In the Outer
Limits episode called “The Guests,” a drifter in a leather jacket named Wade
(Geoffrey Horne) is inexplicably trapped in the past -- metaphorically and
literally -- when he happens inside an alien “brain” that has assumed the shape of a
Victorian mansion atop a hill summit.
This imposing edifice -- which occupies a space entirely
outside the Laws of Physics -- serves as home to several strangers including a faded
silent screen star, Florinda Patten (Gloria Graham), a Wall Street investment
banker of questionable morality, Randall Latimer (Vaughn Taylor), and his
gleefully cruel wife, Ethel (Nellie Burt). All these souls have been denizens of the
alien house since 1928 and evidence little interest in
leaving it.
The hidden master inside this dark
old house is an inquisitive monstrosity: a quivering, gelatinous thing from another dimension who seeks the “missing
vector” that will enable him to better comprehend the human race.
The emotionless, questing creature
probes Wade’s mind several times and discovers at last the missing “one note in the symphony.”
It is, simply, “love.”
Specifically, Wade’s romantic,
selfless attachment to another captive in the house, the lovely Tess (Luana
Anders), ultimately proves the factor that resolves the alien’s incomplete
equation. When Tess leaves the safe temporal “bubble” of the house, super-ages
and dies in a matter of seconds to preserve Wade’s freedom, the house begins to
shift back to the alien’s dimension.
After escaping the strange trap, Wade watches the
alien brain fade into nothingness, and continues down the road on his journey…
Strange, unsettling and dominated
by extreme camera angles that suggest the cinema of German Expressionism, “The
Guests” is a gloom-laden, visually-dazzling, and often surreal entry in The Outer Limits
canon.
Specifically, the Donald Sanford
(Thriller)
entry is a deliberate and artful blending of literary movements, old and
new. The episode has widely and appropriately
been described as “Gothic" for its familiar horror and romantic
flourishes, settings, and characters. At the same time, however, this episode
of The
Outer Limits also mirrors the perspective of the post-war, Beat
Generation, especially the movement’s dedicated opposition to modern warfare,
military technology, and such middle class balms
as leisure and material affluence.
Regarding its Gothic
influences, “The Guests” highlights a common setting in the genre: a house that
appears to be haunted both by an external, self-organizing “supernatural” force
and by the personal, individual secrets and sins of the human dwellers within. Unlike Bronte’s Jane Eyre (1847),
however, there’s no mad woman hiding in the attic, but rather a monster holding
court in an upstairs bedroom.
Furthermore, the character of
Tess -- who harbors a grotesque secret about her age and true physical appearance
until “The Guest’s” last act -- also recalls the attractive/repulsive romantic duality one might expect to find in such
Gothic standards as Nathaniel Hawthorne’s
Rappaccini’s Daughter
(1844).
In both stories, scientific
advancement transforms a young woman of pure innocence and beauty into
something inhuman and grotesque. In the
case of “The Guests,” however, it is alien custodianship and the instantaneous
passage of decades that is responsible for Tess’s final crone-like appearance,
not the interference of her flawed, human, scientist father.
Most significantly, however, “The
Guests” veritably obsesses upon the familiar Gothic trope of ancestral, historical sins cursing future
generations. Here affluent American society is represented by the triumvirate of Randall, Ethel
and Florinda. Each one of these
characters from the early 20th century is presented as being corrupt
in some essential fashion.
Randall was on his way to face
legal charges for unethical behavior on Wall Street (shortly before the Great
Depression…) when he was captured and waylaid by the brain.
Ethel, Randall’s wife, makes verbal
cruelty a sport and favorite pastime.
This is a commentary, perhaps, on the fact that, as an aristocrat’s
wife, she has no other productive activity to contribute to the culture. Idle
hands make for the devil’s work. And for a forked tongue too.
And finally, Florinda is the
living embodiment of vanity or self-love, hoping to retain her Hollywood celebrity and
youthful appearance for eternity. She is
concerned only with herself, not the planet, and certainly not her fellow man.
She is all about narcissism.
Importantly, only Wade -- the Jack Kerouac-styled, Beat Generation
drifter -- can reveal to the alien being something positive and valuable
about human nature; something not tethered to the institutions and established
“ancestral” sins of the species and the culture.
Specifically, Wade is willing to
remain in the house out of love for a woman from a different time period, Tess.
He is willing to put his freedom on the line, and even his mind itself.
The Guests” aired in 1964, a scant few years after the publication of such
Beat Generation literary landmarks as William Burroughs’ Naked Lunch (1959) and Allen
Ginsberg’s epic poem, Howl (1960), so perhaps it is no
surprise that this new school of American philosophy would find prominence in
at least one outing of this literary-minded science fiction TV series.
By the time of The
Outer Limits, the Beats were already morphing into “Beatniks” (and well
on their way to becoming hippies by the end of the decade…), but still, this episode adeptly homes in on such then-contemporary Beat Generation conventions as evil capitalists (the unscrupulous Latimer), the futility of war, and the heroic
depiction of the protagonist Wade as one of the so-called “angel-headed hipsters” of Ginsberg.
Gazing closely at “The Guests,”
one can discern how many Beat Generation obsessions dominate the narrative. When Wade is confronted with the Monster
Upstairs, it dispassionately tallies for him the positives and negatives of the
human condition. Amongst the negative
factors are fear and hatred, hopelessness and, importantly, war.
One of the positive conditions is
art. “Art could be mankind’s destiny,”
the alien determines.
This is very much a Beat-styled
assessment: that the individuality encompassed in art can lead man out of the
dark, materialistic and militaristic mindset of American in the mid-1950s and
early 1960s, the epoch when President Dwight Eisenhower warned citizens about
the increasing and dangerous influence of the military-industrial complex.
