Planet of the Apes GAF Viewmaster

Trading Cards of the Week: Planet of the Apes TV Series (Topps)

Lunch Box of the Week: Planet of the Apes

Theme Song of the Week: Planet of the Apes (1974)

Star Trek 50th Anniversary Blogging: "Is There in Truth No Beauty?" (October 18, 1968)

Stardate 5630.7

The Enterprise is tasked with transporting Ambassador Kollos of Medusa to a Federation summit. Kollos, and all Medusans are non-corporeal life-forms who are renowned as the galaxy’s greatest navigators.

However, if a human should ever gaze upon a Medusan, he or she would be driven permanently insane. Fortunately, protective visors can prevent such happenstance, and allow the races to co-exist and cooperate.

Two other passengers beam aboard the Enterprise with Kollos.

The first is Dr. Miranda Jones (Diana Muldaur) an accomplished telepath who has been selected to undergo the first human/Medusan mind meld or link.

The second is Larry Marvick (David Frankham), one of the designers of the Enterprise. His job, if Dr. Jones is successful, is to incorporate instrumentation aboard starships for linked Humans/Medusans.

Captain Kirk (William Shatner) hosts Dr. Jones and Mr. Marvick at a dinner, but Miranda feels threatened by Mr. Spock (Leonard Nimoy), who was the first choice to undergo the mind-link process. He intends only to honor her at the affair by wearing the Vulcan IDIC medallion, but Miranda is defensive and suspicious.

Things go from bad to worse when Marvick -- in love with Miranda -- attempts to assassinate Ambassador Kollos. Instead of succeeding, he views the Medusan without protection, and goes insane. He visits Engineering and while there seizes the controls, trapping the Enterprise in a strange, distant void.

Mr. Spock realizes that only an expert navigator, like Kollos, can help the ship to return to its proper place in the universe. To accomplish this task, however, he must mind-link with the ambassador, and Dr. Jones will be quite unhappy at the prospect. 

Captain Kirk distracts Miranda with a walk in the ship’s arboretum, while Spock makes the link without her knowledge.

The ship is rescued, and returns to its original point in time and space, but an accident occurs after the transfer, which leaves a vulnerable Spock -- sans visor -- to view Kollos with his own eyes. Now Miranda, who has been deceived, must decide if she should help restore Spock’s mind.

“Is There in Truth No Beauty” is a good reminder of just how ahead of its time Star Trek (1966-1969) was when it first aired.

This story features a brilliant, complex female character, Dr. Miranda Jones (Diana Muldaur), who is dedicated to her own professional success and doesn’t require or want the permission of a man to pursue her goals. 

It’s true that Kirk, Bones and Marvick fall all over themselves discussing her “beauty,” but the episode’s teleplay is clear that Jones is an accomplished individual in her chosen field.  Sure, she possesses foibles; just as Kirk, Spock and McCoy do, but Miranda is a three-dimensional character, not merely “eye candy.”   The episode’s symbolism suggests that all roses possess thorns, and it’s easy to apply that ideal to Miranda and her fits of rage and jealously. But the intriguing there is that the comparison applies, in various ways, to Kollos, and even Marvick.

Kollos is a good soul, of course, not meaning to do harm. But his “thorn” is the damage his appearance can do to those around him.

Marvick is clearly a genius -- the man who designed the Enterprise and is working on instrumentation for Kollo -- but his thorn is also “jealousy.” He is in love with Miranda, and covets her.

Incidentally, Miranda is also blind, but she does not allow that so-called “disability” to stop her from achieving her ambitions.  And, the sensor-dress that Jones wears in this episode is clearly a precursor to Geordi’s visor in The Next Generation (1987-1994) as well as a prime example of Roddenberry’s “Technology Unchained” theorem; the idea that advances in technology will improve all facets of human life.

It is easy, in 2017, to look at this episode and find it in sexist since Kirk, McCoy and Marvick are so concerned with Miranda’s beauty, not her intellect, or even her prerogative to decide her life for herself. 

Marvick’s line to Miranda to be a “woman” for a change is absolutely sexist too (just as the term “mansplaining” or “man up” is also sexist, in today’s world), and Kirk and McCoy’s concern for Miranda’s happiness is a bit overwrought. I think that’s to be expected in the third season of Star Trek. Everyone seems to be falling in love, all the time, at a far greater rate than in the previous two seasons.

