1950s also gave the world sociopath Rhoda Penmark, The Bad Seed of novelist William March: a child without the empathy and innocence we associate with children. By the disco-decade of the 1970s, we were introduced to the demonically possessed Regan in The Exorcist (1973) and little Damien, The Anti-Christ, in The Omen (1976).

Christopher Penfold's "Alpha Child" presents the tale of the first Alphan born in space, little Jackie Crawford, and the alien changeling (Jarak) who steals his place, possesses his body and accelerates his growth. This terrifying episode is dominated by unforgettable horrific imagery, including that of a child psychically torturing his mother, and a grown child trapped within the too-small confines of a baby incubator. That last visual is a sign of "horror" overcoming technology, an important idea in Space:1999.

5. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: "The Full Circle"

The dual, split-personality nature of the human being was observed and charted in Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 novel, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There, the crux of the story involved the separation of the "sinful" from "the moral" into two distinct beings, the savage Mr. Hyde and the civilized Dr. Jekyll.

Space:1999 also dramatizes a variation of this story, in Jesse Lasky Jr., and Pat Silver's "The Full Circle." Here, the Alphans explore a planet called Retha and soon encounter a tribe of primitive stone-age cavemen. Later, it is learned that the Alphans themselves were the cave-men, having passed through a strange, misty time-warp and regressed to a less-advanced state. This time-warp is beautifully realized as a kind of waterfall of mist in a primeval jungle.

Uniquely, this premise is explored in didactic terms: the Alphans have been separated not into sinful and moral versions of themselves like Jekyll/Hyde, but "primitive" and "technological" versions. And, ironically, it is the technological, modern model (personified by Alan Carter and Sandra Benes) who resort to physical violence.

At the end of the story, a bewildered Koenig notes that there no aliens on the planet to contend with...just flawed human nature. "Because we couldn't speak to each other, couldn't communicate, we misunderstood," Koenig notes. "Yet it was only us there..."

6. Faust: "End of Eternity"

As early as the 1500s, Germany presented the legend of a learned mortal, Johann Fausten, or Dr. Faust, who was willing to trade his immortal soul for knowledge beyond human ken. His partner-in -trade was no one less than Satan, the Devil.

A dissatisfied intellectual, Faust had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and understanding, and went into the devil's bargain with his eyes wide open. Again, it's important: he was a man of science, a doctor.

In Space: 1999's chilling "End of Eternity" by Johnny Byrne, the Alphans free a man called Balor (think Baal), from his own personal Hell: an inescapable asteroid prison cell. Balor,like Faust, is a scientist who has discovered the secret to eternal life; the spontaneous regeneration of human tissue. But, this alien devil with the secret of immortality demands a high price of the Alphans if they are to share in his information wealth: eternal submission to his sadistic, violent, Devilish ways. At least one Alphan, a grounded pilot named Baxter, makes a Faustian deal with this alien Lucifer. Koenig, however, refuses to cooperate and in a David & Goliath-like conclusion (that pre-dates Ridley Scott's Alien [1979]) sends Balor hurtling out an airlock.

7. The Ghost: "The Troubled Spirit"

Space: 1999's Johnny Byrne here sought to "mix two things," and was stimulated by the idea of "combining horror and science fiction."

"The Troubled Spirit" is an out-and-out, up-front horror story, one involving a ghost that haunts the spirit of a living man, technician Dan Mateo. In fact, the ghost is Dan Mateo himself...a spirit from the future haunting his present, mortal self.


The Alphans, led by their oracle, Victor, must "exorcise" the murderous ghost, but in doing so, end up killing Dan Mateo and scarring him in the exact same fashion as his ghostly specter.

"The Troubled Spirit" also showcases one of the most lyrical, brilliantly-staged opening sequences in all of television history, as a supernatural "wind" blows through the high-tech, white-on-white halls of Moonbase Alpha. Another example of the supernatural or horrific over-powering the auspices of technology and science.

