Top Ten

The Doomsday Machine

Mirror, Mirror

The Corbomite Manouver
Arena
Amok Time

Balance Of Terror
This Side Of Paradise

The Naked Time
The Devil In The Dark

The Galileo Seven

The impossible has happened. Not just one, but two episodes swoop in to displace The Corbomite Manouver from the position it has occupied since virtually the beginning of this blog. Even for the internet it would be too woefully self-indulgent to go into any detail about the unnecessary soul searching and doubt caused by this decision, but there you go; The Corbomite Manouver finally gets knocked off the number one spot.

Journey To Babel

Star Trek tends to avoid family attachments, which makes Spock unique because we get to meet his parents. Apart from Sarek and Amanda the only direct family seen on screen is Kirk's brother who was already dead when he appeared in Operation - - Annihilate! It's a reflection of how television storytelling changed that by the time Star Trek: The Next Generation was broadcast it was more unusual for family not to appear. Picard's brother turned up, as did Riker's Dad, Worf's brother, Troi's mother, Data's father and brother (not bad for an android), La Forge's father, and Beverly Crusher and Wesley were of course mother and son. Tasha Yar and Doctor Pulaski are the only regular characters whose relatives don't pop in for a visit.

The downside of having family come to stay is that it's a plotline which is often used very badly to add a little emotional jeopardy to a story. The death of Kirk's brother in Operation - - Annihilate! should be the lynch pin of the script but it barely seems to register and Kirk displays more concern about Spock's blindness. Likewise the appearance of Riker's father in The Icarus Factor is the cue for a painfully generic story about grumpy Mr Riker and his son's daddy issues caused by never hearing the old man say he loved him. In the end the pair fight, and bond, and the emotional scars are healed just in time for the end of the episode when old Mr Riker leaves and is never heard from again. Of course the alternative doesn't always work either. Babylon 5's commander John Sheridan had a healthy relationship with his father but this just resulted in scenes of Sheridan going on about the wonderfulness of his dad.

D. C. Fontana's script for Journey To Babel gives Spock and Sarek a familiar father/son television relationship; Sarek disapproves of Spock's life choices and Spock wants to please his dad. The unique strength of the story is it focuses on the two characters who can never hug and admit their true feelings for each other. For an idea of how painfully this plot could have been handled just give Spock and Sarek some of the more turgid dialogue from The Icarus Factor. 

SAREK: I should have explained this to you a long time ago, but it hurt too much. Then the wall grew up between us. ... You know, it's funny. I can talk to a whole roomful of admirals about anything in the galaxy, but I can't talk to you about how I feel.

SPOCK: How do you feel?

SAREK: How do you think? I love you, son. I've got to get back to the Starbase.

SPOCK: I know. I'm glad you came.

[They embrace]

SAREK: Be careful now, okay?

Instead the pair's relationship is played out by proxy, through the reactions of the characters who can admit to feeling emotion. So we see Kirk's embarrassment at Sarek's dismissive treatment of his son, and Amanda's fury as Spock tries to hide behind logic to justify risking his father's life by delaying taking part in a medical procedure. However, just because Spock will not admit to feeling emotion doesn't mean he has no emotional needs. One of the pleasing aspects of the story is the way Spock seems to be making decisions based on what he imagines will gain Sarek's approval rather than choosing his own path; the cause of the original split between the pair. In the agreement scene with Amanda, Spock has a line which starts, “can you imagine what my father would say...” Even at a crisis point he's trying to second guess his father's reaction. Some interesting light is shone on Spock's character because while he is attempting to be more Vulcan than other Vulcans he makes a couple of silly mistakes.

Most obvious is the one Spock admits to, not recognising the Orion ship and realising it is on a suicide mission. As Kirk says to Spock, “you might have had something else on your mind.” Secondly, Spock obviously believes not informing Kirk that Ambassador Sarek is his father will demonstrate he is above such petty family ties and emotional concerns. Actually by not passing all relevant information on to his commanding officer Spock leaves Kirk looking badly prepared in front of the ambassador from Vulcan. The jury is out on whether Spock makes a third mistake in refusing to take part in McCoy's operation once Kirk is injured. “We're carrying over one hundred valuable Federation passengers. We're being pursued by an alien ship. We're subject to possible attack. There has been murder and attempted murder on board. I cannot dismiss my duties,” is Spock's summary of the situation. He's right but he fails to add that Sarek will definitely die if the operation does not begin soon. Sarek is arguably the most important of all the Federation passengers; as Gav says, “in council, his vote carries others.” Sarek's death could derail or seriously delay admission of the Coridan planets. Essentially Spock is balancing a known risk against an unknown risk. The Enterprise might not be attacked by the mystery ship. There might not be another murder among the passengers. Sarek will die.

Journey To Babel is a character piece and the relationships and interplay of the characters are skilfully handled as you would expect from the writer of This Side Of Paradise. Unfortunately the plot itself is less assured. It is fussy and overcomplicated, like the Orion plan to destabilise the negotiations by killing an ambassador and making Sarek look like a suspect and also by killing Captain Kirk, and also by destroying the Enterprise.

Journey To Babel seems to be trying to pull off the same trick as The City On The Edge Of Forever a story that packs a lot of material into its four acts. The key difference is that The City On The Edge Of Forever moves forwards in a clear, linear fashion from medical accident to alien artefact to time travel to love story and wherever the story goes it is always being driven by the search for Doctor McCoy. By contrast Journey To Babel begins by focusing on diplomatic tensions among the ambassadors, then becomes a murder mystery when Sarek becomes an obvious suspect in the death of Gav the Tellarite ambassador. Spock's 'hey my Dad could totally have murdered this dude' moment is yet another attempt to impress Sarek with his logic and dispassionate assessment, Spock must have been secretly delighted when Sarek says, “I quite agree.” However, Gav's body is barely cold before Sarek collapses and the story becomes a medical drama, and finally an Enterprise in peril story as the mystery ship which has been shadowing the Enterprise moves in to attack. By the end of the story the ambassadors have been more or less forgotten and Gav's murder is never solved; the audience is left to assume he was killed by Thelev the Orion agent but no one ever accuses him and he never confesses. What's missing is something to gell these different plots together, as the hunt for McCoy does in The City On The Edge Of Forever, the obvious candidate is the poor relationship between Spock and his father but that storyline parallels the action on board the Enterprise rather than affecting it directly.