But right there, in the text of the episode, Miranda gives it right back to the men. When McCoy toasts Miranda, he asks if those attending the dinner will allow so beautiful a woman to be surrounded by ugliness her whole life. Miranda responds with a sharp toast of her own, noting that those in attendance should also not permit McCoy, so lively a personality, to surround himself by disease and death.

Touché!

Miranda reserves for herself only the privilege McCoy reserves for himself: the right to choose how she lives her life, and pursues her dreams. That is what equality is; and that is what “Is There in Truth No Beauty” is about.

The episode also presents, for the first time, the Vulcan concept of IDIC. The story of the IDIC pendant is legendary, of course, an opportunity for crass commercialism.

But the concept behind IDIC -- infinite diversity in infinite combinations -- is beautiful in its thinking. In fact, it was one of the key ideas that makes Star Trek so worthwhile: the concept of people of different backgrounds, cultures, genders, beliefs, and attitudes combining their efforts to do something great, or worthwhile, like explore the galaxy.  When one gazes at the various Star Trek crews from 1966 to 2005, we see the practicality, the necessity, and indeed, the beauty of the IDIC concept.

It is still amazing to me that this program that aired in the mid-1960s was so forward thinking about diversity, and its benefits to everyone. 

During the Civil Rights movement, it brought us an African-American female on the bridge of a starship. During the Cold War, it brought us a Russian to the same bridge. And, when those with a long memory still hated the United States’ previous enemy from another war, it also gave us a Japanese helmsman. “Is There in Truth No Beauty” reminds us, additionally, that those who face physical challenges (like blindness), can also be valuable, productive members of society. 

This was by no means a mainstream view in 1968-1969.

Even the idea that Kollos is accepted by Starfleet and the Federation -- while still considered “ugly” -- speaks well of Star Trek’s commitment to the concept of IDIC.  Kollos’ appearance causes madness and death in humans, and yet he is nonetheless considered a valuable ally, one who, with the right precautions, would also have a seat on the bridge of a starship.

This episode is nearly never referenced when discussing Star Trek’s finest episodes, and yet consider what it accomplishes. It sets out the foundation of a beloved Vulcan philosophy (IDIC), and it forecasts the future of the franchise, with the sensor web leading to La Forge’s visor in The Next Generation.

It’s true that some elements of the episode seem over-the-top -- each time Kirk and McCoy are in the presence of Miranda, for instance -- and yet some moments are quite beautiful too, particularly Leonard Nimoy’s performance as the Kollos/Spock union. Muldaur, once more, is extraordinary in terms of crafting a fully-realized character who seems to have a history and background beyond what we see on the screen.

So, I suppose we can remember the episode’s point: every rose has its thorns.

Despite those thorns, I would still count this as a top-tier third season episode of Star Trek.

Next week: "Spectre of the Gun."

Movie Trailer: The Void (2017)

Ask JKM a Question: Who is the Most Important Cinematic James Bond?

A reader named Ben writes;

“Hello there. I am really enjoying your writing. I read your Bond movie review last week and wanted to ask you a question that you have not answered yet.

Historically, whose interpretation of 007 is the most important to the franchise’s longevity?”

Ben, thank you for the question. I actually have a stock answer for this question, which is the same one I have used before, in regards to the Doctor, on Doctor Who (1963-1969).

Before I get to that stock answer, I’ll give a few options.

I could write, quite persuasively, that the most important Bond interpretation is Sean Connery’s, because he was the first actor to take on the role for the movies. Had he not “clicked” as 007, the franchise would not have taken off.

So from one viewpoint, Connery’s interpretation of the James Bond role is certainly the most important, and the one most responsible for the film series’ longevity.

I could also make arguments for other Bond performances.

Timothy Dalton re-grounded the role, when audiences began to seek more realistic action, during the late 1980s.

Pierce Brosnan brought the character back to life after a six year absence from the screen, and thus is responsible for “reviving” the franchise. 

And Daniel Craig, of course, shepherded the film franchise “re-boot” of Bond to its most successful financial incarnation.

So you could probably make a plausible argument for any of those actors. Of course, those arguments may not be very strong, because by the time of Dalton, everyone was used to the idea of Bond changing actors.

But if you read my blog regularly, you know I prefer to think unconventionally, or at least outside conventional wisdom.

So here is my official answer: the most important Bond actor is Roger Moore.

Why?

Allow me to explain.

When people ask me who the most important Doctor on Doctor Who is, I always go with one answer: Patrick Troughton, the second doctor.