8. St. George vs. The Dragon: "Dragon's Domain"

Saint George was a Christian martyr who saved a king's daughter from being killed by a plague-bearing, giant dragon. George committed this act, however, only after a guarantee that the king's land would soon be converted to Christianity.

Christopher Penfold's outstanding Space: 1999 "Dragon's Domain" actually references the tale of St. George vs. The Dragon in its text.

Here, the paradigm has been updated: it's astronaut Tony Cellini (Gianno Giarko) versus a tentacled cyclops which haunts a spaceship graveyard. Tony is not able to slay this dragon (that act is left to Koenig, armed with a hatchet), and Tony never forces a conversion to Christianity.

However, Tony does aggressively push the Alphans, especially Helena Russell, to embrace, let's say, the philosophy of "extreme possibilities" and not cling to earthbound belief systems. "I want you all to throw out the criteria by which you judge what's real....You must believe!" He insists, when faced with disbelievers.

At the end of the story, Koenig, Victor and Helena flee the spaceship graveyard (and the dead monster), essentially converted to Cellini's way of thinking. They have witnessed the impossible with their own eyes: a mesmeric alien creature which does not register on their instruments, and which devours human life forms. Helena brings up the example of Saint George and the Dragon, and suggests that Tony and the Monster will be a part of the new Alphan society's long-term mythology.

9. The Picture of Dorian Gray: "The Exiles"

Oscar Wilde's 1890 novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray involved a handsome young man, Dorian Gray, who was beautiful, immoral and also a criminal. While he undertook his reign of terror, Gray's portrait -- in secret -- became aged and horrible, reflecting his morality, his vanity, and his sins.

As for Gray, he himself showed no physical or biological signs of his perversions and presented the appearance of remaining forever young.

In the second season Space: 1999 episode, "The Exiles," Moonbase Alpha encounters two apparently benign alien teenagers, Cantar (Peter Duncan) and Zova (Stacy Dorning). In fact, these innocent-seeming (and physically beautiful) youngsters are alien insurrectionists. They are centuries-old, but protected by a physical membrane that prevent physical degeneration and aging. At story's end, Helena scratches Cantar's protective membrane, and, like Dorian Gray in Wilde's novel, the weight of the decades lands upon the vain villain in seconds: he super-ages and dies in horrible, gruesome fashion.

10. The Zombie: "All That Glisters "


Before George Romero's stellar re-interpretation of the Zombie mythology in Night of the Living Dead (1968), zombies were often simply mindless human beings; laborers working at the behest of an evil master. They were, in essence, unthinking henchmen in the White Zombie (1932) sense.

Space:1999's episode "All That Glisters" resurrects this older interpretation of the zombie on a distant planet inhabited by sentient, silicon life-forms. These alien rocks murder Security Chief (Tony Verdeschi) and then re-animate him as a zombie, essentially, to serve as their arms and legs. The horror-overtones of this episode are also quite dramatic. Director Ray Austin deploys some tight-framing, dark-lighting and claustrophobic settings to express the horror of the situation.

Other episodes of Space: 1999 also dealt explicitly in horror tropes. "Mission of the Darians" concerned the taboo of cannibalism (a concept we see in literature such as 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea). "Brian the Brain" was a Frankenstein story, with a renegade, technological monster (a murderous robot) murdering his creator/father, Captain Michael (Bernard Cribbins).

"Seed of Destruction" was a variation of H.P. Lovecraft's "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward" only with Koenig confronting an alien doppelganger, rather than a wizardly ancestor of identical physical characteristics. "Death's Other Dominion also involved scientific hubris and super-aging in its unforgettable climax, and "The Testament of Arkadia" highlighted a valley of death - a necropolis of sorts -- on an alien world, as well as ghostly force influencing the Alphans.

Of course, a relevant question is this: why create a technology-based, outer space series utilizing so many instances of horror in mythology, literature and even the movies. The answer lies in Penfold's and Byrne's unique concept of the series.

