Star Trek Week: Star Trek: The Animated Series ("Beyond the Farthest Star")

In 1973, Filmation presented Star Trek: The Animated Series, one of the lesser-celebrated but no less worthwhile jewels in the Star Trek crown.

Filmation's Lou Scheimer had Gene Roddenberry on board as an executive consultant, and Dorothy Fontana served as the series story editor. The entire cast, save for Walter Koenig (Chekov), returned to provide the voices for their characters, the crew of the original starship Enterprise.

The first episode, "Beyond the Farthest Star" (by Samuel A. Peeples; directed by Hal Sutherland), starts routinely with the opening credits, a nice, if rough approximation or re-creation of the live-action series credits. Only with "starring the voices of" as the legend, rather than simply "starring." 

As the half-hour opening installment begins, the Enterprise is cruising on the "outer fringe" of the galaxy en route to "Quasar M-17," when a strange "radio emission" is intercepted by the crew. A sudden increase of gravity (or "hyper-gravity") drags the Federation starship off course, and it promptly falls into the gravity well of a dead star. The Enterprise manages an orbital insertion in the nick of time, and Spock (Leonard Nimoy) soon detects a strange alien starship also trapped in orbit. He determines that it has been locked there, trapped, on the magnitude of "300 million years."

An investigation of the ship (which boasts a biological, organic design; presaging many 1970s productions such as Alien [1979]), reveals that aliens destroyed their own vessel because they had accidentally taken on a malevolent, formless life form who was seeking escape...into the heart of the galaxy. This creature, a "magnetic organism without mass," makes it back to the Enterprise with the landing party, and begins to run wild there. Captain Kirk (William Shatner) seemingly chooses suicide and certain destruction rather than freeing this evil life form from its ages-old captivity...

As you can tell from this brief synopsis, there are many familiar elements here; or rather, some elements that would one day become familiar to Trek-dom. 

From the original series, we have an age-old, formless entity of pure evil, like Redjac in "The Wolf in the Fold." And future Treks, including Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, would also involve an alien entity hoping to escape a planetary prison via a starship. 

Like Star Trek efforts including "Where No Man Has Gone Before," Star Trek V: The Final Frontier and Next Gen's "The Nth Degree," a definable landmark in the galaxy is visited by the Federation in this story; here the outer rim; (in other cases, it's the edge of the galaxy or the center of the galaxy). 

So, generally, how does Star Trek: The Animated Series compare to original Trek? It is clearly designed for children (it is a Saturday morning series, after all), but to utilize a common phrase, it is "light years" ahead of other Saturday morning fare from the same decade. On Star Trek -- as early as this first episode -- one detects the ideas at work. The Animated Series is not so much simplified as streamlined. And, it's immensely entertaining.

But anyway, Filmation has done a remarkable job of recreating the original Enterprise interiors, costumes and production design. In this episode, there are several nice insert shots of classic Federation hardware such as tricorders and communicators...and they look just right. The transporter console is familiar too, and the bridge looks great. The level of fidelity is more than respectable...it's astonishing.

What's different? Well, interestingly, you can already detect how Gene Roddenberry was incorporating new and fascinating ideas into the franchise; updating the Trek universe. For instance, a pan across the bridge of the Enterprise reveals a second turbo lift (to the left of the view screen; to the right of Engineering). We would next see a second turbo lift on the bridge next in Star Trek: The Motion Picture.

Satisfying the curiosity of many, this episode also reveals for the first time some of the details of what specifically Spock sees inside the "blue glow" of his library computer viewer. At one point it's just a sine wave, signifying the "heart beat" of the alien, but it's still a neat glimpse. .

What's changed? Well, first and foremost, there's an alien navigator, the three-armed Mr. Arex, sitting in Mr. Chekov's spot. He's a little bit gimmicky for my taste (three arms; three legs), but at least he isn't designed and executed to be a joke.

More genuinely fascinating, Federation technology has been updated. It now includes "life support belts" which eliminate the need for space suits in inhospitable environments. I like this idea a great deal, and think it's both inventive and keeping in the spirit of the original Trek's vision of the future. It seems that personal force fields generated by small belts is not only a nice cheap expedient (like the transporter...) for getting into and out of weird environments, but I kind of think the belts tart up the uniforms nicely. To me, Star Trek isn't truly about the hard days of early space travel (leave that to another favorite, Space:1999, please...), but rather the era wherein man has tamed technology and it is easy, simple-to-use and -- again -- streamlined. 

