John Kenneth Muir's Blog, page 2

September 15, 2025

Lost in Space 60th Anniversary: "The War of the Robots"


In one corner, we have Robby the Robot, famous cinematic automaton of the classic film, Forbidden Planet (1956). 
And in the other corner, we have lovable B-9, mechanical guardian of our space family Robinson and popular hero of  Lost in Space.


May the best robot win!



In very silly terms, that's the set-up for this classic first season  Lost in Space  (1965-1968) episode, "The War of the Robots," which aired originally on CBS on February 9, 1966.


Here, the stranded Robinsons unexpectedly discover a quiescent "robotoid" in an overgrown grove near their homestead, covered in vines. 

The Robinsons' protective robot insists the alien machine (Robby...) is an "extreme danger" to the humans, in part because of Robby's very nature: he's a "robotoid" (unlike the Robot), and robotoids are advanced machines which can go beyond the bounds of their programming.


Robotoids have a "choice,” according to the Robot in the way they follow (or don't follow...) orders and instructions. 
The Robinsons and especially Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) believe their Robot is just jealous of the new machine, which -- when activated by Will (Bill Mumy) -- shows an affinity for repairing watches, the damaged chariot, and other crucial devices.


Dr. Smith derides the familiar family robot as a "clumsy has-been" and "obsolete" as, in short order, Robby the Robotoid becomes practically invaluable to the marooned Robinsons (save for Penny, who has mysteriously vanished from the entire episode...without it being noticed by her Mom or Dad). 


Soon, Robby confronts the B-9 and tells him that the Robinsons no longer need their original robot and that "in comparison" to himself, the B-9 is "very ignorant."



Alone and abandoned, B-9 skulks away into the rocks -- having lost his family -- and soon Robby's true motives emerge. He is actually the dedicated servant to an alien scientist (a kind of dog-alien that very much resembles the Anticans from the  Star Trek: The Next Generation  episode "Lonely Among Us" that was produced and broadcast twenty-one years later...). 



The Robotoid's mission is not to serve the Robinsons, but rather to disarm them, render them "harmless" and deliver them as experimental subjects to the aliens. 


"You are weak and vulnerable creatures," Robby tells the Robinsons, "but there are others who have need of you..."


In the end, it's a battle-to-the-death between a nearly-invincible Robby, the most famous robot in film history, and a vastly-under-powered Bubble-Headed Booby, the most famous mechanical man of television...



I love the way the first season of the series is shot, and this episode is a prime example. In "The War of the Robots," for instance, a fluid camera glides in menacingly towards Robby the Robot at least twice, pushing portentously towards the inscrutable juggernaut. 


A less efficient production might have used a zoom instead of taking the time and energy to move the camera, but you can tell that there was no expense spared in early  Lost in Space , and generally, the series is really well-filmed. 
There's even a sense of visual ingenuity (and wit...) in the episode's final battle between clunky metal men. They flap and lumber their way through a cloud of opaque smoke, laboring to find the best kill position.


In some ways, “War of the Robots” is also like the dam breaking in  Lost in Space , at least in terms of the depiction of the Robot.  He has been mainly the tool, so far, of Doctor Smith, and occasional helper of the family...but he hasn’t been sentimentalized.  
The sentimentalization of the machine begins in earnest at this juncture.  The Robot is seen as lonely, emotionally wounded, and looked over by his beloved family.  Will and Maureen, similarly, begin to express their feelings for the dutiful robot in this emotional fashion.
The "War of the Robots" narrative is one we can all identify with. The Robot feels squeezed out by his new "sibling," Robby, and becomes jealous that, well, there's somebody newer and more exciting in the room. 
The Robot begins striking out at those who love him (refusing to help Will...), becomes petulant and even self-loathing (describing the fact that he has been denied or "cheated" out of human characteristics evidenced by the Robotoid.)


Let's face it: haven't we all felt displaced like that from time to time? By a brother or a sister? By your best friend's 'new' buddy? 
It's strange that a story so plainly concerning sibling rivalry involves an ostensibly "emotion-less" robot, but again, that's the great thing about science fiction on television: it can dramatize stories in a way a regular drama can't.


"The War of the Robots" is a fable or lesson about jealousy, and every other dramatic consideration  about the episode is largely secondary.
In this way, the series conforms to its overarching idea: that of a pioneer family determining how to thrive on the frontier, with all sorts of challenges around.  
Only in this case, it is clear that the robot is part of the family, and not just an instrument or device. 
When we enter the space age,  Lost in Space  tells us, even our technology will be part of "us."
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Published on September 15, 2025 09:00

Lost in Space 60th Anniversary: "My Friend, My Nobody"


In “My Friend, Mr. Nobody,” Penny (Angela Cartwright) unexpectedly makes an alien friend in a cave. This cave manifests, at first, as just as a voice, but soon is able to demonstrate strange and fearsome powers.


Penny attempts to convince her family that Mr. Nobody is real, and a million-year-old life-form, as he claims but she is ignored and disbelieved by the other Robinsons, who are busy improving their settlement.


When Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) learns that there are diamonds in Mr. Nobody’s cave, he becomes determined to drill there, with no worry whatsoever about the well-being of Penny’s friend…




“My Friend, Mr. Nobody” is a magical episode of  Lost in Space  (1965 – 1968), a story of both great empathy (for Penny) and remarkable imagination.  
"My Friend, Mr. Nobody" takes the familiar “imaginary friend” trope (later featured, less imaginatively, on  Star Trek: The Next Generation  as “Imaginary Friend,”) and transforms it into a story about loneliness, friendship, and purpose.


In particular, the story’s main character, Penny, is at loose ends.  Her mother is busy working at the Jupiter 2. Her father and Don are busy with the laser drill.  Even Will is too busy to play with her.  


So Penny must spend her days alone, without attention, feeling unloved and unimportant. But before long, she encounters this “friend” in the dark cave, a friend who values her, and talks to her about things that matter.  They speak of “death” and what it means (‘when someone can’t speak anymore, or move anymore”) and become fast-friends, dedicated to each other’s well-being.  Penny realizes, through her conversations with Mr. Nobody that her thoughts and words matter; that they make a difference.


There are moments in “My Friend, Mr. Nobody” that ring very true in terms of earthbound childhood too. For example, Penny feels hurt when the person she trusts the most, her mother, fails to believe her story of Mr. Nobody.  
Of all the people who should believe her, it is Mom. When Penny catches her mother humoring her, treating her as just a "kid," the moment represents an unwelcome entrance into the grown up world of awareness.  



Dr. Smith -- who says “oh, the pain; the pain” for the first time in this episode -- is pretty despicable here too.  He attempts to trick Penny by pretending to be the voice of Mr. Nobody. And then, later, his attempt to acquire diamonds means, essentially, the murder of this imaginary friend.  Penny's lesson here is that many adults treat friendship as secondary, and wealth as primary.  Penny's friendship means nothing to Dr. Smith if he has a chance to get rich.
The episode ends, finally, with Mr. Nobody facing off against the robot, evolving, heading off to the stars to his next stage of existence, but no doubt carrying his friendship with Penny with him to that destination.  

It’s a nice note to go out on, and one that suggests that a child's friendship is not an unimportant, or insignificant thing.  Everyone treats Penny like she is a dumb kid, but she proves a crucial part of Mr. Nobody’s maturation process.  She alone helps him grow.  She alone can understand that he is not a monster.  The adults, in this case, are dead wrong.  


