CULT TV FLASHBACK #136: Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda: "Angel Dark, Demon Bright" (2000)

In the early 1970s, legendary Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry attempted several times to launch a new sci-fi TV series about the re-building of human civilization after a global nuclear holocaust.  The series pilots went under the titles Genesis II, Planet Earth and Strange New World, and the first two remain widely beloved by fans today even though they didn't lead to any regular series.

Following Gene Roddenberry's death, his widow, Majel, resurrected at least two of her husband's abandoned projects: Earth: Final Conflict (originally Battleground Earth) from 1997 to 2002 and Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda from 2000 to 2005. 

In the case of Andromeda, writer and producer Robert Hewitt Wolfe developed a clever variation  of the  Genesis II and Planet Earth premise.  

The new series was set in outer space instead of on Earth, and it involved a futuristic Dark Ages or "the Long Night:" a span of 300 years, following the fall of a great, United Federation of Planets-type alliance, here termed The Systems Commonwealth. 

Scientist Dylan Hunt, the hero of Genesis II and Planet Earth became High Guard Captain Dylan Hunt (Kevin Sorbo) of the Systems Commonwealth starship Andromeda Ascendant, a man out of time (exactly like his Genesis II namesake...) who vowed to restore order and civilization to the cosmos; to "drive back the night" and "rekindle the light of civilization."

In Andromeda's first episode, Dylan Hunt -- in his own time period -- suffers a betrayal from his Nietzschean first officer, and becomes trapped in the event horizon of a black hole along with his powerful High Guard warship. 

Three hundred years later, Hunt is rescued from his captivity (and the effects of time dilation) by a rag-tag scavenge crew that includes Captain Beka Valentine (Lisa Ryder), smart-ass engineer Seamus Zelazny Harper (Gordon Michael Woolvett), mysterious and purple-skinned space nymph, Trance Gemini (Laura Bertram) and a Magog man of God, Rev Beam (Brent Stait). 

Upon his release, Hunt soon learns that the Commonwealth has fallen and that the galaxy has slipped into that long night, into a new Dark Ages. 

Permanently separated from his beloved fiance, Sarah, Hunt asks the scavengers to join his cause and help bring order to chaos and restore the fallen, futuristic Camelot. 

Along for the ride is a Nietzschean mercenary, Tyr Anasazi (Keith Hamilton Cobb), who boasts an agenda and world-view entirely his own.

Once the Andromeda Ascendant is up and running, the quest to restore the Commonwealth begins, and Hunt continues his friendship with the ship herself, Rommie (Lexa Doig), who can appear as a hologram, on view-screens, or as an android...in the (lovely...) flesh.  

Aired in syndication (where it held the top-ranked spot for several years), Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda is a series of terrific highs and also some very depressing lows.  Most of the high points arrived in the first two years while Wolfe was still shepherding the program from behind-the-scenes. 

In particular, the early first season episodes do a better-than-average job of establishing a unique universe peopled by interesting and memorable aliens.  The genetically-engineered Nietzscheans, for instance, consider themselves a new embodiment of the proverbial "Ubermensch" and live by an Ayn Randian philosophy of enlightened self-interest,  One episode even puts Rand's The Fountainhead in Tyr's hands to make the point.  

Although Rev Beam has sometimes been termed a "useless" character, he too began as a rather interesting personality.  The Magog are bat-like berserkers who use human beings as living hosts for their young, and who, early in the Long Night, conquered Earth.  Beam is a strong contrast to his war-like people, however, a peaceful "man of God" and an intellectual philosopher to boot.  It's actually a bit disconcerting, at times, to see a hairy bat creature (with enormous claws) discuss high concepts such as morality and divinity, but also, perhaps, amusing.

"Angel Dark, Demon Bright" written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe and directed by Allan Eastman is one of Andromeda's best early installments, utilizing familiar time travel conceits to make a point about fate, destiny and even "God's will." 

The story begins when Trance makes a mistake piloting the Andromeda through the faster-than-light slipstream.  Her navigational error causes the ship to travel backwards in time three hundred years to the Witch Head Nebula, the location  of the climactic battle between the Systems Commonwealth and the Nietzschean Empire. 