Joseph Pevney directs and while he can't add much visual excitement to the grey corridors of the Enterprise he does create some striking images. Most obviously there's the reception with the assorted alien ambassadors rendered in a variety of different colours and styles. The scene begins with a single take following a pair of gold-painted dwarves, each wearing robes and what appears to be a knitted fez. As Kirk's captain's log fills us in on the situation the two ambassadors push their way between another pair of delegates having an animated conversation and then pass along a buffet laid with brightly coloured space food and drink, before the moving camera comes to rest on Kirk's group. Expensive prosthetics are restricted to the major alien delegates, the blue Andorians, pig-like Tellarites, and the Vulcans, and fun can be had taking a look at the extras at the back of the scene. Two men lurk behind Sarek, one with what looks a like a grey, granny bun style wig, on his head and the other bearded with his dark hair done in Pippi Longstocking braids. The scene looks like pure distilled Star Trek, and yet this is the first time we've seen a group of different aliens together like this.

The dead Tellarite hanging upside down in the Jefferies tube is another striking image; and even 45 years later congratulations are due to whichever extra, or stuntman, endured the discomfort to allow the shot to be captured. It's also a striking piece of editing by James D. Ballas, we cut straight from Gav storming out of the reception, to a stock shot of the Enterprise, to Gav hanging dead in front of the camera. Less effective is the later editing of the attack on Kirk. Cutting straight into the middle of the fight between Kirk and the Orion agent may save precious screen time but it jars very badly. and is one of the few times when Star Trek's editing becomes momentarily disorientating and draws the viewer out of the episode.

Deforest Kelly gets a good joke at the start of the episode when he asks Spock, “how does that Vulcan salute go?” After an unsuccessful attempt to duplicate Spock's hand position (“that hurts worse than the uniform”) he nods when introduced to Sarek, and then raises his hand slightly before glancing down and lowering it again.

The episode ends with Spock and Sarek's relationship apparently patched up. The earlier more frosty state of affairs presumably answers a question from Amok Time, one that goes unnoticed among all the Vulcan weirdness on display in that episode. Why didn't Spock's parents attend his wedding

Enterprise crew deaths: None, despite the damage done by the attacking ship.

Running total: 35

Metamorphosis

Given its pedigree Metamorphosis is a disappointment. Ralph Senensky, who filmed some beautiful footage for This Side Of Paradise, directing a Gene L. Coon script should be a dream combination but the end result is flabby and disappointing. Occasionally Metamorphosis feels like an episode where some crucial external context is missing. Read the story as a metaphor for interracial love rather than just a mismatched couple (he's an out of time space pioneer, she's an energy cloud) and it's easy to see how it might have felt more significant in 1967.

Imagine replacing the characters with the most obvious stereotypes possible. Cochrane is literally part of an older generation (the Companion has kept him alive and young for 150 years) so make him an elderly southern gentleman with a lone black housekeeper (the Companion) in an isolated house. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy visit, maybe their car breaks down, and they see the relationship between Cochrane and the Companion. The pair have fallen in love without realising it, but when Kirk articulates the relationship Cochrane reacts with the disgust you would expect from someone with his upbringing. “Do you know what you're saying?... It's disgusting.... Is this what the future holds? Men who have no notion of decency or morality?”

Was this racial parable what Gene L. Coon had in mind? Metamorphosis appears to be trying for some sort of allegory. Cochrane has an odd line at the end of the story, “I might try to plant a fig tree. A man's entitled to that, isn't he?” The fig tree suggests a biblical reference to Adam and Eve, but maybe this is investing the line with more significance than it deserves. It's perfectly possible to just want an episode written by Gene L. Coon (who wrote Arena and The Devil In The Dark) to be better and this scrabbling for meaning is a way of lessening the inevitable disappointment. Sometimes a fig tree is just a fig tree, and sometimes even good writers have an off day.

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are on a shuttle carrying Federation Commissioner Nancy Hedford from Epsilon Canaris III, where Hedford is working to prevent a war, to the Enterprise so Hedford can be treated for Sakuro's disease before her condition becomes terminal. The shuttle is pulled off course and crashes. They meet a man who turns out to be Zefram Cochrane discoverer of the space warp, who is technically 237 but looks in his mid 30s. And there's a mysterious being called the Companion.

Metamorphosis is packed with ideas but in an undisciplined way. Half a dozen plots are competing for space at the end of act one. The race against time for the dying Hedford and her work to prevent a war. The mystery of why the shuttle doesn't work when nothing is wrong. What is the Companion? The Rip Van Winkle/man out of time story of Zefram Cochrane. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy meeting an important historical figure who should be dead. The relationship between Cochrane and the Companion.

Over the next 35 minutes all those stories are whittled away until only the love story between Cochrane and the Companion remains. A good shape for a story is like a pyramid. Multiple plots at the beginning making a wide base which converge to the same point at the climax. When Edith Keeler steps onto the road in The City On The Edge Of Forever, it resolves several stories at the same time; Kirk and Spock's trip back to 1930; the search for McCoy; Kirk's love affair with Edith; the question of whether Kirk will sacrifice history for his love of Edith; restoring history to the right path. In Metamorphosis plot lines are simply discarded. Cochrane being the inventor of the space warp adds nothing to the story. It's just forgotten along with the idea that he is 237. For all the impact both plot threads have on the story Cochrane could have been no one special and crashed five years ago. The potential war on Epsilon Canaris III is dismissed by Kirk in a single line, “Well, I'm sure the Federation can find another woman somewhere who'll stop that war.” In the end Hedford effectively just dies, and she dies off screen. In The World Of Star Trek David Gerrold defines good drama as being about a character making a decision. Here we don't get to see Hedford decide whether she wants to die, or live but as a merged, and different, personality. Unfortunately the only person we do get to see make a choice is Cochrane who goes from disgust at the idea of loving the Companion to choosing a relationship, but only once the Companion is safely inside a human body. If Metamorphosis is a parable about interracial relationships then it undercuts its own message of tolerance. The deliberately stereotypical version outlined above would end with crusty old Colonel Cochrane only accepting the reality of his love once his black housemaid's brain was transplanted into the body of a southern belle.