“My Friend, Mr. Nobody” is one of the very best episodes of Lost in Space episodes because it serves well an under-utilized character, Penny, and does a remarkably thoughtful job of imagining what her life must be like, always playing second fiddle to Will.
But more than that, the episode finds that there is inherent value in the friendship of a child. Spending time with your children is not a waste of time, not a lark.  It is something, instead, that matters.  This episode plays like a space age fairy tale, replete with darkness and fear, but also with a happy ending that validates a child’s sense of wonder, and his or her sense of self, as well.
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Published on September 15, 2025 07:00

Lost in Space 60th Anniversary: "The Derelict"


In “The Derelict,” the second-ever episode of  Lost in Space  (1965 – 1968), Maureen Robinson (June Lockhart) dons a space suit and attempts to save John (Guy Williams), who is outside the Jupiter 2 on a delicate repair mission gone awry.  


As the Robinson parents attempt to return inside the vessel, the airlock jams and a flaming comet nears.  If they can’t make it inside the ship’s protective hull, they will burn up.


A last minute rescue brings the Robinson elders inside, and sometime later, John reflects in his journal that the Jupiter 2 must have gone through hyperspace at some point, which accounts for its extreme distance from Earth, and the crew’s inability to pinpoint the ship’s location. Robinson also declares that the man responsible for the ship’s plight, Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris) will henceforth be treated as a “stowaway.”

Even as Alpha Control declares “America’s first space family” lost, Will (Bill Mumy) picks up a signal somewhere nearby the Jupiter 2. Smith suspects his own people are attempting to rescue him, but the truth is far mysterious.  The source of the signal is a derelict of alien origin.


The Jupiter 2 is pulled inside the derelict, and John uses the opportunity to search the vessel for a star map that could pinpoint their location. Meanwhile, Will discovers the denizens of the ship...and Dr. Smith promptly shoots one of the aliens.





“The Derelict” has always been one of my favorite episodes of  Lost in Space  because I enjoy both the idea of humans encountering a mysterious alien space vessel, and because the aliens -- weird, electrically-charged bubble-things -- are not humanoid in design


Still, on this re-watch I couldn’t help but notice how long it takes to get to the central action. The first portion of the episode, with Maureen and John still on an ill-fated spacewalk takes forever to resolve. 
And everything is slowed down exponentially by the creative choice to act as if outer space is water, and all physical movements are occurring, essentially, in molasses. The end of “The Reluctant Stowaway” and the beginning of “The Derelict” are harmed to a large extent by the fact that the story -- and the characters themselves -- move so slowly.  This is one area where the fifty year old series has not held up well.



Once the Jupiter 2 enters the alien ship (which folds open in glorious, mid-1960s, pre-CGI miniature work…), the action picks up.  The Robinsons are confronted with an unknown species, a spaceship interior littered in cob-webs, and then truly alien appearing beings.  Leave it to Dr. Smith to turn an opportunity for friendship into a disastrous first contact experience.


Still, this “chance encounter” with the aliens grants the Robinsons the information they need. And they set off towards a nearby planet, where they hope to settle.  The setting of the alien ship provides some great production design.  I like the weird computer alcove, where Major West and John Robinson seek to extract information. And the alien first emerges (near Will) behind an area that looks very much like brain matter.








After so much 1960s “future” tech in the first episode, the interior of the derelict -- dark and frightening -- makes a great visual diversion.


Indeed, I like the mysterious aspects of “The Derelict,” and the idea that the Robinsons are now un-tethered from Earth not only in terms of location and communication, but in terms of chronology. They reckon here with a spaceship that could be ages old, and certainly is the product of a culture far different from their own.


The special effects in this episode area all extraordinary, from the comet that approaches the Jupiter 2 to the composites from the ship’s control room that show the approach to the derelict.  The landing sequence of the Jupiter 2, in dark, chaotic terrain, also holds up remarkably well. Perhaps aided by the moody black-and-white photography, these moments don’t show their age at all.



The alien beings -- when they are first seen -- are similarly impressive. Non-humanoid in design, they appear to be genuinely from a different world and different form of evolution.  They only time they don’t impress is during the final chase, when they seem to scoot across the ship’s floor as if on wheels (like Daleks).


In terms of characterization, and in particular, Dr. Smith, John Robinson is right to treat him as a “stowaway” but in the very next episode, “Islands in the Sky,” he still has free run of the ship.  There’s an old joke (originated by David Gerrold?) about Dr. Smith being given a tour of the nearest airlock. There are times in these early episodes, with lives grievously threatened, that Smith is treated too well by the others.  He is constantly endangering the crew, and represents not just a current threat, but a future threat as well.  If I were Robinson, I might not have tossed him out the airlock, but rather marooned him on that alien derelict and let him take his chances with the crew that he attacked.  
That’s his problem…let him clean it up.


Speaking of airlocks, we’re only in episode two of  Lost in Space  at this juncture, and already the Jupiter 2 is malfunctioning a lot.  A sensor stops working. The airlock jams. And so on.  This thing needed a shakedown cruise!
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Published on September 15, 2025 05:00

60 Years Ago: Lost in Space: "The Reluctant Stowaway"



"This is the beginning. This is the day. You are watching the unfolding of one of history's great adventures. Man's colonization of space. Beyond the stars..."



With these portentous words, so begins Irwin Allen's 1965-1968 science fiction TV series, Lost in Space, sixty years old in 2025


Visually, the episode "The Reluctant Stowaway" commences with a majestic camera sweep of an impressive LBJ-era mission control center populated by numerous technicians. 
Well, it's not LBJ era, technically, but rather an LBJ era imagining of how the future would likely look. Thus computers are gigantic, wall-sized machines with beeping gauges, reel-to-reel tapes, and blinking lights…lots of blinking lights.



The day is October 16, 1997, the viewer is informed, as Alpha Control is dominated by the hustle and bustle of expectant activity. A narrator with booming voice next informs us that the space program is in preparations to send a family into space, to a habitable planet in orbit of Alpha Centauri. 

The Robinsons have been selected for this particular mission out of 2.2 million prospective families. And their vessel, the "super spaceship" Jupiter 2 is seventy-five minutes from launch.


The Robinsons, the audience also learns, best fulfill three necessary criteria for explorers in the space age: scientific achievement, pioneer resourcefulness and emotional balance.
These qualities will hold the family in good stead for their 5.5 year journey (though most of the trip will be spent in suspended animation). 
Still, the future of the human race rests on this mission. With the "explosive increase of population" on Earth, the colonization of the stars is nothing less than an imperative. The President of the United States appears in the episode, shortly before launch, and delivers an address. He wonders about the future of Earth and humanity.  
Is this the beginning of a "dawn of plenty" or a planetary "disaster?"


The debut episode of Lost in Space also provides a splendid, highly-detailed tour of the unique craft carrying the Robinson family to the furthest reaches of space. 
The Jupiter 2 is not only a home away from home, we are told, but "the culmination of 40 years of intensive research" (at a cost of 30 billion dollars...); one which makes possible "man's thrust into deep space." 
This two-story craft accommodates state rooms for the crew, a galley, a control deck (with freezing tubes), a med bay and the powerful atomic motors.
One noteworthy piece of equipment on board the craft (to help the Robinsons conduct their mission) is an environmental control robot. The machine is designed for physical examinations of an alien world.








But unfortunately for the Robinsons, as "The Reluctant Stowaway" continues, we learn that someone else is (illicitly...) aboard the Jupiter 2, a foreign saboteur with the rank of colonel, a fella by the name of Dr. Zachary Smith (Jonathan Harris).

He has programmed the robot to -- at precisely "launch plus eight hours" -- destroy the vessel's inertial guidance system, radio transmitter and cabin pressure control system. 
What Smith doesn't realize is that he's the stowaway of the episode's title. He is trapped on board the ship during launch, and thus he will share in the Robinson family's fate.


Written by S. Bar David and directed by Tony Leader, "The Reluctant Stowaway" introduces television audiences to the main characters and central concepts of this space drama. As one might guess from the title of the series, the Jupiter 2's maiden flight will experience all sorts of difficulties and disasters, with the Robinsons and Smith hopelessly...lost in the space.


