Operation -- Annihilate!

DVD, Star Trek S1 (Operation -- Annihilate!)

A suitable cap to a good season, this one is an ideal episode of original Trek, presenting as it does, the trio of main characters, their camaraderie, their roles as balancing act for the Captain, as well as giving us an excellent creature to add to the pantheon already established throughout the season, and featuring a strong planetary location that sells this totally as an alien world colonised by humans. The creeping horror of a plague of mass insanity through history immediately adds an ancient mental terror to the mix and a strong sense of the progression of time, reinforcing the series as set in a real period of history to come. All this and good use of the secondary main characters again, as well as a personal trial for Kirk, and it's a terrific all-round Trek-heavy episode. It's not quite as powerful as that which preceded it, but few are, and it continues the good work of 'The City On The Edge of Forever,' really emphasising the big three of Kirk, Spock and McCoy, without forgetting Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, and even Nurse Chapel. I don't have specific memories of watching this one as a child, but I'm sure I must have because I still recall the sense of repulsion from the single-celled creatures which convincingly zip around at such speed, something that's stayed with me. Once again they took the trouble to create something more than just a static model: it flies, it 'breathes' in and out, and when finally defeated, it melts away, dissolving in smoke.

There's something about the idea of a creature so alien it may not even have come from our galaxy, that strikes a chill only to be increased by the buildup it is given: no people, everyone hidden from sight, the whole population holed up in buildings except for a posse of men in work outfits brandishing transparent clubs, who rush the Landing Party, yet hesitantly as if fighting their own violent natures before finally succumbing and coming on, felled by Phaser blasts. It's cool to see the Landing Party forced to defend themselves so suddenly, straight into professional action, and it only continues when, alerted by a creepy humming they stumble upon a nest of the creatures, Kirk ordering his team to form a ring for protection as some awaken and fly threateningly above them. It's really well shot and could only have been bettered if they'd made the internal setting so badly lit that the creatures were just barely visible shapes hidden in shadow, heaving and massing, suddenly flitting into the light, but even so the audience sees them first, hidden behind a pillar or arch of some kind, an unknown menace. The power of the creature in our mind grows when even a Phaser on full power can only knock it temporarily to the ground. Even then this only takes it out for a few moments, whipping up onto Spock's back in vengeance as the group retreat and causing him his greatest mental challenge yet. The episode's flaws are minor, but one is Kirk doesn't seem to be really gripping the creature in his efforts to release Spock, and when the Vulcan goes crazy on the Bridge you can tell it's stunt men, not the actors themselves.

If anyone was to take an alien life form and survive the pain it exerted it would be a Vulcan, so Spock does his race credit in this extreme state. But even he, one so versed in self-control and the mind over matter ethos of his people, is initially overcome, hurrying to the Bridge against his will to take over and provide the creatures with transportation to fresh pastures of humanoid life. It takes four men to restrain him, and even then just barely (which would make sense, since Vulcans are said to possess roughly three times the strength of a human, and even with his half-human side Spock has embraced his Vulcan half more). You'd think they'd have made sure the restraint straps with which he's then held to the biobed in Sickbay were strong enough to contain him, because although it is Mr. Spock in control of himself who rips the belts away so he can continue his work, he still makes short shrift of them! The idea of an alien creature latching onto a character is one that has gone down as one of the main plot devices in sci-fi - you'll rarely see a genre series that doesn't have at least one episode where this occurs, and it's because it's such a visceral horror. You have a ticking clock from whatever the creature is doing, you have the desperate survival of the individual affected, and you might have the devastating effects someone who is trusted can wreak when under the influence of an unwanted symbiosis.

I like that Spock, in this case, is able to conquer his own inner pain and torment, but the hold the parasite has is so strong that only by keeping his full abilities trained on the problem can he remain in possession of himself, and throughout the episode the strain can be witnessed by the jerkiness of his movements, far from his usual relaxed, interested poise. Spock is an inspiration in the episode: not only does he carry on his work regardless of the intense pain, but he reacts calmly and acceptingly, without bitterness towards the strokes of hardship that come his way, remaining scientifically detached. How many could just accept the loss of their sight in such a way? And before that, he was ready to go down to the planet when the only apparent solution was to eradicate all who had been affected by the creatures' sting. Few episodes paint Mr. Spock in such an overwhelmingly favourable and inspirational light, one reason why this is one of my favourites from 'TOS.' The idea of a single-celled organism that is part of a greater brain is another concept seen throughout science fiction, as is that of a human host being possessed against its will. 'TNG' ran with both: think the Borg, individuals subsumed to a greater will, a hive mind. And the critters from 'Conspiracy' that insert themselves into the host body to take over its will in order to spread and conquer.

It's a mix of excellent concept and great production design. Although the creatures look like that fake rubber splat of joke sick you used to get, the way they're shot and articulated give them a life beyond their diminutive size. If nothing else in Trek had worked, the creature designs would still stand up as classics today: from the bulbous-headed Talosians, the green Orion slave girl and the salt vampire, to the Gorn, the Horta and these nasties, Season 1 produced some terrific and memorable aliens. But the thing is, it wasn't just the creative production the series excelled at, it was the characterisations that really stood the test of time. Kirk and Spock had been well established as a double-act, especially in the latter episodes, but McCoy was yet to be granted equal billing with them. But DeForest Kelley's presence and the depth he brought to the Doctor slowly elevated him above the other recurring characters, and if 'City On The Edge' confirmed that status, this episode underlines it as he does all he can to save Spock. It's not just the First Officer who needs saving - the shock of the episode is in Kirk's own sister-in-law dying in front of him in extreme torment as she desperately tries to give up the information of what happened and the goal of these awful creatures, at the cost of her life. Kirk has to deal with the loss of his brother (something apparently so painful to him that he blanks Sam out of his mind after the events of this episode - I think it's in 'Star Trek V' he claims he never had a brother!), and the horrible suffering his nephew, Peter, will endure when he awakes.

Kirk's decision-making is temporarily, and understandably, clouded by these extremely personal deaths, and McCoy has to remind him that his responsibility isn't just to the surviving two afflicted lying in Sickbay (Peter and Spock), but all the colonists still at the mercy of those things down on the planet. It appears there are only two options: to find a way to kill these parasites or to prevent their further damage by exterminating everyone on the planet. But Kirk demands a third alternative, something I've always found to be one of the most compelling devices in storytelling: when there is only a positive or a negative course of action what other, surprising choice, can garner the success that is required? Often it can be a simple solution - like the common cold in the Martian attack of the classic sci-fi story 'The War of The Worlds,' or the command to sleep which halts the Borg attack on Earth in 'The Best of Both Worlds' on 'TNG.' In this case it's as basic as high intensity light, or that's what the Doctor believes before subjecting Spock to such brightness that he's blinded unnecessarily, leaving McCoy guilt-stricken - ultraviolet was all that was required to turn them to mush. I must admit, this episode does put you off pancakes rather, and the day I was writing this review, what did I have for dessert? Yes, pancakes!

This twist in the story is another reason why it stands out above the usual fare: the Doctor's tragic horror at failing to diagnose the correct course of action, Spock's under-reactive response, and the positive viewpoint he chooses to take, that it was an equitable exchange when previously his life had been the price, only seem to make it more heartrending. I remember thinking the last time I watched this, almost ten years ago, whether the writers would leave Spock in this condition and conveniently forget about it by the start of the second season, because it appeared to be so final. I've equally thought that the inner eyelids that get Spock out of jail for free were something that came down over his eye like a second layer under his outer eyelids, but it sounded like it was something that protected the optic nerve internally. It's so unnecessary in ordinary Vulcan life that they don't even think about it, which is why Spock thought his blindness was permanent. It also leads to McCoy paying the Vulcan the greatest of compliments, calling him the best First Officer in the fleet, a touching moment that is expertly converted into a loveable exchange to end the episode, and one that is actually funny - McCoy's embarrassment at having said such a nice thing leads him to ask Jim not to tell Spock, who looks up from his station and thanks the Doctor for his compliment, with Kirk reminding McCoy that he'd been so concerned about the Vulcan eyes he'd forgotten about the Vulcan ears. A lovely way to close out such a strong episode, and by extension, the whole season.

There are a couple of logical inconsistencies in the story, the first requiring speculation, the second answered by the episode itself: if these organisms needed hosts in order to travel to other planets and systems, or at least build the ships that they couldn't construct themselves, how did they make it from one galaxy to another? It is only presumed they came from outside the galaxy, and even then perhaps there was some phenomenon that allowed them to be swept through the vastness between galaxies, or even that they travelled aboard some kind of vessel that other creatures from their galaxy had built - we'd learn the Kelvans came from the Andromeda Galaxy and they managed it, so it's certainly a possibility. I wish 'Enterprise' had somehow dealt with them since we know from the star map they consult (on one of the side screens above the consoles, a rare use of such), that the spread of mass insanity had taken two hundred years to get to the Denevan system, and I'm sure they could have found a way to include it without finding a permanent solution or being able to make record of the encounter for the future Enterprise to discover in its databanks. The other story point that at first is inconsistent, is that of the speculation the heat of the Denevan sun was what killed the parasite and set the Denevan free, which is what he shouted as he burned up. But they can't use extreme heat because it would turn a person to ashes before the creature was destroyed, they say. Easily answered: it was the light that killed it, as was later explained.

Everyone has their moment (even Mr. Leslie), with Sulu helping to take down Spock, Uhura being respectful, but firm when standing up to Kirk after he snaps at her for not being able to make contact with the planet (I noticed she was still wearing the black belt she wore for the Landing Party in 'City,' but she didn't beam down this time - maybe she thought if she wore it again Kirk would choose her, or it could be the scenes from both were filmed close together), and Scotty proving he's no fool when he holds a Phaser on Spock who's already pushed him across the room and nerve-pinched Leslie in the Transporter Room - the Scotsman is resolute in his obedience to his Captain's orders, to his credit. Had the creature regained control of Spock things could have been a lot worse, because, as with McCoy in the previous episode, he would be an unstoppable force if he ever turned against the crew. He could have crushed the life out of Leslie and Scott, he broke out of Sickbay as it was, just imagine what evil he could have been forced into had he been unable to counteract the hold the parasite exerted over its victims. As it was he merely pushes Scott away, and it appears his nerve-pinch can have degrees of potency, as we see Leslie conscious and back on his feet again by the time of the Captain's arrival at the Transporter. He may still be rubbing his shoulder and looking a mite aggrieved, but you'd expect him to be out for a while, usually. Nurse Chapel is included, too, her deep personal concern for Spock causing her to question the Doctor's actions in the midst of surgery, which shows just how much her heart ruled her head!