Ralph Senensky proves his fantastic direction on This Side Of Paradise was no fluke. He works hard to inject visual interest into the story. Often he includes characters in scenes even if they have no lines. Senensky has Hedford stand in the back of a two shot of Kirk and McCoy as they discuss the mystery of Cochrane. Then later, at Cochrane's house, Kirk and Spock talk in the background as Cochrane sits right at the front of a shot. Most memorable is a much praised shot where Hedford/Companion lifts up a multi-coloured scarf and looks through it at Cochrane, seeing him as the audience saw him earlier when the cloud-like form of the Companion surrounded him.

As on This Side Of Paradise, Senensky's eye for a good shot encourages the Star Trek technical crew to some of their best work. The unnamed planet of the Companion is the best studio interior world so far, it even has clouds in the sky; little puffs of smoke which go a long way towards making this look like a living world. It's brilliant work by art directors Rolland Brooks and Matt Jefferies. Director of photography Jerry Finnerman also does a tremendous job, using light and deep focus photography to add depth to planet surface shots. He also makes good use of lenses to make the sound stage seem huge. In the shot of Cochrane waving at the shuttle Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Hedford look like tiny dolls. Film editor James D. Ballas can't really do anything to inject pace into the story but he handles little moments like the first reveal of the Companion in an unusual way. After McCoy and Kirk join Spock at the door of Cochrane's house we get a well composed shot of the trio looking out of the doorway. This is followed by a reaction shot of Spock, which then pans to Kirk and then to McCoy. Only then do we briefly see the Companion.

Metamorphosis shares one concept with The Devil In The Dark which makes the pair almost unique among Star Trek episodes. There is no outright villain. In both stories the real problem is an inability to communicate and see things from the other persons point of view. Metamorphosis may have been a miss for Gene L. Coon but he always had a very clear philosophical vision for the series.

Enterprise crew deaths: None, although it's unclear how Kirk accounts for the loss of Hedford. “She died en route to the Enterprise so we shoved her corpse out of an airlock,” seems most likely. Let's hope her family never asked any awkward questions.

Running total: 35

I, Mudd

A lot of the criticisms applied to Catspaw should also apply to I, Mudd. Another frothy undemanding episode involving familiar story elements; instead of playing hunt-the-power-source, the Enterprise crew play hunt-the-controlling-android, and at the end the superior androids are confused to death by a bunch of silly humans. There's no great secret to why I, Mudd works and Catspaw doesn't; I, Mudd is better.

The tone helps. I, Mudd is unambiguously a comedy. Not a genre Star Trek has attempted before. There's been funny lines, and funny scenes, and since Gene L. Coon arrived as producer a lot of episodes have ended with a joke but the closet Star Trek came to outright comedy was Tomorrow Is Yesterday. An episode with moments of farce as characters were unexpectedly beamed up to the Enterprise. Now suddenly, in production order, there are two comedy episodes in a row I, Mudd and The Trouble With Tribbles. Perhaps Gene Roddenberry took a couple of weeks holiday.

The lighter touch definitely helps. Catspaw is not a po-faced episode (Spock's line, “very bad poetry, Captain,” is a decent quip) but attempts to present Syliva and Korob as serious threats don't work. Suspension of disbelief is finally pushed to breaking point with the reveal of the pair's true forms. As a representation of, “a life form totally alien to our galaxy,” the cute puppets don't work. In the context of a Buffy The Vampire Slayer gag (the ending to Fear Itself where Grachnar the fear demon turns out to be tiny) they might have been more acceptable. However, comedy may cover a multitude of sins but it would still take more than a few jokes to make Catspaw work successfully as a story. Yes, I, Mudd has some laughs but at its core is a well constructed script.

Unlike Syliva and Korob the motivations of the androids are clearly laid out and easy to understand. They have decided the human race is too dangerous to have free run of the galaxy. They will take the hijacked Enterprise and use it to serve man, curbing humans most acquisitive instincts and subtly controlling them in the process. The plot puts a different spin on the androids plan by having them act out misguided good intentions. Like The Changeling, I, Mudd shows us a threat which keeps escalating. First android Norman hijacks the Enterprise. Then Harry Mudd is revealed to be the brains behind the plan. Then Mudd explains his goal is to take over the Enterprise and fly it round the galaxy with his own android crew. And then the androids play their joker, they have their own plan and Harry Mudd is as much a prisoner as Kirk. The plot of I, Mudd is actually a little more sophisticated than The Changeling. In The Changeling the plot is a series of pull-back and reveals with each pull-back showing a little more of the bigger picture; the threat to the Enterprise is a damaged space probe called Nomad; Kirk must keep Nomad friendly; even friendly Nomad is a danger; Nomad learns the location of Earth. It's a linear plot whereas the android double-cross means I, Mudd ends on a twist. The audience are expecting the last act to be Kirk and crew against Mudd and androids, when it actually becomes Kirk, and crew, and Mudd against the androids.