The dramatis personae on  Lost in Space  also include Dr. John Robinson (Guy Williams), the patriarch of the clan. He's a rock solid man's man, a geologist and space scientist perfectly suited to the colonization of space. 
His wife is Maureen Robinson (June Lockhart), a loving matriarchal-type who admits to some fear and misgivings about the mission. "I should say something light and clever," she notes as the journey begins, "I just can't." 





Then there's Judy (Marta Kristen), the eldest Robinson daughter and a brilliant scientist in her own right. 
Adolescent and mischievous Penny (Angela Cartwright) and the little genius, Will Robinson (Billy Mumy) round out the family. They are average American kids (of the space age...) and one charming scene in the episode reveals them playing in a weightless environment, care-free and innocent.



Piloting the ship is Mark Goddard's stolid Major Don West, who -- quite rightly, given his options -- sets his eyes on Judy. He notes in the episode that if the Robinsons wake up and find him driving the boat, they'll know they are in trouble.  That's actually precisely what occurs.



Shot in crisp shades of beautiful black-and-white, "The Reluctant Stowaway" chronicles the launch of Jupiter 2 and its subsequent "stranding" in deep space. 
With Smith aboard, there are 200 extra lbs. to account for, and the ship strays from its trajectory even before the robot breaks bad and fulfill its sabotaged programming. 





In the course of the hour, a number of space hazards emerge, including an asteroid belt which pelts the Jupiter 2's hull. The robot goes on his destructive jag too, thus causing the ship to go further off course ("As of this moment, the spacecraft has left the limits of the galaxy," one character breathlessly intones). 
The episode ends on a cliffhanger note as John heads outside the ship for EVA repairs. His tether breaks...and he spins into the void, out-of-control. Maureen dons a space suit to rescue him, but time is running out.  
This is the only scene in the episode that seems to have aged in fifty years. It takes too long, moves too slowly, and the effects don't hold up. The remainder of the pilot episode is superlative, both well-written and exciting.




The sci-fi TV works of Irwin Allen concern an interesting conflict or tension. In series such as  Lost in Space, Time Tunnel  (1966), and  Land of the Giants  (1968 -1970), man is on the cusp of possessing great technology, but it fails him, or strands him in environments that are hostile.  
It is then up to resourceful man (and woman!) to eke out survival, rescue or escape. 
So it would be fair to state that Allen's works of art depict technological advances as tricky things. They make great journeys through time and space possible, but in the end, man must still make his own way.
Accordingly, Lost in Space -- at least in the first season -- is a sincere, straight-faced action-adventure, a transposition of the American Western genre; about the newest frontier and the pioneers required to tame deep space. It is, literally (as its source material suggests...), Space Family Robinson.

What I found most fascinating while watching "The Reluctant Stowaway" was the impressive (and apparently obsessive) attention to detail. The production values are superb.


Everything -- from the sets to the costumes and props to the miniatures -- appears absolutely beautiful and carefully devised and constructed.  The Jupiter 2 is a gorgeous set, for instance. And ultimately, the show is quite convincing from a mid-1960s perspective.
Have we outgrown it? Perhaps the melodramatic, humorless tone more than the technology, I'd say.  I still love the "retro" futuristic look of the Jupiter 2. I could easily imagine spending a long space voyage aboard that gorgeous ship.


The episode ends with that cliffhanger and the legend "To be continued next week. Same time, same channel." I found myself immediately wanting to find out what happened next. Truly, the only thing that marks this first incarnation of  Lost in Space  as silly or outdated is the opening credits sequence, which depicts a cartoon spaceship tugging in its wake a line of tethered, space suited astronauts. It seems frivolous for a series about a mankind's "greatest" adventure.

Another fact: Dr. Zachary Smith is one sinister cat at this juncture. He's not the buffoon he would become in later seasons. Instead, he is ultra-menacing and dark. He wants to kill the Robinsons. And he doesn't take that job lightly. He's not a bumbler...he's a killer. Not exactly a playful sort.  He uses every trick in the book in this episode to get Robinson to turn the boat around, back towards Earth. At one point, he even attempts to quarantine Will, claiming that the boy has a virus that will kill him if he returns to suspended animation.


Also, there's a legend that Smith was a minor character at first, and only later took center stage.  It's pretty clear in "Reluctant Stowaway" that Smith is the main character. He is the first primary character introduced, and we spend more time with him individually than with any other character. He is the prime motivator here, for certain.

As noted above,  Lost in Space  is a sci-fi series about a pioneer family pulling together in hard times, and it's good, adventurous fun. It may not be deep or kinky or adult or modern, but it is beautifully-shot and it conveys well the dangers and thrills of space travel in a way I haven't seen on any show in some time. There's a fairy tale aspect to many entries of the series, especially in the well-done first season. 
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Published on September 15, 2025 03:00

September 13, 2025

The Horror Mythology of Space 1999



"We're a long way from home, and we're going to have to start thinking differently if we're going to come to terms with space."

-Professor Victor Bergman, Space: 1999; "Matter of Life and Death"

One important quality that differentiates Space: 1999 (1975-1977) from virtually any other outer space adventure ever created, even after thirty-five years, is its heavy accent on horror.

Unlike  Star Trek , wherein planets are joined peacefully across the ocean of space as part of a cosmic, political United Nations, Gerry and Sylvia Anderson's  Space: 1999  presents the universe as a realm of incomprehensible and total, abject terror.

Because the heroes of  Space: 1999  (1975 -1977) -- the 311 astronauts and scientists stationed on Moonbase Alpha -- are psychologically and technologically unprepared for their unexpected journey into deepest space (it's the result of an accident on the moon's surface...) even the most wonderful or harmless mechanisms of the cosmos appear frightening, foreboding and unknown to these inexperienced, contemporary travelers. It's a metaphor, perhaps, for the way our cave-men ancestors may have regarded thunder, fire, the sun or the moon -- as inexplicable, fearsome elements of existence.

Given this revolutionary and fascinating aspect of  Space: 1999 , I thought it might prove interesting today to make note of many of the horror myths, legends and concepts that  Space: 1999  re-purposed during its two year, 48-episode run. Virtually all of these conceits, you will note, were given a technological sheen or update for the series, a polish well in keeping with an overarching theme that  Science Digest's  editor, Arielle Emmett termed "the downfall of 20th century technological man."


1. The Premature Burial: "Earthbound"


In the nineteenth century, one of the great human dreads involved being buried alive.

This fear was so widespread, in fact, that some people saw to it that they had emergency signalling devices installed in their coffins upon internment. Gothic author Edgar Allen Poe exploited this societal fear of being buried alive in  The Fall of The House of Usher  and his 1844 short story,  The Premature Burial.

The horror trope of being buried alive has come to be associated with such concepts as claustrophobia (fear of being trapped in a coffin, in a confined space) and body paralysis, the inability to move or function within that confined space.  The primary setting of premature burial fears, of course, is the casket: the narrow, tight final resting place of the human form.   Modern films have also obsessed on the premature burial, namely Wes Craven's  The Serpent and The Rainbow  (1989) and  The Vanishing  (1993).

In  Space:1999 , an episode entitled "Earthbound" by Anthony Terpiloff culminated with a high-tech, futuristic variation on the premature burial conceit.  Earth's Commissioner Simmonds (Roy Dotrice) becomes entombed in a suspended animation device aboard an alien spaceship for a 75-year journey to Earth.  A bully and an opportunist, Simmonds has resorted to extortion and black mail to get this coveted "slot" on Captain Zantor's (Christopher Lee) ship. He pays for his moral infraction, however, when -- just hours into the trip -- he awakens inside the transparent suspended animation chamber, the futuristic equivalent of a coffin..

