Cult-TV Review: Black Mirror (2011 - )

I’ve received quite a few e-mails lately suggesting that I screen the British genre anthology series, Black Mirror (2011 - ), which concerns the dangerous nexus of mankind and his developing technology.

Well, I’ve taken up those reader suggestions and I’m glad I did, because this series is sharply-written, imaginative, and at times downright terrifying. Every segment -- and I’ve now seen all but the Christmas special -- is remarkably thoughtful and intelligent. Frankly, we haven’t had an anthology this good in a while.

Already, comparisons have been made to The Twilight Zone (1959 – 1964) and I understand why that is the case. Rod Serling gazed long and hard at the human condition during the sixties and focused, often, on issues of Civil Rights, conformity, class, and race. 

Black Mirror chooses instead another topic upon which to obsess: the “black screen” of technology, an iPhone or laptop computer for instance. The screen or monitor itself is the crack’d mirror through which we view ourselves and our 21^st century times. It’s an appropriate selection from creator Charlie Brooker, because I believe that every individual of my age group, at the very least has experienced some second thoughts about the infiltration of such devices (and social media platforms) into the home, school, and work place. 

Sometimes, you can’t help but to take a look around you and see that everyone is paying attention to their separate screens or monitors, even on family holidays. My generation is the one that bridges the technological divide; having lived probably twenty or so years pre-internet, and twenty-five years post-Internet.

This is not to suggest that such technology is intrinsically bad, or a negative a force in society. In purely selfish terms, my writing career would not exist at all without the Internet. My first few books about classic sci-fi TV (Space: 1999, Battlestar Galactica, One Step Beyond) took off at precisely the same time that the Internet ascended. The reach of those books went far beyond any I could have imagined when I wrote them in the mid-1990s. If you had told me back then that those books (some in dire need of updates…) would still be in print and still selling copies -- in electronic format, no less -- in twenty years, I would have said you were crazy.  But clearly, my audience is on the Net and a lot of my work -- here, at Flashbak, and elsewhere -- is on the Net too. The Net has connected me to a community of like-minded fans and scholars in a remarkable and historically unprecedented way.

But still, I sometimes get that nagging feeling that the ever-present nature of technology is fraying the social contract and somehow separating people from their immediate communities and neighbors.  Also, it is much harder to erase a mistake in this day and age because of technology, than it was when I was young, and that makes me worry for up-and-coming generations, including my son’s.  The world doesn’t need access to every youthful indiscretion ever committed.

Although Black Mirror has only produced a half-dozen or so episodes at this juncture (over a three season span), it has craftily studied the way technology impacts all aspects of public and private life.  It has examined technology in regards to the government and the press (“The National Anthem,” “The Waldo Moment,”) and in light of personal relationships (“The Entire History of Me,” “Be Right Back.”)

The series has also demonstrated how reality TV turns everybody into commodities (“Fifteen Million Merits”) and even how the justice system could change because of bystanders filming crimes rather than intervening to stop them (“White Bear.”)  

I’ll make no bones about it, either, Black Mirror starts out with its best episode.  The inaugural segment, “The National Anthem,” concerns a terrorist threat to a princess in England’s Royal Family, and a demand of the Prime Minister that at first seems absurd, then disgusting, and finally inevitable. In particular, the hostage-taker demands the P.M. engage in….sexual congress with a pig on live TV, or the princess will die. The P.M (Rory Kinnear) thinks the demand is a joke, and his advisors prepare a CGI fake, but the arrival of the hostage’s severed finger changes everything. 

“The National Anthem” contends with issues like the irresponsibility of the modern mainstream press, the fickle nature of the public (and public polling), and more. In the story, technology -- in the hands of the press -- makes it virtually impossible for the P.M. to avoid his date with destiny, and with the pig. The story sounds strange and in bad taste, but the opposite is true.  The episode raises profound questions about the way we live now.  I’m thinking about asking my mass media class to watch it because I have never seen a better exploration of the pitfalls of the modern media.

The second Black Mirror story, concerning contestants in a seemingly eternal, society-wide reality TV show, didn’t work quite as well for me. The tale’s message -- that everybody has a price, and is willing to sell out -- is valid, if cynical, and yet I must confess that aspects of the episode’s dystopian society were not entirely clear to me. The episode seems to take place at an industrial human farm devoted to the physical nurturing of reality TV show contestants. The episode makes some relevant points about how business intervenes in art, particularly in its idea that you have to “pay” to skip certain content that is less desirable (like commercials.)  Still, it didn’t quite come together for me at the end.  It might be that I was spoiled.  “The National Anthem” is the best thing I’ve seen on television in the last six months or so.