It was here that the Commonwealth fell.  It was here that the Nietzchean Empire splintered.  It was after this battle that the Magog found an opening to exploit -- a weakened galaxy -- and swarmed into Earth's system.

Suddenly, in what might amount to a "cosmic joke," Captain Hunt is faced with an unenviable choice.  Should he intervene in the battle on the side of the Commonwealth, and attempt to stave off 500 Nietzschean warships?  Or, as Tyr suggests, should Hunt intervene on the side of the Nietzschean fleet? By doing the latter, he would enable the Nietzscheans to remain strong enough to fight the Magog to a stand still, thus saving Earth from invasion.

The set-up may remind you a bit of the 1980 sci-fi movie The Final Countdown, which saw the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Nimitz travel back in time to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.  Her skipper had to make a similar decision: either fight the Japanese and change American history, or stay out of the way and let destiny unfold as it was "meant" to. 

The commendable thing about Andromeda's variation on this story is that it focuses very strongly on each character's perspective about the debate.  Harper grew up on a planet Earth ravaged by Magog and Nietzscheans, and claims that the Neitzscheans were far worse.  When he sees that Hunt plans to leave the area without interfering in history, Harper secretly assembles a "fusion catalyst" to wipe out the Nietzschean fleet himself. 

This is not a strategy you would see Geordi LaForge, for instance, attempting on Star Trek: The Next Generation.  But the characters in Andromeda are not mere "aye-aye-sir" subordinates.  Rather they are individuals with a point-of-view and agenda that, sometimes, we don't find appropriate, well-considered, or right.

Meanwhile, Rommie -- literally a warship herself -- is upset that Dylan has selected to run away when so many other Commonwealth ships are in jeopardy.  "I don't like walking away from a fight," she establishes, attempting to choose between her sense of loyalty to Dylan and her sense of obligation to her own kind.

Tyr faces the same challenge.  If he warns the Nietzscheans of the coming battle at Witch Head, he could change his entire life.  The Nietzscheans could remain united instead of splintered into competing, argumentative "prides."  Where does his duty rest in this situation?  To the ship he calls home, or to the people who bred him?

These character moments arise organically and intelligently out of the time travel scenario, but then author Wolfe goes further and throws in an interesting narrative twist.  The Andromeda is set to leave without interfering, when the Nietzschean fleet shows up not with five hundred warships, but with 1,500 warships.  History clearly states that only 500 warships were present at the time of the battle, however, and so Dylan realizes that he is indeed destined to intervene.  He must destroy 1,000 Nietzchean warships to maintain the flow of history that Harper, Beka, and the others know and remember.

Despite Dylan's distaste for the Nietzcheans, the thought of killing 100,000 people in the coming battle sickens him.  "Destiny demands your actions," Rev Beam tells Dylan, indicating that the destruction of those 1000 ships is "God's will."

But Dylan isn't impressed.  He notes that human history is filled with incidences of people claiming God's will as the motivation for terrible crimes such as murder and even genocide.  I think it's pretty terrific how Andromeda reaches this debate about fate/free will, when "Angel Dark, Demon Bright" could have easily been a fairly mechanical, fairly unoriginal "time trap" story instead.  But this discussion of how humans reason and make life-altering decisions raises the material to an entirely different plateau.  Like the best of Star Trek, suddenly we're not merely pondering a space adventure, but our own experiences and history here on Earth.

Another, final bit of ingenuity in the narrative involves Tyr's third act revelation of a Nietzschean legend, one concerning an "angel of death" at the Battle of Witch Head Nebula. 

Again, it's an impressive surprise, a twist on expectations, and proof positive that early Andromeda -- though Trek-like -- was bound and determined to chart a unique, original course.

I should add as well that the final battle in the nebula is splendidly realized, and done so on an epic scale, as I hope the images in this blog post reveal.  The special effects in this action sequence are gorgeous and awe-inspiring.