Simmonds even has an emergency signalling device on his person, an Alphan communicator called a "commlock." He alerts Moonbase Alpha to his mortal plight, but the wandering moon is too far distant to come to his assistance. Simmonds is thus left behind -- alive and conscious -- in the claustrophobic container, without the possibility of help or rescue, a perfect metaphor for the terror inherent in the convention of the premature burial.

2. The Siren: "The Guardian of Piri"


Ancient Greek mythology gave the world the concept of Sirens: seductresses of the not-quite human variety who lured sailors to their isolated island with a tempting song, and then kept them trapped there for all eternity. The Sirens, uniquely, were temptresses of the mind or spirit, not the flesh, and boasted knowledge beyond the confines of linear time. Always depicted as females, the Sirens bore knowledge of both the past and future.

In Homer's epic poem,  The Odyssey , sea captain and warrior Odysseus -- on his long journey home -- had himself physically strapped to the mast of his vessel so he could experience the Siren song for himself. Let's just say it drove him to distraction.
In  Space: 1999's  "The Guardian of Piri," written by Christopher Penfold, the wandering moon (also searching for "home,"much like Odysseus) falls under the tantalizing spell of "The Guardian" on an alien world.
The Guardian, like the mythical sirens of the Greeks, extends its purview beyond the linear progression of time. In fostering "perfection" in its captive wards it can actually freeze time, holding living life-forms in a permanent stasis.  Space:1999's  Odysseus surrogate, Commander Koenig (Martin Landau), doesn't tie himself to the mast of Moonbase Alpha to resist the lure, but he is the only man on the installation able to resist the beguiling, female face of the Guardian, played by lovely Catherine Schell. Even Moonbase Alpha's oracle, Victor Bergman falls under the spell, describing, briefly, an "old man's fantasies." Finally, Computer itself is tempted by the Siren song and is "removed" to Piri.

3. The Midas Touch: "Force of Life"


In Greek mythology, there was also a man named King Midas of Phyrgia, a man who was gifted with the power to turn everything he touched to gold.

This frightful power soon became a curse, however, when his food and water turned to gold, and even his beloved daughter was transformed into a gold statue. In the end, King Midas returned his power to the Earth, by spreading into a running river. After doing so, Midas left behind his love of the material world and material wealth. He came to despise the gold he had once coveted.

Johnny Byrne's outstanding  Space: 1999  episode "Force of Life" involves an Alphan technician, Anton Zoref (Ian McShane), who, because of an alien "gift," develops the terrifying ability to freeze objects and people on contact. The name Zoref is an anagram for FROZE, and Phyrgia even sounds a bit like Frigid. Likewise, when the tale climaxes, Zoref casts off his earthly life, becoming a power of pure energy. In his new form, Zoref, like Midas in a sense, leaves human concerns behind.

The Midas connection in "Force of Life" is perhaps more obscure than some of the other mythology in  Space:1999  and story editor Johnny Byrne once described the episode as one in which a life-form "rises above human form." He told me. "The majesty of the creature (though unfortunate for Zoref) was that it was one step closer to attaining the next stage of existence."

4. The Midwich Cuckoos: "Alpha Child"

Our literary, cinematic and TV tradition is filled with examples of sinister, even demonic "changeling" children. John Wyndham's 1957 novel  The Midwich Cuckoos  (made as the 1960 film  Village of the Damned ) featured otherworldy but human-appearing children who pursued an evil alien agenda against mankind.

The 1950s also gave the world sociopath Rhoda Penmark,  The Bad Seed  of novelist William March: a child without the empathy and innocence we associate with children. By the disco-decade of the 1970s, we were introduced to the demonically possessed Regan in  The Exorcist  (1973) and little Damien, The Anti-Christ, in  The Omen  (1976).

Christopher Penfold's "Alpha Child" presents the tale of the first Alphan born in space, little Jackie Crawford, and the alien changeling (Jarak) who steals his place, possesses his body and accelerates his growth. This terrifying episode is dominated by unforgettable horrific imagery, including that of a child psychically torturing his mother, and a grown child trapped within the too-small confines of a baby incubator. That last visual is a sign of "horror" overcoming technology, an important idea in  Space:1999 .

5. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: "The Full Circle"


The dual, split-personality nature of the human being was observed and charted in Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 novel,  The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde . There, the crux of the story involved the separation of the "sinful" from "the moral" into two distinct beings, the savage Mr. Hyde and the civilized Dr. Jekyll.

Space:1999  also dramatizes a variation of this story, in Jesse Lasky Jr., and Pat Silver's "The Full Circle." Here, the Alphans explore a planet called Retha and soon encounter a tribe of primitive stone-age cavemen. Later, it is learned that the Alphans themselves were the cave-men, having passed through a strange, misty time-warp and regressed to a less-advanced state. This time-warp is beautifully realized as a kind of waterfall of mist in a primeval jungle.

Uniquely, this premise is explored in didactic terms: the Alphans have been separated not into sinful and moral versions of themselves like Jekyll/Hyde, but "primitive" and "technological" versions. And, ironically, it is the technological, modern model (personified by Alan Carter and Sandra Benes) who resort to physical violence.

At the end of the story, a bewildered Koenig notes that there no aliens on the planet to contend with...just flawed human nature. "Because we couldn't speak to each other, couldn't communicate, we misunderstood," Koenig notes. "Yet it was only us there..."

6. Faust: "End of Eternity"


As early as the 1500s, Germany presented the legend of a learned mortal, Johann Fausten, or Dr. Faust, who was willing to trade his immortal soul for knowledge beyond human ken. His partner-in -trade was no one less than Satan, the Devil.

A dissatisfied intellectual, Faust had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and understanding, and went into the devil's bargain with his eyes wide open. Again, it's important: he was a man of science, a doctor.
In  Space: 1999's  chilling "End of Eternity" by Johnny Byrne, the Alphans free a man called Balor (think Baal), from his own personal Hell: an inescapable asteroid prison cell. Balor,like Faust, is a scientist who has discovered the secret to eternal life; the spontaneous regeneration of human tissue. But, this alien devil with the secret of immortality demands a high price of the Alphans if they are to share in his information wealth: eternal submission to his sadistic, violent, Devilish ways. At least one Alphan, a grounded pilot named Baxter, makes a Faustian deal with this alien Lucifer. Koenig, however, refuses to cooperate and in a David & Goliath-like conclusion (that pre-dates Ridley Scott's  Alien  [1979]) sends Balor hurtling out an airlock.

7. The Ghost: "The Troubled Spirit"

Space: 1999's Johnny Byrne here sought to "mix two things," and was stimulated by the idea of "combining horror and science fiction."

"The Troubled Spirit" is an out-and-out, up-front horror story, one involving a ghost that haunts the spirit of a living man, technician Dan Mateo. In fact, the ghost is Dan Mateo himself...a spirit from the future haunting his present, mortal self.


The Alphans, led by their oracle, Victor, must "exorcise" the murderous ghost, but in doing so, end up killing Dan Mateo and scarring him in the exact same fashion as his ghostly specter.

"The Troubled Spirit" also showcases one of the most lyrical, brilliantly-staged opening sequences in all of television history, as a supernatural "wind" blows through the high-tech, white-on-white halls of Moonbase Alpha. Another example of the supernatural or horrific over-powering the auspices of technology and science.

8. St. George vs. The Dragon: "Dragon's Domain"

Saint George was a Christian martyr who saved a king's daughter from being killed by a plague-bearing, giant dragon. George committed this act, however, only after a guarantee that the king's land would soon be converted to Christianity.

Christopher Penfold's outstanding Space: 1999 "Dragon's Domain" actually references the tale of St. George vs. The Dragon in its text.

Here, the paradigm has been updated: it's astronaut Tony Cellini (Gianno Giarko) versus a tentacled cyclops which haunts a spaceship graveyard. Tony is not able to slay this dragon (that act is left to Koenig, armed with a hatchet), and Tony never forces a conversion to Christianity.