Perhaps life support belts aren't inherently dramatic (like space suits); but then again neither is the transporter. A shuttle launching and landing is much more interesting, isn't it? That's okay, though, belts and transporters feel "Trekkish," and get us into environments where otherwise it would be hard to go.

Uniquely, the bridge is now equipped with an "automatic bridge defense system," a turret that lowers from the bridge ceiling in times of danger and can target any object in the room with a phaser array. Although this turret is hijacked by the evil alien in "Beyond the Farthest Star," it perhaps should have stayed in the live-action franchise. I got tired in The Next Generation (in episodes like "The High Ground" and "Best of Both Worlds") of watching Lt. Worf leap over a furniture barrier between his station and Captain Picard when confronted with unfriendly interlopers on the command deck. Any alien could apparently just beam onto the bridge and punch crewmen or hijack them off the ship.  An automatic defense system might have actually come in handy. An intruder beams in - zap 'em! It's easier on the legs than jumping hurdles.

Another change: We see Engineering, and it looks familiar enough, save for the new "engineering core." That's different terminology than we've been accustomed to on Star Trek. It's really just a giant glowing hatch in the Engineering deck floor, ostensibly leading down into the anti-matter/matter reactor.

"Beyond the Farthest Star" is a colorful episode, and an advantage of animation is that alien spaceship designs and planets are not restricted by live-action budgetary constraints. Here, the alien ship is organic in design, consisting of individual cells or pods that have been "burst open," (again, think Alien...). The scale of this alien ship is something that couldn't be accomplished back in the day of the original Trek; and the landing party's tour of the derelict reminded me a little of the Krell tour in Forbidden Planet.

"Beyond the Farthest Star" isn't a favorite fan installment of the animated series, but it gets the job done, and is overall very impressive. Watching this episode now, it's clear that future Star Treks would have benefited from incorporating more, not less, of this series.

Star Trek Week: "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield"

Stardate 5730.2

The Enterprise proceeds to a critical decontamination mission on the heavily-populated world of Ariannus, but en route the sensors detect a shuttlecraft in distress. The ship was recently reported stolen from Starbase 4, and there is one inhabitant aboard: Lokai (Lou Antonio).

Lokai is a strange individual, at least in terms of physical or biological characteristics. He is white colored on half of his body, and black colored on the other side. Dr. McCoy (De Forest Kelley) believes he may be a one-of-a-kind, a mutation.

This theory is proven wrong, however, when another being from Lokai’s planet, Cheron, arrives aboard an invisible spaceship in pursuit. 

At first blush, Commissioner Bele (Frank Gorshin) seems to resemble Lokai, possessing white skin and black skin, in opposition. 

But all of Bele’s people are black on the right side, whereas Lokai’s people are white on the right side. 

This (apparently minor) color difference seems to be the source of huge distress and anger between the two individuals. Bele claims to have been hunting Lokai for 50,000 years, and wants to return him to Cheron to pay for his crimes of insurrection. Lokai, by contrast, wants disciples to follow him, arguing that Bele and his people are violent, tyrants, and that his people are enslaved.

When Captain Kirk (William Shatner) refuses to hand over Lokai, determining that he should stand trial for the theft of the shuttle, Bele takes control of the Enterprise, forcing the ship to alter course for Cheron.  

With no choice, Kirk demonstrates that his authority over the Enterprise is final by activating the self-destruct sequence. He aborts the one minute countdown only after Bele relents, and returns control of the ship.

After the decontamination mission at Ariannus, Bele again takes over directional controls. This time, he burns out the self-destruct mechanism, so Kirk cannot stop him.

On arrival, the Enterprise crew finds that Cheron is a dead world, one that has been engulfed in the flames of hatred and division for too long. Lokai and Bele’s people are all dead, having been unable to overcome their race hatred.

This knowledge, however, does not prevent them from continuing to fight and chase one another.