I'll be honest: Andromeda is a TV series of highly variable quality.  Good episodes are followed by terrible episodes, and vice versa.  Some of the alien make-ups are absolutely dreadful, and the sets boast a threadbare, cheap look about them.  The performances range from incredibly poor to pretty good.  But in the first season, at least, there was some stellar storytelling, as this episode suggests.

Both "Angel Dark, Demon Bright" and one of the following installments, "The Banks of the Lethe" are emotionally-charged human space opera stories that very much outstrip the rote, safe brand of storytelling that the Star Trek franchise was offering at the time on Voyager and then Enterprise.

Andromeda has a lot of rough edges -- and a lot of  star dreck -- but in episodes such as "Angel Dark,  Demon Bright," this Gene Roddenberry-spawned proved itself quite adept at "rekindling"  the familiar space opera format and adding several new wrinkles.

CULT TV REVIEW: Planet Earth (1974)

Planet Earth (1974) represents creator Gene Roddenberry's second effort to get his Genesis II (1973) series premise aired on American network television. As you will remember, Genesis II concerned a 20th century scientist, Dylan Hunt (Alex Cord) awaking in 2133 AD and helping the pacifist organization called PAX (Latin for peace) restore the "best of the past" while ignoring "the worst."

Because of his 20th century knowledge and know-how (and because of a system of sub-shuttles "honeycombing" the post-apocalyptic world...), Dylan proved a perfect "agent" of PAX to accomplish this critical mission of planetary reconstruction (think Irish monks in the Dark Ages...). Still, Dylan Hunt had to overcome his own twentieth century addiction to violence and killing.

Star Trek fans will also recall that Gene Roddenberry created two pilots for that classic NBC series, before the series was finally picked up for network television. Specifically, Star Trek underwent a radical change in leading man (from Jeffrey Hunt to William Shatner), and shifted radically in tone from the first pilot ("The Cage") to the second one ("Where No Man Has Gone Before.") In particular, the "cerebral," introspective nature of "The Cage" was replaced by a more action-packed, upbeat tone for Shatner's first episode, "Where No Man..."

One can detect a nearly identical shift at work from Genesis II to Planet Earth. In Genesis II, the brave men and women of PAX lived underground, in dark, depressing (and dimly lit) caverns. In Planet Earth, PAX folk live above ground, in a shiny, technological metropolis (replete with flower gardens and elaborate skyscrapers). Even Dylan Hunt's first voice-over is more upbeat and bright in language, explaining to the audience that in 2133 AD the land is "renewed," and the "air and water are pure again."

In Genesis II, the people of PAX wore simple garments and looked like Roman slaves. In Planet Earth, the people of PAX wear form-fitting and futuristic uniforms that are brightly reminiscent of Star Trek.

In Genesis II, PAX had no advanced technology or advanced medicine. By contrast, Planet Earth reveals a PAX replete with handheld computers, view-screens and large computer banks. The people of PAX are also more knowledgeable here, and there are doctors available who can perform advanced "bioplastic" heart surgery. These changes reveal a completely made-over PAX, one which (like the United Federation of Planets) is a virtual utopia.

Other changes have been made as well. A "recurring" enemy in the form of the barbaric mutants called "The Kreeg" has been added to the mix. These dangerous mutants, like the Klingons of modern day Trek incarnations, boast ridged (or bumpy) foreheads and a style of life geared heavily towards the militaristic. The Kreeg drive around the post-apocalyptic landscape in ancient, souped-up automobiles, and carry twentieth century fire-arms. Basically, It's like Mad Max with Klingons.

Some character relationships have also been tarted up to be as colorful and dynamic as the new environs. The flirtatious relationship between Dylan Hunt (here played by John Saxon) and sexy Harper-Smythe (Janet Margolin) is more pronounced. The other members of Hunt's "Team 21" include the hulking Isiah (Ted Cassidy) and a physician named Baylock (Christopher Cary) who is an "Esper" capable of healing wounds with his mind. Baylock and Isiah share a friendly rivalry that is reminiscent of the Spock/Bones relationship on Star Trek, with Baylock dismissively referring to Isiah as a "savage" when Cassidy's character kneels down in prayer at one point.