Had he not thoroughly made the role his own, Doctor Who -- while beloved during the William Hartnell Era -- would never have lived to see a second decade on air.

In other words, the era of greatest jeopardy for Doctor Who occurred when Hartnell, the First Doctor, wished to leave the role, and a new actor had to assume the mantle of the Time Lord.

If that actor had failed, we would likely have had no Doctor 3 – 12.

So, Troughton nailed the role at the time of greatest danger for the franchise, and the franchise endured.  Hence, his importance.

I would make the same argument for Roger Moore.  George Lazenby’s brief tenure as Bond -- just one film appearance in 1969 -- likewise hints at the importance of the second actor to catch-fire in a beloved role. 

After Lazenby’s only film (which I love, by the way), the producers went running back to Connery for Diamonds are Forever.  

It was not a certain thing, at all, at that point, that the James Bond movie series could endure in the seventies, and outlive Connery’s star presence.

But then along came Roger Moore, the Bond actor I grew up with, and one I think very highly of. His take on Bond -- while undeniably different from Connery’s -- re-popularized the character, and proved that the 007 film series could transcend one well-loved performer.

Like Patrick Troughton in Doctor Who, Moore came along at the time of greatest danger for the franchise, and gave it the second life 007 needed.  Moore was the first talent who proved that Bond could survive the passing of the torch in terms of actors.

If Moore had failed to catch fire, as Lazenby had failed, we would likely never have gotten the Dalton, Brosnan, or Craig eras.  James Bond in the cinema would have been remembered as a product of the 1960’s, not as an iconic character who has transcended his original cinematic context.

So I think you can clearly make a case for Connery as the most important 007. If he had failed to make Bond so appealing, the movie-going world might never have known the name Bond, James Bond. 

On the other hand, Moore came in after Lazenby’s failure to succeed -- at the point of greatest jeopardy for the franchise -- and had to deliver a popular interpretation of the role when everyone already pictured 007 as Sean Connery.

He did, and the rest is history.

Don’t forget to ask me your questions at Muirbusiness@yahoo.com

Cult-TV Theme Watch: Giant Hands

In cult-TV history, many great heroes have been grabbed and held by...giant hands. 

What does the symbol of a giant hand (or hands) mean? Well, typically when something is colossal in size, it represents some sort of insurmountable challenge.  And hands, of course, are used for grabbing, holding, and perhaps even restraining

So the giant hand trope probably involves our fear of being grabbed and held by something monstrous, or invincible.  When in the hand of a giant, we are helpless, at the whim of something that could mean us great harm.

Sometimes the giant hands that grab protagonists in cult-TV are gentle, and protective. Think about the Mighty Kong in The King Kong Show (1966), or Godzilla in the Hanna Barbera Godzilla cartoon (1978). Both of these over-sized beasts can unleash destruction, and yet they choose to (carefully) hold human beings in their over-sized hands.

Less friendly giant hands have appeared quite frequently however in TV history, however.  In The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) episode, "Stopover in a Quiet Town," for instance, a bickering couple finds itself in a toy town, victimized and "grabbed" by a giant child.  We see, mostly, that child's hand, reaching for them. The child is impulsive and dangerous, and the couple doesn't stand a chance.

In Star Trek (1966-1969), the U.S.S. Enterprise is stopped in space by a giant green space hand in the second season episode "Who Mourns for Adonais." In this case, the hand is made of energy, but belongs to the Greek God Apollo.

For some reason, viewers (or producers) are also fascinated with the idea of giant hands grabbing submarines at sea and shaking them.  The trope has appeared in both Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1964-1968) and SeaQuest DSV (1993-1996).

Finally, Irwin Allen's Land of the Giants (1968-1970) regularly featured stories in which giant hands darted into the frame, capturing and restraining the puny Earthlings.

The Cult-TV Faces of: Giant Hands

Identified by SGB: The Twilight Zone

Identified by Hugh: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea

Identified by Hugh: The King Kong Show

Identified by Hugh: Star Trek: "Who Mourns for Adonais."

Identified by Hugh: Star Trek: The Animated Series: "The Infinite Vulcan."

Identified by Hugh: Doctor Who: "Robot."

Not Identified (Ultraman)

Identified by SGB: Land of the Giants.

Identified by Hugh: Godzilla.

Identified by Hugh: SeaQuest DSV

Identified by Hugh: Torchwood

Advert Artwork: Planet of the Apes TV Series

Planet of the Apes TV Series Blogging: Introductory Sequence

The Planet of the Apes feature film franchise tackles a number of significant issues.  