McCoy admits that all the labs and science departments are stumped by the situation, unable to remove the creature (I love the glass jar filled with liquid and little rubbery parts that he brings to the Bridge to show Kirk!), and we learn the Enterprise has a whopping fourteen science labs, so it's a heavily science-focused vessel, something we don't often get the impression of because of the dramatic action stories we're often given, but this weighted balance towards science and exploration is taken and run with in the spinoff series' which gave plenty of time to such things. We do see at least one of the labs where McCoy carries out his tests on the creature Spock recovered from Deneva (fending off another attack from a spanner-wielding citizen, in what is another great moment - taking its toll on his mental subjugation of the creature he's momentarily overcome with the pain again, but soon continues on his way to carry out the mission). The uniforms of the workers are just like those of the miners in 'The Devil in The Dark,' a nice piece of continuity, even if it was a necessity to save money on costuming. The colourful, futuristic location also served to enhance the scale of the episode which would have been diminished a little had they been running around a fake rocky planet set instead of between outwardly empty buildings, the camera watching from a distance, emphasising their smallness in the greater scale of the city. I'd have loved to see the creatures buzzing in the skies, but they probably wouldn't have been able to do it as effectively as in the tightly enclosed internal area, or it would have been like 'Pitch Black,' and they'd only have come out at night.

The title must surely be the only one in all of Trek history to be so heavily punctuated! Not only does it end in an exclamation mark, but it has two, yes two dashes between the words, quite an accomplishment. It hides the subtlety of the episode in such a melodramatic title, but I have a fondness for even the title because the story and character is so good. It was rare in 'TOS' for any of the characters to reveal backstory and family - we'd had something similar with Nurse Chapel when we met the remains of her fiance in 'What Are Little Girls Made Of?' and we'd go on to find out more about Spock and his culture in both 'Amok Time' and 'Journey To Babel,' but this episode is very much Kirk's, albeit with a tiny sliver of side order for Scotty (he talks of making the freight run as an engineering advisor, though whether this was before his Starfleet career or after, he doesn't elaborate). It's a wonderful touch to have Shatner play his own brother's corpse, even though it was the briefest of moments of seeing a man like Kirk with a moustache, and great to meet his sister-in-law and nephew (the actor would later appear in a different role in Season 3's 'And The Children Shall Lead'). Aurelan's brave defiance of the alien within her might be the most powerful scene and really chills the spine as she goes from screaming hysteria to forcing out the truth of them needing people to be their arms and legs, forcing them to build ships, all as the hypnotic throbbing of the biobed readouts underscores her death throes, the horror finally pulling her under. It's a horrible death and does more than most to craft a living terror around the creatures.

The subject of money may have come up again, as Kirk orders McCoy to help them, no matter what it takes or costs. He may have been referring generally to the effort it would cost, but equally it almost sounds as if he's saying spare no material expense. Although they come up with the third alternative of light rays, the idea crossed my mind that they could also have quarantined the planet. Spock and Peter Kirk would have been forced to go down and live among the maddened population, but I could imagine Spock going around bringing pain relief to as many colonists as he could, living out his days foiling any plot of the creatures to build ships, and living a hunted existence. It could have made for a great spinoff series, actually! Spock was the opposite of McCoy in 'City' - both under the influence of internal pressures, in the Doctor's case, an overdose, but where McCoy was wild with paranoia and unable to contain himself, Spock's Vulcan nature was able to assert the necessary control, once again proving that Vulcans, for all the lacking varieties we've seen in 21st Century Trek productions, are superior and inspirational as a race. Long live the Vulcans! And long live 'TOS,' too, for it managed to do what few TV shows could, and end its season stronger than it began, with the one-two punch of these last couple of stories, and the steady goodness of most of those preceding it was an impressive achievement and guaranteed Trek's return for Season 2. What's even more impressive is that, with the original pilot, it counted thirty episodes, the longest season of any Trek. Annihilate that!

****

Starshot: Space Circus Fever

N64, Starshot: Space Circus Fever (1998) game

To be able to play a platform game on the N64 that I had never encountered before should have been an experience to cherish. But there's always the possibility when embarking upon a new gaming challenge that it won't be enjoyable, and because I like to play games through to completion, a chore to be endured. Sadly for me, that was the situation I encountered here. You can tell it was a multi-format production, not one geared specifically to the N64 as the greats of the genre were. In its defence I didn't have the option of playing it in ideal viewing conditions, only able to use a VGA convertor which had the detrimental effect of increasing the brightness of all bright colours, bleaching them and making it look far less distinct than I imagine it would be on a screen designed for composite at the correct resolution. But I can get past imperfect graphics, and I sense that it wouldn't have been all that much more defined had I used a screen made for it. Besides, it is the gameplay that matters in a 3D platformer, the feeling of freedom through the control of your character, the broadness of the landscapes you traverse, and the breadth of tasks you're given to accomplish, that make the game. With the first being a bit of a failure, the second became interminable and the third, while being the only one of the three to be a reasonable challenge, it was really only through a sense of relief at completing the latest puzzle that I had any positive reaction at all.

The controls, then. Terrible frustration ought to cover it: the character's movement was imprecise, moving jerkily so it was hard to judge when to jump, increased manyfold in flying, or I should say was the opposite, being too precise so that the tiniest movement of the stick would send your rocket buddy veering off at all angles. This might not have been so jarringly difficult to take control of if you hadn't been fighting the wilful camera for authority at the same time. It could zoom in and zoom out, but wouldn't stay as you'd set it, deciding for itself when it was going to do this (even the 'feature' of sound diminishing as the camera moved out was merely an annoyance to underline the lack of control over the camera). The technique to centre it behind you was fiddly (hold 'Z' and double-tap 'R' or some such nonsense!), and even the ground-based travel could find you dropping off a thin ledge into the sea or a void because your steps weren't reactive enough to the push of the stick. If you play 'Banjo-Kazooie,' the inevitable yardstick by which I measure all in the genre, you would find that if you moved the stick slightly, Banjo would tiptoe along, then if you pushed the stick as far as it would go he would run.

No such subtlety in this control scheme and it was an immediate black mark. Simple moves you'd expect as standard thanks to 'Super Mario 64' and 'Banjo,' such as a useful slam attack when jumping in the air, were absent, and the range of moves you had were rather limited, nor was there the opportunity to learn new ones - the draw was supposed to be the control of your energy bolts (or 'star shots'), but because of the unreliable camera you couldn't be sure to move it in the right direction as the compass would be changing while you were rooted to the spot! If you fall in water there's no climb move so even at a tiny ledge you'd have to laboriously swim around until a slope was located, and not even any way to swim faster! No context sensitive control, so walking near a ledge you'd fall and wouldn't hang on. If the control system hadn't been so poor there were yet other major irritations. Because the graphics weren't the best it wasn't always easy to see whether a character on screen was an enemy, or an ally you could talk to by standing next to them. You had to take the risk of losing life points every time and often they'd be enemies. If this wasn't unfair enough your robot 'companions' seem chiefly designed to annoy you, the rocket, Willfly, swirling about the screen with trails that clutter up your vision and make it difficult to tell if a projectile is coming your way, and Willfall, the wheeled one, getting under foot or blocking your fire. They couldn't have done a much better job if they were trying to irritate the player! As in most platformers the enemies were pretty mindless, so I can't fault them for something that even the greats tended to do: creatures that hang around a set area, only coming after you only when you enter their proximity and 'activate' them.

It's easy to forget after playing games like 'Banjo' how difficult it must be to create such a fun playing experience, because this game does just about everything wrong. The first level is nice and sprawling, a desert island of orange sand and blue water, but what is there to do? Not very much. There's little incentive to collect items, along with puzzles, the staple diet of the genre, and though it seems to be giving you freedom, all the levels are pretty linear in where you need to go. What is it you do collect? Health (life points), represented by green things, blue stars to add to your shots, yellow blobs to give you flying time and red 'Mega fuel points,' the only true collectable since you need it to get you to Earth. The sound effects are basic, even for a game released in 1998, the music unmemorable (though I did like the music aboard the Space Circus ship which acts as the hub to move from level to level), and it was a wholly unimpressive package. The point of collecting is to give you a sense of achievement with an addictive, pleasant sound on collection of each item, but there was very little to make you want to come back to a level for the required fuel cells, and in fact I was able to get the necessary hundred without even completing all the worlds.

Ironically, even this shortcut ended up irritating, because once I'd reached Earth I assumed I'd be able to go back to any planet I hadn't completed, but no, you get sucked up to the enemy ship and there's no way back. Primitron was the only level I didn't get out of the starting block on, and decided to leave for later. I even wondered if after the game was won I might be granted the choice to return to it for a 'proper' completion, but no. That I wanted the experience to be over so I could move on to playing a game that was actually enjoyable, I can't deny, but at my choice, not the game's. The other troublesome aspect of the gameplay was the annoyance quotient of the puzzles and tasks. Undeniably, a number of them created satisfaction upon success, but it was more of a battle to get through them than to enjoy the journey itself. I was tempted to rate the game as merely 'average' (two stars), because of this, but on reflection I so wanted to get the whole thing over with, that I couldn't award it more than the lowest score of one star ('poor'), simply for the level of frustration - in just about every way, the game doesn't work. I understand people put their lives into it, I can see they were trying to create something good, but it didn't work out that way, and this is from someone who enjoys playing old games and often finds satisfaction from persevering through them even if they aren't really that good (such as 'Jurassic Park' on the Amiga, this year).

Can I say anything constructive about it? It was fun to hear the gabbling gobbledygook talk of the characters, with subtitles, before digitised speech was readily accessible on cartridge-based systems, reminding me pleasantly of 'Banjo.' Some of the puzzles were fairly ingenious such as turning enemy forces against each other to proceed. The speed booths were a good idea, speeding you up, though in practice the level around you slows down and you move normally, the music suitably slowed to fit. And it was fun seeing the Millennium Falcon in one level, and what I think was the ship from 'Space: 1999.' I will grant that the last level, as you solve puzzles to move around the outside of the evil Virtua Circus ship on all sides without jumping (which disconnects you from gravity), is inventive, and I would also say the internal parts of levels where you weren't in danger of plummeting to your doom, could almost have been right out of 'Banjo.' Except for the awful controls and excruciating camera… It always comes back to this! I have no idea if this game was a success on the N64 or the other systems it 'graced,' but I'd be very surprised if it spawned a series of sequels and its own gaming brand.