Perhaps most significant is the change in Dylan Hunt himself. Saxon's version of the character is a man of action (like Kirk); one who is firmly in command this time around. He barks orders, plots strategy and is a firm, decisive leader, with precious little of the introspection or moodiness of Cord's incarnation. Honestly, John Saxon is a much better lead in this particular role, and his central performance holds Planet Earth together pretty damn well. Like Shatner's Kirk, he is a combination of physical agility/beauty and charming arrogance/swagger.

Another Star Trekkian touch: Dylan Hunt chronicles his adventures in a handheld device (a 1970s blackberry!). It's not the captain's log, but damn close. Instead, he calls it "a log report to the PAX council."

Given the changes to a punchier, more upbeat tone, philosophy is also played down in Planet Earth. Genesis II ended with the high-minded pacifists of PAX lecturing to Dylan Hunt (who had just saved them all from nuclear annihilation...) about the evils of violence and murder. In Planet Earth, the PAX folk are still peaceful in nature (they continue to use sedative darts as their primary weapons, called PAXer darts. for instance), but they never stop the action to wax philosophic or lecture about pacifism. And judging by the fight sequences here, the people of PAX have also learned the fine art of self-defense.

Directed by the late, great Marc Daniels (who helmed many episodes of Star Trek), Planet Earth (co-written by Juanita Bartlett and Roddenberry and produced by Robert Justman) also features a plot that is easier, in some sense, to identify with. In the opening minutes of the episode, gentle Pater Kimbridge, a leader of PAX, is wounded during a kerfuffle with the Kreeg. Dylan and Team 21 get Kimbridge back to Pax, but they require the skills of a surgeon named John Connor to save the old man's life. Unfortunately, Connor disappeared a year earlier in an "unexplored region" ruled by a matriarchy called "The Confederacy."

There in the confederacy, "males are bought and sold like caged animals." Hunt wonders aloud -- is this "women's lib...or women's lib gone mad?" Anyway, he resolves to infiltrate the Confederacy as a slave "owned" (as property) by Harper-Smythe, to locate John Connor and rescue his dying friend. He has just sixty hours to accomplish this task. What Planet Earth establishes with Dylan's mission is the bond of friendship between Kimbridge and Hunt. Hunt states that Kimbridge "is" PAX; both "grace" and "warmth." So underlining the action and weird central scenario in this pilot is a narrative that could have come from Star Trek; about the lengths friends will go to for friends.

Once inside the Confederacy of Ruth, Hunt becomes the property of a dominatrix named Marg (Diana Muldaur), who wins ownership of him in combat with Harper-Smythe. Marg decides she wants him to be a "breeder" (yes!), and Dylan soon learns that all the males here -- called "Dinks" -- are rendered docile by a drug extract (in their gruelish food...) that controls the human "fear/fascination" response. Unfortunately, a side-effect of this drug is sterility. Fewer and fewer children are being born in the Confederacy. The mission is now two-fold for Dylan: set right this topsy-turvy culture (men's lib!) and find the missing Dr. John Connor.

Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. Hunt soon rebels against training, and Marg notes that "the human male is an unstable creature." She trains him herself (yippee!), forcing a tied-up Hunt to ingest a full vial of the dangerous extract, rendering him docile. But, in the best teeth-grinding, jaw-clenching tradition of Captain Kirk, Hunt fights the effects of the drug.

Once again, here's a Gene Roddenberry story with a decidedly kinky bent. Dylan Hunt is soon remanded to Marg's home as a "breeder" and once there he promises her that he's, uh...well...good in bed. He claims he has fourteen wives and that his body is attuned to "different practices" than The Mistress might be familiar with. Marg and Hunt share a scene that includes bottles of wine, a bullwhip (whoo-hoo!), and ultimately.. a bed. In the sack, Marg and Dylan proceed discuss the failure of both 20th century men's lib and post-apocalyptic women's lib as governing philosophies, and settle on "people's lib." Yep, in the words of Dylan Hunt, it's all just a "little non-verbal mutual respect."