However, Tony does aggressively push the Alphans, especially Helena Russell, to embrace, let's say, the philosophy of "extreme possibilities" and not cling to earthbound belief systems. "I want you all to throw out the criteria by which you judge what's real....You must believe!" He insists, when faced with disbelievers.

At the end of the story, Koenig, Victor and Helena flee the spaceship graveyard (and the dead monster), essentially converted to Cellini's way of thinking. They have witnessed the impossible with their own eyes: a mesmeric alien creature which does not register on their instruments, and which devours human life forms. Helena brings up the example of Saint George and the Dragon, and suggests that Tony and the Monster will be a part of the new Alphan society's long-term mythology.
9. The Picture of Dorian Gray: "The Exiles"

Oscar Wilde's 1890 novel,  The Picture of Dorian Gray  involved a handsome young man, Dorian Gray, who was beautiful, immoral and also a criminal. While he undertook his reign of terror, Gray's portrait -- in secret -- became aged and horrible, reflecting his morality, his vanity, and his sins.

As for Gray, he himself showed no physical or biological signs of his perversions and presented the appearance of remaining forever young.

In the second season  Space: 1999  episode, "The Exiles," Moonbase Alpha encounters two apparently benign alien teenagers, Cantar (Peter Duncan) and Zova (Stacy Dorning). In fact, these innocent-seeming (and physically beautiful) youngsters are alien insurrectionists. They are centuries-old, but protected by a physical membrane that prevent physical degeneration and aging. At story's end, Helena scratches Cantar's protective membrane, and, like Dorian Gray in Wilde's novel, the weight of the decades lands upon the vain villain in seconds: he super-ages and dies in horrible, gruesome fashion.

10. The Zombie: "All That Glisters "


Before George Romero's stellar re-interpretation of the Zombie mythology in  Night of the Living Dead ( 1968), zombies were often simply mindless human beings; laborers working at the behest of an evil master. They were, in essence, unthinking henchmen in the  White Zombie  (1932) sense.

Space:1999's
 episode "All That Glisters" resurrects this older interpretation of the zombie on a distant planet inhabited by sentient, silicon life-forms. These alien rocks murder Security Chief (Tony Verdeschi) and then re-animate him as a zombie, essentially, to serve as their arms and legs. The horror-overtones of this episode are also quite dramatic. Director Ray Austin deploys some tight-framing, dark-lighting and claustrophobic settings to express the horror of the situation.

Other episodes of  Space: 1999  also dealt explicitly in horror tropes. "Mission of the Darians" concerned the taboo of cannibalism (a concept we see in literature such as  20,000 Leagues Under the Sea ). "Brian the Brain" was a  Frankenstein  story, with a renegade, technological monster (a murderous robot) murdering his creator/father, Captain Michael (Bernard Cribbins).

"Seed of Destruction" was a variation of H.P. Lovecraft's  "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"  only with Koenig confronting an alien doppelganger, rather than a wizardly ancestor of identical physical characteristics. "Death's Other Dominion also involved scientific hubris and super-aging in its unforgettable climax, and "The Testament of Arkadia" highlighted a valley of death - a necropolis of sorts -- on an alien world, as well as ghostly force influencing the Alphans.

Of course, a relevant question is this: why create a technology-based, outer space series utilizing so many instances of horror in mythology, literature and even the movies. The answer lies in Penfold's and Byrne's unique concept of the series.
Specifically, Johnny Byrne once informed me that  Space: 1999  "is a modern day (near future) origin story of a people. The Celts, the Aztecs and the Hebrews all have origin stories. But Space: 1999 took place in real time, not pre-history. It was a futuristic rendering of that old story: of people cast out from their home with no plan, no direction, and no control. There are elements of faith, magic and religion in the series, and nobody seems to understand and accept that. In Space: 1999, we are witnessing the foundation of a culture."

Now imagine that culture established, some two hundred years after the events of  Space: 1999 . The stories those "future" citizens might tell would involve terrifying tales of their founding: of the premature burial, of the encounter with sirens, of St. George and the Dragon, and so forth.

It is this mythic (and horrific) perspective, truly, which makes  Space:1999  so unique a science fiction drama. The series repeatedly pinpoints high-tech corollaries for the ideas that have scared us throughout human history and then takes its characters on a mythic journey through that macabre realm of the unknown. Thrillingly, the series also includes amazing guest performances by horror icons including Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and Richard Johnson
If you're interested in learning more about  Space:1999's  futuristic "origin myth," don't forget to check out my critically-acclaimed book,  Exploring Space:1999 now available on Kindle.
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Published on September 13, 2025 03:00

September 11, 2025

Space 1999 50th Anniversary: "The Immunity Syndrome"


2310 Days after Leaving Earth Orbit


Moonbase Alpha explores a planet in its “West Quadrant.” The world appears habitable, but Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) places a strict quarantine on the food, water, and minerals found there while Alphans learn more.  The planet also contains at least one mystery: a mysterious structure buried beneath a layer of rock.


While exploring the planet, Security Chief Tony Verdeschi (Tony Anholt) gets in a scuffle with another Alphan, after that Alphan stares a strange, glowing light.  Tony spots the same light, and goes mad as well. He becomes violent and paranoid.


Soon after this, the very planet itself seems to transform, becoming increasingly inhospitable to the Alphans. The metals on the Eagle start to corrode too, making an escape from the planet impossible. 
Tony, meanwhile, is dying from “brain cell expansion” because of the alien light he witnessed.


As the planet transforms into an “ecological disaster,” Helena Russell (Barbara Bain) and Maya (Catherine Schell) mount a daring rescue mission to the surface in a re-entry glider, a vessel with no metal parts to corrode.


When the Alphans are able to activate the solar cells on the mysterious structure, they enter it to find the log recordings of a dead alien race.  
This world was once considered for alien colonization plans, but its nature began to grow altered, killing them as it has now started killing the Alphans.  
The dead aliens warn from their logs that there is “only one way out of this pitiless world….death.”


Koenig, however, finds another way. 
He learns that a strange alien being composed of light is responsible both for Tony’s insanity, and the reshaping of the planet’s biosphere.  He hatches a plan to communicate, but it will be dangerous...




“The Immunity Syndrome?” 
Where have I heard that title before?


Seriously, this is a strong and engaging episode of  Space: 1999’s  Year Two, but it would have met with better success, perhaps, under its original (Johnny Byrne) title: “The Face of Eden.” The episode should never have been named after a  Star Trek  episode, especially as the (fascinating) story has at least one element already in common with  Star Trek:  an alien being composed of light who, inadvertently, causes insanity when humanoids gaze upon it (“Is There in Truth No Beauty?”)  And Freiberger was involved in both episodes.


That commonality aside this is a fascinating episode of the series. Although "The Immunity Syndrome" repeats a narrative plot point from “Space Warp” (aliens who leave behind logs of their destruction, giving the Alphans the clues they need not to make the same mistakes), the episode is intriguing, and well-produced.  
Once more, the special effects are astonishing for their era.  In this case, we see the crash-landing not only of an Eagle, but of the new miniature for the show, the re-entry glider.




Although one might again ask questions about execution here -- particularly regarding Koenig’s silly-looking protective suit in the last act, or the voice acting of the inadvertently destructive alien -- overall the episode plays as effective.  The stakes are high, and the conflict arises not from malicious intent, or evil aliens, but from misunderstanding, paranoia, and a difference in  alien nature.  The alien does not know that its appearance is fatal to the humans, and feels guilt when it learns that this is the case.