After leaving it for a week or two and returning, I'd forgotten just how boring it was until I ended up roaming a level aimlessly with no idea what to do or where to go, and with nothing fun to do. For example, you find tanks on Earth, but you can't jump in and start rolling the thing over buildings or blasting holes in things, so your expectations are lowered and your desire to complete it are sapped. The final proper level before Virtua Circus is typical of 'last level fever' that often affects, or at least affected, games back then: that of a brown, boring landscape, ugly and difficult. Contrast that with 'Click Clock Wood,' the final level of 'Banjo,' an experience that remains with me to this day, and I can hardly believe both games came out in the same year! It wasn't just the flaws in control and fun that were detrimental, it was the frustration of a monotonous final battle where you spend half the time running back and forth to the corners of the room to replenish your weapon, and repeat. I was grateful that it saves at each stage of the battle, so once you've dealt with villainous Wolfgang Von Ravel's different stages you don't have to play them again, making it much easier, though still boring. And it ends on a cliffhanger with Starshot imprisoned aboard the enemy vessel with a 'The End?' coming up. If they wanted to make sequels they should have ensured the first one was any good! I never played it in its day, so perhaps a warm glow of nostalgia would have earned it an extra star, but I'll never know, nor do I wish to in future.

*

The City On The Edge of Forever

DVD, Star Trek S1 (The City On The Edge of Forever)

The trouble with high expectations is disappointment, 'familiarity breeds contempt,' they say, and none are more lauded than this famous 'greatest episode' of Trek which stands in the same sentence with 'The Best of Both Worlds' and 'In The Pale Moonlight' among the most popular and best regarded. My own feeling is that it is undeniably one of the finest of 'TOS,' though not my personal favourite, but the greatest of the later series' are a level above. Like most of the episodes I've been seeing again, it was in some ways almost a chore to have to deal with this one again because what can be written about greatness? It's easier to pick holes in the flawed stories or marvel at the wonders of the great, but beyond that, what's there to say? I felt I knew the story too well to be surprised, all the important moments stick in the mind, but the reality is with most of these episodes the in-between moments are fresh, and I found, just like watching 'Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home,' there was a warm bubble of glowing joy experienced as the story plays out. From the moment Joan Collins appears on the stairs in the basement of the mission there's a lightning rod between her and William Shatner, and she embodies the purest form of the Trek vision: a dreamer who somehow sees the way forward to the peaceful, well-fed and looked-after future the Federation would preside over. The irony is heavy that it could only happen with her death.

Time travel always compels the imagination, and the approach this time is different to the previous uses of the staple sci-fi device in the series, an alien artefact of great age and unknown origin, The Guardian of Forever (any relation to The Vault of Tomorrow from 'The Devil in The Dark'? - it would be quite a twist to learn the Horta were its creators!), is a sweetshop of possibilities, ruined by McCoy's illness. Instead of the Landing Party being confronted with a universe of potential times and places to visit, a gateway to their own past if they so wish, Kirk and Spock must ensure they jump through at the correct time in which to prevent the Doctor from altering history, which has taken away not just the Enterprise and her crew, but theoretically the whole of existence as the Landing Party knew it. No wonder Uhura's frightened! The Guardian, for all its untold power, was miserably limited, unless that very limit was imposed as part of its design to stop any potential traveller from controlling time (can you imagine what would have happened if the Klingons or Romulans had gotten hold of it - or even renegade Vulcans, which is rumoured to have been the original idea for what became 'Star Trek Beyond,' a way to revert the timeline back to its original setting in those films). Whether a design flaw or feature, the fact that it can only show time in fast forward is a limiting factor for its usefulness, and only thanks to Spock's Tricorder is even a modicum of precision time-jumping possible.

Speaking of Spock, this isn't a very good episode for him in some ways: he calls himself out as a fool for not immediately thinking to record the passage of time flowing through the Stargate, er, I mean Iconian Gateway, er, I mean Guardian, and this just after it has put him in his place by calling his science primitive. Then when he and Kirk do jump (we might say 'leap'), backwards to Earth, 1930, he's a liability thanks to his mechanical rice-picker accident ears which were saved by a missionary in China (he's Chinese, obviously), who just happened to be a skilled plastic surgeon… Even knowing that was coming it still made me laugh, and that's the sign of quality: even when expecting the twist or the gag, this episode still gets a reaction. As does Spock. The other thing is, he's the third wheel around Kirk and Keeler, a constant reminder that the Captain must do his duty whatever his feelings - a great sentiment (if that word can be used in this context), and one we could all do with being reminded of, that emotion should be secondary to the rational mind. If Kirk had wanted, he could have saved Edith, but at the expense of millions of lives. And even though most of those lives were unknown to him and he could have argued that they never existed since the timeline was altered, he chose duty at the cost of a visionary, and one that shared the dream he was part of.

If Spock had his own trials in the episode, none of which were on the same level as Kirk's, he also provided vital intelligence by cobbling together a power source to run his Tricorder from stone knives and bear skins (which he was irritated enough about to pronounce it to Edith when she came to the door - irritation? Ah yes, one of your Earth emotions). It's not this that most stayed in my mind when I was done, however, it was the humble picture of Mr. Spock, the brainy Vulcan, First Officer on a starship, pouring tea at the counter of the 21st Street Mission for the homeless of the city. It's the epitome of servanthood and notwithstanding it was the logical thing to do to earn money with which to purchase the necessary items to rig up the Tricorder, it remains a surreal sight and a testament to his dutiful character. The same can be said of Kirk when he and Spock are given the chore of cleaning up the basement and Edith later thanks them for doing such a good job - it's all that Starfleet spit and polish, and it shows that even in the 23rd Century the people of Starfleet know about hard work and elbow grease, technology hasn't removed from them the ability to do manual labour when required. I just wish we could have seen it! It sounds strange, almost comical to think of the two stars of the show sweeping up or doing mundane menial work, and the avenues were there for much more direct humour.

If there's one thing I took from this episode it was its influence. Everyone knows about Harve Bennett's viewing of every 'TOS' episode while trying to decide on a direction to take for what became 'Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan,' eventually selecting 'Space Seed' as ripe for a sequel, but I have to wonder if Leonard Nimoy did something of the same when he came to direct 'Star Trek IV.' There are so many parallels and it would make sense for him, the man who played Spock to know which episode had garnered the most praise and use it as a template. It would be the logical thing to do! Both 'IV' and this episode hinge on time travel and the saving of the future. Both feature a female character whom Kirk becomes close to and who is integral to the success of the mission. But where the film is more of a knockabout comedy, sometimes even straying into cartoony territory, the episode is much deeper and impacting. It has the same vein of comedy to draw upon, that of fish out of water, or men out of time, but it doesn't over play it, keeping it realistic - Kirk and Spock are still 'human' enough to fit in, even if their uniforms aren't. The contrast can be seen quite dramatically in an almost identical scene in both: a character crosses the road and gets honked at by a car that is forced to stop. In the film it's a chance to loose off some profanity, in the episode it's much more toned down (though you'd think Kirk would have remembered this experience and been more careful crossing in 'IV' - in fairness it's Spock that hangs around in the road on this occasion!).

I've often said that when done right, 'Star Trek' feels like Christmas. What I mean by that is its emanation of joy and goodness, its brightness in both tone and visuals, whether that be the fairy light glow on the dark DS9 station, the beaming Enterprise-D in space, or the optimistic ideal of good people solving problems, doing the right thing whatever it means for them personally. With this episode, that core of goodness is so strong, and excessive laughing at our characters for lacking the necessary understanding of the nuances of the time would have reduced them. The comedy is as much aimed at the contemporary people's reaction to these strange visitors as the reverse, and the episode is only enhanced by the characterisations of those we meet, the guest roles especially well acted, maybe because it was easier to grasp historical Earth than alien worlds. 'The Rodent' as he's titled in the credits, is important in his own way. He serves as commentary of that time's view on the hopeful ideology Keeler espouses, taking her charity, but thinking of her as a nut. More importantly he serves to show the difference between lives: Edith's, full of service and virtue, will make a huge difference on history whether she lives or dies, but the poor tramp who mistakenly blasts himself out of existence after stealing McCoy's Phaser, a selfish thief, apparently has no impact whatsoever. It's a very small moment in the episode, but that's what I read into it, a deeper lesson on choice and free will for right or wrong. It's sad because he brings great humour to the story, his terrified reaction to the rabid McCoy quite brilliant.

It's a wonder the wild Doctor wasn't locked up. Except McCoy is cunning, even when shot through with cordrazine, a drug powerful enough that a couple of drops brings the prone Sulu back to consciousness with a beaming grin on his face (unless he was just reacting to being cradled by the asian Yeoman who leapt to his aid when the Helm console blew a gasket - she seemed to be hanging around Kirk's chair just for this eventuality!). It struck me that he's a bit like Data - if he goes bad and still has his faculties he's much more dangerous to the ship than the average guy, and I always thought how cool it was that he could drop a man with a couple of carefully chosen chops to the back, poor Transporter Chief Kyle the one to get it (though still not credited as Kyle). If it wasn't for Edith and her kindness who knows what would have happened to the Doctor in the state he was in - he looked like the Salt Vampire had been finger-sucking his face. And this whole adventure was due to a bit of turbulence, which led him to accidentally inject himself with the drug that turned him into a hyperactive paranoid wild man, so opposite to his usual laid back nature. I sense he has a lot of anger in him at times, his crotchetiness coming out in mutterings and irritation, and it's like his inner personality comes out times a thousand, all the energy and rage rushing to the surface in violent action and voice. If he weren't such a good guy you wouldn't want to cross him!

Edith Keeler is the linchpin of the episode, and if they hadn't found someone to pull it off so startlingly it might not have gone down as such a classic. But Joan Collins is perfect in the role, at the height of her powers, the walking embodiment of the Trek future, with an angelic light about her. It doesn't matter how she has these strange convictions of life where all are fed and cared for, her otherworldly perceptiveness stretches even to Kirk and Spock, knowing they don't belong and seeing an identical soul in Kirk that shares exactly what she foresees. It's tragic that, unlike Gillian in 'Star Trek IV,' she will never be able to see it firsthand, denied the Promised Land for being in the wrong time. Actually, I wonder why they couldn't have simply whisked her off to the future where she couldn't do any harm, but The Guardian probably wouldn't have allowed it. I'm left to wonder how they even got back - was it like 'Quantum Leap' where once the good deed is done they leap to the next time, and they only returned to the correct period because unlike the computer in that series The Guardian isn't broken? It may not be broken, but it's certainly insensitive to the weighty experience endured by the Captain. It offers more adventures, they can go to any world or time, but it falls on deaf ears, the Landing Party paying no heed and Kirk so affected he's allowed to swear. Probably the shortest, most brutal end to an episode of 'TOS,' and though such a mild word by modern standards it was a big thing for the time and has an impact because of that, something lost in the films because the use of such language was common and everyday, no longer really an exclamation.