Before long, the Kreeg attack the Confederacy, but Dylan has executed a plan to free the Dinks from their drug-induced docility and stand-up and fight. In the end, PAX outsiders, Dinks and Mistresses fight back the violent Kreegs (led by John Quade) and Dylan and Harper-Smythe get Connor back to PAX to save Kimbridge's life.

I hadn't seen Planet Earth in probably fifteen years, and my memory has always been that it wasn't as good; wasn't as "pure" perhaps, as the original, Genesis II. However, on a fresh viewing, I must admit, I actually prefer Planet Earth. John Saxon seems very comfortable (and appealing) as a leader of men (and women), and he's adept with the romantic and action bits. He's also highly charismatic and appears to be enjoying himself.

And that "light" Star Trek sense of esprit-de-corps and joie-de-vivre is definitely present too, so Saxon understands the style. True, there's less philosophical grandstanding, but the lighter touch is fun and entertaining, and it easily (and humorously) makes points about the timeless "battle of the sexes." Parts of the episode play well as satire; and in toto, Planet Earth is a lot less heavy-handed and grave than Genesis II. This is a planet you wouldn't mind visiting every week.

By making PAX more advanced in Planet Earth, Roddenberry is also better able to compare and contrast various cultures and societies. It's very difficult to be a committed pacifist when you live in desperation (underground in caves; wearing rags); a little easier to do so when some of the basic necessities of life -- like sunlight -- are met. The unisex uniforms also forge a sharp visual distinction between PAX and the other cultures too. The character dynamics here also seem more promising, or at least more colorful.

Alas, Planet Earth didn't make the grade either, and never went to series. A third attempt with this formula, also starring John Saxon (this time as Captain Anthony Vico) -- entitled Strange New World (1975) -- was next. Roddenberry had reduced involvement in that pilot, and it too failed to become a series.

Like Genesis II, Planet Earth has yet to have an official DVD release. Let's hope we see one soon.

CULT TV REVIEW: Genesis II (1973)

In the early 1970s, Great Bird of the Galaxy and Star Trek revered creator Gene Roddenberry attempted to launch a new science fiction TV series entitled Genesis II. Today, this program is something of a legend to thirty-something genre buffs. Myself included. I for one have often wished that a clever producer would inherit this promising property and remake it today as a new series.

For those whose memory banks have failed, the Genesis II pilot basically filled in a period of Earth "future" history, post 20th-century (and post-World War III, or in Genesis II terminology, "The Great Conflict") but pre-Star Trek Age. In other words, the series would have depicted Earth's adolescent struggles as man emerged from a deadly childhood (consisting of war and lust...) and became -- in the words of of Gene Roddenberry's teleplay -- a "grown up."

Gene Roddenberry commissioned twenty hour-long scripts for Genesis II, and they're all still out there: a veritable first season worth of adventures ready to produce right now. One of those stories, by Alan Dean Foster ("Robot's Return") even became the basis for Star Trek: The Motion Picture and "V'Ger."

Despite a library of twenty scripts ready to produce, despite a fascinating premise about future Earth's evolution, CBS passed on Genesis II in favor of a TV version of Planet of the Apes (1974). Refusing to surrender, Roddenberry re-fashioned elements of the Genesis II premise and produced a second (more colorful and action-packed) version of the material called Planet Earth. (Also to be featured here soon!). If you're a fan of the recent outer space series Andromeda, you may also recall that certain elements of that Kevin Sorbo series (including the name of the Genesis II hero, Dylan Hunt), were incorporated.

Genesis II commences in the late 1970s with a Buck Rogers-style premise. American scientist Dylan Hunt (Alex Cord) takes part in a suspended animation experiment deep inside a NASA facility inside Carlsbad Caverns (and adjacent to the Continental Defense Command). As Dylan is put to sleep in a pressure chamber, there is an inconveniently-timed rock fall and the facility is permanently buried, destroyed. Hunt is left for dead. Abandoned.