If this is beginning to make I, Mudd sound like Shakespeare it shouldn't. By Star Trek's standards this remains a lightweight story, but it clearly demonstrates the care that even lightweight stories require. I, Mudd is full of moments which show the script has been carefully thought through. Most notably when Uhura pretends to betray Kirk and exposes his fake escape attempt because the androids are alert for an attempt and will relax their guard once it has been thwarted. Another script might have skipped this scene and jumped straight to the real escape. It's a character moment, and is not essential to the plot, but because it shows the Enterprise crew thinking through the implications of their captivity it adds a little fine detail to the story. Gene L. Coon's fingerprints seem to be all over this script, all of the characters get something to do (with the exception of poor Mr Sulu who only gets lines in the teaser and then disappears from the story). It's tempting to wonder if there was some anxiety about doing a straight comedy, because extra work does seem to have been done to bolster the script and it withstands scrutiny much better than Catspaw or The Alternative Factor.

Opinions about the comedy will depend on the viewer. It's often quite broad, and much of it relies on Shatner and Nimoy's deadpan reactions to Roger C. Carmel blustering (“That, sir, is an outrageous assumption!”). There's some real fun with the use of language (“Next, we take the Alices on a trip through Wonderland.”) but the highlight is Spock's use of logic to confuse two of the Alice model androids. A sequence which pulls of the difficult trick of being funny, in character for Spock, and also weirdly logical. 

ALICE 27: Mister Spock, you have a remarkably logical and analytical mind.

SPOCK: Thank you. [Spock attempts a neck pinch on Alice 210, it has no effect.]

ALICE 210: Is there some significance to this action?

SPOCK: I love you [points at Alice 27]. However, I hate you. [looks at Alice 210]

ALICE 210: But I'm identical in every way with Alice Twenty Seven.

SPOCK: Yes, of course. That is exactly why I hate you. Because you are identical.

That exchange is part of the climax of the episode. An audacious ten minute scene of Kirk, Spock, Harry Mudd, and the rest of the bridge crew confusing the androids into shutting down. It's tempting to label this sequence as indescribable but that gives the impression I watched I, Mudd babbling, “no words... should have sent a poet,” like Jodi Foster in Contact. It's a ten minute absurdist segment, like a freeform surrealist play within the episode itself. The cast play invisible violins and dance to imaginary music, 'kill' Scotty by pointing their fingers at him and whistling, and mess around with non-existent explosives. I don't like it much but have to admire the simple fact it exists and was broadcast in primetime on NBC.

I'm not keen on the sequence because it pushes the limits of believability of Star Trek. I can buy Kirk being Starfleet's greatest Captain, and irresistible to any woman in a thirty light year radius, but here he, and the rest of the bridge crew, suddenly become expert actors and improvisers. Either their flawless routine is made up on the spot or they've spent time scripting and rehearsing it; neither explanation works for me. To be fair, someone at the time must have held similar concerns because there is an attempt to have Kirk direct the action, pointing at people and cueing their lines, but this just emphasises the play acting nature of the scene and leaves me wondering why the androids get so confused. And that's probably my biggest complaint. The androids can be shut down by playing let's pretend. Derek Griffiths pretending to be a jelly on Play School would blow their minds. Presumably the original creators never let their children near the androids or their brains would be fused by the sight of a six year old gallumphing around and telling everyone she was a ballet dancing princess.

Director Marc Daniels keeps the story grounded and someone, possibly assistant director Phil Rawlins, does excellent work keeping track of the extras used for the duplicate androids. A few split screen effects, most notably when Harry Mudd introduces the Alice series, sell the idea of identical androids but for the most part the androids are achieved with one set of twins, a lot of identical costumes and some wigs. The clever use of extras is demonstrated in the scene where the androids reveal their true plan.

[A wide shot of the throne room. Harry fusses around saying goodbye to the androids. The camera pushes forwards and Kirk enters the rear of the throne room set with Spock and the other Alice twin]

KIRK: Mudd, a few questions I want to ask you.

MUDD: Afraid I won't have time to answer them. My bags are all packed. The androids will take the Enterprise out of orbit in less than twenty four hours. But it's been a real pleasure having you here, Kirk. Is there anything I can get for you?

...Skipped the bit with Stella...
MUDD: Alice Number 2, my little love. Will you have my bags transported up to the ship? [During this line the camera pulls back at an angle favouring both the twins, until we can see four Alices. The two twins and the two extras]

ANDROIDS: No, my Lord Mudd.

MUDD: What?

NORMAN: We can no longer take your orders, Harry Mudd.

MUDD: Why not?

 NORMAN: Our makers were wise. They programmed us to serve.

MUDD: Yes, but that's what I'm saying. Put my bags on the ship.

KIRK: Harry, I think they have something else in mind.

NORMAN: You are correct, Captain. Harry Mudd is flawed, even for a human being...

 

NORMAN:[Continues over reaction shot] We recognised this from the beginning but used his knowledge to obtain more specimens....

 NORMAN:[Continues in close-up]Your species is self-destructive...

 NORMAN:[Continues over reaction shot] You need our help.

KIRK: We prefer to help ourselves. We make mistakes, but we're human. And maybe that's the word that best explains us.

NORMAN: We will not harm you, but we will take the starship...

NORMAN:[Continues] and you will remain on this planet.

MUDD: Now, look here. You can't do that! Now, listen. To serve us, you must obey us.

ANDROIDS: No, my Lord Mudd.

MUDD: Alice number One... [still the same shot, the camera pans showing Spock and one of the Alice twins at the back of the room, Harry walks towards her] 

MUDD: [Continues] obey me. Put my bags on that ship!

[Alice 1 gives him a push. Harry goes reeling backwards]

NORMAN: We cannot allow any race as greedy and corruptible as yours...
 

NORMAN:[Continues over reaction shot] to have free run of the galaxy.

SPOCK: [As Spock speaks he walks forwards and the camera pans with him. One of the Alice twins follows and moves to stand behind Spock] I'm curious, Norman. Just how do you intend to stop them?

NORMAN: We shall serve them. Their kind will be eager to accept our service....

NORMAN:[Continues over reaction shot] Soon they will become completely dependent upon us.

ALICE 99: Their aggressive and acquisitive instincts will be under our control.