You can see how far the series had come in such a short time, and it shows that a concentrated machine of storytelling can smash out great work, art thriving on constraints, that gives the lie to the suggestion that TV needs to have a long time taken over it, to do less episodes and to keep the audience's interest by ensuring serialisation. Trouble is, unless the coalface of writing is kept hot, the ideas forced out by desperate time limits, most of the time lethargy and laziness, the natural condition of human nature, will mean that simpler, less expressive and impressive storytelling will be allowed to take control. That's when a production line mentality leads to loss in quality. But in the feverish early days of the series it had undoubtedly benefited from fever pitch, deadlines and budgetary constraint, towards the end these last few episodes showing what their creativity was capable of. They'd learnt many things from the process, such as banding Kirk and Spock together as much as friends as work colleagues - this was following directly from them being abandoned on a planet and having to deal with the Klingons without the support of ship or crew, and here it's the same. Kirk doesn't want to risk the rest of the Landing Party, his order to Scotty and the others that if they don't return eventually each of them will have to jump through where they'll at least be alive somewhere - reminds me of Picard's orders for his crew to settle down on some corner of 21st Century Earth in 'First Contact' when the Borg have taken over the Enterprise. The same air of finality and last resorts to keep the crew alive while the Captain does what he can to take care of the problem.

I see also this episode influenced the 'DS9' two-parter, 'Past Tense' (and not just because the same boxing poster that Kirk and Spock appear before was recreated for Kira and Bashir's time jump), going back to a period of depression in Earth history, doing something that will protect the timeline, knowing that a sacrifice will need to be made… Going back to Earth's past has always been an understandable draw for Trek, putting its characters right in the midst of a moral debate, a choice must be made without the certain knowledge such interference will have. Here at least Kirk knows what must be done, but it doesn't make it any easier. From the start his immediate reaction to Edith was honesty as far as she could understand, and I wonder a little why he didn't share the knowledge that he really is from the future. I think she would have believed him, her perceptive ability able to see through Kirk and Spock's friendship to a dutiful belonging to some organisation of rank. If Kirk had remained apart from her he'd have spared himself the pain of loss, but drawn to this hoping mind that sees his existence in the future he was compelled toward her. He could rationalise it that she was the key point to which the eddies of time had drawn him and Spock, and would McCoy, time itself described as a fluid, even The Guardian emanates waves of time displacement, but the timeline itself, for it to be as it should, and is known to be, must be protected at even the most personal cost, something that has rung down through the decades in all Trek that followed until needing to make money off the old names by redoing them with new faces led to the Kelvin Timeline films that rejected the premise. Guess which is the more dramatically satisfying?

The story, the setting, every aspect of the episode works. If there were a flaw it would be the city on the edge of forever is very 'produced,' clearly a set, especially after the large and impressive location sets used in preceding episode, 'Errand of Mercy.' But is that the city of the title, could it not be that Edith's city, holding her as this visionary on the cusp of changing history one way or the other, is the true city on the edge of forever? Even though The Guardian's environs look manufactured, they still work well, like an artistic interpretation - not as extreme as that of the facades of the Western town in 'Spectre of The Gun,' but still imaginative and with the impression of something larger. Helping the story at this point is seeing Scotty and Uhura as part of the Landing Party (Uhura gets to wear a black belt, not for any martial arts training, but so Phaser and Communicator will have something to affix to), especially pleasant to see the Communications officer beam down as she so rarely leaves the Bridge. They all get featured, even Sulu getting it in the face from his console, a moment that made me think of Chekov being injured on the Bridge in 'The Motion Picture' (though I'd have thought he'd need something for facial burns rather than a stimulant!), one of the earliest examples of a console exploding in Trek, as they were wont to do in times of danger! Even the much-parodied shaking on the Bridge was done expertly to sell the turbulence, small movements followed by sudden violent ones, well choreographed and coupled with sound and lighting that totally sells it.

As I said at the beginning, one thing about episodes that are considered greats is that you can go into them with the feeling of needing to be impressed, or worrying that it won't work any more, but the true greats always impress and never let you down, and so it is with this. Its position as one of the best is without doubt, giving out that joyful hopefulness that is Trek at its most potent, with events as simple as they are moving, and with a continuing attraction that says 'this is what we can do with Trek.' It definitely lived up to my memories of it, even with the heaped tablespoons of decades of accolade threatening to drown the cup into which Spock might be pouring strong tea for the homeless. With Collins at her best, Shatner at his, and Nimoy supporting his Captain as only he could it remains terrific, giving us a character that basically talks like she's reading the edict of Trek, and having a life-changing effect on the Captain. What I'm left with is a desire to read the 'Crucible' trilogy, books released for the 40th Anniversary that delved deeper into this very story, and that's the highest compliment when Trek books have so often underwhelmed. No such concern can be directed at this episode and like Christmas, it needs to be experienced again and again.

****

Icarus

DVD, Smallville S10 (Icarus)

I was as conflicted about this one as the citizens of Metropolis are about vigilantes, because when it sticks to Clark and Lois, and their super friends it works, but when it moves from that into evil villainy and people talking about themselves as heroes it loses its way and much of its lustre. It was going quite well, even with all the mushy romantic stuff (I'd have thought Clark would be a bit miffed that he'd gone to all the trouble of booking an exclusive restaurant months in advance, a delivery for a huge bunch of flowers, and a special evening in which to propose, only for the fickle Lois not to get the hint and make a proposal of her own: a quiet evening at home!), and I was as fooled by Tess' cover of getting both Lois and Clark to Watchtower under the pretence of upgrading their retina scans only to find the whole band of extended cast there to celebrate with them in a surprise party. I say the whole band, but it was actually only Hawkman, Stargirl (making her debut this season, I can't remember?), Dr. Emil and Queen. But that's not the only time we see the greater hero clan due to the last flight of the Hawkman in his bid to save Lois from the evil General Wilson (who's 'beyond death's stroke' - so he's Deathstroke), crashing and burning and laid to rest in Egypt we can assume, though it's hard to feel sorry since his whole schtick is that he comes back to life, or is reborn, or something along those general lines, though he won't be around to fight the evil with Clark. Anyway, in the solemn procession to his burial you can make out hooded characters behind in the colours of Aquaman, Flash and Cyborg, but I don't know why we didn't get the actors.

Black Canary has a minor role (I have no idea if it's the same actress who portrayed her before), so why not the others - we had Aquaman not so long ago? Once again it's easy to see they were forced into more scenes of dialogue to stretch the budget further, and once again these tend to be the better parts of the episode, more meaningful than the occasional brushes with action, such as Hawkman and Wilson's fight in LutherCorp. There are times when we see the horror of injustice, such as Queen saving some woman from an attacker, whom he then chases into a busy street where the criminal claims Queen attacked him, prompting the general public to start beating him. That was some good stuff, especially as I'd forgotten about the evil shadow of darkness that is apparently hanging over the world, turning people's hearts bad. It would have been more effective if the situation on the streets had got so tense that the people were taking matters into their own hands, ironically condemning the 'vigilantes' by performing their own acts of vigilantism upon them, failing to see the hypocrisy of their actions, but things are dragged down a little by going away from the real and heading into silly fantasy territory with the evil at work claimed to have been responsible for such events as the Inquisition or the Third Reich, when I'm not sure it's right to suggest that such things were more than the awfulness of humanity (even if humanity can indeed be influenced by external evil, so maybe they did have a point after all…).

With General Wilson self-healing and having no compelling motivation beyond catching and interrogating all the known heroes' friends he doesn't stand up to scrutiny, nor is he given time to shine in the role of evil protector, and some of the discussion between characters where they're so ingrained in referring to themselves as superheroes and such, is jarring when they're achieving so much reality in the way people react, or in the personal scenes. It has ever been the way, sadly, and the series does tend to sabotage its good stories sometimes by bouncing down into the realm of the comic book rather than filling out a story from a solid, believable setup. It's quite nice to see Clark and Lois together, whatever the context, and their band of merry men and women have become more of a family than in the past - the series has never succeeded (not since the early days), in making it a family as so many other series' have (the Treks, 'SG-1,' etc), because they don't have the space to keep all these super people around, there isn't the time to create fulfilling stories that feature all of them logically. So Stargirl's just there because she is, and Aquaman isn't because he isn't, and they've never remotely been consistent with an impression of the wider Justice League working as a team. Their reach exceeded their grasp.

Or is it their grasp exceeded their reach? Either way they cram in a number of characters, including Cat at The Daily Planet, but unfortunately the story nosedives and even leaves us on a cliffhanger with all the heroes that bore Hawkman to his resting place, knocked out by some small white pyramid that pops up out of the sand. There are also inconsistencies such as Cat changing her entire worldview based on a short conversation with Lois who mentions her son and that's enough to convince the younger woman she should not give Lois away to the VRA Gestapo that have rounded up so many of Queen and Oliver's associates. Now she's on The Blur's side? Maybe she was just going with a gut instinct to trust Lois rather than committing her undying loyalty to the enemies of the VRA, but it was too pat and easy. Before you know it Clark and the others are going dark, shutting down Watchtower and he, Oliver and Carter all find themselves breaking into Wilson's office at the same time, making for some comedy. I really wanted to like this episode, and for much of the time I did, even the Stasi-like interviews of Wilson's subordinate as she tries to learn where their most wanted are. But I have to concede it lost out somewhere around there and never recovered, failing to provide an ending on a par with the opening half. Even a flashback scene to remind us who Chloe is, and a gift from her to celebrate Lois' engagement can't keep it from degenerating. Not that it fell far, it's still mostly enjoyable, it just fails to deliver on the setup. I hope this isn't an indication of how the series itself ends!