Another Black Mirror story, “The Entire History of You,” rivals “The National Anthem” for intelligence and imagination. The story concerns a future in which everyone is installed with a storage device that records your vision.  So you can go back in time with a remote control and rewind every argument with your wife, or every moment of a job interview, and so on. It’s like social media is now embedded in your head.  

The story centers around a husband and wife with a young baby, and the husband’s paranoid fear that his wife cheated on him with another man they happen to encounter at a dinner party.  Using the evidence of his recorded memory (and hers), the husband, Liam (Toby Kebbell) makes an airtight case for infidelity, but destroys his entire life – and family -- in the process.

If something happened once, two years ago, was a terrible mistake, and has not been repeated, is it truly worth it to sacrifice your future (and the future of a child…)? 

I know lots of folks will disagree with my assessment, but sometimes it’s better not to know such things, and not to have evidence.  Sometimes it is better to move forward and re-build, and not wallow in the details of a mistake that is closed and gone.  The episode reaches that conclusion in a gut-punch kind of way with an act of cathartic excision that makes the bloody point.

Another well-dramatized and emotionally-affecting story is “Be Right Back,” a story about a young woman, Martha (Hayley Atwell), who can’t get over the grief associated with the accidental death of her husband, Ash (Domnhall Gleson).  She is unexpectedly given the opportunity to reconnect with a facsimile of him courtesy of a computer program that can sample all his online words and activities, and approximate a virtual version of the man. 

At first, the program simply responds in written word, using Ash’s phrases and idioms. But Martha wants to talk to him, and so an imitation voice is synthesized.  And then the opportunity comes to house the program in an ambulatory robot that can be made to exactly mimic Ash’s appearance.

The point -- as you can probably guess -- is that human beings are more than the sum of their virtual activities.  Martha soon comes to realize that pieces of Ash are missing, and that the robot duplicate can never embody the absent sectors.  Refreshingly, the robot is upfront about who he is, and what he is.  He is a device to make the mourning process easier.  The episode becomes truly clever, however, because the audience is left to decide whether Martha’s interlude with the machine was helpful or not.  Did the machine aid Martha’s recovery?  Or did it delay her acceptance of reality?

“White Bear” is the mostly overt “horror” episode of the series that I’ve seen thus far, and it concerns a woman, Victoria (Lenora Crichlow) who wakes up with no memories.  When she leaves her apartment, she is hunted by violent sadistic people in masks.  Worse, people all around won’t stop filming Victoria on their iPhones.  They refuse to step in to help.  She pleads to be saved, and no one answers.

I will ruin no surprises, but this episode is structurally clever, boasts a a hell of a reveal, and once more, the viewer is asked to reckon with what our modern technology does to our traditions of society, in this case related to the justice system.  Again, there’s a two-pronged approach here.  The episode discusses how technology can change crime and punishment, but how people -- and their propensity for voyeurism – doesn’t change.

“The Waldo Moment” is another solid installment, and it handles, explicitly, the notion of a figure in entertainment becoming part of a news cycle. A foul-mouthed cartoon character, Waldo, ends up running for political office, taking a sledge-hammer to the conservative and labour candidates in the process. But unlike either of those two politicians, Waldo is only interested in taking a piss on the system, not improving it. 

Once again, there’s two ways of considering’s Waldo’s world.  Either he is destroying a system that needs to be destroyed, exposing its corruption.  Or he is wrecking the process and enhancing the people’s cynicism, and therefore doing nothing good, for anyone. When we have no one and nothing to believe in, society crumbles.  Waldo is not an adequate substitute for an advocate.

Black Mirror combines near-future speculation with riveting storytelling, and ironic, often emotionally-shattering denouements.  The six episodes I watched are better-than-feature film quality, and remind us again that we are now firmly ensconced in TV’s new golden age.

Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging: Land of the Lost: "Flying Dutchman" (October 23, 1976)

While it is undeniable that the third season of Land of the Lost suffers in terms of its continuity with the preceding two years’ worth of episodes, I nonetheless appreciate how the third season occasionally adapts creepy elements of world mythology to the world of Altrusia.  It’s a different take than the original vision, to be certain, but the mythology-based episodes make for intriguing adventures, at least on a few occasions.

Such is the case with “Flying Dutchman,” this week’s installment, which first aired on October 23, 1976. 

The story uses as its basis the legend of a Dutch man-of-war “ghost ship,” reported as early as the 18^th century by sailors and other travelers on the high seas. 