NORMAN: We shall take care of them.

SPOCK: Eminently practical.

KIRK: The whole galaxy controlled by your kind?

NORMAN: Yes, Captain.... 

Norman: [Continues in close-up] And we shall serve them and you will be happy, and controlled.

If that seems confusing to read, it was even more complicated to write, and I suspect it was most complicated of all to film. Kudos to whoever staged the scene for keeping track of the geography and making sure the two twins were used as effectively as possible. They are moved between shots and positioned very carefully though the sequence to make sure they give the impression of a planet full of identical androids.

Enterprise crew deaths: None, True to his word Norman is very careful not to kill anyone.

Running total: 35

Catspaw

“Star Trek obviously solicits all-out suspension of disbelief but it won't work. It was an incredible mess of dreary complexities and confusion at the kick-off... By a generous stretch of the imagination it could lure a small coterie of the smallfry, though not happily time slotted in that direction. It's better suited to the Saturday morning kidvid bloc.”

Robert Justman and Herbert Solow quote from the The Weekly Variety's stinker of a review of The Man Trap in their book Inside Star Trek. It never gets any kinder than the section quoted above, also describing Shatner and Nimoy as, “wooden” and wondering, “how this lowercase fantasy broke into the sked.” Frustratingly the complete review doesn't appear online but the sections in Justman and Solow's book suggest the review reserves much of its criticism for surface details (“[Mr Spock] socalled chief science officer whose bizarre hairdo (etc.) is a dilly”) rather than anything much of substance. Having said that, the quoted section is very perceptive about Star Trek's scheduling. It may not have ended up on Saturday mornings but the series only achieved mass popularity in syndication after it was bought by Kaiser Broadcasting who targeted young males by putting Star Trek on at 6pm opposite their competitor's news broadcasts.

The Weekly Variety's review may be off target for The Man Trap but it sums up Catspaw very well because it does look look like, “lowercase fantasy suitable for smallfry”.

There's a lack of depth to Robert Bloch's script. It is very superficial, in a way no other Star Trek script has been before. Even a flawed episode like The Apple contains a Garden of Eden metaphor; Kirk gets some maudlin reflection about the weight of command; McCoy and Spock have an ongoing debate about the right way to treat the feeders of Vaal; there's some “nudge nudge, wink wink,” talk about sex; and the suggestion that humans stagnate in paradise and need to suffer to achieve their potential (a recurring theme in Star Trek). The Weekly Variety's favourite episode The Man Trap uses the extinct buffalo as a metaphor for the salt vampire; McCoy must kill a creature which looks like the love of his life; there's the disturbing question of Crater's relationship with the salt vampire (he appears to have fallen in love with the creature which killed his wife because it can make itself look like the woman it killed- to quote Homer Simpson “who's gonna pay for that wedding?”); and even the title is a pun, like a real man trap the salt vampire is a snare for the unwary.

Viewers can watch both stories on one of several levels. They can question the motivation of characters and decide who is right and who is wrong. They can pick up hints of themes too risky for network television to talk about in any detail. They can draw parallels with other stories. Or, they can watch them purely as the exciting space adventures of Captain Kirk and his fight against Vaal, or the salt vampire.

However, it's not just lashings of subtext which make a story work. The Apple's discussion of sex among the feeders of Vaal is handled in such a juvenile way (Spock is embarrassed by the subject: why?) the script would probably be marginally better if it was removed. The weakest part of The Doomsday Machine is the planet killer/nuclear weapons parallel; if only because Kirk unambiguously spells out the message to the audience. Mirror, Mirror makes no attempt at allegory and the cast are driven by the desire to escape; one of the most basic motives possible.

Why then do Mirror, Mirror and The Doomsday Machine feel more sophisticated than Catspaw? Both episodes give us something different. The Doomsday Machine works because the threat to the Enterprise is doubled; externally from the planet killer and internally from the obsessed Commodore Decker. Mirror, Mirror shows us a world where friends are enemies and everything familiar seems dangerous and new.

In contrast Catspaw has nothing new to offer except the set dressing. Scrape away the skeletons, black cats, and torch lit dungeons and there's a familiar stew of ideas the audience has already been presented with too many times. In Bloch's earlier script What Are Little Girls Made Of? the android Andrea goes mad after being kissed by Kirk. Here Sylvia is driven insane by the rush of sensations in her new human body. Sylvia mentions a transmuter and we're off on a game of hunt-the-power source as seen in The Squire Of Gothos. As in The Return Of The Archons members of the Enterprise crew become zombie puppets under external control. Kirk attempts to seduce Sylvia as he did with Karidian's daughter Lenore in The Conscience Of The King. Catspaw ends up feeling juvenile because it's problems are threefold. The story has no depth, the setting is just about the only original element, and the motivations of Korob and Sylvia, the two aliens who drive the plot by accidentally tapping into the human collective unconsciousness and creating a planet of witches and haunted castles (another concept done before in The Squire Of Gothos where Trelane accidentally builds his world based on outdated images from Earth), are too vague and undefined to be of any real interest.

One of the few moments of real interest comes when Korob reminds Sylvia, “We have a duty to the old ones.” Bloch was a H.P. Lovecraft fan so it seems likely he intended the reference to refer to Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos. Lovecraft described Cthulhu as, “a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers,” which does slightly match the otherwise terrible puppets which represent the true forms of Korob and Sylvia at the end of the story. Also, if you are equipped with a dirty sense of humour, there's unintentional comedy in the moment Sylvia declares, “I am a woman. I am all women,” before kneeling before Kirk and placing her hands on his hips. It looks as if she is about to commit a most indecorous act. Sylvia may be all women but she's clearly no lady.