**

Errand of Mercy

DVD, Star Trek S1 (Errand of Mercy)

"There's much more to life than the things we can see," sings part of the song to the John Wayne film 'El Dorado,' and if any episode proved it, it's this one, in the calm acceptance of Ayelborne and the Council of Elders on planet Organia, becoming firm intervention to deal with those who refuse to follow their lead and play nicely. Kirk can't comprehend why they won't fight, why they won't choose between the democratic Federation way and the ruthless system of the Klingon Empire, and, importantly, he's allowed to be wrong. This must be the only episode of Trek where the Captain ends the episode a little sheepish for the vehement stance on war and violence he advocated, even in the face of a known barbaric force such as the Klingons, and it is this, as much as it is the two sides of an argument for society between Kor and Kirk, that makes the episode. It helps that it was the genesis for a race that would provide fertile ground for the most Trek episodes in future, perhaps only the Borg in opposition for making the greatest impact on the Trek universe, and it's beautiful the way Ayelborne tells them of their future friendship and cooperation, working together, appalling both parties, but which would come to fruition through the films, and might even be said to be the arc of the 'TOS' era, an alliance born out of these struggles and seen in all its glory through 'TNG' and beyond, as the Klingons became most people's favourite Federation ally (the Vulcans a close second through being a more reserved and almost silent partner much of the time).

Are these the same Klingons we'd come to love in the future? With 'Star Trek: Discovery' delving into the race a decade before this episode, where apparently, war is raging, I was half expecting to hear of war in the past, but very little can be gleaned from this, the Klingons' first appearance in Trek (chronologically production-wise, of course), beyond the fact that there were currently negotiations with the Empire which were on the verge of breaking down, and in fact do break down during the episode (leading to Kirk getting a Code One message on his little disk reader device: it means 'war'), so there may well have been spats and skirmishes prior to the episode, I just wish we could have heard more of that history. The way Kirk describes them as a military dictatorship they sound more like the Cardassians at this time, but I ask again: are these the same Klingons? The obvious answer is that no, they aren't, not just for the aesthetic differences between the smooth-forehead, small-bearded, swarthy outward appearance, but also the cruel and slimy attitude to conquest and subjugation. It's been noted by many that in the transition between 'TOS' and 'TNG' the Klingons and Romulans swapped characteristics, the Romulans becoming more devious and militarily dictatorial, the Klingons taking on a nobler character, but I'm not sure how true this is, as neat and pat as it sounds.

Really, in 'TOS' we're talking about the main representatives of their race, not the race as a whole, the characterisation of minor roles pretty much a blank slate, both sides featuring soldiers who obey orders. So while Mark Lenard's Romulan Commander is one of the noblest and greatest tacticians, and Commander Kor is devious and harsh, they aren't the entirety of their race. I can see the Klingon heritage in Kor's actions - you can see he loves battle, claiming it would have been glorious if he could have faced the famous Captain Kirk (though clearly not famous enough for the Klingons to have seen an image of his face - though they probably think all humans look alike!), to test his mettle against such a warrior. Could it be that the answer really does lie in their appearance? Thanks to 'Enterprise' we eventually learned the reason behind the changing look of the Klingons, going from bumpy to smooth foreheads: it was all part of a virus intended to make them superior, but which actually lost them much of their superiority to humans in terms of losing the greater physical strength and bony exoskeleton that made them such formidable opponents. Could it be this loss led those affected to become bitter towards their fate, coming out in ruthlessness, less care for honour, and setting out a new regime? I think it's as good an explanation as any, though I have yet to see what 'DSC' adds on the subject (it would be a bit strange if we saw a proportion of the population change in 'Enterprise,' then don't see any in 'DSC,' then in 'TOS' they're in clear evidence again).

Whatever the case for how Klingons became the cheaper variety to make in the Sixties (the real reason for lack of prosthetic makeup), Kirk had to deal with the reality of them in this situation and it's not an easy one: giving Sulu (why was he left in charge, was Scotty in the doghouse for something?), orders to scarper if the Klingons arrive in number, trapping himself and Spock on the planet with a seemingly harmless and simplistic folk that want to avoid violence at all costs, something Kirk isn't accustomed to accept. In his vehement exhortations he almost becomes as violent as the Klingons through frustration at the Organians' peaceful, mild demeanour, even in the face of atrocity. Ordinarily you could see where he's coming from, how was he to know these are actually beings of pure energy that can't be hurt by any act of savagery the Klingons threaten. I used to confuse them with the Metrons of 'Arena,' both powerful races which intervene and impose their greater morality upon races that insist on fighting amongst themselves, and both provoke a different attitude in Kirk. The Organians' humble appearance was forgettable, while the bright, angelic vision of the Metrons had much more of an impact, which would explain my impression. They're almost like the Ba'ku from 'Insurrection,' except they were only on the way to where the Organians are - both have rejected technology for a simple life, though the Organians, like the Q Continuum, presented their agrarian society with all its farms and fields, merely for the purposes of giving visitors conventional points of reference so they could interact, as Spock surmises. Maybe Squire Trelane was actually an Organian?

Ayelborne is really a great character, calmly putting up with these humanoids and their petty issues, trying to find some common ground without interfering in their ways until he and the others feel forced to for the safety of the humans and Klingons, a superb surprise turnaround. Maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising, the clues were there: the self-opening doors of the Council where the other doors must be pushed; the fact that one of the Elders can tell how many Klingon ships have arrived, and when and how many have beamed down, it should all have tipped Kirk off that something was going on here, but he was too caught up in his righteous indignation to pay attention to the implications and I don't think Spock was there at that point or he might have put two and two together. I was expecting to see at least one of the Klingon ships, but not even the one that attacks the Enterprise at the start is shown on screen and we can only assume it was Klingon as there was nothing to categorically confirm it. It does succeed in one thing, and that is to present the idea that a greater Starfleet is out there, as well as a greater Empire, but they didn't have the money or technological ability to present us with a fleet battle the likes of which wouldn't become truly possible until 'DS9' about thirty years later. It's enough to have the figureheads of these two mighty organisations sparring with each other over idealogical differences.

The Organians make an attempt to keep Kirk and Spock out of harm's way by giving them villagers clothing, but though you can take the Captain of his uniform, you can't take the uniform out of the Captain, Kor quickly realising this 'Organian' is different. He doesn't meekly accept whatever decrees Kor puts before them, and without directly defying anything he says, Kor can still see the fire in 'Baroner's' eyes, something he understands and has respect for, a respect only heightened when Ayelborne eventually reveals Kirk's true identity in order to prevent him being hurt. It's truly fascinating to see these two, Kirk and Kor, standing together in disgust at the Organians' lack of loyalty to their allies, their unwillingness to strike out for their freedom or risk any confrontation. Equally they stand together when they're in the midst of a fight and the Organians come in and stop them like parents separating squabbling children. They both cry about their rights to bash the others' heads in and it is this that Kirk feels ashamed of later when he's on his ship, that he felt outrage at violence being prematurely ended, instead of grateful that there was a force that could prevent both sides from warring.

Except, despite the Organians' best efforts they could only stop outright hostilities, they couldn't force the two enemies into alliance, so a cold war resulted, though this led to eventual peace. I noticed a rather major flaw in the Organians' plan and one negative that might be applied to their strategy: if both Starfleet and the Empire were unable to fight each other, would they not simply use other races to wage a strategic war? And did this simple method of prevention extend to all races that wanted to fight? Could, for example, the Klingons take battle to the Romulans, or the Federation move on any attacking threat? How was this all to be governed… You begin to see the enormous implications of the Organians' imposing their will over the freedom of the others. I'd love to know if it affected the balance of power in the Galaxy: did the Klingon/Romulan alliance come into being because of this forced peace with their greatest enemy? Could it be it encouraged them to seek peace with other enemies? Were the Federation and Klingon Empire the two biggest powers at that time, and this enforced detente gave rise to other races catching up? It intrigues me, because of course we would go on to see other races fight with Starfleet and it did seem to be that the imposition was relegated to just Federation and Klingon forces, but the domino effect on the greater Galaxy would likely be one major reason why the Organians were reluctant to use their power in this way.

It is with glee that we see both our heroes and their enemies forced into behaving rationally and makes a change from the usual situation of the audience being wholeheartedly behind the main characters as a force for good. Kirk's allowed to learn a lesson and it shows that even someone as bold, forthright and moral can learn important truths. I'm not sure what Kor learnt from the experience, probably to be a little more circumspect in his attitude, though I'm not sure he ever was cowed - it's terrific we were later treated to a total of three further appearances by him in 'DS9' (another reason why that series is the greatest of Trek), as a much older warrior almost resigned to old age, living in past glories but with that same wild light in his eyes and toothy grin on his face. If Kor had not been such a good representation of a hard, dictatorial race it's possible the Klingons may not have made such an impact. He doesn't have the gravity of the Romulan Commander, but he does have the intensity, his soldiers raiding the town like Mexicans in an old Western, Kor himself striding about imperiously and warming to Kirk's equally soldierly attitude, far from the contented smile plastering the faces of the Organians, whom he considers weak, like sheep. He has a good look, too, with severe facial hair and coffee-tinted wrinkles, a broad gold sash with some kind of device upon it (the symbol of the House of Kor perhaps?), and chain mail trousers, he presents a formidable air, but not a mindless enemy, someone who relishes tactics and delights in strategies and the glory of battle. So not that far from other Klingons after all…

It doesn't affect the episode, but the lack of Klingon ships is disappointing. There's also a lack of Dr. McCoy and Scotty, neither of whom appear, but at least Sulu and Uhura are back in their proper places, and even Mr. Leslie can be seen on the Bridge. The series was still unsure of its terminology as we get yet another example of Spock's people being spoken of as both Vulcans and Vulcanians (the Klingons say it), but at least we learn that Vulcan merchants are a common sight on many worlds. We also learn that Phasers and Communicators can attach to each other, as that's how they are when Kirk demands them back from the Organians who've kept them in a cupboard with the neatly folded Starfleet uniforms. The subject of money comes up like few times before or after, with Kirk actually stating that the Federation has invested quite a bit of money in their training, though this could have been said for the Organians' benefit to make Kirk and Spock's Federation sound more formidable or more attractive, I'm not sure. Or it could mean that they really do still use a financial system. It could be questioned why Spock's inner eyelid didn't come down to protect his eyes from the glare as the Organians transfigured into their true form of bright points of energy, but it happened so gradually that I would say it wasn't necessary. The Klingons aren't quite as we became accustomed to them on the series, with only the main speaking parts allowed beards, perhaps a sign of status and rank, and the fantastic Disruptors are here called Klingon Phasers. And they use sonic grenades which look uncannily like the traditional pineapple type of Earth history!