Originally titled “A Portrait in Black and White,” this episode of Star Trek (1966-1969) from Gene Coon (writing as Lee Cronin) is often described by critics and fans as being heavy-handed or preachy.  

I reply to those criticisms (perhaps as an “idealistic dreamer,” as Bele terms Kirk) in the following manner:

Preach on, Star Trek. 

In 2020, too many of us -- too many of our leaders -- have still not learned the (obvious) message of this episode.  Race hatred -- tribalism, for lack of a better word -- is foolish, ignorant, and, finally, will get us all killed if we can't get past it. 

“Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” is a brilliant episode, I would argue, for the way it addresses the utter stupidity and subjective nature of racism, or race hatred. 

The message is heavy-handed or preachy? Really? If that’s the case, how come in fifty four years man still suffers from this brand of stupidity? 

If the message of “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” is so friggin' obvious, it seems that this is a lesson would have taken hold. 

And for so many people, it has not done so.

I term the episode brilliant specifically for the manner in which it explains racism, or rather reduces the concept of racism to its most basic (and therefore ridiculous) tenets. In a remarkable scene between Kirk, Spock, and Bele, the Starfleet officers attempt to talk reason to the commissioner from Cheron. They note that Bele and Lokai seem to be of the same race. 

Bele responds, offended: “I am black on the right side. Lokai is white on the right side. All his people are white on the right side.” 

The inference in Bele’s response is that being white on the right side (rather than on the left side) is inherently, obviously, inferior to being white on the left side. 

But no supporting evidence for this belief is offered. It’s just an assumed fact; something unquestioned by Bele’s people. It's a self-reinforcing, comforting myth, or bias, with no grounding in science.

Naturally, they are superior! They’re black on the right side!

And if you gaze at racism here on Earth, in the twentieth and twenty first centuries, racism makes no more sense than Bele’s statement does. 

Why are black, brown, yellow, or red considered, often, inferior to white by some? Are these skin colors encoded with quality ratings, a hierarchy? 

Or are they the product, instead, of self-righteous, comforting beliefs?  

The definition of racism is “a system of belief that all members of one race possess characteristics specific to that race in order to distinguish it from other races.” So if you are black on the right side, you are good, smart, and hard-working. If you are black on the left side, you are violent, uneducated, and lazy.

See how that works? Your skin color is your destiny; never mind your individuality. Never mind your experience. Never mind your achievements.

Spock responds to Bele’s statement by offering up the example of Vulcan. The Vulcan people would have destroyed themselves over such irrational, unfounded beliefs, had they not found the discipline of logic. He recommends that Cheron should adopt the same policy, lest its people be destroyed.

Kirk also attempts to talk reason to Bele, noting that a dialogue could be started between Lokai’s people and Bele’s people. 

Bele refuses to believe that Lokai’s people are capable of change (another trope familiar to racists), and Spock then speaks one of the core tenets of Star Trek; one paraphrased again just this weekend in the new Star Trek: Discovery (2017) trailer: 

“Change is the essential process of all existence.”

Racism can’t exist with new input, with new facts, with new experiences. It thrives on ignorance, and stereotyping (the failure to note a person as an individual). 

If Bele lets himself believe that Lokai can change, or grow, then he can no longer cling to the myths around his own superiority.  He would have to re-examine the world, and find, perhaps, that he is not better than all others. Instead of being God's chosen, or biology's chosen, he might learn he is  just one star in a constellation of worthy beings. Clearly, at least from Bele's example, racism stems from the desire to be viewed as superior, while all others are inferior.

That idea of racial superiority based on skin color, as this episode points out, is antithetical to Star Trek and its messages. 

We may all be different. 

We may possess different strengths, and different weaknesses. 

But we are all worthwhile, and we all possess individual gifts that are separate from skin color, gender, orientation, and so forth. 

That is the heart of IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations), a concept introduced to the series earlier in the third season.

When I was a child, I did not fully understand the episode, I admit. I thought that one Cheron-ian was evil (Bele), and that one was good (Lokai). 

As I matured and re-watched the episode, I saw that the episode is not heavy-handed and obvious, because it recreates the complexity of the social unrest of the 1960’s in an even-handed way. 