The films gaze at the ways that theocratic states suppress the truth (Planet [1968], Beneath [1970]) and punish truth-sayers, for instance. They also look intently at race relations (Conquest [1972], Battle [1973]).

And virtually all of the films tackle an anti-nukes, anti-war theme.

The TV series -- which ran for just one season in 1974 -- perhaps wisely chose to narrow the franchise focus some.  

Planet of the Apes, the series, primarily concerns two human astronauts and their chimpanzee friend, Galen, interfacing with the Ape Society and contemplating, essentially, class or race differences.  

In this universe, humans are second-class citizens with no wealth, no rights, and no equality. The apes, by contrast, control all of the society's assets. The apes believe and disseminate propaganda about humans, and consider them an inferior species.

The introductory montage dynamically sets-up the premise for the series (astronauts traveling to a future Earth ruled by apes), but more than it, it dramatically visualizes the startling gap in power between races.  

In the opening montage, humans are on the run and constantly imperiled, and the Apes are un-moving avatars of force, power, and strength.

The Planet of the Apes montage commences with a view of a star in space.  We get some lens flare to suggest the impact or power of the star, and then find ourselves ensconced in a spaceship control room.

On the upper-right hand side of the screen, we get two legends.  

One marks Earth-time; the other ship-time.  

These two numbers will begin to diverge dramatically as the spaceship experiences turbulence (a result of its proximity to the star?), and the crew experiences a time warp.

As the astronauts grow concerned at the wild turbulence their ship experiences and as ship-time and Earth-time begin to diverge, we get a new legend on-screen in red: "Abort Mission."

The extreme close-ups of the astronauts, Alan Virdon (Ron Harper) and Peter Burke (James Naughton) signal the extreme danger.

The ship's (computer...) warnings grow more plaintive in the next series of shots, as the spaceship is flung through the time warp.  

Ship-time and Earth-time are continuing to diverge, but the "ABORT MISSION" red alert signal is larger in the frame.  The danger is growing exponentially.

The next several frames represent a light show of sorts, as the crew experiences the strobing, bright lights of the time warp.   Once more, the time differential grows.

At the outer edge of the time warp, the time differential is now huge. It is August 1980 by the astronauts' reckoning, but May 23, 3000 by Earth time.  

A ghost in space appears, shadowy and indistinct at first...

In the next shot, twin dangers are linked.  

The star we saw at the beginning of the montage appears again, but captured in its lens flare this time s the recognizable image of an intelligent ape.  

The time warp has brought these unlucky astronauts to the Age of the Ape...and accordingly, we get the series title over a view of beautiful Earth: Planet of the Apes.

The next shot reveals the spaceship's dizzying descent into Earth's atmosphere.  But Earth is a new world. It is now 3084.

To signify the "law" of that new world, we get an extreme close-up of a gorilla soldier.  

He is centered in the frame and un-moving, a position and pose suggesting unyielding, constant power.  From this angle, the ape is literally looking down his nose at us, as all apes look down at all humans in this world.

Next, we get a wider shot of the ape soldier.  He is seated on a horse, with one arm jutting up into the air in a pose of victory. He is holding a tool of power as well: a rifle.  

Once more, he does not move, but remains frozen in the frame.  Behind him -- in a double-exposure effect -- the sun seems to be going down.

The orange-colored sky suggests autumn, and the sunset suggests an end to the age of man.  This image means that ape is triumphant, and man is sinking...fast.  The ape has eclipsed man.

Next, we meet our heroes on the run.  In the first shot, Galen flees the ape regime.

The blocking is significant in the next few shots.  

Three apes sit perched atop a hill (another position of dominance), while the astronauts run for their lives.  

Again, the apes are perfectly still -- suggesting permanence -- while the humans are on the move, fleeing.  It is no accident that the apes don't move in this intro, but the fugitives, the humans, move constantly.  This is a metaphor for the power structure of Ape Society.

In the following frames, we meet our cast members.

Next, the real power on the Planet of the Apes comes into focus.  An ape rifle coalesces as, behind it, the day of humanity recedes.

The last several shots of the montage continue in the same vein. They reveal the gorilla soldier -- and his weaponry -- dominant in an orange, autumnal sky.  

The Age of Man has passed.  Welcome to the Planet of the Apes!

Below, the Planet of the Apes montage in living color: