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50 Years Ago: Land of the Lost "The Orb" (September 25, 1976)

The third episode of Land of the Lost’s final season, titled “The Orb,” is only a slight improvement over the disastrous second installment, “Survival Kit.”  

Here, Enik (Walker Edmiston) is transformed suddenly into a clone of Mr. Spock, adopting the term “logical” no less than seven times in a twenty-two minute span.  I counted, because the use of the term became so egregious after the first couple of uses.

Of course, “logic” is Spock’s buzzword, derived from his planet’s obsession with logical behavior.  Why should Enik -- the resident alien of Land of the Lost -- suddenly adopt this obsession with “logical” behavior?  In all of Land of the Lost history, in every Enik episode -- if you added them up -- he wouldn’t have used the word logical seven times.  It’s insulting here, and even as a kid I knew that Star Trek was being ripped-off.  I felt cheated, but also baffled.  Enik was a well-established, well-defined character by the third-season.  Why was he being re-written as a Spock clone?

In “The Orb,” the Sleestak spontaneously decide to eradicate all humans in Altrusia and believe that the key to doing so involves a mystical Sleestak orb that will plunge the world into total, permanent darkness.  Unfortunately, this plan -- making it permanently night -- was also at the heart of “Blackout,” the second-to-last episode of Land of the Lost’s second season.  There, the Sleestak used a secret second clock pylon to freeze time.

So…in a relatively short span, the Sleestak have forgotten they already attempted this plan...and it didn’t work the first time.  Permanent midnight in Altrusia means, as that episode explained, that the moths that fertilize Sleestak will die in the cold. Permanent night is thus a death sentence not for humans, but for the Sleestak race.  

Alas, there’s no sense of continuity between this installment, and “Blackout.”

In hopes of acquiring the orb, the Sleestak capture Enik and Chaka (Philip Paley) in the hopes that the Marshalls will come for them and retrieve the orb from the God in the pit.  Fortunately, Will (Wesley Eure) happens into a pylon that no one has ever seen before, and it unexpectedly grants him invisibility.  

Invisibility, it turns out, is quite handy in stealing the orb and releasing Chaka and Sleestak.

Long story short: the writing here is just unbelievably bad.  Forget Enik’s aping of Mr. Spock.  Forget the fact that the Sleestak strategy was just attempted…five episodes ago in terms of chronology.  

But isn’t it awfully convenient that Will should develop the power of invisibility just when that one, specific power can solve the crisis of the day?  In a sense, all of dramatic writing is about fashioning manufactured crises, but a problem arises when there is so much contrivance involved.  That’s the case with “The Orb.”  The contrivances stack-up.

On top of all these concerns, “The Orb” is the second episode in row in which Holly (Kathy Coleman) has virtually nothing of consequence to do.  There is a case that could be made that she is the true main character of Land of the Lost, but the third season so far simply dismisses her as a little girl, and lets Will and Jack do the heavy lifting.  

And in terms of Jack (Ron Harper), one can see why he proves necessary to the series in this episode.  He brings a long a new influx of important equipment from matches and antibiotics to flare guns and flashlights.  All those items, incidentally, make it much easier to solve the problem of the week.  That established, the moments with flares lighting a dark Altrusia are memorably wrought.

I’m a long-time admirer of Land of the Lost, and not one to dismiss the third season out of hand.  But between “Survival Kit” and “The Orb” one can detect that the series is on a fatal downward slide.

60 Years Ago: Star Trek: "Where No Man Has Gone Before" (September 22, 1966)

Stardate: 1312.4

Under the command of James Kirk (William Shatner), the U.S.S. Enterprise probes to the very edge of the Milky Way Galaxy. The starship follows in the footsteps of the SS Valiant, which disappeared on a similar probe two centuries earlier.

A disaster recording probe from the Valiant is recovered, and it is learned from it that the ship’s captain ordered the vessel’s destruction following contact with a force field or barrier at the edge of the galaxy. 

After that incident, some crew members on the Valiant developed unusual psi powers.

Recognizing that other ships will one day head this way, Kirk orders the Enterprise through the barrier at the edge of the galaxy, but the ship is damaged in the attempt, and two officers -- First Officer Gary Mitchell (Gary Lockwood) and psychiatrist Elizabeth Dehner (Sally Lockwood) -- are injured.

While repairs are effected to the Enterprise, Mitchell begins to develop frightening psionic or ESP abilities. Spock recommends marooning the evolving human at an automated lithium cracking and “galactic mining” station on lonely Delta Vega, and Kirk comes to realize he has no choice, lest he be forced to make the same decision that the Valiant’s captain did two hundred years earlier.

But Gary Mitchell has not decided yet what kind of world he can “use,” and strikes back against his old friend and shipmates…

“Where No Man Has Gone Before” is the episode that sold Star Trek (1966-1969) as a series, and therefore, the series episode that, we might fairly state, initiated a beloved franchise.  

Written by Samuel Peeples, the adventurous story concerns a dear friend of Kirk’s, Gary Mitchell, who is altered by psionic powers, becoming a God-like being in the process. In very real terms, the story is an important first command test for Kirk.  

Is Jim Kirk able -- despite his intense emotions -- to see this situation clearly?  Is he able to safeguard his ship and put aside his friendship for Mitchell? 

He has Spock to argue the logic of marooning (or killing) Mitchell, and Dehner argues the humanistic side, debating the notion that an evolved human could also be a “wonderful thing.”

Structurally, one can see (the brilliant) format of the original Star Trek forming before our eyes with this episode.  

The triangle, or triumvirate, is often called, is beginning to grow apparent. 

At the upper point of the triangle we have Kirk, the decision maker.  

At one point below, we have the case for logic and rationality  as represented by the apparently-heartless Spock.  

And on the last corner, we have the emotional or human argument, urging humanity, sensitivity, sympathy and understanding. 

Kirk must, throughout the course of the series, consider those often opposing philosophies, and make a choice that impacts the lives, literally, of millions. He must show the wisdom of Solomon.

I note that the triangle is forming, because it is not complete.  

Although brilliantly-played by Sally Kellerman, Dr. Dehner in "Where No Man Has Gone Before" is not an appropriately grounded voice for the “emotional” arguments being presented to Kirk. 

One senses that she is attracted to Gary, and taken with her ideas of “improving the line” (perfecting the human species). She is not a fair, impartial arbiter, in other words.  In other episodes, of course, we have Dr. McCoy to passionately argue the humanistic side of the equation in the structural/character triangle.  

“Where No Man Has Gone Before” obsesses on Kirk’s position, and dilemma. 

Is it right to imprison, maroon and kill a friend who exhibits signs of becoming dangerous?  Is it irresponsible not to do so, given the abilities Mitchell demonstrates?  

Kirk serves as an almost Hamlet-like figure in this episode, torn between viewpoints, and unable to act until it is almost too late to do so.  

We don’t often see Kirk paralyzed by his choices, but it is appropriate that he is seems so torn in this case.  He risks not just losing a crew-man, but, ostensibly, his best friend on the Enterprise. He notes for example, that he has been friends with Mitchell for fifteen years, since their Academy days.  

Spock’s arguments are logical, but ruthless, and that ruthlessness is a brand of noise, one might say, that jeopardizes his message.  Kirk can’t countenance a brutal decision made brutally, if that makes sense.  He must, as he notes in a later episode “feel his way” through the decision process.

The human side of this debate may also seem inadequate because as viewers, we clearly recognize the danger Mitchell represents.  As soon as we see those (marvelously effective) silver eyes staring at us, we know that Mitchell is trouble.

We see him as a villain and a monster, rather than as merely an evolved man, and so we come to agree with Spock’s sentiment, if not the (emotionless) way he delivers his analysis.  It might have been intriguing for Mitchell to go through some intermediate states of development wherein he doesn’t seem like a threat, just different.  

Had we seen that progression, we might be more inclined towards Dehner’s belief that he is not dangerous, merely a new stage in human evolution.

What may be most interesting about “Where No Man Has Gone Before” -- and this fascinates me, endlessly -- is the visualization of the show's universe. We see a different set of Starfleet uniforms.  e see a different communicator and a bulky phaser rifle.