Bele represents bigoted, unreasonable, privileged authority and racism, it’s true. But Lokai represents the counter-culture, and its willingness to overturn everything, in a day, without considering what could be lost by throwing the baby out with the bath water. 

Another way to put this: Bele wants to preserve the status quo, at all costs, because he strides atop it. There can be no change, especially from inferiors, that would lessen his seat of power, privilege, and prestige on Cheron. 

Oppositely -- like a cracked mirror reflection -- Lokai is against the status quo, at all costs, and sees nothing worth preserving there. He would overturn all laws, cause violence, and undertake sweeping change to the social order without recognizing the good things in the status quo.

They are diametrically opposed, and neither character is angel. They are both devils in their own way. Remember, "fundamentalism" isn't about what you believe, it's how you believe that thing. Bele and Lokai share their extreme brand of fundamentalism, even if they believe different things.

But the episode’s ultimate message is that it doesn’t matter who is right, or more right in this, or any conflict. 

Irrational hatred, for or against the status quo is destructive, divisive, and has no positive end. The episode’s final imagery, of cities in flame, is a potent warning to the riot-struck America of the 1960’s that unremitting hatred from any corner, is unproductive, and worse than that, self-destructive.

Looking around at the world today, I don’t see why this episode is considered preachy or heavy-handed.  On the contrary, I would say that Star Trek found a way to fully expose how stupid and destructive racism and hatred can be. 

Sure, it’s all about the color(s) of skin, but that, of course, is the tether that racism is often bound to. “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” is not stupid or obvious. Contrarily, it is about how stupid and obvious racism is, as a belief system.  

As Kirk compassionately notes to the survivors of Cheron, “You must both end up dead if you don’t stop hating.”

As America grows more divided, more ill-informed, more enraged about “the other” in our midst (liberal, conservative, Republican, Democrat, gay, straight, atheist, Christian, white, black, male, female, trans, etc), this is a message worth repeating. 

Hate, finally, is not a governing strategy. 

Hate, in the final analysis, is not a way forward. 

It is a path, ultimately, to a burned-out cinder of a planet, where no partisans survive, and where no one can claim victory, moral or otherwise.

This doesn’t mean we should ignore hate when we see it, or fail to call it out.  Only that, we must always remember Spock’s axiom that “change is the essential process of all existence.” Those whom we think can’t change….can change. 

We can’t give up hope that they will.  “Idealistic dreamers” must not give up on those dreams of a better future. 

This message is the essence of Star Trek. Think about Kirk’s journey in The Undiscovered Country (1991), or the relationship of the Federation and the Klingon Empire over the whole franchise. Hate cannot be allowed to carry the day. Racism falls when we have to see our perceived enemies as people capable of compromise.

I love that “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” exists in the episode canon, and I hope that those who call it obvious or heavy-handed go back and actually experience its messages, again. 

In terms of continuity, the episode is vital to the franchise because it sets up, precisely, the parameters of starship self-destruct sequences in the 23^rd century. The codes, the multi-officer input, and the countdown are all featured again in The Search for Spock (1984), and the connection is a wonderful touch of continuity with the series. Even the auto-destruct in The Next Generation (“11001001” and “Where Silence Has Lease”) is based on the process we see explored in this particular episode.

Also, as I have noted above, it looks like Spock’s line about “change” in this episode has been re-parsed (and spoken by a young Sarek) in Discovery (2017), an indication that it will continue to carry importance across the Trek-verse.

What is the end-game for an episode such as “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield?” 

Where do such idealistic dreams lead us? 

Sulu and Chekov share a conversation in this episode, wherein it is clear they have no first-hand experience with bigotry or racism. “There was persecution on Earth once. I remember reading about it in my history class,” they say.

That is the world worth building. 

This is the world we can build. And episodes such as “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” light the way, as Star Trek often does. We can either end up like Bele and Lokai, dining on the ashes of hatred, or like Sulu and Chekov, looking back and wondering how people could have ever been so damned hateful.

Star Trek Week: "The Menagerie"

Stardate 3012.4

The U.S.S. Enterprise receives a message diverting the vessel to Starbase 11.  There, Commodore Mendez (Malachi Throne) insists that no such message was sent.