Unlike the Klingons, the Organian race did not make multiple reappearances in Trek lore, but they did appear in a prequel, the NX-01 unknowingly playing host to a couple of them in 'Enterprise,' a pleasing and logical use without disrupting canon and making for a good episode. The joy of the surprise in the Organians' superior ability stems largely from the expectations that this is another group of elderly leaders as we'd seen before (for example, in 'A Taste of Armageddon'), that need to be given a talking to by Kirk who claims he's more soldier than diplomat but always manages to orate with aplomb. In a way, his heartfelt arguments come across almost like the Klingons in the way he wants to have an impact on their society, to reshape it in the Federation image, an altruistic, technologically advanced way, but it isn't what they want, nor need. In general I think Kirk would have been right to do this - I've heard comments about 'TOS' not being right to spread its philosophy or beliefs to less advanced aliens as if all systems should be equally valid, but that's like saying medicine shouldn't be shared because it's better for a race to invent it themselves at their own pace, even if, for example, they refuse to explore medicine. While in Organia's case they didn't need change or the help Kirk wanted to give (despite there being some notion of the suspect motive of wanting a strategic advantage over the Klingons in that area), in most cases Starfleet are bringing light and aid to dark places, something they do very well.

***

The Devil in The Dark

DVD, Star Trek S1 (The Devil in The Dark)

Orange rage to a silicon bull, that's how the miners must have appeared to the Horta. But what a bull! One of the most alien aliens Trek ever produced: no bumpy forehead? There's not even arms and legs to be seen, and the design is a thing of beauty, a concept that has gone down in popular culture, perhaps not as widely as the Gorn, but when even a computer game of the early Nineties references it (the first X-Com game, 'UFO: Enemy Unknown' features among its alien antagonists the 'Silacoid' which bears a striking resemblance to a purple version of the Horta), you know it's stayed in people's minds! And no wonder, for apart from the immediate negative mental association of the title, its mystique is kept up for quite a while as the miners of Janus VI band together in groups, or leave individual security guards alone in dark tunnels - not the best strategy they could have come up with, and I'm surprised the guy agreed to it, however reluctantly, since it's not the army, they weren't there expecting to lose their life, or following orders strictly and smartly to attention, so you'd think he'd rather have resigned on the spot than face the unimagined terrors surging from the deep. It's like some creation of original 'Dr. Who' crossed with the fear of deep places found in 'The Lord of The Rings,' something about a malevolent force creeping up from the bowels of the Earth that adds to the creature's fear factor.

The actual production side of it, the fabrication of a myth based on polystyrene and glue, or whatever it was they used to create the lava-like mould, was also top-notch, the creature leaving a smoking trail behind it, or the charred remnants of what was once a man - even the glimpses we have of it early in the episode as it rears before the camera to fall on its latest unfortunate victim, shows just enough to allow the imagination room to take root with all kinds of visions, but not too much to be able to confirm what manner of life this is. If truth be told, however, like a few of the most famous episodes I've re-watched recently, this was another that I began to suspect had little else other than its own legend to prop it up as a good dramatic episode to be enjoyed time and time again, once you know the twist. For much of the running time I was finding it little more than functional - yes, it's got some atmosphere, taking place mostly in the caves (setting the precedent for many Trek series' to come with their multiple cave-set stories), and it's different in that it doesn't begin on the Enterprise or with our characters, but talks about them, like the US Marshal due in at a western township whiles the locals have to make do and deal with their issue until he does. But when you have the iconic image of Spock melding with the Horta, or Kirk pointing his Phaser at it, in the forefront of your mind, you're just waiting for the people 'in world' to catch up to where you are.

The cave set wasn't necessarily the best - although the floor was covered in old mining equipment and rocks here and there, it was all so flat that it's hard to disguise that this is a studio set with a level ground. The jumpsuits the miners wear look garish in comparison to their surroundings, and the matte painting of the pergium facility was too illustrative to be taken seriously as the real backdrop (and they don't even attempt to beam into it as they did with other episodes) - the perspective shown makes it look more like a painting on the wall of Vanderberg's office than a window out onto his facility. There are early clues as to the solution of the puzzle, with the silicon nodules Spock shows so much interest in, and you have to wonder if, like Sherlock Holmes (that he's been compared to in style), he formulated a hypothesis as early in the story as that, and was merely trying to prove or disprove it as more evidence became available. It's hard to tell, if not impossible, because it's not until Spock melds with the Horta he, and we, get the full story. And it is around this point the episode takes off and reminded me why this remains such a good, solid Trek episode, winning me back. The biggest thing I'd forgotten since last watching it a good few years ago was the strife from the miners and their desire to take matters into their own hands like a mob of pitchfork-wielding villagers. It's completely understandable, and typical of human nature, the essence of the fight or flight survival instinct that governs the sense of a need to do something proactive.

Vanderberg isn't a bad guy. The head miner is naturally concerned with meeting his quota and doing his job and his gruffness is also completely believable as he's lost fifty men to the creature, then a starship Captain beams down and starts taking over. On one hand it was probably a relief to hand the problem over to someone else, a professional who has a crack team of security Redshirts to sort out the problem. But it's also his domain, so you'd expect at least some friction over his inability to do anything about the menace. I'm not sure these angles were really played up and it's almost speculation regarding his attitude, but that's likely why he wasn't exactly the most gracious host to his honoured guests. It also makes it easier for him and the others to turn on Kirk's orders when Security are preventing them from rushing headlong down the tunnel and interrupting a potentially delicate situation. Another thing I loved about the story was how Giotto, the head Redshirt has no idea what his Captain and First Officer are doing down the tunnel with the monster, but he doesn't rush to their aid, he doesn't show indecision over what to do, nor unnecessary questioning, he simply obeys his orders, as much in the dark as the miners, but with the discipline of a Starfleet officer. And he doesn't know what's going on, doesn't know that Kirk and Spock have found a way to communicate and discovered things aren't as black and white, or orange and brown, as they seemed from appearances and because of that he gives his Captain the space to sort the problem out diplomatically.

That's a key word, because Kirk is often thought of as being this fists-first, belligerent Captain that flies by the seat of his emotions and doesn't have the reserve and judgement of a Picard, nor the clamp-hard strength of a Sisko, but the reality is that he uses all his resources in these situations and comes up smelling of silicon nodules. That's another thing I love about this episode: all four main characters are at their best (no sign of Sulu or Uhura). Scotty is the man to come down and fix vital equipment; Spock shows a more benevolent side to the obvious need to relentlessly hunt the creature for the safety of all those on the planet, instead suggesting it could be the last of its kind, and therefore of great interest to science; Kirk shows no fear when confronted by the creature alone in the tunnel, refusing to fire on it unless he has to, in spite of his earlier decision that it must be dealt with, regardless of Spock's scientific curiosity and its importance to knowledge; and Dr. McCoy makes a not insignificant contribution to proceedings by successfully treating the Horta's wound. Though McCoy's role is small in the episode (he still presents like one of the supporting characters, and the absence of Kelley's name in the opening credits doesn't feel strange, as this is very much the Kirk and Spock show), it is also vital, and again, serves to show the value of obedience regardless of personal feelings: at first McCoy protests, since this is a patient more alien to him than anything he's ever treated before, but Kirk orders him to find a way and instead of continuing to say this isn't his job, he steps out of his pride or uncertainty and takes up the challenge, thereby impressing even himself so much that he utters the immortal line "By golly Jim, I'm beginning to think I can cure a rainy day!"

That is by no means certain, Doctor… but he's not too far wrong, for all the hyperbole. These are only minor (miner?), life lessons, but they remain inspiring: that a man with a clearly defined role can agree to step outside it to meet the current need; that a Security officer will obey orders unquestioningly with his full force; and most especially, that a frightened mob, intending violence and revenge can be held back by reasoned words that explain their predicament and prevent them from carrying out further wrongs to what is a sentient being. And that is why the episode succeeds - as always it's not about the wrapping (the visuals, the prop-making, the scene-setting), it's what's inside that counts and continues to make this a worthwhile story where so many sci-fi or horrors have nothing more than the monster film mentality to provide a scare or activate our revulsion. If we're picking holes we might suggest that presenting a creature that is compared to the Devil, then learning it is actually benevolent, could be committing the sin of confusing good and evil with each other, but I think it's really about the inner creature, not outward appearances, and far from being a malevolent, malicious thing intent on the destruction of those around it, the Horta proves to be a good Mother, protecting her young. I just wish we could have seen a load of baby Hortas scuttling around, though you wouldn't want one sitting on your lap unless you had a fire and acid retardant suit on!

The Trek inquiring spirit is present through Spock's wish to study the creature, before he knew it was sentient, and though he understands the need to destroy it, and will follow Kirk's lead, he seems reticent to do so, something that Vulcans seem to avoid if they can. I can't see the Vulcans of 'Enterprise' having any compunction in killing, another reason why that era's exhibits of the noble race seem so ignoble and un-Vulcan. See, it's not just the emotionless exterior, superior strength, pointed ears and long robes that makes the race what it is, and writers in the 21st Century seem to have forgotten what made them such a cool race to begin with in the 23rd and continuing into the 24th Century-set series' - they show compassion and thoughtfulness, and I really hope the version we see in 'Discovery' (which I have yet to see), will suit the established true Vulcan character that has been lost with 'Enterprise' and the Kelvin Timeline films - they aren't my favourite alien race without good reason, but they need to be written right. I like that this season is drawing its continuity together and becoming more cohesive and consistent. Spock's meld (I don't think he actually called it that by name), begins from distance in the same way as he telepathically implanted an idea into a guard's mind in 'A Taste of Armageddon,' showing that he can connect with minds without actual physical contact. Leonard Nimoy once again shows the range of his ability, displaying the depths of the Horta's emotion and pain, tugging at the heartstrings for its agony and hopelessness.

I found it sad that the limitations of the production were so clear in the Vault of Tomorrow scene where Kirk enters the chamber filled with eggs and all they could show was a fairly close-in shot of Kirk and a pile of the eggs in front of him. I've never seen the Remastered version of the series, but I imagine this would be an ideal place to use that footage, but zoom out from it to show the true vastness and majesty that the poetic language of the Horta envisions. That's one more thing about the episode that works so well: the Horta's speech through Spock is so beautiful and alien. Though it was able only to burn 'NO KILL I' so crudely into the rock face as a message, its inner thoughts are so much more expansive and emotive, adding more than anything to the idea that this heaving mound has mind and is not merely a man in a suit rolling around on the floor as it so easily could have seemed without the quality of the writing. What proves to be the icing on the rocky cake is how optimistic the ending proves, an ideal symbiosis between the needs of the Horta and its brood to tunnel freely through the rocky crust of the planet, and that of the miners who will now be able to reach previously inaccessible veins of the greatest mineral riches they'd previously been denied.