In some stories, the captain of the Flying Dutchman (known as Bernard Fokke) is believed to be in league with Satan himself….a devil.  In other variations of the folklore, the captain (sometimes Vander Decker) is being punished for some moral failing by this eternal life on the seas, never able to reach port again. 

The Flying Dutchman is also sometimes reported to be a pirate ship, lost off the Cape of Good Hope, and a young King George V once reported seeing the eerie vessel off the coast of Australia.

In Land of the Lost’s “Flying Dutchman,” The Marshalls discover a wrecked man-of-war in the Mist Marsh (former home of the Zarn), but the area is not referred to on-screen as such, which is disappointing.

The Marshalls hear ghostly voices emanating from the ship’s deck, and find a lonely captain, Van Der Mere (Rex Holman) alone on board.  Although he promises to take Uncle Jack, Holly, Will and Chaka back out through the vortex by which he arrived, the captain secretly plans to leave with only Holly (Kathy Coleman) on board.  She is a dead ringer for his long-lost daughter, Wilhelmina, and he misses his child’s companionship.

Uncle Jack (Ron Harper) realizes that Van Der Mere’s ship is the legendary Dutchman and saves a drugged Holly at the last moment.  The Captain apologizes for his behavior.  “I am ashamed,” he admits. “You have my apologies…it’s so terribly lonely.”

In the episode’s final moments, the Marshalls and Chaka watch in awe as the Flying Dutchman takes to the air, and sails out of view...though how it escapes Altrusia (and the land’s one in/one out rule of entry/exit) is left unexplained.

On the plus side of the equation, “Flying Dutchman” is an episode filled with creepy imagery of the derelict ship in the Mist Marsh.  These moments are atmospheric, and a real sense of danger and terror dominates the show (at least in Saturday morning terms). 

On the down-side, this episode sees the return of the single-worst character in Land of the Lost history, the cave-man Malak (Richard Kiel).  Too much time is wasted in “Flying Dutchman” as Jack and Will negotiate with Malak for the release of Captain Van Der Mere’s nautical belongings, including a sextant and a compass.

Some viewers, I remember, found this episode sexually perverse, with an adult man professing his love for a much, much younger woman, Holly.  But the text of the episode makes it  absolutely clear that Van Der Mere’s affections are not sexual, but those of a father who misses his daughter, and can never be reunited with her so long as he is cursed to travel the endless corridors of time.  For me, the episode doesn’t play as particularly perverse, though I admit it features a scary undercurrent about children being kidnapped and swept away by dark forces.

Despite the fact that “Flying Dutchman” plays fast and loose with the established rules of Altrusia, I still feel that the episode, much like “Medusa” works as a sort of children’s horror show.  I remember that I liked this installment very much as a child, and was obsessed with the legend of the Flying Dutchman for months after viewing.  I still find the legend compelling, and accordingly, I would rate this episode of the third season pretty highly in the roster.

Next week: “Hot-Air Artist.”

Cult-TV Blogging: The Starlost: "The Goddess Calabra" (October 6, 1973)

The third episode of The Starlost (1973) is titled “The Goddess Calabra,” and it arrives replete with a story credit from famed sci-fi writer Ursula Le Guin. 

Don’t let that factoid get your hopes up, however.  

Despite the presence of cult-television favorites Barry Morse and John Colicos in prominent roles, this story is mostly straight from the genre convention playbook.   Our heroes arrive in a corrupt, post-apocalyptic culture -- one populated only by men -- and must escape when the leader wants Rachel as his bride.  But to save Rachel and achieve his freedom, Devon (Keir Dullea) must battle The Governor (Colicos) in a fight to the death.

Yep, you’ve pretty much seen it all before…

“The Goddess Calabra” features two central points, and one comes across rather powerfully, while the other comes across as half-baked.

Let’s get the bad news out-of-the-way first.  

This episode involves the biosphere of Omicron, an enclosed world where, after years of devastating war, only men exist.  Since the XX chromosome has been lost to history, the men of Omicron mix their sperm with artificial eggs inside tiny, computerized machines.  “We bred out the weak, the soft, and the intellectuals,” the Governor reports to Rachel (Gay Rowan).  Only the “best and strongest” remain.

Love in this all-male culture is considered “unnatural,” the Governor also reveals, but the episode doesn’t go any further than that declaration, and that’s the problem.

In the total absence of women, one must wonder, what about sex?  Do the men of Omicron have sex with each other, or is that also deemed “unnatural?”  

The problem is that you can’t introduce a one-sex, human culture, and then avoid entirely the issue of sex drive, and how it is…satisfied.  This oversight might have been addressed simply by having the Governor accompanied at all times by a male partner.  Nothing overt since this was the 1970s just something to indicate that -- even in the far future -- human beings remain human beings.