In voice-over narration, Hunt reports "My name is Dylan Hunt...and my story begins the day on which I died." He then reports (accompanied by flashbacks...) how he served as the chief of the suspended animation project (known as Ganymede) since 1979, and how he arrived at the Carlsbad facility (from Washington DC) on a highly-advanced "sub-shuttle" which could travel 1135 kilometers an hour. The plan was to connect every nation in the world with these sub-shuttles, thus "bridging" continents. The sub-shuttles were necessary because surface and air travel had grown too vulnerable to attack (apparently, according to the prescient dialogue, China was on blazing ascent).

In the year 2133 AD -- some 154 years after the cavern accident -- Dylan Hunt is awakened by team members of an organization called PAX (Latin for "peace.") Pax's leader is a stoic, impressive black man, Primus Kimbridge (Percy Rodrigues), and he is accompanied on the rescue mission by a feisty human woman named Harper-Smythe (Lynne Marta) and a gorgeous half-Tyranian mutant, Lyra-a (the foxy Mariette Hartley).

In a scene demonstrating Gene Roddenberry's finely-developed penchant for kinkiness, Dylan Hunt's physiological revival nearly fails (his skin has actually turned blue...). To survive, Hunt's body needs to "want to live." Yes -- as Dylan reveals in voice over -- there is apparently a deep connection between "the will to survive" and "the need to reproduce." It is that connection that spurs metabolic revival post-suspension. Cutting thru the techno-jargon, what this means simply is that Lyra-a must make love to Dylan to restore the twentieth-century scientist to health.

And did I mention that Lyra-a has two belly buttons?

So, from the haze of a half-coma, Dylan begs Lyra-a: "make me want to live." She happily obliges. Note to self: if I am ever in suspended animation for 154 years, I would like Lyra-a to be present to revive me.

Anyway, cut to sometime later (*ahem*) and Lyra-a is still nursing the recuperating Dylan Hunt back to health. She promptly asks if Dylan remembers how she "cared" for him and then strips down to a bikini and shows off her double-belly button. Okay: best post-apocalyptic TV pilot. EVER.

As Lyra-a flaunts her fetching twin navels, she also provides some critical story exposition. Tyranians are apparently mutants with two hearts, and vastly superior strength. And they need Dylan's help because their nuclear reactor is malfunctioning. Lyra-a also claims that the people of PAX are militaristic plunderers (looting various civilizations for ancient treasures), descendants of the very soldiers responsible for the "Great Conflict" in the first place.

Lyra-a helps Dylan escape from PAX in a still-functioning sub-shuttle and escorts him to the grand Tyranian metropolis (located in old Arizona). There, Dylan learns the truth: Tyranians practice deceit as "a virtue" and believe that "self-interest is the natural order of life." (Oh no, they're Republicans!). The Tyranians also enslave human beings, whom they euphemistically refer to as "Our Helpers."

Furthermore, the Tyranians control human beings with technological wands called "stims," devices which can deliver eight degrees of pain...or eight degrees of pleasure. Again, this is incredibly kinky when put in practice (what with all the wand touching and all...), but frankly, that's the patented Roddenberrian touch I missed most in the snoozy Star Trek: The Next Generation and all modern incarnations of the Trek franchise. Bring on the double-belly buttons and the pleasure sticks. Please.

The remainder of the episode involves Dylan learning that PAX is actually a noble organization, one committed to "preserving the best of the past" and "letting the worst of it be forgotten." With the help of a PAX team, including a Native American named Isiah (Ted Cassidy), Dylan stages an insurrection to free the Tyranians' human slaves. He also learns why Lyra-a really brought him to the city: they have a nuclear missile aimed at PAX's headquarters, and need Dylan's help making it functional.

Genesis II ends with a nuclear detonation at the Tyranian nuclear facility (far from the city). Dylan has double-crossed the Tyranians and removed their weapons of mass destruction permanently. Interestingly, the pilot then ends on a strongly pacifist, philosophical note. The men and women of PAX, though facing annihilation, are angry that Hunt has killed Tyranians. "Did you take lives?" They ask with disapproval. Of course, he has ("I saved everyone!" he says), but the people of PAX believe his choice was immoral, and don't just talk the talk. They walk the walk. "You must swear to give your life rather than to take another," they insist. In other words, in a world ruined by war, the greatest wrong imaginable is killing...even the "justifiable" killing of an enemy. If the human race is to grow up, it must eschew violence totally. The people of PAX will not sacrifice their ideals for security; not murder other people in the name of "peace."

