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.

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