Mendez also reports some grave news. Fleet Captain Christopher Pike (Jeffrey Hunter/Sean Kenney) has been badly injured during a rescue attempt aboard a cadet vessel. Although Pike survived the incident, he was exposed to delta rays is now horribly scarred. He is also confined to a life-support chair, and is only able to answer “yes” or “no” through an indicator light. As Dr. McCoy (De Forest Kelley) points out, Pike is as alert as ever, but he is trapped in a convalescing body.

Pike is the former captain of the Enterprise, and was Spock’s (Leonard Nimoy) commanding officer for many years. Accordingly, Mendez suspects that Spock sent the phantom message so he could see his former friend.

The truth is somewhat different. 

Spock abducts Pike and hijacks the Enterprise, stranding Captain Kirk (William Shatner) at Starbase 11.  Spock immediately sets a course for Talos IV, a mysterious planet that Starfleet officers are forbidden to have contact with. 

Violation of this edit is punishable by the last death penalty on the books.

Kirk pursues the Enterprise in a shuttle-craft, and attempts to stop his apparently-mutinous first officer.  When Spock is held for court-martial, however, exonerating evidence is presented…straight from the mysterious Talos IV.

On a view-screen on the court room, images from nearly two-decades earlier play out. They reveal the details of Captain Pike’s visit to Talos IV, and his strange encounter with the beings there.

Star Trek’s only two-part episode -- the brilliant “The Menagerie” -- began as a production expedient. Because Star Trek was expensive -- not to mention complicated to produce -- there was the ubiquitous worry that deadlines would be missed, and an episode might not make it to air.

The result was a clever re-use of the original pilot, “The Cage,” with new wraparound or bridging material featuring the regular cast, standing sets, and so forth. Few would have imagined, no doubt, that a glorified “clips” story would become one of the most beloved episodes of the series, or for that matter, one of the best Star Treks ever made. Yet that is precisely what happened.

“The Cage” by itself is a clever, intelligent story about mankind’s indomitable nature, and humanity's refusal to give in to emotions or appetites (such as desire) in the face of, essentially slavery. 

But the bridging material included in "The Menagerie" adds so much to the story-line. It is the yin to “The Cage’s” yang.  

If “The Cage” is about the ways that illusions can be a trap (like an addictive “narcotic,” in the words of the teleplay,”) then “The Menagerie” is an even-handed, book-end opposite conclusion.  

Sometimes, perhaps, an illusion can be legitimately, life-saving. Sometimes, it can be a refuge from suffering.

In exploring that idea, “The Menagerie” deepens the character of Spock significantly. Not only because we meet a younger, apparently more impulsive version of him in the material from “The Cage,” but because we come to understand that beneath his cool, glacial exterior, he does feel. He does care.

And the bonds Spock forges with his friends are strong...even unbreakable. Here, he exposes himself to legal jeopardy and possibly death in order to save a friend, Christopher Pike. He acts against regulations, against orders, against prudence, even, to enact a positive outcome for a man whose life has been destroyed.  

The question, of course, is this: are Spock’s decisions based in emotion or in logic?   

I could very well our dispassionate friend explaining the utter illogic of Pike’s continued suffering, as well as the illogic of a zero tolerance policy towards visiting Talos IV.  In this one setting, in this one case, there is only one logical place for the injured Captain Pike -- Spock’s friend to live out the rest of his days. And that place happens to be Talos IV.

Uniquely, the Star Trek movies present a kind of mirror or reflection of this episode's ethos. In Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984), Kirk risks legal jeopardy and death, too, to visit a forbidden planet called Genesis. 

As is the case in “The Menagerie,” he does so to save his friends, both Spock and McCoy. He must alleviate their suffering.  

In both examples, one cannot escape the conclusion that Star Trek has made a judgment on “rules.”  

It is more important to achieve a good (such as saving a friend) than it is to adhere to a policy, rule, or hierarchy. 

When one considers all the occasions in which Kirk chooses “normal human development” over the dogma of General Order One, or the Prime Directive, this philosophical viewpoint becomes even more apparent.  

Rules are good. They give us all guidelines.

Helping people is better.

The original “The Cage” possesses a much more “cerebral” philosophy for certain. Pike’s adventure is not about helping friends, about succumbing to your feelings or even logic.  