The episode also succeeds on a character-basis. Helena and Maya transmit particularly well in this segment, risking their lives to get to the planet and save John and Tony. They don’t waver or hesitate, they act…even though great danger is involved. 
And I love the scene in which Bill Fraser (John Hug) risks his life piloting an eagle to get them closer to the best re-entry position. The feeling, as is the case in the best  Space:1999  episodes, is of a community working together, loyally, taking risks for one another.



The episode also provides some interesting background information on Tony Verdeschi, a character who was perhaps never developed as fully as fans might have liked. 
We see a data screen or two on Helena’s medical computer in “The Immunity Syndrome” and it reveals that Tony earned a PhD at Cambridge, in 1993, after attending the University of Rome in 1990. We also learn that he was born in Florence, and that his full-name is Anthony Dean Verdeschi.


In addition to this character information, “The Immunity Syndrome” also finds time to give Alan Carter interesting work to do, including excavating and operating the solar panels of the alien structure.  He also has a great moment of danger, when an Eagle control corrodes and snaps off in his hand...while he is in flight.


From exploding commlocks, to eagle crashes, “The Immunity Syndrome” exemplifies the best potential of  Space: 1999  Year Two: It features good character interaction, a solid science fiction story, and a ton of well-choreographed action.
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Published on September 11, 2025 09:00

Space 1999 50th Anniversary: "Space Warp"


1807 Days after Leaving Earth Orbit


With Maya (Catherine Schell) feverish and sick, and Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) and Tony Verdeschi (Tony Anholt) off-base investigating a derelict ship, the moon is unexpectedly plunged through a space warp. 
In just a matter of seconds, it travels five years through space, stranding the commander and security chief, with little or no hope of returning home.


On Alpha, Alan Carter (Nick Tate) is in command, and sends out a re-fueling Eagle, in case, by some slim-chance, Koenig’s eagle can find the same window in the space warp that Alpha fell through. 
But Carter has other problems to contend with when a delusional, hallucinating Maya breaks free of restraints in Medical Center, and begins to transform into alien monsters (as well as Mentor). Desperate to return to Psychon, the feverish Maya wreaks havoc on Moonbase Alpha.


In faraway space, Koenig and Tony access the logs of the derelict crew, and learn that the vessel became lost from its mother-ship when it went through a space warp. The captain, Duro, and his crew, were working on finding the same window in the warp with a space warp locater, when they died.


Now, Koenig and Tony must use the space warp locator -- and the derelict -- to get home to Alpha, while Alan and Dr. Russell (Barbara Bain), armed with tranquilizer darts, must bring down Maya, both for her safety, and the safety of all of Alpha.



Two stories go to war in “Space Warp,” an episode of  Space: 1999  Year Two written by Fred Freiberger (as Charles Woodgrove).  
“Space Warp” features much promise -- and at least one brilliant special effects sequence -- but is badly hampered by a slapdash production, and poor execution.


The fascinating aspect of this tale involves Commander Koenig and Tony’s discovery of the alien derelict, and all its mysteries. 
The alien captain is fascinating in appearance, wearing a very strange helmet that reminded me of Japanese anime, for some reason. 
We learn Duro’s story, and his failed attempt to get back to his people, and it’s both a tragic story and a history that we worry could be repeated with Koenig and Verdeschi.  ''
The design of the alien vessel is amazing, too, and this story generates real excitement and interest.  As is often the case,  Space: 1999  is able, with a few imaginative touches, to suggest a whole alien race that feels…well…alien.




This fascinating story of a marooned ship, wrecked on the lip of a space warp, essentially, is balanced out, however, with a pure time-waster "B" story, as a sick Maya “loses molecular control” and transforms into one silly-looking and indestructible alien after another.  
Maya’s best moment in the show comes before the transformation storm, as she warns Helena that nightmares are taking her over, and that she must be put into restraints. Catherine Schell acts this dramatic scene with urgency, and with a deeply-vested concern for Maya’s friends on Alpha.


Once she’s gone, it’s all just mindless action, however. 

What is clearly missing, to contextualize the action, is the connective tissue to Koenig’s story. 
Early on, Helena wonders if Maya’s fever is related to the appearance/proximity of the space warp.  The idea is dropped however, so that the connection is tenuous at best.  It would have been better, for instance, to learn that Psychon psychology is damaged or impacted by close proximity to space warps. This would make Maya a living early-warning system of sorts, for when Alpha encounters them.


Instead, the two stories trot on, mostly with no real connection to one another. 


The episode’s visual highlight, however, comes in Maya’s story. 
In attempting to return to Psychon, Maya -- in alien form -- attempts to launch an Eagle while it is still in an underground hangar bay. The ensuing special effects are feature film quality (for 1977), as the Eagle attempts lift-off, then crashes, and fire breaks out.  The moment is nothing less than spectacular. Not only do we get to visit a seldom-seen area of Alpha (and a peek at the docked Eagle fleet), but we get a special effects, pyrotechnic showcase as well.



Alas, other than this amazing hangar sequence, “Space Warp” feels really slipshod.  
Two points on this:


Point One: Koenig and Tony require the MacGuffin of the week -- the space warp locator -- to get home. They search for it, finally find it, and hook it up, hoping they can make it compatible with their ship’s computer.  It’s thus an important aspect of the episode.  
But it is visualized as a futuristic microscope, essentially, and is a familiar prop on the series, not something that looks alien, or even different from Alpha technology. In fact, the “space warp locator” shows up as a sensing/viewing device in episodes such as “Devil’s Planet.”  
It’s a huge disappointment that a familiar prop was just picked up, spray painted silver and made to function as one of the most important elements of this storyline.



Point Two: In the episode-long run-around featuring Helena and Alan chasing Maya-monsters, Carter’s space suit visor flips up for a time, exposing him to the vacuum of space on the lunar surface. 
This is a scene/stunt that should have been re-shot, as it is not part of the intended action.  Instead, it is an unintentional gaffe that is left in the final cut, and is, well, embarrassing. Space suits shouldn't be this flimsy, lest they cause instant death for the wearer.


I realize and understand that Year Two of  Space: 1999  was a pressure cooker, with the main cast often divided, shooting different episodes at the same time, but in instances like these I've noted above, the series desperately needed someone to keep an eye on quality, so that the final result would not seem so slapdash or haphazard.  There was not a clear enough eye on detail.



“Space Warp” is action packed, with some good moments on the derelict, and in Alpha’s hangar bay. But most of the time, fight scenes and mindless action substitute for science fiction, and that’s a shame. 
It’s not all a loss, however. 

I do appreciate the fact that at the end of "Space Warp," the Alphans have a derelict spaceship in their hands to examine, cannibalize, and replenish resources from. This is an idea that is necessary to maintain verisimilitude on a "lost in space"-styled series, and I’m glad to see it featured at the end of the episode.
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Published on September 11, 2025 07:00

Space 1999 50th Anniversary: "The AB Chrysalis"


1296 Days after Leaving Earth Orbit


For two weeks, Earth’s errant moon has been approaching a series of cosmic explosions. The detonation recurs every twelve hours, and each time, Alpha is damaged more heavily. The next detonation will destroy the base completely.


The source of the explosions -- a planetary system ahead -- is discovered by Maya (Catherine Schell), and Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) launches a team to investigate. 


The first world approached in that system is a small moon, where a series of mechanical stations exist. These stations are the energy-gathering devices for the recurring, man-made explosions. 
Koenig and Alan Carter (Nick Tate) speak with Voice Probe 248, an automaton who informs the Alphans that his makers -- who have not yet been “born” -- live in an inhospitable atmosphere of poisonous chlorine gas.  The explosions occur to protect the race during its chrysalis stage.
Koenig begs for an audience, and is told that “The Guardian,” the last of the race's current iteration, is currently outside the chrysalis stage, and still conscious on the planet. 