We meet different crewman, like Dr. Piper and Mr. Kelso, too. There is no sign of Dr. McCoy or Lt. Uhura. Scotty wears a gold command shirt, and Mr. Sulu is a physicist who offers Captain Kirk “the mathematics” of a given situation. 

The background terminology is different too.  The transporter is called a “materializer” for example, and the ship’s intercom is referred to as “intercraft” communication.  Similarly, when the Enterprise comes to a stop, Kirk orders the helmsman to “neutralize” warp.  

Again, not a common term in the standard Trek lexicon.

Similarly, we learn that the Enterprise runs on “lithium” crystals, rather than the Dilithium Crystals of canon.  Even Spock’s background seems a bit vague.  He notes, while playing 3-D chess with Spock that one of his ancestors married a human female.  That ancestor, of course, is his father.  In the early episodes of Star Trek (such as “The Corbomite Maneuver,”) Spock refers to his parents in the past tense, though by“Journey to Babel” we see they are very much alive.

I have always rather liked the fact that “Where No Man Has Gone Before” appears to have taken place in a slightly different world than do the other episodes.  Between “The Cage” and “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” we get the sense that there is a larger universe out there, one with changing fashion, changing technology, changing energy sources, even.  I don’t see the changes as continuity errors, but rather as a sign that Star Trek presents a living, growing universe. 

I do wonder, however, what original viewers must have thought on first run while watching this installment. Were they asking: where's McCoy? Why is Spock's shirt gold instead of blue?  

Did they think that the third episode was presenting a new format/new look? 

One very nice aspect of “Where No Man Has Gone Before” involves the background we get on Kirk.  

Sure his gravestone -- reading “James R. Kirk” -- is wrong, but Mitchell describes our good Captain memorably as “a stack of books with legs.  In his class, you either think…or sink.”  

That’s a far cry from the more devil-may-care attitude that many casual fans think of when they imagine Kirk.  The reboots, set in an alternate reality, change Kirk to that kind of character. He’s hardly a stack of books with legs.  

William Shatner is very good in his first Star Trek appearance here, though a little too furtive and unsure for my test. That approach fits in with the story and Kirk's Hamlet-like dilemma, but may not have worked, overall for the character. 

Look at Kirk on the bridge as the ship approaches the barrier for the first time. He is craning his neck, constantly looking at everyone else for reassurance, visibly worrying too much, and not demonstrating the confidence a starship captain must possess.

“Where No Man Has Gone Before” resolves in a fist-fight and with an obvious lesson -- “absolute power corrupts absolutely” -- and yet it also establishes another trademark of the series. 

Kirk draws Dehner to his side of the conflict with Mitchell by appealing to her humanity and sense of duty. He reminds her that she is a psychiatrist and asks for a diagnosis of Mitchell.  He asks her if she likes what she sees. A key element of Kirk’s character throughout the series is his ability to craft a persuasive argument from the two world views that inform his world (logic and emotionalism).

In terms of Star Trek's prophetic nature "Where No Man Has Gone Before" predicts that we will have electronic readers in the future so as to read books in that fashion. Yep.

Abnormal Fixation Now Streaming on TUBI

 

Watch episode 1 now!

30 Years Ago: Dark Skies (1996)

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

Dark Skies (1996-1997) ran during the reign of the magnificent X-Files, and – rightly or wrongly – has always been viewed by an unimpressed media in the shadow of that more popular creation; as an unworthy imitation rather than as its own individual (and original) thing.

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

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

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

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

No, just kidding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dark Skies also underwent an unnecessary cast shift about half-way through the run of twenty episodes. A pre-Seven-of-Nine Jeri Ryan joined the cast as Juliet Stuart -- a no-nonsense but very sexy Majestic agent -- starting in the episode "The Warren Omission." Abducted by the Hive, Kim Sayers' just....disappeared. The character was all-but-abandoned for the remainder of the program's run. She returned briefly as an alien agent, but the shift never quite felt right. The casting change simply smacked of desperation: the shuffling of deck chairs on the Titanic. Especially since there was incipient sexual tension between Loengard and Juliet. That facet of their relationship felt highly inappropriate, given the tragedy that had occurred to Kim, the love of Loengard's life.