Given this script director Joseph Pevney does his best but, as with The Apple, he's clearly struggling to engage with the material. Korob gets an unusual close-up when he argues with Sylvia. There's a terrific tracking shot as Kirk, Spock, and McCoy search the planet at the beginning of the episode; the trio walk down a shallow gulley which allows rocks to move in the foreground and background. The jump cut from the dungeon to throne room, as Kirk, Spock, and McCoy struggle with Sulu and Scotty, is effective and momentarily disorientating but weirdly the most effective piece of editing isn't in the episode itself. The Next Voyage advert for Catspaw includes the sequence where Sylvia demonstrates her ability to change between different female forms. As she changes someone, probably film editor Bruce Shoengarth, inserts short shots of the cat snarling as a transition between the different forms. It's more creepy and effective than anything in the episode.

Enterprise crew deaths: One, Lieutenant Jackson who does a spectacular belly flop onto the transporter pad after beaming up dead.

Running total: 35

Misc:

Journey Into Terror a 1965 episode of Doctor Who features the TARDIS crew landing in what appears to be the collective human unconscious while on the run from the Daleks. As in Catspaw, spooky haunted house imagery is the order of the day (along with Dracula and Frankenstein).
There must have been something in the air, or possibly the collective unconscious, during the mid sixties for two series on both sides of the Atlantic to reference Jung's theories in such similar ways, and so close together. Jung died in 1961 but his last book Man And His Symbols was published in 1964. Possibly it was this which raised awareness of his work.

The Doomsday Machine

William Windom is brilliant as Commodore Matt Decker. It's probably the best performance by a guest star on a series not always notable for allowing guest stars to shine. Unless an actor is extremely good, or very lucky, they stand little chance of making an impression against Star Trek's regular cast and attendant science-fiction gubbins (winking lights, strange makeup, weird noises, bizarre creatures, etc). Pity poor Alfred Ryder credited as the guest star of The Man Trap when all the audience remembers is the salt vampire, or Robert Brown dropped at the last minute into a thankless role (technically two thankless roles) in The Alternative Factor and unable to make an impression against the special effects of that episode. There are actors who make Star Trek work for them. William Campbell, as Trelane in The Squire Of Gothos, and Ricardo Montalban, as Khan in Space Seed both take big central characters and make them their own. More impressively Mark Lenard, as the Romulan Commander with no name in Balance Of Terror, and Celia Lovsky as T'Pau in Amok Time both make very good impressions in considerably smaller roles than those given to Ricardo Montalban or William Campbell. Generally speaking though Star Trek tends to be a series which treats the guest star role as disposable. A slot which can be filled by simply giving the star something different to do (evil Kirk in The Enemy Within), or by a prop (Nomad in The Changeling), or a costume (the Gorn, Arena), or by not bothering with a guest star at all (Operation – Annihilate!).

William Windom is so good it comes as something of a disappointment to discover he thought the role, “seemed kind of silly, with the planet eater and spaceships. It's like doing a cartoon, so I acted accordingly!” As a fan, his blunt comment disappoints for two reasons. First because as a non-actor it's easy to assume an actor has to like the material to turn in a good performance (an assumption most actors would probably consider an insult to their professionalism). Secondly because The Doomsday Machine is great. It would be nice to think some of that greatness rubbed off on Windom and made him remember this job as different from the more run of the mill material. Still, it's a reasonable assessment from an actor with an amazingly long career, who seemed to regard television as the disposable portion of his work. The Doomsday Machine was one of ten jobs Windom had in 1967 (the others being parts in Run for Your Life, The Fugitive, Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre, Hour of the Gun, The Invaders, Custer, Gentle Ben, Dundee and the Culhane, and Judd for the Defense). Imagine how the job must have appeared from his perspective. Five days schlepping across Los Angeles to a soundstage at Desilu (a company past its prime), surrounded by the aforementioned blinking lights and actors in strange makeup, and being told to look scared at something the production team will add later.

There's a surprising similarity between Commodore Decker and Finney from Court Martial. Most obviously in both cases the production team dress the character in a gold coloured top, and give them stubble; apparently the ultimate sign in the 1960s of someone losing their mind. Both actors use the same performance style for their character; letting their voice crack, bulging their eyes, and making quick transitions between emotional states. The key difference is Windom's performance works while Richard Webb's seems melodramatic and over the top. Party this is down to the way each character is introduced to the audience. Court Martial spends a great deal of its running time telling us how everyone loves Finney; he's popular in Starfleet (certainly much more popular than Kirk judging by the welcome he gets at Starbase 11), and generally together enough to assemble (and fake evidence for) an elaborate revenge plot against Captain Kirk. When Finney is finally revealed as a ranting, barely in control madman there's a mismatch between what the audience has been told, and what they are shown, and Webb's performance seems wrong. By contrast The Doomsday Machine sets up two destroyed planetary systems, and a wrecked starship. After Matt Decker is introduced in a virtually catatonic state Windom's performance seems appropriate because his character has obviously gone through hell. Also, Windom is a better actor than Webb. That's not to run down Webb's performance too much because he's fine in Court Martial, but Windom is just astonishing.

KIRK: Matt, where's your crew?

DECKER: On the third planet.

KIRK: There is no third planet.

DECKER: Don't you think I know that? There was, but not anymore. They called me. They begged me for help, four hundred of them. I couldn't. I couldn't.

Windom brings those lines to life. His red-eyed, crumpled face delivery of “don't you think I know that,” is pure melodrama but it works perfectly and sets a doom-laden tone for the rest of the episode. It's no surprise to learn he used to self-deprecatingly refer to himself as Willie the Weeper.