Because “The Goddess Calabra” doesn’t explain at all many crucial aspects of this all-male culture, the scenes between the Governor and Rachel don’t really work as intended.  He seems to really fall in love with Rachel, but we must ask if this is a believable or likely development.  In a society with no women, where the “ideal” is male strength and power, would a citizen of that culture find a woman attractive in the slightest?  Wouldn’t he be conditioned socially not to find her so?

Again, it’s all just terribly half-baked, a high-concept post-apocalyptic culture that for not even a second passes the smell-test of realism. It’s a silly idea when rendered in such a neutered fashion.

Worse, in culture of all men -- where strength is prized -- Colicos is not even slightly believable as a governor who maintains his rule through daily combat and challenges.  He’s got a sizable gut, for one thing.  But in general, Colicos lacks the physique of a man who fights back enemies on a regular basis.  The scenes with the actor battling more physically-fit men (including Devon), just don’t ring true, and are terribly choreographed.  The story notes that the Governor is getting old, and worries about the day he will be defeated, but still it’s plain that the man is not in fighting shape right now. 

I appreciated much more in “The Goddess Calabra” the other sub-plot, the one involving Shaliff (Barry Morse), a monk who has dedicated his life to preserving the sacred scrolls in his monastery. 

These scrolls are actually technical schematics of the Ark, but I love the quasi-historical reference.  Shaliff and his dedicated flock are like the Irish monks who preserved Western history in the Dark Ages by laboriously transcribing and copying works of art.  Those works would have been lost for all time if not for their dedication.  I rather like the idea of this period in Earth Ship Ark’s history as a kind of “Dark Ages,” with the Omicron Monks preserving the blueprints and tech-sheets for future generations.  It’s a good touch in an otherwise dopey episode.  The preserved blueprints also serve a role in the series's story arc.  They reveal that in the "nethermost" dome, there is a back-up bridge, one that may still be functional.

The best scenes in “The Goddess Calabra” are those in which Shaliff (Morse), representing religion, and The Governor (Colicos) representing the State, battle for dominance, and discuss their long-standing friendship and competition.  It’s a pleasure to watch these two accomplished cult-tv actors interact, and some of the writing in these scenes is more nuanced than is usual.

As Starlost’s first visit to another biosphere culture, “The Goddess Calabra” is mostly a disappointment. 

Next week: “The Pisces.”

Cult-TV Blogging: Ghost Story/Circle of Fear: "Time of Terror" (December 22, 1972)

“Time of Terror” is the final Ghost Story episode before the series change formats, drops Winston Essex and Sebastian Cabot, and transforms into 1973’s Circle of Fear. 

After this installment no more Mansfield House…

That’s the bad news, especially since Mr. Essex is such a jocular fellow, and such a unique anthology host.

The good news is that “Time of Terror” is not just a good episode of Ghost Story, but one of the all-time great ones.  This is a relief, as the series’ quality has been trending downwards for some time. 

Essex introduces the episode (again standing in front of an obvious rear projected image, for some reason...) and muses about the dangers of “modern hotels,” where it becomes easy for the staff to lose guests, or treat them as mere numbers instead of as people. 

From there, we launch into a genuinely intriguing mystery.  A married woman, Ellen Alexander (Patricia Neal), wakes up alone in her hotel room.  Her husband, Harry (Elliott Montgomery) is missing.  He doesn’t respond to pages from the hotel staff, and worse, the manager, Mr. Brett (Craig Stevens) insists that Mr. Alexander has “checked out.”

Ellen soon notices that every guest has been given a “Keno” card, and that when each person’s number is called, the guest is escorted out by hotel security people.  Worse, many of the guests don’t seem to mind this odd ritual.  Betty (Alice Ghostley) and George Carter (Doug Henderson), for instance, made plans to “check out” together and are disappointed when their numbers are called separately.

Ms. Alexander leaves the hotel and, bafflingly, finds herself on an isolated stretch of desert highway, experiencing flashbacks of a car accident.  As Brett soon informs her, she must return to the hotel soon, since her number has been called. 

He then shows her the car accident in which she was killed, but her husband survived…

“Time of Terror” was adapted for Ghost Story by the great Jimmy Sangster, and based on the story “Traveling Companion” by Elizabeth Walter.  It boasts a terrific setting, a sinister “modern” hotel that is, for lack of a better word, Purgatory.  You start to get the feeling that this is actually the case about mid-way through the tale, but up to that point the setting feels downright diabolical, like all the hotel employees are conspiring to keep Ms. Alexander from re-connecting with her husband.