Still, there's much to appreciate in the 30 year old Dark Skies. The idea that the sixties were so turbulent because of the Hive is one that's fun to speculate about. And also, there's a good subtext here that these alien invaders are communists. "We have no color. We have no conflict," one alien tells Loengard in an episode set in Mississippi at the height of the Civil Rights Movement. Also, the production values of Dark Skies are absolutely top-notch, and the series features the occasional harrowing horror scene (like the forced expulsion of an alien "ganglion" from a human being, during the pilot.)

Dark Skies was extremely popular in Europe in the nineties, and it developed a small but dedicated cult following here in the States. The final episode of the series, "Bloodlines" featured a voice over narration from an elderly Leongard informing viewers that the alien menace had finally been beaten. It was a stopgap measure to be certain, a stop-gap attempt to bring some closure to a series destined never to return. But still, you can't help but feel watching Dark Skies that there was a lot of life left in the premise, even with the wrong-headed cast changes. 

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

50 Years Ago: Land of the Lost: "Survival Kit" (September 18, 1976)

It’s very rare to come across an episode of Land of the Lost -- in any season -- that I vehemently dislike and judge almost entirely worthless. 

But “Survival Kit,” the second episode in the third season catalog, certainly fits the bill.

In this story, an arrogant Cro-Magnon man, Malak (Richard Kiel), whom the Sleestak apparently revere as “The Exalted One,” seizes control of the Land of the Lost’s river and threatens to drown the denizens of the Lost City unless he is continually brought “tribute.”  He also wants a slave to serve him.

The Marshalls see the Sleestak take their “survival kit,” after Uncle Jack recovers it from the Marshalls’ raft at the bottom of the lagoon and Uncle Jack realizes they must retrieve it because it contains medicine that can treat Holly (Kathy Coleman), who is suffering from a terrible fever.

Accordingly, Jack (Ron Harper), Will (Wesley Eure) and Chaka (Philip Paley) visit Malak in his stone home, a structure also never-before-seen in the Land of the Lost, and attempt to trade goods for their survival kit.  Jack treats Malak’s tooth-ache and tricks him with the “magic” of a flash light before Malak acquiesces to his demands and also agrees to release control of the river.  Holly is healed, and Malak is never seen nor spoken of again.

There is so much wrong with this episode, it is hard to know precisely where to start…

But first, let’s get to Malak.  He is apparently a long-time denizen of the Land of the Lost, but in two seasons worth of episodes, there has been no mention of his presence.  One might think his presence is important, since he -- like the Marshalls -- is a human being.  At one point in the episode, Enik reveals that the Sleestak live in fear of the time when the moons align and they must give tribute Malak.  So he has apparently appeared before, and regularly at that.  Yet none of the Marshalls (or Chaka) have noticed Eegah hanging around?  Or made note of his impressive home…which controls the river?

Then, there’s the matter of the titular survival kit.  It apparently sank to the bottom of the lagoon when the Marshalls arrived in the Land of the Lost, but as you’ll remember from the opening credits of the first two seasons, the raft did not land in the lagoon.  It landed on dry land.    Remember the image of the family unconscious in the raft, as Grumpy’s roar awakens it? 

So had did the raft -- on dry land -- sink?

And while on the topic of the survival kit, how is it that Jack recovers it from the lagoon so quickly and easily?  Are we to believe that Lulu is the only critter in Land of the Lost Lagoon?

It’s hard to know which characters gets the worst of this particular story, but my vote would go to Enik (Walker Edmiston), the evolved Sleestak from Altrusia’s distant (but evolved) past.  Here, he misinterprets the Library of Skulls’ wisdom and responds by, essentially, robbing the Marshalls’ temple for “tribute” items.  A man who knows the great sweep of history and who can control time doors is here thus reduced to stealing crockery to appease a bully and cave-man.

By the way, the Skulls in the Library pretty much reveal that Malak is not a god, because Gods would not demand human things…like crockery.  But Enik misses the clue entirely, and acts as stupidly and irrationally as his Sleestak cohorts.  

This episode also reduces significantly the terror of the Sleestak, as they are held at the mercy of a giant brute in a fur loin cloth.  It’s a low-point not merely for Enik, but the entire Altrusian race.  I can’t believe that ten or eleven Sleestak from the Lost City couldn’t overwhelm the guy or his home.