Rather, it is about the opposite. It is about how a starship captain, Pike, must remain disciplined in the face of sexual fantasy. 

If Pike succumbs to his appetites, to his sexual desires, he will be responsible for fathering a race of human slaves. The Talosians keep tempting him with those fantasies. They are inventive and relentless in their attempts. For example, they set up a scenario in which he is a knight in a shining armor, protecting a virginal princess from a Kalar barbarian.  Here, he is asked to fulfill his biological male role of protector.

And then the  Talosians tempt Pike again with a scene of domestic bliss.  He is home, safe and well-established. His beautiful wife adores him, and he her. 

And finally, unforgettably, the Talosians tempt Pike with Vina’s (Susan Oliver) final appearance: as a seductive “animal-like” Orion Slave Girl.  Vina's dance is one of the great moments in Star Trek, the promise of alien contact that is dangerous, different and desirable.

I have written here before about the kinky aspects of the original Star Trek, and the way that the later generations prove far more conservative (as a whole) in their approach to sex, and sexual fantasies.  

“The Menagerie” is a prime example of Star Trek getting its kink on.  The ship’s captain is attacked, essentially, with sexual fantasy after sexual fantasy, but he must not crack; must not succumb. 

The underlying theme of “The Cage” aspect of this episode is that appetites and desires must be controlled, lest a negative future be wrought.  Pike can indulge in every fantasy, every kind of sex he can imagine. But in doing so, he risks focusing on the selfish; on the personal, and not seeing the big picture. He would fail to consider the welfare of the human race itself.  It's a classic conflict between desire and morality.

The provocative sexual aspects of "The Menagerie" might be today viewed as somehow sexist by some, especially since female crew-members are referred to at one point as “breeding stock.” 

And yet, at the same time, “The Cage” is amazingly progressive in one very remarkable regard. Number One (Majel Barrett), a competent, highly-accomplished female, is second in command of the Enterprise during Pike’s voyages. 

She is depicted leading a landing team, in command during a strategy briefing aboard ship, and in other situations that demonstrate well her skill, training and judgment.  So of course, the network axe Number One. Who does she think she is?

Alas, there would be no other female character of Number One's ilk in Star Trek until the age of Deep Space Nine. Crusher and Troi on Next Gen were always firmly ensconced in caretaker roles, and Tasha Yar was so underdeveloped that viewers rarely if ever got to see her in a leadership role.

“The Cage” is also forward-thinking in its presentation of Captain Pike.  Although he keeps horses, he is much, much less cowboy-like than is Captain Kirk.  Indeed, Pike seems a more direct antecedent of Jean Luc Picard than he is of James Kirk. Pike is introspective; he is moody. He is reserved…and private.  Thus Pike does not feel like a product of 1960s TV. He is very un-Bond-like and un-cowboy-like at the same time.

“The Cage” also features fewer Western tropes, in general, than we see in many Star Trek episodes of the regular series. It feels ahead of its time, and spectacularly so.

“The Menagerie” is also brilliant in a way that was certainly not intended. 

More than any other episode in the original series, it establishes the reality of the Star Trek universe by granting it…history.  

In this episode we see a future that is twenty-years earlier than Kirk’s time. It is a clunkier time in terms of technology, and appropriately so given the arc of history. There are Flash Gordon ray guns about, goose-neck monitors, and large communicators that have their circuitry visible under transparent materials.  

We see older uniforms, a younger Spock, and more. We see a starship bridge that is recognizable as such, but clearly of an earlier design. 

My point is basically this: Had Star Trek attempted to invent this “earlier” future, it would have cost the series a lot of money, and been been practically impossible to do so. 

But by importing an earlier production into its continuity -- in the form of “The Cage” -- “The Menagerie” presents a whole, incredibly believable, fully-realized three-dimensional “history” to the series we know and love. The differences and similarities in production design make the universe feel as though it is always developing, always in motion.  "The Cage" actually feels like it comes before Star Trek in history.

The episode dynamically expresses Spock’s under-the-surface humanity at the same time that it grows the universe dramatically, and transmits a message about discipline in the face of temptation.

Star Trek Week: "This Side of Paradise"

Stardate 3417.3.