Specifically, Johnny Byrne once informed me that Space: 1999 "is a modern day (near future) origin story of a people. The Celts, the Aztecs and the Hebrews all have origin stories. But Space: 1999 took place in real time, not pre-history. It was a futuristic rendering of that old story: of people cast out from their home with no plan, no direction, and no control. There are elements of faith, magic and religion in the series, and nobody seems to understand and accept that. In Space: 1999, we are witnessing the foundation of a culture."

Now imagine that culture established, some two hundred years after the events of Space: 1999. The stories those "future" citizens might tell would involve terrifying tales of their founding: of the premature burial, of the encounter with sirens, of St. George and the Dragon, and so forth.

It is this mythic (and horrific) perspective, truly, which makes Space:1999 so unique a science fiction drama. The series repeatedly pinpoints high-tech corollaries for the ideas that have scared us throughout human history and then takes its characters on a mythic journey through that macabre realm of the unknown. Thrillingly, the series also includes amazing guest performances by horror icons including Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and Richard Johnson

If you're interested in learning more about Space:1999's futuristic "origin myth," don't forget to check out my critically-acclaimed book, Exploring Space:1999, now available on Kindle.

Breakaway Day 2014: Space:1999: "Breakaway"

In “Breakaway,” the time is September 9, 1999, and John Koenig (Martin Landau) is ratified Commander of Moonbase Alpha. A distant planet, Meta, is within reach of Earth’s space program, and has begun transmitting a signal that suggests intelligent life exists there. Meanwhile, the International Lunar Finance Committee plans to meet on September 15th, and the Meta Probe must launch during a narrow time window or backing for the project -- and perhaps for all space projects -- could be cut back, or rescinded.

Complicating Koenig’s crucial task of launching the Meta Probe is the fact that the probe’s crew members -- astronauts Frank Warren and Eric Sparkman -- have contracted a mysterious “virus-infection,” just like nine others on Moonbase Alpha. 

However, after replacing outgoing Commander Gorski (Philip Madoc), Koenig learns from his old friend, Professor Victor Bergman (Barry Morse), that there is no virus-infection. Instead, Doctor Helena Russell (Barbara Bain) believes that the affected personnel are suffering from brain-damage caused by radiation.

The only problem is that no abnormal radiation levels have been detected anywhere on the lunar surface, not even in the vicinity of the nuclear waste dumps, Areas 1 and 2.

Koenig questions Dr. Russell about the Meta Probes back-up crew, and wonders if they might fall ill on their long journey, suffering from the same baffling condition. He also meets with Captain Alan Carter (Nick Tate) to find out if the probe itself is ready to go.

Koenig makes a horse-trade with his politically-minded superior, Commissioner Simmonds (Roy Dotrice).  He agrees he will get the probe launched if Simmonds can stop, at least for a while, more waste from being sent to the moon. Simmonds agrees to his terms, and Koenig continues his investigation, although he fears the Meta Probe will not be a “giant leap for mankind,” but rather a “stumble in the dark.”

Before long, Koenig and his team determine that the lunar dumps are evidencing signs of fluctuating “magnetic surge.”  The brain damage Russell has noted in the Meta Probe astronauts could be the cumulative effect of the magnetic radiation, but still, there are larger problems to contend with.

After Nuclear Waste Disposal Area One burns itself out in a surge of magnetic energy, Koenig realizes that Area Two could follow suit, causing a catastrophic explosion on the moon. 

The men and women of Moonbase Alpha work to avert “total disaster,” but it is too late. The Moon is blasted out of Earth orbit with all hands on Alpha marooned there…

“Breakaway” -- the hour-long premiere episode of Space: 1999 (1975 – 1977) by author George Bellak -- is designed to establish the series’ (much-criticized…) premise: that the Earth’s moon, along with the 311 inhabitants of Moonbase Alpha, is blasted out of Earth orbit and into deep space on an unplanned journey of awe and mystery.