It's the addition of Matt Decker to The Doomsday Machine which makes Norman Spinrad's script sing. His character defines the threat to the Enterprise, acting as a warning from the future of what Kirk could become if his luck ever runs out. Decker also doubles the threat to the Enterprise crew. There's the external threat from the planet killer, and the internal one from Decker who is obsessed with taking revenge against the machine which killed his crew. Decker's presence also makes Kirk more heroic. It's not accidental that Decker as a Commodore outranks both Spock and Kirk. If Decker was a mere Captain he would still be able to take charge of the Enterprise but there would be no drama in the scene where Kirk orders Spock to relieve Decker. It would simply be one Captain taking action against another, the scene only works because Kirk has to undercut the chain of command. The script also shows why Spock is a natural second in command. He knows Decker is wrong but he plays things by the book and follows regulations. He lacks Kirk's ability to make an intuitive leap and find another solution. Essentially Spock's plan is to keep confronting Decker with the facts until he listens to reason. “You tried to destroy it once before, Commodore. The result was a wrecked ship and a dead crew.” Spock doesn't understand emotion enough to realise that saying astonishingly brutal things like that don't help; especially not to someone still grieving over the deaths of 430 crew. The scenes where Decker assumes command of the Enterprise show what an asset Leonard Nimoy is to Star Trek. When Deforest Kelly yells, “do something,” Nimoy's stone-faced stare manages to project the impression that Spock's mind is going at a million miles an hour trying to find a way to relieve Decker of command; really Nimoy was probably wondering what to have for lunch.

The presence of Commodore Decker is also what separates the threat in The Doomsday Machine from the similar one posed by Nomad three episodes ago in The Changeling. Both are apparently unstoppable machines capable of wiping out planetary systems, and both pose a massive threat to the Enterprise. Apart from the difference in size, it's only Nomad's ability to talk which separates the two. The dividing line between good and average stories is very fine and it's easy to imagine transplanting elements from The Changeling into The Doomsday Machine. Nomad could easily have sterilized the Constellation crew, leaving Decker out for revenge and shocked by the threat posed by something so small. Or, Kirk could have beamed inside the planet killer and talked the controlling computer to death with illogic. Kirk is also dealing with a considerable ramping up of threat. Over the last year and a bit he's gone from dealing with a single salt vampire on the Enterprise, to planetary outbreaks of insanity, to machines capable of destroying entire planetary systems.

Marc Daniels, a solid workmanlike director, injects some flourishes into the bridge scenes. Most notably in a lovely tracking shot which starts on Sulu, follows a yellow shirted ensign round to Kirk who then walks in front of the bridge screen and around to Spock. Daniels must have been, understandably, proud of this shot as he repeats it with Kirk and Spock at the end of the episode. Film editor Donald R. Rode also does good work intercutting Kirk and McCoy searching the Constellation with Scotty and the damage control team examining engineering. He also manages to extend the final 30 second countdown to 90 seconds. Something which he makes tense, rather than silly, by cutting frantically between the Enterprise bridge, Scotty attempting to fix the transporter, the transporter room, exterior shots, and Kirk on the Constellation, “Gentlemen, I suggest you beam me aboard.”

Helping Donald R. Rode's cutting in the 30 second countdown is Sol Kaplan's astonishing score. As the planet killer closes on the Constellation, Kaplan gives us a pulsing rhythm which speeds up and increases the tension as the Constellation and the planet killer close on each other, and ends on cornets blaring as the planet killer is destroyed. Kaplan's music is what makes The Doomsday Machine such an outstanding Star Trek episode. It perfectly underscores big moments like Decker flying the shuttle into the planet killer's maw and small ones like the first sighting of the crippled Constellation. Just as important, Kaplan understands the value of silence. When the Enterprise is caught in the planet killer's tractor beam, and Spock threatens to relieve Decker on the grounds that his actions would amount to suicide, the whole scene plays out with no music, and instead the score is brought back on Sulu's line, “we're being pulled inside” to make the ending of act two more dramatic.

Kaplan also composes a theme for people using the transporter which leads to a great musical double-bluff as Kirk sets the timer running on Scotty's lashed up self-destruct system for the Constellation. In the build up to Kirk pressing the red button the music is playing the pulsing planet killer pursuit theme. As he presses the button a trumpet plays a little flurry which extends out into a single held note. The same note as the one which starts the already established transporter theme. As the film cuts to a shot of the transporter the music sounds as if it is making a transition between the theme for the planet killer and the one for the transporter and it tricks the audience into expecting to see Kirk beamed safely aboard. Instead the transporter gives out a puff of smoke, and the held note breaks up into a musical sting. Amusingly, Kaplan is the name of one of the unfortunate guards killed in The Apple (the 9^th episode filmed, after The Doomsday Machine but shown the week before), he's the one zapped by lightning, maybe someone on the writing team was having a joke.

Enterprise crew deaths: None.

Running total: 34

The Apple

“You'll learn to care for yourselves, with our help. And there's no trick to putting fruit on trees. You might enjoy it. You'll learn to build for yourselves, think for yourselves, work for yourselves, and what you create is yours. That's what we call freedom. You'll like it, a lot. And you'll learn something about men and women, the way they're supposed to be. Caring for each other, being happy with each other, being good to each other. That's what we call love. You'll like that, too, a lot. You and your children.”

Regardless of Captain Kirk's optimistic speech at the end of The Apple, all the inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI are probably doomed. 

Once snake headed machine demi-god Vaal has been defeated the planet has a population of 15; literally. Normally the reality of having a handful of extras to suggest an entire population would mean making some allowance for artistic licence. The townsfolk of The Return Of The Archons make some vague references to “the valley” and although other towns are never mentioned it's safe to assume they were out there somewhere on Beta Three; full of people surprised to suddenly find the peace of Landru withdrawn. Likewise in Miri there are probably other cities and other children on the planet. In The Apple the story doesn't work if Vaal is a machine with multiple heads in other villages across the planet. Vaal's energy levels are drained first by acting against the Enterprise in orbit, and then by having to reinforce its shield against the ship's phasers. Vaal dies because it can't top up its energy when Kirk stops the villagers feeding Vaal. If there are other villages to feed the machine then its energy cannot be depleted.