This 25th episode of Star Trek (which first aired March 2, 1967) sees the U.S.S. Enterprise arrive at planet Omicron Ceti III. The crew had expected to find the colonists assigned there dead due to exposure to poisonous Berthold Rays, but instead, everyone on the planet appears healthy, happy, and content. 

The rub, of course, is that alien plants -- spores -- are keeping the human colonists alive. But the spores are strange parasites that also take away the colonists' will to work, to produce, to do anything but experience constant bliss. Is it an idyllic existence..or a trap, an inhuman nightmare?

As Captain Kirk (William Shatner) puzzles this mystery out, Spock (Leonard Nimoy) encounters an old flame, Leila Kalomi (played by the lovely Jill Ireland). On Earth, and in public, Spock could never acknowledge that he loved this young woman, but once infected by the Omicron spores, Mr. Spock can finally do just that. He can finally be happy. 

Unfortunately, when the deleterious spores are transported aboard the Enterprise, they cause a suddenly euphoric crew to mutiny, leaving stubborn Captain Kirk all alone on his ship, determined to remove the influence of the spores once and for all...

"This Side of Paradise" came about late in the first season, after the series original story editor, John D.F. Black had departed. So had the series' second story editor, Steven Carabatsos. Accordingly Gene Roddenberry approached D.C. Fontana about Nathan Butler's story, and told her that he wanted a major re-write on it, and that if she could do it on time -- and to his satisfaction -- he would promote her to story editor. She did the job. And how.

Originally, the story had involved George Takei's character, Mr. Sulu, and was called "The Way of the Spores. Dorothy Fontana, whom I interviewed in 2001, told me how she changed the episode: 

"I read the script and Gene wanted to know my opinion about it. I thought about it and realized that there were a couple of things that weren't working. The love story really had to be about Spock because the situation of the spores offered an opportunity for us to get to his emotions. And as a result of the character switch, the love story just worked."

"The other thing was the technical part of the show," Fontana recounted to me. "How do the spores infect the people? In the original story, you had to go into a cave where the spores were, to be compromised. The answer to that problem was, simply, don't go into the cave! But if the spores were ubiquitous, if they were all over the planet in this flower form, you couldn't escape them. They were going to get you one way or another."

As anyone who has seen this episode can attest, the coda on the bridge is one of the most emotional and touching of the entire Star Trek canon. Spock admits he has never before been truly happy. If you don't get a lump in your throat over that line (and Nimoy's direct delivery of it...) you really are a Vulcan with green ice-water in your veins.  Although the Uhura/Spock relationship in the new Star Trek (2009) is delightful, it certainly undercuts the character history as this episode suggests it.  Clearly -- in that alternate universe -- Spock has experienced happiness.

"The spores gave us an opportunity to see the softer side," Fontana considers, "to find out about the emotions Spock could have."  And indeed, this knowledge that Spock is not a robot, that he suppresses his emotions (also revealed in "The Naked Time"), makes the character far more sympathetic.  

The visuals highlighting episode are also powerful ones in regards to Spock's relationship with Leila.  In one very well-done shot, for instance, a spore stem intersects the frame vertically down the middle, splitting up Spock and Leila.  The composition which suggests that they can never be together except in a place where spores dominate.

Not only is there Spock's first "romantic" relationship to reckon with in "This Side of Paradise," but the episode's social commentary suggests that mankind is an animal who must work, who must toil, who must constantly strive if he is to endure.  We can't go back to the Garden of Eden and live in innocence and bliss.  There are mountains to climbs, roads to build, planets to explore.  The struggle to climb the next summit is the quality that defines us as a species.

A great moment in the coda is Kirk's reflection on the Omicron Ceti III experience. "Maybe we weren't meant for paradise," he suggests, and, indeed, this is a line that resonates all the way through the Star Trek franchise. As late as Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991), Spock seems to be thinking about this very notion. He hangs a painting in his quarters - the expulsion from Paradise. A reminder to him, at that point, that all things must end.

There are Star Trek episodes of cosmic importance -- space battles with Romulans and Klingons and so forth -- but there are few episodes with more heart or humanity than "This Side of Paradise."

Spock's first experience with happiness is unforgettable, and indeed, haunting.

Star Trek Week: "Charlie X"

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 the 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.