Twice in “The Guests,”
images of nuclear detonations – mushroom
clouds -- are highlighted, and in one conversation with Tess, Wade expressly
describes the atom bomb's horrible power.
This imagery is reflective of Beat Generation anti-war sympathies and
also an embodiment of Gothic sin; a sin grown from the American past that Wade
has opted out of by becoming a drifter and taking his life “on the road.”
Examined in this light, “The Guests” is very much a pitched battle
between historical literary traditions, with the Gothic aspects representing a
secretive, corrupt, even “monstrous” past, and the Beat movement representing a
new hope of sorts; a new paradigm or outline for human happiness in the age of technology unchained.
For example, the people inside
the scary old house attempt to forestall inevitable fate and live forever. They knowingly defy “the forlorn rags of growing old,” a human eventuality which Kerouac considered the only
certainty in life…and in the end they pay the price for their hubris, and for cheating Nature herself.
By contrast, the drifter, Wade, and
his lover, Tess, embody the opposite impulse.
They each broach personal sacrifice, imprisonment, and death for the
possibility of the other’s happiness. This idea is very much the beginning of a
Beat-styled “second religiousness”
for Wade. He recognizes that a better future can be forged on love and
personal sacrifice than on material wealth and warfare.
“The Guests” connection to Beat Generation
writers actually extends beyond even a straight-forward interpretation of the
episode’s theme or “message.” The form
of the episode -- the visuals --
reflect the content to a powerful degree.
The works of Beat Generation authors such as Ginsberg, Kerouac and
Burroughs are frequently described with adjectives such as “surreal,” “Dadaist” or
simply “dream-like,” in part because
these notorious authors were not shy in their use of illegal drugs to spur
their sense of creativity.
Accordingly, dream imagery and
discussions of dream states permeate the “The Guests.” At one point, Wade discusses how he feels as
though he is “having a bad dream.” He is
also told that the alien will “control”
his “dreams now” and that the alien
has even “undreamed” the house’s
windows and front door.
Finally, there’s a
discussion of “dreaming a life” or “living a dream,” and the (real?) distinction
between those two descriptions. But the
point here is that the visuals themselves are determinedly dream-like, or more
aptly, nightmarish.
“The Guests” opens with
expressive film techniques that overtly suggest a Gothic, traditional influence,
in keeping with the story’s central locale.
When Wade first approaches the house/brain, director Paul Stanley’s
camera views the man from inside a second-story window, through dangling
curtains. However, the curtains draw
down mysteriously, falling around Wade in the frame and effectively squeezing
out his space. This is a visual cue to suggest that Wade is walking into a
trap, and the next shot -- an ominous
overhead, extreme-high-angle view of the haunted house’s Victorian foyer -- takes that thought even further.
Eventually, such expressive,
Gothic horror compositions give way to more avant-garde, surreal, modern, Beat Generation-styled ones. While attempting to escape the house later in
the episode, for example, Wade ventures into a seemingly infinite realm of
darkness, one punctuated only by the occasional Greek column. Here, there is no end and no beginning. As viewers, we suspect that we have entered
the corridors of the alien’s mind.
“Interesting
architecture?”
asks one character in the drama, but that description hardly covers it. Indeed, in the course of an hour, The
Outer Limits goes from employing familiar Gothic, horror-styled visuals
to surreal images instead. Doors appear without walls to support them. Wade seems to walk on a path of light down a
hallway of infinite dimensions. Interiors open mysteriously into exterior
graveyards, and so forth.
Perhaps because Donald S.
Sanford’s story plants its feet for so long within the confines of that dark,
old house, “The Guests” thrives as one of the mostly deeply unsettling and
claustrophobic episodes of The Outer Limits pantheon. From the first time that house on the hill
appears, the episode aims for throat-tightening fear, and hits the target. On the soundtrack, a weird, syncopated
heart-beat rhythm plays -- repetitious and
ominous -- a reflection of the evils trapped inside the edifice.
Another frightening moment sees
Wade dragged up a long, dark, shadowy staircase into the realm of the monster, entirely
against his will, while the others watch…smiling
at his misfortune.
Perhaps it is that moment of
involuntary action that best reflects the point of this Outer Limits
episode. It is a point ably expressed in
Tess’s final sacrificial act, and in the work of the Beat Poets.
Sometimes
in life, we fear we are being dragged, helpless, out of control, towards a
future we haven’t chosen for ourselves.
But that’s the illusion we must
battle, argues “The Guests.” We can choose love over hate, individuality
over conformity, and escape over imprisonment.
We can solve the human equation to
our liking and not to the tune of tradition or conventions like capitalism.
There’s a reason, this
episode isn’t called “The Prisoners.” In
its clash of Gothic and Beat Generation aesthetics, “The Guests” reminds
audiences how easy it is for humans to decorate even the most horrible cages to
appear “acceptable.” Here, Ethel, Latimer, Florinda and even Tess -- at least for a time -- opt to remain trapped in the known but unsatisfactory past rather
than countenance an unknown future.
Many Outer Limits episodes are
anti-war and pro-human in sentiment, but by marrying the terrors of Gothic
expression to the criticisms and solutions of the contemporary Beat Generation,
“The Guests” proves one of the most emotional, artistic and purely human of the
series canon. It's a weird, weird episode, but one that contributes greatly to an understanding of where America "was" in the early 1960s.
(Note: A version of this essay also appeared at We Are Controlling Transmission in 2011, a blog devoted to The Outer Limits.).
I love this episode. Certainly one of my favorites. Didn't really appreciate the Expressionism angle till you pointed it out.
ReplyDelete