The cheapness of “Survival Kit” is also shocking.  We never even get one full-exterior shot of Malak’s home, which an is important oversight considering that last week (“After Shock”) the Marshalls and the Sleestak were fighting over the only real estate available: the Old Temple.  Only here, suddenly, Malak’s got a man-cave, literally.

All of this may read like nitpicking, but the obvious conclusion about “Survival Kit” is that it is written with absolutely no regard or respect for Land of the Lost history.  Malak surely would have been noticed in years past if he was there, and I can’t believe it is an established Sleestak tradition to kowtow to his demands.  And we know -- from our lying eyes -- that Marshall raft never sank in the lagoon.  

And worst of all, to dramatize this miserable, entirely unworthy story, Land of the Lost must make a fool of the dignified, regal Enik, and even of his menacing fellow-denizens in the Lost City, the Sleestak.

When fans claim that they dislike the series’ third season, “Survival Kit” must be a prime reason why.  There’s absolutely no attention paid to series continuity, detail, or even characters.  It’s a dramatic low-point for a series that had previously made it a point never to talk down to kids.

60 Years Ago: Batman:"Hot off the Griddle/The Cat and the Fiddle"

The second season two-part Batman story "Hot off the Griddle"/"The Cat and the Fiddle" -- which aired in September of 1966 -- reveals the pop-art comic-book series in all its counter-culture, colorful 1960s glory. 

The story involves Catwoman, a criminal played by the sexiest woman of the 1960s, Julie Newmar, stealing a variety of "cat"-themed objects before Batman (Adam West) and Robin (Burt Ward) set a trap for her at Gotham's Museum of Natural History.

Catwoman double crosses the Caped Crusaders and then, using Cat Darts, poisons the heroes and and places the unconscious Dynamic Duo on giant hibachi ovens(!), under over-sized magnifying glasses...where they will be burned to a crisp. 

A combination of calculus and happenstance (a convenient solar eclipse) help Batman and Robin escape this danger from the "Hateful Hussy." 

It is in this sequence that, in a self-reflexive joke, Robin asks Batman why these cliffhanging traps always threaten them, but never seem to succeed. 

An in-joke about the structure of the series ("same Bat-time; same Bat-station" and all...), this comment acknowledges the absurdity of the format and even of television as an art form to an extent. But Batman -- about to break the fourth wall -- comments that he and his ward keep surviving because...they have "pure hearts." 

This episode is filled with small, delicious moments just like that, which parody the form, and will likely infuriate the modern-minded who want their costumed heroes served up with ABSOLUTE SERIOUSNESS. 

For instance, on his way to stop Catwoman at the Gotham State Building, Batman pauses to pay the parking meter. "Good citizenship, you know," he says. 

At another point, Batman looks skyward to see what Catwoman is doing on the roof of the building and his cohorts ask (of the criminals): "Are they birds? Are they planes?..." 

Again, supremely silly, but that was mission assignment for 1966. And don't even get me started on the visual pun about "turning the tables" on Catwoman at her "front" restaurant, The Pink Sandbox.

A generation -- my generation -- grew up with Adam West's Batman and Burt Ward's Robin. As youngsters, the "camp" aspects of the show didn't really register for us, and the series was merely a great adventure featuring noble heroes, colorful villains and the most awesome set of gadgets and vehicles anyone had ever seen on television. 

But as adults, we found that this Batman -- played for laughs -- was worth a second look because the series is clever, irreverent, witty and utterly ridiculous. 

Again, these aren't the virtues of today. Still, you can enjoy this program thoroughly if only you remember it is a product of the 1960s and not the 21st century.

Ultimately, there may be as many interpretations of Batman as there have been of Hamlet (or in terms of genre: Dracula). 

We had pure, straight-faced innocence in the form of Robert Lowery and Johnny Duncan's 1943 Batman. 

We had colorful, over-the-top camp in the Adam West version of the 1960s. 

We had an "Outsider" vision of Batman in a rotting, post-Reagan urban blight; from Tim Burton's 1989 feature. 

We even had a fetishist interpretation in Schumacher's 1995 and 1997 franchise entires (Batman Forever and Batman and Robin).  We even have the Age of the Ultra-Real with The Dark Knight Trilogy. 