Koenig and his team travel there, only to learn that the Guardian is senile, and unable to respond to their request to stop the next explosion. Carter accidentally breaks the atmospheric seal/glass on the Guardian’s chamber, threatening the alien’s life, and weakening their case for mercy.


Two of the life-forms -- A (Ina Skriver) and B (Sarah Douglas) -- emerge from chrysalis form, and Koenig must convince them to stop the next detonation, lest Alpha be reduced to rubble.



“The AB Chrysalis” is a weird and a wonderful episode of  Space: 1999  (1975-1977), and one that demonstrates the possibilities of the Year Two format. The episode is colorful, suspenseful, and highly-imaginative.


Not only does Alpha encounter a race of immortal, chlorine “perfection seekers,” but also the architecture of their alien culture.  In this case, that includes their defensive system: a ring of high-tech mechanical stations that build up energy, and radiate explosions into space; a kind of galactic “keep away” measure.  



More impressively, the episode reveals the alien “Voice Probes,” a series of spherical machines that travel from interior system to interior system, “jumping” on to transparent rods or poles, to perform different functions.  
It is true that these probes are bouncing balls, filmed in reverse, with footage shown in slow-motion, but the concept is so creative and different from anything else in the sci-fi TV Valhalla that one cannot help but be impressed. When coupled with weird sound-effects, the depiction of the alien culture is remarkable.



In some commendable manner, the episode also closely recalls the more desperate Alphans of the first season of  Space: 1999.   
Faced with imminent annihilation, Commander Koenig recognizes “desperation” as his motive, and tries everything -- including a futile show of force (with an Eagle laser) -- to save his people.  
Later, when he realizes he has no cards left to play, Koenig voices his frustration with the aliens, but in an act of defiance and pure humanity, comes to see that “hope is better than despair,” and loyalty (to his people; and they to him) is "better than logic."  It’s a great statement of philosophy, but more than that, a fine example of Koenig’s learning during the episode.  He acts rashly and violently, out of fear, until he realizes, perhaps, that if he and his people are to die, they must do so with their key human qualities -- hope and loyalty -- intact.


When  Space: 1999  aired, it was often accused of being the pessimistic yang to  Star Trek’s  optimistic yin, and it is certainly clear why that was the case. 

But episodes such as “The AB Chrysalis” feature their own unique brand of optimism. That optimism states, simply, that man can find his best -- and be his best -- even in the face of seemingly hopeless odds.  
The Alphans possess no rule-book of principles, no fleet infrastructure, no real resources to fall back. Instead, they must rely on themselves, and each other.  Nowhere in Year Two, one might argue, is that bond more apparent than in this particular installment.


There’s a wonderful moment, here, for example, near the end of the episode, when Koenig must tell Helena he has failed to stop the next detonation. And worse than failing, his Eagle does not even have enough fuel to carry him home to her; so they can die together.  The characters must say their goodbyes, essentially, over Facetime, to use modern lingo.  The characters say very little, but their expressions convey everything. It's a very human moment in a show that was accused of not having enough humanity.


“The AB Chrysalis” succeeds, too, by creating, throughout its hour, all these mini-action sequences or climaxes. 
Maya must transform into a chlorine breather to save Alan from dying of the poison. Alan must pilot the Eagle straight up -- through the equivalent of a rock shaft -- with very little maneuvering room. And Koenig interacts with devices and people that are alien beyond immediate recognition or understanding. 
The story hops from dramatic moment to dramatic moment with aplomb, and shows how an action format, handled well, could have been applied successfully to the series overall.
Not all stories in Year Two manage such a dynamic, successful mix, but “The AB Chrysalis” is smart, imaginative and emotionally engaging, as well as being splendidly-realized, action-packed, and highly creative.  
For my money, it’s one of the very best installments of the series’ second sortie.
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Published on September 11, 2025 05:00

Space:1999 50th Anniversary: "All that Glisters"



Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) leads a team to a nearby planet when Main Computer reports that the world possesses the rare and vital mineral called Milganite required for Alpha’s life support system. 


On the team to find and mine the Milganite are Dr. Helena Russell (Barbara Bain), Maya (Catherine Schell), Alan Carter (Nick Tate), Chief Security Officer Verdeschi (Tony Anholt) and geologist David Reilly  (Patrick Mower), an Irishman who fancies himself a Texan cowboy.


Once on the planet surface, the Alphans’ Milganite readings lead them to a strange orange rock in a cave. When Reilly cuts off a sample of it, it bleeds and utters a scream of pain.  Upon the deposit of the rock in the Eagle, the rock flares energy, and apparently kills Tony.


Helena determines, however, that Tony still possesses brain function, a fact which becomes apparent when Tony is “revived” to serve as the arms and legs of the rock sample, retrieving another piece of the glowing rock from the cave.


Koenig and the others soon recognize that the rocks on the planet are alive, and desperate. They require water to survive, and have been enduring a seemingly-unending drought.


But, as Maya points out with worry, there is plenty of water in the human body…



“All that Glisters” is a quite disliked episode by many  Space: 1999  (1975-1977) fans, and also, actually, by some of those who participated in the making of it.  


Martin Landau’s displeasure with the script is legendary, and if you watch very closely, you can also see Catherine Schell breaking character and succumbing to fits of giggling, in a scene set on the planet exterior, as the rocks take control over the Eagle. She must turn away from the camera, once her composure fails.


Why the dislike? 
Well, there are a number of reasons, for certain. 
The episode, about a silicon-based life-forms, doesn’t treat the main characters, for the most part, in appealing or intelligent fashion. The guest star, Mower’s Reilly, for instance, is an “Irish Cowboy” and attempts a dreadful Texan accent. 
He is an obnoxious character, with little in terms of human qualities to make the audience like, or even care about him. He hits on Maya in the Eagle, to Tony’s dismay, and then constantly acts counter to Commander Koenig’s orders.  He is obsessed with a living rock.  
So, an Englishman plays an Irish cowboy who is obsessed with rocks.  That’s quite a description!


Commander Koenig, a character I love and admire, also fares poorly in the episode.  

Perhaps because of Landau’s displeasure with the story, Koenig is constantly on the verge of catastrophic rage, shouting and yelling at his subordinates like a maniac.  
Worse, his orders sometimes make no sense.  After Tony is injured by the rock, for instance, Koenig orders that no one go near, look at, or in any way interact with any rocks.  
Well, if they do that, how will they save Tony? How will they understand their environs? It’s a dumb order, and Landau should never have been put in the position of having to issue it.


Dr. Russell also comes across poorly here. She has to say the line “I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker,” which, of course, comes straight from the lexicon of  Star Trek  (1966-1969) and its notoriously cantankerous physician, Leonard McCoy (DeForest Kelley). So Helena is a sort of cut-rate “Bones” here, frustratingly.


So why did I give such a favorable review of “All that Glisters” in my book,  Exploring Space: 1999  (1997)? And why do I still appreciate it?


There are two reasons, primarily.  
First, I admire the episode’s photography. Much of the episode takes place in a darkened Eagle laboratory pod, as Helena and the others deal with the strange nemesis in their midst.  These shots are beautifully-crafted, with dim illumination, and lights sometimes cast only on eyes, or faces.  
It’s stylish and smart in visual approach, and reminds me of black-and-white horror photography from Hollywood of the 1940s. The familiar technological setting is rendered almost “supernatural” in its creepy nature, and given that so much time is spent there, the episode also boasts a nice, claustrophobic feel.  There’s a real sense here of an inescapable trap.

Secondly, and perhaps more important than the episode’s stylish photography, I appreciate how “All that Glisters” fits into my “horror myth” thesis about  Space: 1999  overall.  
Basically, that thesis states that  Space: 1999  is actually a horror series, not a science-fiction one, with all the old universal fears translated to the technological space age. We have the horror of the premature burial, in “Earthbound,” for example.  We have the man with the Midas Touch, instantly freezing other humans on contact, in “Force of Life.”  Other stories are about wicked, evil children (“Alpha Child”) or dragons (“Dragon’s Domain.”)