When I watched “Breakaway” again for this review, however, I also detected something else of interest.  Specifically, the episode’s creators (including Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, Bellak, Brian Johnson and Keith Wilson) go to tremendous lengths to establish here a believable, realistic or recognizable near-future world, one that eschews any sense of glamour that one might associate with space travel.  This is an important notion, especially since the yardstick used to rate (and often bludgeon) Space: 1999 is in fact, Star Trek (1966 – 1969), a romantic, idealistic, optimistic even glamorous vision of man’s distant future.

As “Breakaway” takes pains to establish, Space: 1999 involves a different kind of world, one very much in keeping with the series’ 1970s context. 

Star Trek arrived not long after the Age of Camelot, in the colorful, swinging sixties. The world was our oyster.

By contrast, Space: 1999 was created in the early 1970s (following 2001: A Space Odyssey) while the U.S. was mired in political scandal (Watergate) and losing a war in Vietnam. I love and admire Star Trek, obviously, but Space: 1999 thus seems a more sober genre effort, and one that deals in mankind’s real, often-conflicted nature. 

For example, the series eschews imperialism or gunboat diplomacy, having seen, explicitly, its failure in Eurasia.  Space: 1999 also offers, in episodes like “Breakaway” a pointed critique of bureaucracy and politics.

Specifically, the episode follows John Koenig as he is appointed Commander of Moonbase Alpha. At first glance, this appointment would seem very much like an honor or privilege, but as the episode progresses, one can detect how Koenig is actually being set-up by Simmonds as the fall guy, in the event that things go wrong.

For example, Simmonds has withheld crucial information from Commander Koenig, and not permitted Dr. Helena Russell to report her findings about the so-called “virus-infection,” which is actually brain damage caused by exposure to an unknown form of radiation.  

The virus-infection” is so insidious a lie or cover story because Koenig has been led to believe that there is the possibility of the astronaut’s getting better. 

No doubt he accepted command of Alpha with that idea in mind. Koenig is soon faced with the reality, however, that here is no getting better or healing from catastrophic brain damage and genetic mutation (as established by Alpha’s computer). 

One beautifully-orchestrated shot in “Breakaway” reveals the distance between Russell and Koenig, and their knowledge, at least at first. 

In the foreground, we see a dying astronaut, his weakening form taking up considerable space in the frame. In the background of the shot, we see Koenig and Russell framed in separate windows, worlds apart visually-speaking, as they countenance what his death really means.  Russell knows the truth, and what the astronaut is facing.  Koenig, by contrast, is playing catch-up, and forced to re-examine the facts that he has been provided.

Koenig’s position as “fall guy” is also established by another character, Commander Gorski.  Koenig notes that Gorski seems to be handling “his suspension” from command of Moonbase Alpha rather well.  Koenig also observes to Victor that Gorski is famous for being “flexible,” a coded-commentary on his propensity to switch allegiance and sides, depending on which way the wind blows.

Why is Gorski so friendly and helpful?  It could be because Koenig’s appointment as commander absolves the former commander of all responsibility or guilt in the matter of the dead astronauts and the failure of the Meta Probe.  It is Koenig’s neck that is on the chopping block, not his. 

And consider too, Koenig’s terminology vis-à-vis the ex-commander. He declares that Gorski is taking his “suspension” well.  The word suspension explicitly suggests a temporary status. 

Is it possible that Simmonds has made Koenig commander only to see him fail, and plans to restore Gorski (a more flexible puppet…) to the same post after Koenig’s failure?  No wonder Gorski seems unbothered!  He’s Simmonds’ man, and has been taken off the hook.  He’ll just wait in the wings until Koenig is blamed for the situation….