The characters, situations and locations remain the same, but with each new writer, each new director, each new lead actor, the interpretation of this legend evolves. In sixty years, I wonder how the Bat-fans of that time will gaze upon Nolan's work?

60 Years Ago: Star Trek: "Charlie X" (September 15, 1966)

Stardate: 1533.6

The U.S.S. Enterprise picks up an “unusual” passenger bound for Colony 5 from the survey ship Antares: seventeen year old Charles Evans (Robert Walker).

Charlie is the sole survivor of a spaceship crash thirteen years earlier. He survived on the planet Thasus alone, learning how to talk from the ship’s memory banks. 

Mr. Spock (Leonard Nimoy), however, is suspicious of this story, and believes that Charlie must have been assisted by a legendary race of aliens -- the Thasians -- who are said to have possessed the power to “transmute” objects.

Charlie settles down on the Enterprise, but finds navigating adolescence difficult, especially because, in truth, he has indeed been gifted with the Thasians’ god-like powers.  

When Charlie falls in love with Yeoman Janice Rand (Grace Lee Whitney), he gets a lesson in love and rejection that proves dangerous for the entirety of the Enterprise crew…

Without making too grand or sweeping a statement, “Charlie X” is absolutely one of the great Star Trek (1966-1969) episodes.  

In part this is because the episode features a simple, elegant, emotionally-affecting storyline. In broad strokes, a teenager achieves the power of a God, but lacks the temperament or experience to use that power to help him fit in. The contradictory, confusing world of adults proves too much for Charlie and he feels that “everything” he does or says is “wrong.”

Charlie is a fascinating bundle of contradictions. He is innocent, yet awkward. He is vulnerable, and yet virtually all-powerful.  He wants to be liked, and yet -- because of that desire -- often transmits as very unlikable indeed.  Robert Walker achieves much in this role, capturing every facet of a tragic character.  He inhabits this role, and makes Charlie a “real” teenager.

The most amazing thing about “Charlie X” is that it proves a very intense episode because of Charlie’s behavior, because of the aforementioned qualities.  He is unpredictable in his responses to others.  As Uhura quite aptly notes in her song about him, “we know not what he’ll do…”

For example, he gives Yeoman Rand a bottle of her favorite perfume, and the galley a supply of Thanksgiving turkeys.  But when roused to anger, Charlie goes on a reign of terror. He transforms crew people into lizards, or face-less monsters. 

The tension surrounding him is palpable because we can’t always guess how he will react next. More specifically, Captain Kirk keeps pushing Charlie, throughout the episode, and we wonder if -- or when -- Charlie will strike back.

As I’ve written before, Star Trek often operates on two levels. There’s the story, and then there’s the sub-text or underneath of that story. On the surface, “Charlie X” is about a castaway unable to go home because of his alien powers.  The sub-text, however, is about adolescence, and the forces that make it wondrous and unbearable at the same time.

Charlie expresses the yin-yang of adolescence best. Sporting a huge crush on Rand, he can be pure and sweet in his longing.  “If I had the whole universe, I’d give it to you,” he says, romantically.  Seconds later, that sweetness becomes relentless ardor and Charlie describes how he feels, physically.  He is “hungry…all over.”

“Charlie X” also happens to feature my favorite bit of James Kirk advice or wisdom in the entire series.  The good Captain informs Charlie: “There are a million things in this universe you can have and a million things you can't have. It's no fun facing that, but that's the way things are.”

Truer words were never spoken. 

And the trick of being an adult, I suppose is dedicating yourself to the pursuit of those things you believe you can have, while letting go of those you can’t, reasonably, expect to have. Charlie simply can’t understand why he can’t have whatever -- or whomever -- he desires.  As Kirk also tells him, “you have to live people. You’re not alone anymore.”

It’s a great lesson for Charlie, too, because although he can apparently transform matter, he can’t change a person’s heart to be more inclined towards him. 

Charlie may be God-like in his alien abilities, but like anyone with an unrequited crush, he must learn to accept rejection.  His choice is to live alone like a God -- and be isolated from his own kind -- or learn to get along in a world he isn’t equipped to understand, where he can’t use his powers to get what he wants.