There are questions to be asked, however: they talk of such things as gold, which we know to be worthless in the 24th Century (as it's used to encase valuable latinum), and Kirk even says they'll be rich, but the economics of this period remain uncertain. We know that Replicator technology was still some way off from the time of 'TOS,' which is what presumably made such things as gold practically worthless for the fact it could be replicated and was no longer a commodity, but it makes me wonder who they were mining for, how they were paid, and what was it that really changed society into the one we see in the spinoffs where there really are no material needs, at least for humans? It's a reminder that we hadn't yet reached the point where people could choose occupations based on their desire rather than necessity, though no doubt it's much more advanced compared to our standards today (even with the occasional person that made the wrong choice of career, like Marla McGivers in 'Space Seed'). Equipment is of interest to this story, too, as we see it is the lower level Phaser 1 that the miners have access to, which have no effect on the marauding creature, while Phaser 2, the larger devices that can carry a 1 on top, have enough power to injure it, slicing off a piece (points to the production again for making the sheared off silicon 'breathe,' contracting and expanding as if still living tissue which does more than many things could to make its unique aliveness real). It's fantastic to have technical details like this, no matter how slight, adding to the reality of the world our officers inhabit.

Not so sure on first glance about the bright, one-piece jumpsuits that count for uniform among the miners, but as it went on it made sense to me, and I even liked the cool black belts which hold Phasers or other equipment, and slip into the front of the suit. It makes sense to have unmissable, high-vis outfits in an environment which is so dark, and in which we can presume, large and dangerous machinery is operated, so being able to visually keep track of where people are is common sense - and they don't wear silly, 'futuristic' silver suits or have flashing lights all over them, but a sensible, utilitarian style of clothing that suits the work they were doing. The only thing missing were hard hats as I can imagine plenty of men braining themselves on the roofs of tunnels, or being dropped by the smallest cave-in without head protection, but even that could be explained away by the fact they'd stopped production because of the threat and probably removed any helmets in order to see and hear the coming threat better (which, strangely, sounded very much like McCoy's heart monitor!). Another technical detail I enjoyed was Kirk's pronouncement that one of the Captain and First Officer is expendable, but not both, which is why he wished to keep Spock out of harm's way, though the Vulcan's implacable logic manages to change his mind (maybe Picard should have used that on Riker!).

The Security officers do their duty like in few other episodes, the ones sent to hunt the mysterious, deadly alien menace, creeping through dark tunnels like no one else would wish to. But the Redshirt curse hadn't yet come into effect, and it's surprising that only about one of them gets killed (fortunately not Mr. Leslie, among the Enterprise's finest sent down). The only thing I wish is that we had a Chief of Security, or that Giotto became a recurring character as it's a role you can feel missing thanks to the role's integration in all other series' down the line. I think Chekov had something of that role sometimes, but this was before his emergence. And the Redshirts had to put up with a lot - not only the threat of an unknown monster, but the angry miners (why are miners always angry - look at the ones in 'Mudd's Women,' or the Romulans in 'Star Trek XI'?), who actually do more damage, beating them into unconsciousness to get past and have it out with the Horta, regardless of the safety of Kirk and Spock. Kirk himself isn't immune to the impact of losing members of his crew, as in a rare moment we see the regret and sadness on his face as he kneels by the remains of the unfortunate Redshirt. When you add up all these little moments and positive achievements the episode shows itself to remain relevant, overcoming its legendary status to be able to continue to provide a story worthy of the series - considering how many they'd made by this point, that's an achievement in itself as you'd think burnout would be inevitable, but the first season was ending on a wave of highs. Even the light final scene on the Bridge doesn't detract, well suited to the upbeat finish, a happy ever after ending that exudes joy and the successful wrapping up of a tense mission.

***

Luthor

DVD, Smallville S10 (Luthor)

The logical conclusion of Lionel Luthor's evil is that, after all his games with Lex, with Clark, with anyone and everyone, he did it all for himself, and when threatened he would take the necessary actions to ensure he remained at the top of the totem pole. That's the lesson learned from this alternate reality episode when Tess inherits a 'mirror box' of Kryptonian origin, and Clark accidentally activates it, plunging him into a gloomy, monochrome vision of Metropolis under Lionel's rule, or influence at least. In this reality he's Clark Luthor, found and raised by the businessman, allowed to kill Lex, and with Tess' position as sister well known. Oliver Queen has a plan to dispatch him, Lois hates him, and no one else from the series exists apparently, because they didn't have the budget for that… It's okay, it was enough to have Lionel Luthor back (in more ways than one, but more on that later), almost entertaining in itself, but although the concept of other Earths (they call it 'Earth-2' in the episode, dropping in a little nugget of comic book canon - in other words I've heard of this version of our world), is not to be sniffed at for all the dramatic possibilities you can have with it ('DS9' made it practically an annual instalment in the Trek universe), it needs more than the mere appearance of either evil or different versions of existing characters to make it something special, and it didn't have that.

The desaturated image style they used to differentiate it from the warm palette of 'Smallville' the series, was irritating, but necessary to show Lionel had traversed to out world at the end. We've seen them do black and white, noir-ish direction, and other shades between, and though this did have colour, it was so washed out and dreary when it was supposed to be dramatic and horrifying, it didn't help. And it's like the same set places exist - they have to go to Watchtower, or the empty Clark barn, the structure of the series is the same. Granted, there was something appealing about seeing Lionel doing a spot of fencing in the Luthor Mansion, but everything was as it is, despite the conceit being that this world is so different with Clark under the Ultraman secret identity in which he can carry out punishment and murder with impunity. If it had been done in an earlier season we'd have had those characters taking part: Chloe or Pete, Martha or Jonathan, and I'm not suggesting that they should blow the budget on reuniting the cast in a parallel universe - if they were to do that it would have to be in our universe for it to be truly meaningful. No, it's just that the alternate is too similar, except for Lionel, and it doesn't exactly tell us anything new about anyone, even him - we could have extrapolated for ourselves his endgame. The only really meaningful moments are Lois recognising 'real' Clark is back just by looking in his eyes, and Clark comforting Tess in her pathetic wish to have been accepted by Lionel instead of being cast out, he accepting her for who she is, despite having learned of her Luthor blood.

Other than that, it's a bit of stunt casting to bring back a dead character again, and in that regard it worked better than expected: I noticed Lionel rushing towards Clark's back just as he twisted the mirror box to return, and it seems the crafty beggar somehow got himself caught in the travelling across the parallels to end up in the familiar surroundings of our world. I'm not sure why he wouldn't automatically be swapped with the dead body of our Lionel, but perhaps it was because he was dead that he was able to exist outside of his world? Whatever bizarre concoction used to justify it, I can't deny that it leaves the series in an uncertain place: Alexander, having tricked Tess and escaped, is on the loose; his 'Father,' Lionel, is also out there, and it's like the series is beginning to turn full circle to its beginnings, which could be good, possibly. The breaking of the fourth wall as Lionel talks directly to camera when conversing with a citizen, and he says he 'wouldn't want to miss how it all turns out' has a double meaning for the character and the actor, if John Glover is going to play a big part in the end of the series. He was certainly one of the best actors on it in his day, though mishandled as a character and not always written that well (hey, it's 'Smallville'), so he could add a dash of pizazz to the drama.

It still can't beat episodes where Lois and Clark work together as a team, and it's a relief that they did this Earth-2 thing so late in the series' run, because I couldn't see myself full of anticipation for the next episode in the Mirror Universe saga (even the Trek ones were patchy), because unless you've got a compelling story to tell that goes beyond resurrecting dead characters or showing known ones in a different light, it can be a bit unoriginal and lacking in the essential quality that makes the series stand out for its own style and direction. But I don't expect to see them revisit it again. It's not like we haven't see evil Clark before, either, be it the influence of Kryptonite of many colours (the Gold variety is touched on this time - it apparently touched on Clark Luthor's wrist so he could create a homemade tattoo in the shape of the Luthor 'L'), or other outside forces affecting him or even replacing him with… Metallo, was it? I'm not sure on the internal logic of the mirror box, as the Clarks clearly bodily swap, since the tattoo gives visual evidence, but why was Clark holding it in both worlds, when he had to find it in Earth-2, so Clark Luthor didn't have it there. And in our world he still had hold of it when Clark Kent returns…

Perhaps the real issue is that alternate realities can only ever be thought concepts, a place to explore a different angle on characters, because they themselves are meaningless - if reality is made up of every branching decision everyone ever made, then there is no right and wrong, because all permutations exist, or existed, or will exist. For one thing, I think it's the height of arrogance to suggest that the universe would bend to the will of every tiny thought or gesture a person makes, and in the other it shows the Godless view that the existence we have here is as throwaway as a speck of dust and we don't have a specific role or destiny or anything else, it's all just a mishmash of irrelevancy. That's why, in fiction, I prefer the view that the world we watch is the real one, even if there can be alternates within this fiction, because then the characters can make mistakes, learn, grow, and generally develop. Then again, this is 'Smallville,' so I'm probably going too deep. Do they ever really develop? Not really, I'm afraid, they just jump to new stories, fulfilling the old comic book mould, and one thing that makes the films so dull and repetitive since you need things to stay the same for reasons of marketing and the general audience's understanding. But enough about the state of the blockbuster film industry! A nearly there episode, but not quite. Even so, welcome back, Lionel.

**

This Side of Paradise

DVD, Star Trek S1 (This Side of Paradise)

If the 24th Century-set series had come first, and this original, 23rd Century-set series had been the sequel, you could see Kirk's comments on mankind not being meant for paradise as a pointed jab at the utopian ideal of 'TNG,' where Earth is said to be a paradise of no crime, no want and no troubles, all the conflict arising from outside forces, but essentially meaning humanity had crafted a workable, everyday perfection to living. But this was not the case, 'TOS' came first (hence the 'original' moniker), so what does Kirk mean? I think he's right about one thing, that without ambition and desire to improve, Earthlings stagnate, seen most powerfully in Sandoval's sudden comprehension of three years of wasted time as he and his colony have lived in perfect health under the influence of the Triffids, sorry, the Spores, and their benevolent, but unnatural symbiotic happy pill attitude when they could have been striving for a hard-won, bootstraps and braces success, with all the failures and setbacks such a venture would mean, but in the building would have also built up their character and pioneering spirit, which must have been what they wanted, otherwise why leave the safe, comfortable planet of home? I don't think we really got an answer to why they wanted to come out into the unknown and start a colony, I just assume it's the same sense of adventure as that which prompted Starfleet to send out its feelers into the Galaxy through starship missions, and what Trek is all about.