"I hope I'm up to it," says Hunt, committing to a bold, and perhaps difficult future.

I've written above, perhaps a bit too snarkily, about the sexual aspects of Genesis II, but in fairness, this pilot also boasts Roddenberry's penchant for intelligent social commentary. Not merely in terms of the anti-war, pro-peace message, either, but in terms of gender and race equality. For instance, the attentive viewer will notice immediately the "unisex" and integrated nature of PAX. Blacks, and whites, men and women, hold the title "Primus" and work together to build the future. There's also great (and highly-amusing) scene here in which Harper-Smythe complains bitterly that the world was destroyed by "lust" (lust between the sexes, lust for property, lust for power...), and it rings true enough that we recognize the concern.

And even though Genesis II occurs post-holocaust, there is room for hope (or Roddenberry's famous, trademark optimism) in this troubled world. The Earth survives, and has been gifted with "a second chance." On the other hand, this message is muddled by some of the visuals. For instance, much of Genesis II occurs underground, in dark, unpleasant caves. True, some caves are decorated with art; and there's also a garden in evidence, but the visual reveals the truth: the peaceful (good) people of PAX have been relegated to living in a basement. They wear rags that look like potato sacks. Though the citizenry are idealistic, though they have hope, their "home" looks pretty grim. This is one element that is changed in Planet Earth. It infuses PAX's world with spiffy uniforms (like Star Trek!) and vibrant, upbeat-colors (more Star Trek). Genesis II is probably more intellectually honest about what a post-apocalyptic state would look like; but Planet Earth is definitely more palatable in terms of visuals.

Other visuals are a mixed bag on Genesis II. The Tyranian City is a perfect example. It is depicted with a great matte painting (from a distance.) But up close, the city looks just like your friendly neighborhood community college campus. Likewise, some exterior vistas are impressive (like Hunt's first view of the outside world), while other locations look suspiciously like Southern California ranches. And, there's some clumsy insertion of stock footage here too. When Lyra-a and Dylan ride to the Tyranian city, the episode cuts to stock material of squirrels and raccoons gallivanting.

So, how is one to assess the pilot overall? Well, the climactic action in Genesis II is pretty darn uninspiring, truth be told, and the overall tone lacks Star Trek's joie-de-vivre. Also, there's little sense of esprit-de-corps between the protagonists. (Again, this is understandable, given the grave circumstances...) However, the set-up of the series (it's just one sub-shuttle ride to new civilizations and new life forms...) and the powerful ideals of the PAX characters (their evolved view towards violence and war) certainly held great potential. Also, the idea of a man like Hunt - who embodies both the best and worst of the 20th century - dealing with a "brave new world" seemed to promise so much.

I still think this would have been a great series and I mourn the decision not to greenlight it. The pilot offers the Roddenberry touch (and his writing style) in spades, and is immensely entertaining. Also, you can't deny Genesis II was ahead of its time. Just a few years later, the short-lived Logan's Run TV series would adopt a familiar formula. That series involved hover-craft (not sub-shuttle) trips to various post-apocalyptic cultures-of-the-week.

If you think about it, Roddenberry nearly accomplished the impossible here: he excavated a second great series formula, one that held for the possibility of so many exciting and diverse stories. I don't know that there is any Mr. Spock-style break out character in Genesis II, but Lyra-a, with her philosophy of "self-interest" and her inability to "feel love" as humans "understand" it, could have made for some very interesting moments and dynamic character interaction. Also, the idea of Earth getting a new beginning - a second genesis - is one of enormous optimism, something that -- over time (and some brighter photography...) -- might have resonated with audiences the way Star Trek's spirit of universal brotherhood did.

So why isn't anybody remaking this? At the very least, could we please get an official DVD release?