“Breakaway” is structured in such a way that Koenig, learns, a piece at a time, how he has been manipulated, and a trap has been sprung (by Simmonds) and the actual science behind the so-called "virus infection." The severity of the crisis, in fact, sort of creeps up on him, another idea reflected in the episode's visuals.  The danger is looming, but he is not entirely aware of just how bad it is.

Koenig has been sent to the Moon to get “the space flight of the century” launched. Everything -- but notably future-funding from the International Lunar Finance Committee – depends on the success of the mission.  But when he arrives at Alpha, Koenig learns that crucial information has been denied him and there is, in essence, no way to get the Meta Probe launched.  He recognizes that he is Simmonds’ fall guy.

Angry, Koenig confronts Simmonds and tells him, point-blank, that Simmonds “lied” to him. Simmonds attempts to cow him at first, telling him that he will replace Doctor Russell with a team of “top medical people,” no doubt “yes men” who will hew to the cover story of a virus infection.

Quite rightly, Koenig demurs, and rejects the offer.

At that point, fully cognizant of the situation, Koenig begins horse-trading, as I noted above, granting concessions only in return for them. This is, Koenig understands, the only way to get to the bottom of the situation, and to understand the nature of the crisis unfolding around him.

Koenig also makes the decision of a good leader. He knowingly and irrevocably takes his own success off the table, and focuses on the problem. “Forget the probe,” he tells Carter.  The space-flight of the century is off, he decides, until he gets the answers he needs.  This is a courageous stand, and one that separates Koenig from men like Simmonds, or Gorski.  Ultimately, it matters more to him that people are dying than that the finance committee is meeting in a few days.

Again, just make the comparison crystal clear, in franchises such as Star Trek or Star Wars, or even Doctor Who, there tends to be very little if any discussion about the “cost” of space adventuring.  Artistically-speaking, as soon as you get into the realm of budget and financing, and CYA political maneuvering, one thing has happened: the realm of outer space has become de-romanticized. 

It has become, essentially, an extension of the (failed?) systems we see playing out here on Earth.

Importantly, a close-up look at this world is the starting point of Space: 1999.  When the Moon is blown out of orbit, it is leaving behind a “failed” society in a sense, and mankind – represented by good men like Koenig -- gets a second chance to write his destiny.

Other aspects of “Breakaway” also seek to de-romanticize or de-glamorize the series’ milieu.

At one point, after Koenig survives a dangerous eagle crash, Helena upbraids him and tells him that she is seeking “answers, not heroes.” 

Once more, this line is a deliberate rebuke of the popular space opera form, which suggests that when man is capable of reaching the stars, he will no longer have to worry about money, or poverty, or even political-backstabbing.  Space: 1999 suggests instead that man will remain man, and that he will takes his nature to the stars, with all the drawbacks that description (and his psychology) suggests.

Uniquely, Space: 1999 is both dystopian and millenarian in nature. It is a fin de siècle production that suggests man must irrevocably separate from his past and present on Earth to recognize again the value of his humanity.  Hence the Science Digest descriptor of the series as concerning the “downfall of technological man.”

It may be more apt, at this juncture to describe Space:1999 as the rebirth of man, since many episodes of the series reckon with the Alphans facing different realms of existence, and considering their place and purpose in the universe.

Many episodes of the series also pit the Alphans -- as examples of restored humanity -- against more advanced civilizations that, like Earth and men like Simmonds, seem to emerge from dystopian or sterile states. These worlds and peoples are examples from the Alphans to learn from; examples of a road that they need not take on their exodus to the stars, on their new beginning.  

It is so ironic that Space: 1999 is often criticized for an “unrealistic premise” when the ingenious approach to storytelling, characterization, and production design is, in some sense, actually the opposite.  It is hyper-realistic. 

“Breakaway” is our starting point.  It portrays a world we recognize as an extension of our own, in which bureaucrats still practice CYA, and in which the failure to solve big problems (like atomic waste) leads to bigger problems down the road.

It is the world, finally, that the Alphans must “break away” from if man is to have a future of hope and purpose.