From visual impression I didn't think the colony was some lush, green success even under the peaceful guidance of the Spores, since the location, though pleasingly rural, and making excellent contrast with the technological tidiness of the manmade travelling haven that is the Enterprise, had the look of a dry land - the grass wasn't a gorgeous, succulent green, but patchy and dried up, but it does fit with the theme of the colonists seeing things as they wish them, rather than as they are. To some degree you could say that there was nothing wrong with the cohabitation of human and Spore (reminding me of midiclorians since they also inhabited the body and had some effect from the inside!), the people were happy, they were clearly working and creating their food, so it's really only the fact it was not with their consent, and that they had no ills to battle and had become comfortable with this level of existence where there was no character-building adversity. But would it have been that different if the Spores hadn't come? Such story points are not sufficiently explored as it's more about Kirk singlehandedly dealing with total ship-wide mutiny, and Spock dealing with a sudden lack of inhibition, than the rights and wrongs of the Spores imprisoning the people with happiness.

Where did the Spores come from and how did they get into space? I can't imagine them building rockets! I have to say that they were an excellent design and manufacture, totally believable, their simple movements so sinister, such as when Sulu unwittingly sits within striking distance of a plant and it curls round, but he's up and about before it has time to puff its petals at him. Sinister contentment, a complete lack of care for the working of day to day life, Spock even mentions the 'happy pill,' and don't forget this was made in the Sixties when the drugs revolution was still fresh in the mind - it's got to be a warning against drugs. Kirk is the authority figure, the one to clamp down on 'happiness' with the need for order, the need for a society to work together to get things done. As he finds to his own discomfort, one man can't run a starship alone (though it does bring to mind Picard and Crusher in 'Remember Me' where it's just the two of them and this vast ship apparently exploring the Galaxy together!). The creepiest moment of all is when Uhura refuses a direct order, calmly admits to sabotaging the communications so they can't be used to contact Starfleet Command, then walks off the Bridge! Yet it's not as clear cut as all that because the colonists do appear to have a thriving colony and it's not like they've given up for a life of ease and downed tools, they just don't act like themselves, and are happy to imprison the whole crew on the planet, so the will of the Spores must be their wish.

The will of Captain Kirk is too strong to part him from his ship, even mind-altering substances fail to get a grip on him. I was trying to work out why he wasn't affected in the same way as his crew - when he and a couple of his crewmen are led to the Spores by Spock he is a little behind them and it does seem as if he takes less of a blast than the others. I was also thinking that he's in a heightened state of emotion because of his irritation at Spock's change in character and insubordination, so these two factors may have reduced the effects. That said, it's not until he gets a full blast to the face when he's alone on the Bridge that the beatific smile glazes over his face and he prepares to beam down and abandon ship forever (though I suspect another Starfleet vessel would have come looking for the Enterprise eventually). At that point it does seem to be his nature of intense sense of duty that forces him to realise even through the haze that he can't leave his ship, and that realisation brings anger, and the anger looses the hold of the Spores on his mind. As a child this was definitely one of the episodes that stayed in my mind, whether it was the creeping horror of something as everyday as flowers containing intelligence and wanting to control people (a device seen in many a sci-fi series, even 'Smallville' did one), or Spock giving in to his emotions and laughing, or defying Kirk, and most impressively, getting angry and responding to the goading of his Captain with full-blooded violence.

The lore of the Vulcan way is very well represented here. For Kirk, it's another week, another superior strength opponent he has to beat with a pipe (it was Khan last time), and Spock makes a few dents in the Transporter Room (though fortunately not Kirk, whom you imagine he could crush like an egg if he got hold of him, though his anger makes him wild and inaccurate). Thinking about it, 'Star Trek XI,' the first of the Kelvin Timeline films, was probably inspired by this encounter when they had the alternate Kirk insult Spock into beating him up, the difference being that this actually makes sense for the story and is arrived at logically, a need for the narrative's progression, the coolness factor of Captain and First Officer fighting only enhanced by that, but in the film it's utterly ridiculous, makes Kirk look cruel, and Spock look stupid (especially as he didn't have the influence of Spores in his mind). It's the difference between good storytelling and logic advancing the plot, and bad, where things are simply forced into the shape that is wanted for a particular story beat. Just an observation.

It's not just Spock's Vulcan strength that is well observed, his strict attitude to physical contact also shows him to be more alien than mere pointed ears could tell: he has a past with Leila (which means we can say he was on Earth six years ago, perhaps between the two five year missions he served under Captain Pike, though I've not done the maths to work out the feasibility), and she's drawn to him, but when she holds out her hand to take him to the Spores he follows, but politely declines contact. As a touch telepath that makes good sense, but it's something that was lost from 'Enterprise' onwards as Vulcans became more and more human, disappointingly. This makes it all the more powerful when he lightly brushes her cheek at the end of the episode to say goodbye, infinitely more subtle and touching than, say, the Spock/Uhura romance in the new films which deemphasise his alien nature to make him more accessible to the masses. When Kirk uses all his effort to get under Spock's skin he could have been talking about the Vulcans from 'Enterprise' and the Kelvin Timeline, saying they have not an ounce of integrity, a race of traitors, and so on, one reason I think that series failed to win over many of those who enjoyed Trek through the Eighties and Nineties (though they somewhat fixed the issue in Season 4 by bringing back the teachings of Surak). Kirk's assertion that his Father was a computer and his Mother an encyclopaedia leads to Spock telling us that, in fact, his Mother was a teacher, his Father an ambassador, so it's good for filling in some personal detail, too.

Something that really stood out to me about the episode was how good the technology looks. The Tricorder is shown in full glory, appearing somewhat sleeker and smoother than I remembered it, the Communicators get a lot of use and also give proceedings a touch of class (except when Kirk taps his to see if it's malfunctioning and it sounds very cheap and plasticky - even in three centuries you still need to bang something to make it work!), and we even get a good view of McCoy's coloured disk reader. Then there's the Bridge itself which, emptied of all personnel save Kirk (a useful shot that they were able to use to recreate a Holodeck version of in 'Relics' for old Scotty to sit in - superb!), looks so good. We're even granted a slow pan across the consoles from around Spock's station along to Uhura's, and the shiny blackness of the surfaces, coupled with the bright, colourful buttons and lights makes me wish so much that 'Discovery' had gone down that aesthetic route instead of making their style more contemporary. Uhura even left her earpiece behind on the console. There's a nice shot from inside the underside of a control panel where Spock and Kirk fix up their sound plan. In that instance you can see printed circuit boards and anachronistic technology, but that's the sort of thing you could adjust for a modern interpretation, not the bells and whistles on top. I loved that the Communicators were integral to the plan, with a discomfiting signal being broadcast across the network, irritating the crew into anger and fighting, driving out the force of the Spores.

Like 'Space Seed' immediately before it, this episode takes a while to get into. It has its moments, most notably Spock showing emotion for, I think, the first time in production order (the best way to watch), a device that had a lot of power from the way he was so reticent to do so, going against type as his stiff, formal Vulcan persona (the opposite of what they did with Zachary Quinto's version which lost all dramatic potential in his choice to embrace the human side rather than repress it - that's enough digs at the new films for one review, no matter how true they are!). The great design of the Spores, their creep factor, even the sudden poof as Spock is infected, making me jump though I knew it was coming (like Bilbo flashing a Gollum-like face in 'The Fellowship of The Ring'), or simple things like the bass of the music pounding out like a rising heartbeat when Kirk is infected on the Bridge, all enhance the experience. But, like 'Space Seed,' the bits you know all too well aren't the best parts, it's the last third as things rise to a new pitch, Kirk so close to abandoning his starship existence, his will holding him back, the cure as each of them come to their senses, and the tragic inability for Spock to show affection, once again back in his shell to the sadness of Leila, a sadness that is able to cure her of the Spores' influence. Then Spock speaks of us all living in self-made Purgatories, a poetic conclusion.

The episode ends, once again, on a more thoughtful note, with Kirk's discourse on the need for struggle rather than having everything handed to you, though I would argue that paradise doesn't have to mean that, and a true one would have effort and creative output at the heart of its existence, satisfying the need, not a lack of anything meaningful. But I'd agree with Kirk on the idea of avoiding a paradise that doesn't come with the opportunity for improvement and turns people lazy or lets them dissolve into happy feelings as if that was the ultimate goal of existence, like the addiction to drugs or, well, anything. But no wants and no needs? I'm not sure that would be such a bad thing, and neither did the humanity of the 24th Century, though even that was far from perfection. The most inspiring moment comes with Sandoval's decision to stoop and pick up worn out tools, or whatever the Kipling poem says, standing up to return to the dream he and his fellow colonists set out to do. Like Kirk, he's a true leader and isn't going to let a setback stop him for good, despite his dismay at the time that's been lost. They don't hunt down the Spores and destroy them, they just leave the planet that would be uninhabitable without the Spores anyway, due to berthold rays. The saddest thing is that Spock admits to being happy for the first time, but I like that despite this he is resolved to return to the path he has chosen, not changing his mind because of a taste of freedom he hasn't enjoyed before.

If Spock is out of character (Sandoval calling him a Vulcanian even this late in the season!), Dr. McCoy is just as much, if not more, reverting to a Southern country twang. When he gets heated thanks to the Communicators and threatens to 'see how fast I can put you in a hospital' when Sandoval tells him there's no more need for his doctor's skills any more, it's a reminder of the edge McCoy has, and if he ever chose to use his knowledge for ill, everyone had better look out (as we'd see in short order when he goes crazy in 'The City On The Edge of Forever'), Sandoval felled by a single, nasty prod. Maybe that's one reason he was so fearless in the face of Khan's scalpel - he knows every inch of the human body and how to disable it if need be. It's also fun to see DeForest Kelley playing more to his famous Western baddies persona that he was best known for before Trek. A couple of characters return: DeSalle had been in 'The Squire of Gothos' (though I mistook him for Stiles from 'Balance of Terror' and noticed with interest he was so comfortable working with Spock), there as a biologist, apparently, since Kirk specifically asked for McCoy and a biologist, which I at first wondered if Sulu was in that role until DeSalle has a biology report. Mr. Leslie's also back, helping move the colonists' belongings for beam-up. And then he's standing in line to beam down in the mutiny, even speaking to Kirk and refusing to back down, so either there's two of him, or he came up to the ship again! It's a bit like 'The Return of The Archons,' everything peaceful and serene, except for a secret menace to the outward tranquility, a style of episode that would become a Trek staple over the years, and another angle on the false realities that I find so interesting: the side of paradise that proves false.

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