So there's a single village on Gamma Trianguli VI. But could there be more than 15 villagers? Are the rest off looking for whatever it is Vaal uses as fuel (it's never clear but at feeding time it looks as if the villagers are dropping in the exploding rocks which kill one of the Enterprise landing party, that Vaal uses these as fuel makes some sort of sense). This also does not seem to be the case. “These are the people of Vaal,” says Akuta when he brings the landing party to the village. Kirk asks, “where are the others,” and Akuta replies, “there are no others.” Kirk is talking about children, but Akuta doesn't know that, he doesn't even know what children are (Vaal has forbidden love, it's that sort of snake-headed machine demi-god), so when Akuta says “there are no others,” he can only be telling the literal truth. There are no hunting parties out looking for fuel for Vaal. No one else is out gathering fruit. What you see is what you get. And what you get at feeding time are 15 people. Eight men and seven women. Even if 15 people is enough to keep the population level up there are going to be lots of cyclops running around and bumping into trees within a few generations.

Also note that number; 15. It's all very well for Kirk to go on about how the feeders of Vaal will like learning about love but simple maths suggests one unlucky man is going to be left out while the others pair up to learn about kissing. Let's hope Vaal's lesson in killing didn't stick.

Also, Gamma Trianguli VI is a deathtrap. Three security guards are killed. One by a plant that spits poison darts, another is struck by lightning, and the third treads on an exploding rock. The way the lightning targets the landing party suggests it must be under Vaal's control. But if Vaal controls the weather then it's also responsible for the remarkably mild climate (“a planet-wide average of seventy six degrees”) and with Vaal switched off the weather is going to become unpredictable; winter's coming, and the feeders of Vaal are not dressed for snow. Or maybe the plants will get them. Judging by the way the plants take pot-shots at the Enterprise crew they were some sort of Vaal controlled defence mechanism, which means they are now growing wild and removed from Vaal's controlling influence. Or maybe the unlucky feeders of Vaal will tread on one of the exploding rocks which can be found all over the surface.

None of this would matter if The Apple wasn't framed as a moral debate between Kirk, Spock, and McCoy about whether it was right to set the villagers free from Vaal's influence, and if the episode didn't conclude that setting them free was the correct course of action.

SPOCK: Captain, I'm not at all certain we did the correct thing on Gamma Trianguli Six.

MCCOY: We put those people back on a normal course of social evolution. I see nothing wrong in that.

This debate about freeing the feeders of Vaal doesn't work because that's not the decision Kirk has to make during The Apple. Kirk's decision is whether or not to destroy Vaal in order to free the Enterprise. When it becomes clear to Kirk that there is no alternative he doesn’t hesitate to save his ship; Vaal must die. Spock and McCoy's debate about whether the villagers should be freed to develop on their own terms or left as they are is just hot air. Vaal will be shut down, and as a side effect of this the villagers will be left to fend for themselves.

It's surprising to see a Star Trek episode miss its own point so badly. The focus of The Apple should be on Kirk weighing the lives of the 500 Enterprise crew against the 15 people living on the planet. The odd thing is, in the early stages of The Apple it does look like this is going to be the moral dilemma. Kirk is in an odd maudlin mood and indulges in some self-flagellation when Mallory becomes the third landing party member to be killed.

KIRK: Kaplan. Hendorff. I know Kaplan's family. Now Mallory.
MCCOY: Jim, you couldn't have stopped any of this.
KIRK: His father helped me get into the Academy.
SPOCK: Captain. In each case, this was unavoidable.
KIRK: I could've prevented all of it.
SPOCK: I don't see how.
KIRK: A walk in paradise, among the green grass and flowers. We should've beamed up at the first sign of trouble.
SPOCK: You are under orders to investigate this planet and this culture.
KIRK: I also have the option to disregard those orders if I consider them overly hazardous. This isn't that important a mission, Spock. Not worth the lives of three of my men. I drop my guard for a minute because I like the smell of growing things, and now three men are dead. And the ship's in trouble.

It's a mystery why the episode backs away from examining the decisions Kirk must make to keep the Enterprise safe and instead turns into a confused Garden of Eden allegory. Admittedly there's not a great deal of drama in asking if Kirk would let his ship and crew be destroyed (hint, no). It's also possible someone was worried about making Kirk look harsh and unheroic if he unambiguously came out and said he would always put the Enterprise first. More likely this is one of those occasions when I've got the benefit of 45 years of hindsight. It's easy for me to say The Apple is focusing on the wrong part of the story. I'm not in the middle of a crunch period with Robert Justman standing on my desk demanding the completed script now!

Whatever the reason, it quickly grates when Spock and McCoy keep harping on about the correct moral choice regarding the feeders of Vaal. Not least because no one ever thinks to ask the villagers. It's a debate conducted entirely above the villagers' heads. The lowest point comes when a fourth landing party member is killed by the feeders of Vaal (their god has ordered them to murder the landing party in a final attempt to remove the bad influence of these people who keep kissing each other). Standing over the dead body of Marple Spock smugly announces, “They've taken the first step [towards achieving their full human potential] they've learned to kill.” It's meant to be a powerful moment but it just makes Spock look like a petty point scorer. A man is dead Spock, try to show a little decorum rather than going “hey look this dead body I'm standing over proves McCoy is wrong!”

Vaal was always going to be destroyed, it has to be to save the Enterprise. There is no other option. Vaal has backed Kirk into a corner. It has disabled the ship and is trying to kill the landing party. The fate of the feeders of Vaal is an irrelevance. Ironically Kirk comes closest to nailing down the futility of the constant debate when he says, “gentlemen, I think this philosophical argument can wait until our ship's out of danger.” But it doesn't wait and the writers end up making Kirk look like a hypocrite because they give him lines like, “we owe it to them to interfere.” Kirk's speech at the end about how great it is that the feeders of Vaal can now have babies and pick their own fruit just seems stupid. He shouldn't be pretending he was doing them a favour when what he was actually doing was saving the Enterprise.

Enterprise crew deaths: Hendorf (poisoned by a dart spitting plant), Kaplan (struck by lightning and vaporised), Mallory (treads on an exploding rock), and Marple (clubbed to death).

Running total: 34