“Charlie X” works so well not only because of Charlie’s capricious unpredictability, but also because Charlie is not a two-dimensional “God-Monster.”  

Now by comparison, Gary Mitchell (in next week’s episode, “Where No Man Has Gone Before”) is much more of that type. That particular story is valuable not because of its exploration of Gary’s character, but because of Kirk’s dilemma, being forced to strand or possibly murder a friend who has become a monster. The focus there is (appropriately) on Kirk.

Charlie is much less a monster than is Mitchell is. He is innocent; groping. He has never seen a girl before, even.  He tells Dr. McCoy he wants people to like him.  He doesn’t like to be laughed at, and he doesn’t like to be teased.  

Who among us does not desire belonging, or fear mocking?  

The image I perpetually carry with me from this episode is of Charlie walking the corridors of the Enterprise, smiling at everybody awkwardly, unaware that he is invaded the crew’s personal space. The crew tolerates him as he stands there, gleaming at them, and he just can’t understand why he is regarded as he is. He has no awareness of himself as part of a group.

If this episode reveals is, essentially, the Tragedy of Charles Evans, it is also provides a close-up look at the inherent goodness of Captain Kirk and his crew. Charlie has sent people away (the equivalent of wishing them into the cornfield), tortured crew-members, and physically injured Spock (breaking his legs) and yet, in the end, Kirk goes to bat for him with the Thasians. He offers to let Charlie stay on the Enterprise, even knowing how impossible it would be to control the young man.  

Charlie has done such horrible things and yet when he is whisked off the bridge by the Thasians, the episode ends not with relief, but with a feeling of sadness. This is a perfect example of why people have loved Star Trek for fifty years. Those whom we disagree or even fight with, aren’t simply monsters or enemies to be killed, banished or gotten rid of. They are people, and they are to be treated with sympathy.  After everything Rand, Kirk and the others endure, they put that selfish pain aside to help a fellow human beings.

This is a view of humanity as it can be, and as it should be. We will always run into bad people, no doubt. But if we let those bad people change who we are, we have lost ourselves.

“Charlie X” also succeeds admirably on the front I described in my review last week, of “The Man Trap.” 

I called it, the “lower decks” aspect of the series.  Here, we spend a lot of time with Yeoman Rand, again, performing her duties, and spending her off-duty time in the rec room.  In fact, there’s a terrific scene here in which Lt. Uhura holds court there, singing a teasing song about Spock (comparing his looks to those of the Devil). 

She then sings a similarly-cheeky song about Charlie, and he punishes for it, stealing her voice.  It’s too bad that the inexperienced Charlie can’t read the room, or the meaning behind Uhura’s teasing.  Charlie, like Spock, is a part of the Enterprise family.  The song reinforces that idea of belonging. But Charlie just feels exposed, embarrassed. He can’t see that Uhura has actually made him…a brother.

In the same scene, we see Spock playing his Vulcan harp -- in the presence of other crewmen -- suggesting that he is not an outcast despite his alien nature. Other episodes (notably “Balance of Terror” and “The Galileo Seven”) suggest bigotry towards Spock among some crew-members, by contrast.  

We also see for the first and only time, the ship’s gymnasium, and Rand’s quarters.  These early episodes, by dividing attention between the people on the bridge and the rest of the crew, really make the Enterprise feel like a real ship, with a real group of people aboard her.  The crew-members we spend time with (like poor Tina Lawton) aren’t just extras to fill up the background of shots.  Indeed, we learn here that the crew still celebrates Thanksgiving, and that turkey remains the traditional meal of that holiday.

Some aspects of the episode could use some more clarification, for certain. The Antares is described as a survey vessel, a transport, and a cargo vessel across the span of the episode, for example. Those terms are not synonymous.  Similarly, the idea that you can press all the controls/buttons on the bridge and therefore give Charlie more to “control” seems a little silly.  Charlie, I’m certain, would simply not bother to control the systems that don’t require attention.  

Terminology is also still being ironed out here. UESPA is mentioned, instead of the later Starfleet, for example.

These are small matters, however, in an episode as elegant and as heart-wrenching as this one.  “Charlie X” would definitely make my top ten list for the series.