The story is a great character piece, too, for Ms. Neal. Because mistakes were made in Purgatory, Mrs. Alexander is given the chance to bring her husband to the afterlife with her...to keep her company/  But when she sees that he is still alive, Mrs. Alexander decides to let him live, and face the Great Unknown alone.  It’s a great character arc, going from desperation to re-connect with her missing husband to willingly parting from him, knowing she will never see him again.

The images in this episode are also very powerfully rendered.  The casino’s Keno game, for instance -- which selects who will go on to the Afterlife -- is particularly memorable. It bubbles and pops with life, and yet its calculus seems totally random.  I also liked the idea of a revolving door leading from one dimension, essentially, to another, an image that was repeated for the Hotel Royale in Star Trek: The Next Generation’s “The Royale.”

Unlike many episodes of Ghost Story, this episode truly features a driving narrative, and some honest-to-goodness human interest.  The story doesn’t endlessly repeat the same notes or meander about, and it ends with a kind of apotheosis.  As Essex says -- in his swansong closing narration -- we should be mindful of Ms. Alexander’s decision, and wonder what we would do in the same circumstance. 

After all, this is a hotel where we are all going to check in, eventually…

“Time of Terror” rockets right to the top of the Ghost Story pantheon, standing beside such brilliant efforts as “The Dead we Leave Behind,” “Alter Ego,” and “House of Evil.”  It’s a very, very creepy show, and one that possesses an authentically dread-filled atmosphere.  I really loved it.

Next week, Circle of Fear brings us “Death’s Head,” starring Janet Leigh.

Cult-TV Blogging: Ghost Story/Circle of Fear: "Alter-Ego" (October 27, 1972)

This week, Ghost Story/Circle of Fear fires on all thrusters with the chilling “Alter-Ego,” a macabre story about a kindly old school teacher named Miss Gilden (Helen Hayes) who unexpectedly grapples with a young student’s villainous doppelganger. 

At Mansfield House, our host Winston Essex (Sebastian Cabot) introduces the episode. Essex discusses the origins of chess, a deceivingly “harmless” game.  But, he notes, chess is based on war games: attack, defend…capture…checkmate.  It requires two players “under ordinary circumstances,” he opines, but in the upcoming story, the circumstances will be far from ordinary…

The horror commences when young Bobby Cameron (Michael-James Wixted) is sidelined by an accident and forced to stay home from school for a long stretch of time.  Bobby’s parents don’t know how to relate to the boy, or even how to really talk to him, and the boy’s loneliness grows and grows and grows. 

One day, while playing chess by himself in his room, Bobby is surprised to see an exact duplicate appear there.  Unlike the real Bobby, the doppelganger is sinister, secretive, and tricky.  Worse, the evil double seems to know all of Bobby’s thoughts.

When Bobby innocently makes a remark about how much he likes his elementary school teacher, Miss Gilden, the sinister twin heads off to school to make the instructor’s life a living hell.  The doppelganger quickly proves a distraction in class, but then sets about framing Miss Gilden for using force against him.  His plan is successful, and Miss Gilden is fired from her long-held teaching job just months short of her retirement.

At the Cameron home, meanwhile, Bobby grows more and more afraid of his duplicate.  The evil double kills the family cat and then turns his attention to Bobby.  Bobby realizes that he is indeed weakening, losing strength to his ever-more powerful double.  With little time left before he passes away, Bobby challenges the doppelganger to a game of chess…a battle of wits.  The evil twin agrees to the contest, unaware that Bobby boasts a secret ally…

When Ghost Story works…it really works, and “Alter-Ego” proves an excellent reminder of this quality.  This episode is absolutely riveting as Miss Gilden and the sinister Bobby duplicate play a real life game of chess, matching move and counter move perfectly.  The performances by Hayes and Wixted are more than equal to the material, and the teleplay by Dorothy Fontana is very strong too.  The story itself is based on a literary work by Stanley Ellin (1916 – 1986), and in 2001 I had the chance to ask Fontana about her contributions:

“It was based on a short story, and I had to develop the script out of that story.  It only had to be an hour long, but much of what goes on in a short story is internal.  I had to externalize much of the story.  And then when I heard Helen Hayes was going to do the episode, I was just thrilled.  I didn’t even conceive that she might be willing to do our little TV show, and when I saw it, I thought she was just wonderful.”

The “evil child” represents one of the great pop culture tropes of the 1970s, appearing in films and television series such as The Exorcist (1973), Space: 1999 (“Alpha Child”), and The Omen (1976) to name just three.  “Alter-Ego” is a highly cerebral variation of the tale, but also an expression of the idea that all children boast a good and a dark side.  Only in this case, the dark side is externalized as a separate (and murderous) entity. 

“Alter-Ego” captures our attention so easily and so fully because Miss Gilden is a charming, sweet, old woman, and does nothing to deserve the evil “attention” of Bobby’s double.  Any time Miss. Gilden attempts to fight back, she risks censure and unemployment.  The evil child realizes this fact of course, and keeps staging threatening incidents which require super-human patience from Miss. Gilden.

Those moments will require super-human patience from you as well, as it becomes increasingly clear that Gilden is falling right into the sinister double’s trap.  The episode’s final battle -- which involves the unexpected appearance of one of the dramatis personae -- does a great job of getting across the message that an evil child is nonetheless a child…and should be treated (and disciplined) as such.

Along with “The Dead We Leave Behind” and “House of Evil” (which also involves a child), “Alter Ego” remains a high point for Ghost Story.

Next week: “Half a Death.”

Cult TV Blogging: Ghost Story: "The Concrete Captain (September 22, 1972)

Considering the amazing level of talent involved -- actress Gena Rowlands, director Richard Donner (The Omen [1976], Superman: The Movie [1978]) and writer Jimmy Sangster (The Curse of Frankenstein [1957], The Horror of Dracula [1958], The Mummy [1959] -- it’s truly baffling that “The Concrete Captain” is Ghost Story/Circle of Fear’s (1972 – 1973) least satisfying entry thus far.

Part of the problem -- as we’ll see from time to time on Ghost Story -- is that the thinner supernatural tales have a difficult time filling out an hour time slot.  I’ve written it before and I’ll write it again, no doubt, but many of these same stories would work like gangbusters in a half-hour slot.  But at fifty minutes long, some entries (notably “Elegy for a Vampire,” “The Summer House” and this episode) prove long, hard slogs; repetitive and dull rather than spiky and scary.  The basic concepts explored – while sound – seem dull and predictable when stretched to hour length.

In “The Concrete Captain,” based on a story by Elizabeth Walter, Ed (Stuart Whitman) and Kate Lucas (Gena Rowlands) celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary near the coast, when Kate becomes unexpectedly obsessed (some might say possessed…) with the tragic tale of long-dead Captain Jonathan Harker (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), a sea captain who came to a tragic end, and who was thus never reunited with his beloved wife, Katherine (Eugenia Stewart). 

On a nearby beach, the captain’s body is encased -- unusually -- in concrete between sharp-edged rocks because his body was unrecoverable at the time of his demise.  Now, the doomed lovers attempt to reach out to one another, but can’t quite make the right connection.

Kate feels compelled to visit the captain’s tomb, and to stay at his house, now converted into a hotel.  Meanwhile, the Captain beckons from his tomb, and Kate makes excursions to the beach, possessed by Katherine, to reunite with him.  Finally, to save his wife, Ed must shatter the concrete tomb and free the Captain.

I try never to use the word “boring” when describing any production, because I believe strongly that boredom is the personal result of non-engagement.  A movie or TV isn’t intrinsically boring on its own, in other words.  Rather, how we choose to engage (or not engage…) with the material is our own responsibility. 

So let me just declare that “The Concrete Captain” is dull and repetitive and that such unfortunate qualities generate a sense of distance (hence, boredom…).  The episode again and again depicts Kate possessed by Katherine, walking to the picturesque beach, until her husband shows up and rescues her.

Worse than the tiresome repetition, we aren’t truly certain of the threat’s nature.  Is Kate in physical danger from the Captain?  From Katherine?  Is she being possessed?  If so, for what precise purpose?  Why and how, precisely, is Kate in jeopardy?

Dramatically, the ghosts don’t seem to obey any set of consistent rules in “The Concrete Captain,” a fact that contributes to the episode’s overall sense of lassitude.  Katherine seems to possess Kate, but then – at the episode’s finale – we see Katherine as an independent specter, acting perfectly capably outside Kate’s body.  Why bother to take-over Kate periodically when Katherine can already influence the world as a specter? 

The same question applies to the trapped Captain.  We see his spirit (a kind of negative image…) walking about from time-to-time, so what does he gain by seeing his corporeal form cast into the sea, freed from concrete?  If the Captain and Kate can both appear as spirits already, and both haunt the premises around the hotel, why can’t they connect?   If the Captain wants to escape his tomb, why does his ghost attempt to drown Ed in the ocean

Instead of addressing any such pressing questions, “The Concrete Captain” features interminable moments of Ed and Kate flirting, kissing, and questioning if anything is wrong in their marital relationship. 

With no real “evil” supernatural threat here, no purposeful sense of menace and such a meandering teleplay, “The Concrete Captain” is a time-waster extraordinaire.  Unlike the diabolical and dark “The New House” or the brutal and hair-raising “The Dead You Leave Behind,” this episode of “The Concrete Captain” seems to possess no pulse or heartbeat.   

All that established, Donner stages at least a few gorgeous shots of Gena Rowlands at the beach. In a  flowing nightgown, ensconced over the ocean on a high peak, she cuts a fine Gothic figure, to be certain.  


I had the distinct honor of interviewing Ms. Rowlands about six years ago, and she's a great actress and a remarkable human being.  The camera absolutely loves her in "The Concrete Captain," but I just wish the teleplay gave her more to do than, literally, sleepwalk.

Next week, a more provocative effort from writer Anthony Lawrence: “At the Cradle Foot.”

Cult-TV Blogging: Otherworld: "Village of the Motorpigs" (February 23, 1985)

The fifth episode of Otherworld is called “Village of the Motorpigs” and it strives for a real Mad Max/The Road Warrior-type production design and vibe.  Underneath that sort of scruffy desert look, the episode is actually an anti-drug narrative, one that reinforces the human being's need for purpose, and the value, of course, of family.  That last bit is a recurring theme in the program.  No matter how bad things get, the Sterlings can always depend on one another.

In “Village of the Motorpigs” the Sterlings have chartered an old ,broken-down bus (driven by an old, broken-down driver…) to cross the Forbidden Zone.  


The bus stops at a Zone Trooper check-point, and the Sterlings attempt to hide in a smuggler’s compartment in the back of the bus, but are captured.  


Before the family can be taken to Kroll (Jonathan Banks), a motorcycle gang led by a guru called --  I kid you not -- “Chalktrauma” (Marjoe Gortner) rescues them, and takes them to his biker commune in nearby caves.

As the Sterlings soon find out, this isn’t much of a rescue at all.

Chalktrauma doesn’t permit family units to remain together, believing that such traditional social units only divide loyalties.  Furthermore, Chalktrauma maintains control of his society by keeping all his people “stoned” on a drink called “the Chalk.”  High on “the chalk” all the time, nobody questions the guru’s authority.

Add caption

One of the bikers, however, proves an ally.  Tango (Vincent Schiavelli) tells Hal that he is a former minister in the Church of Artificial Intelligence, and that one of his ancestors came from the “other world.”  


To prove it, he shows Hal a U.S. dollar bill.  Anyway, Tango reveals that any one of the bikers can issue a “challenge of rule” to de-throne Chalktrauma.  Hal resolves that this is the course he must take.

Hal and Chalktrauma joust on bikes for supremacy, but just as Hal is about to lose, Zone Troopers raid the weird commune, and the Sterlings, with Tango’s help, slip away to safety.

If Chalktrauma’s “challenge of rule” sounds somehow familiar to you, it may be because it is an apparent law of many, many cult-tv cultures.  It appeared in The Starlost (“The Goddess Calabra”) and The Fantastic Journey (“Children of the Gods”) before being resurrected here for “Village of the Motorpigs.”  It’s a convenient way to easily vet regime change, I suppose: challenge the leader, and usher in a new way of life.  That way, your characters don't need to have an army at their side, or wage all-out war.

For an episode about a colony of rough-and-tumble, desert-dwelling motorcycle riders, Otherworld’s “Village of the Motorpigs” certainly tows the conventional, traditional line.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, however.  But teenage Trace gets scolded by his mom, June, when he samples the chalk and “tunes out,” for example. 

Meanwhile, Gina teaches Chalktrama’s lustful son (Jeff East) that people should fall in love, or at least get to know each other before having…relations.  Mom, meanwhile, refuses the chalk and pines for Hal, while he attempts to find a way out. 

So, in short, “Village of the Motorpigs” = don’t do drugs + don’t have premarital sex + promote family values.  


Again, nothing at all wrong with any of that, but it’s just kind of…square.   


Just once, I’d like to see a sci-fi show where inan altered-state isn’t depicted a priori as a totally negative thing.  Star Trek’s “This Side of Paradise,” Space: 1999’s “The Guardian of Piri” and Farscape’s “Thank God it’s Friday, Again” all push the same agenda: that any substance which alters your mental state will also kill your sense of purpose and desire to produce, to do good work.  It’s not that I disagree with the premise, just that a little variety in storytelling is nice.  At least Spock does admit that the spores made him happy in “This Side of Paradise,” but that’s as far as cult-tv goes…

“Village of the Motorpigs” starts out as a clips show, with Gina relating to their bus driver the story of the family’s arrival in this world, and in reaches its zenith in a well-written, well-performed scene between Hal and June. 


He instructs her to run away with the children if he doesn’t survive the “rule of challenge” (also known as the “blood clash.”)  June is understandably reluctant to leave her husband, but understands his point.  The motorpig culture is toxic to family units, and so the children must be free of it.  It’s an emotional scene, and well-done.   Both characters come off well.

So far, I’d have to declare that I like “Village of the Motorpigs” least among the series’ first five episodes.  The pilot featured that great discussion of souls and artificial life, the second episode “Zone Troopers Build Men” had a great character arc for Trace, “Paradise Lost” was a nice handling of an adult topic (marital infidelity) and “Rock and Roll Suicide” was just balls-to-the-walls nuts…and fun.  “Village of the Motorpigs” isn’t exactly bad, I’d conclude, just a bit less inventive (and more clichéd) than the other episodes.

Next week: “I am Woman, Hear Me Roar.”

Cult-TV Blogging: Otherworld: "Paradise Lost" (February 9, 1985)

In Otherworld’s third episode, “Paradise Lost,” things unexpectedly get a little…adult. 

While vacationing at a sort of alternate-universe Club Med with his wife and kids, family patriarch Hal Sterling (Sam Groom) soon falls hard for the sexy seductress, Scarla Raye (Barbara Stock), the siren who runs the establishment.

Of course, there’s a good explanation for Hal’s unexpected flirtation with infidelity.  Scarla Raye lures him away from his family responsibilities with a brand of pheromone perfume called “Coloma” (“the essence of life” and created literally from human desire.) 

And well, Hal’s clearly not in his right mind; he’s “under the influence.”

At first merely flattered by Scarla’s attentions, Hal soon stays out all night with her, unable to refuse her anything. He then becomes verbally abusive to his children, and downright rude to his wife.  So while “Paradise Lost” concerns a science-fiction concept and provides a (chemical) excuse for Dad’s extra-marital romp with another woman, it’s pretty clear that the episode concerns a serious “real” issue: a family on the verge of falling apart.

Things go pretty far too in this episode of Otherworld too. We don’t know (*ahem*) exactly what good old Dad is up to till 4:30 am with Scarla (though we can guess…), and at the end of the episode, while still under her spell, Hal explains to his wife and children his sincere desire to stay on the island with “the other woman:”  

“From now on, I only think about me and what I need,” he tells his wife, a shell-shocked June (Gretchen Corbett). 

This is a particularly blunt and bracing moment, as Hal chooses the “pleasure” island over everything else of importance in his life.  The moment feels surprisingly real and harsh, and I’m sure Hal’s words, or variations of those words, have been spoken many times in too many families.

Fortunately, June is a fighter and isn’t about to lose her husband.  She tells Hal that Scarla has made him “forget” who he really is.  And then she pointedly contrasts herself with the immortal Scarla, a woman made perpetually young by ingestion of the Coloma.  “I can’t offer eternity.  I don’t even know what that means,” June admits.  But June does offer the “hope of growing old together,” and notes that she is Hal’s best friend.

That moving and well-delivered speech snaps Hal out of his stupor, and he flees with his family as the island paradise conveniently self-destructs and Scarla super-ages into an old hag in a matter of moments. 

Hal then concludes, in voice over narration that “paradise begins at home.”

Since this is a continuing TV series, you might have guessed there was going to be a happy ending and a re-affirmation of marriage and monogamy, right?  

Here, Hal is persuaded to return to his family, but in real life, that’s not always that way.  In real life, once a person starts thinking only about himself, it’s hard to draw him back on the basis of being a “best friend.”  People leave marriages or cheat because they are looking for the exotic, the different, and that’s precisely what Scarla Ray offers.  Despite the re-assertion of mainstream family values (and thus order), this Otherworld remains pretty daring since it risks making the audience hate, or at least dislike, Dad.  At the very least, the episode portrays him as weak.

Directed by Tom Wright (Millennium), “Paradise Lost,” like the previous two episodes of this 1985 series, combines a family story with a science fiction plot.  It does so, at least most of the time, with a degree of intelligence and humor.   This episode develops June's character very well, in particular, as she deals with the surprising changes in her husband.   The kids are shunted to the side a bit, but that's okay, because the family issue here is commitment, and how it relates, specifically, to husband and wife.  

Fans of cult-tv will note that the late Ian Abercrombie (Seinfeld, Birds of Prey) has a significant role here, as Scarla Ray's superior from the home land.  And lovers of good literature will recognize resonances of The Tempest here, in the setting, and of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Next week on Otherworld: "Rock and Roll Suicide."