This conceit continued into Year Two. “The Exiles” was “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” at least after a fashion, and this segment, “All that Glisters” is very clearly a technological, space-age update of the traditional zombie story.  
Today, we primarly associate zombies with George A. Romero and  The Walking Dead  (2010 - ).  They are dead creatures who feast on human flesh and typically transmit a plague to those bitten.  But if you go back in Hollywood history to films such as  White Zombie  (1932) or  I Walked with a Zombie  (1943), you can see the interpretation of that monster that “All that Glisters” adopts and re-processes for the space age.  
Basically, zombies, in those situations are shambling, dead (or mostly dead…) servants of sorcerers or other puppet masters.  The fear was of being made dead, and then a drone or slave to some horrible person and his agenda. 


Here, of course, the rocks destroy Tony’s consciousness and make him, operationally, a zombie: a creature without higher thought, but bound to their control.  
Again, there are some very good, atmospheric shots of Tony blank-faced, walking across the alien planet surface. He is lit from below (by the glow of the rocks), so that his vacant life-less face appears menacing and inhuman.  



My grounds for admiring “All that Glisters” come down to, essentially, the horror touches, and the accumulation of their impact. The dark laboratory is a haunted house setting, and quite claustrophobic, thus generating anxiety. And the rocks make zombies of the living, turning them into trudging, mindless automatons, in keeping with the series’ overall horror qualities.


I can see how the episode’s other factors are less than successful. Certainly, the silicon life form has been featured before, and in better shows, such as  Trek’s  “The Devil in the Dark,” but in fairness, “All that Glisters” also appears to be the influential basis of the  ST:TNG  episode “Home Soil.”

Finally, I do think it is nice, after all the horror on display in “All that Glisters,” that the Alphans show their humanity and help the rocks to survive.  
Not so much because I want  Space: 1999  to emulate  Star Trek’s  universe of brotherhood and optimism among alien species, but because it’s a different type ending for the series, and therefore it feels fresh.  If the Alphans can help the rocks, it seems natural that they would do so.
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Published on September 11, 2025 03:00

September 10, 2025

Space:1999 50th Anniversary: "The Metamorph"


'In “The Metamorph,” Moonbase Alpha emerges from its second encounter with a space warp, six light years from its previous position. The lunar facility’s life support system needs repair, and requires the ore known as Titanium.


Titanium is pinpointed on the volcanic surface of a nearby planet, but an Eagle reconnaissance flight ends in terror when the ship is abducted by a strange green light.  Soon, Alpha is contacted by an alien from the planet, Mentor (Brian Blessed), who claims that the pilots are safe in his custody.


Mentor and Commander Koenig (Martin Landau) arrange an orbital rendezvous, but the plan is further treachery from Mentor.  He captures Koenig’s eagle and drags it down to the planet, called Psychon.  


There, in a subterranean city, Mentor lives with his daughter, Maya (Catherine Schell) whom he has taught the “priceless art of molecular transformation,” and operates a biological computer called Psyche which he hopes to use to restore the planet surface to its former tranquil self.


To do so, however, he must feed Psyche living minds. 


The Alphans provide him a ready supply, though Koenig refuses to cooperate. Koenig hopes to convince Maya -- who doesn’t know of Psyche’s brain draining power -- that he needs her help.  But to do so, she must turn on her own father.



The first episode of  Space: 1999  Year Two is colorful and bold, crisp and exciting. It also introduces a great regular character to the series: Maya of Psychon, played by Catherine Schell.  


I won’t mince words about Maya or her presence on the series.  I love her.  



I believe Maya is a great character, in part because she is allowed to be emotional as well as competent and brilliant. After Mr. Spock, all resident aliens had to be stoic, it seems, but not Maya. She was more like an imp, a good-humored, playful, highly emotional alien.
Like all her people, Maya is incredibly intelligent, with a mind that can run circles around the most high-powered computer. As a Psychon, she is, we are told in "Seed of Destruction," "hyper sensitive to all forms of living matter." Maya is also a pacifist, deploring the violence of the planet Earth when told of it in "Rules of Luton.” 


"You mean, people killed people, just because they were different. That's disgusting!"


But Maya is also one tough cookie. She regularly transforms into frightening outer space creatures to stop the monster of the week in episodes such as "The Beta Cloud" and "The Bringers of Wonder." She stands up to the Commander when she believes he is wrong ("Seed of Destruction" again), and is just as comfortable flying an Eagle or running the science station in Command Center as she is in a party dress (“One Moment of Humanity.”)   


In just one season on  Space: 1999,  Maya did things that the other females in cult-TV history have regularly been denied the opportunity to do.  She piloted spaceships, engaged in fisticuffs, provided the analytical answer to the scientific challenge of the day, and also served as the mouth-piece for the “social gadfly” commentary about the human race. 


To many, she became a role model.


Consider, by 1991 and  Star Trek: The Next Generation’s  fourth season (and episodes such as “Q-Pid”) – and long after  1999  was canceled -- women characters were still locked in caretaker roles (Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi), and still knocking enemies out by smashing crockery over their heads. Unlike Maya, they rarely piloted space craft, or engaged the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. Data got the science talk, and Data and Worf were the outsider commenters, leaving Troi to “sense” danger, and Crusher to mend broken bones.


"I never thought of Maya as a role model," Ms. Schell told me during our 1994 interview, "perhaps because in my life I have never been held back from doing something just because I am a woman. I'm thrilled that she is seen by many as I role model, but I didn't intend it that way. Perhaps because Maya was an alien, she was allowed to do more than 'human' women were at the time." 

Whatever the reasons for Maya’s full integration into the action, I remain grateful for it.I miss Barry Morse’s Victor and Prentis Hancock’s Paul Morrow in  Space:1999  Year Two ,  but Maya’s presence adds so much to the season.


And as all fans of the series realize, there are some big differences visually, character-wise, and conceptually between Year One and Year Two. Year One is awe-inspiring, scary and often wondrous. By comparison, Year Two tends to be colorful, and action-packed, with more humor. Year One is lugubrious and ponderous, in a remarkable way. Year Two is fast-paced and giddy.



I know fans divide on the issue of “which year is better.”  I prefer Year One, but I also enjoy Year Two, and feel that Maya, in particular, is a great addition to the series, in large part because of Catherine Schell’s portrayal. 


And of all the Year Two style episodes - big on action, movement, and color – “The Metamorph” may just be the best. It is big, brash, exciting, and pacey…all good qualities for a season premiere, no doubt.


Writer Johnny Byrne once told me, in an interview, how the change in formats occurred:


“During the interregnum between seasons, I wrote for Gerry Anderson. I kept busy, but people involved with the production of  Space: 1999  were very twitchy.  Everybody knew that the new producer, Freddie [Frieberger], was coming. He sent over a tape of comments about the series, and after hearing his remarks, I understood a second season would be a whole new ball game. I had been told I would be the story editor for the second year, but it was just a verbal agreement, and I understood it was no longer going to happen. I would continue to write episodes, but it was a very different situation.”


The shift in formats boils down to, at least in creative terms, the fact the Alphans become much more aggressive and in control over their destiny in Year Two. This shift is apparent in “The Metamorph” from the fact that the base now has laser cannons positioned around its lunar perimeter, the equivalent of phaser banks. 


Similarly, the Alphans have developed “Directive 4,” a coded order which means that a dangerous planet (in this case, Psychon) is to be destroyed. In Year One, Alpha did possess nuclear charges and space mines (which it utilized in stories such as “Space Brain” and “Collision Course”) but the Alphans did not have the potential for Death Star-level destruction.


What does this shift mean, in terms of storytelling? 


Well, in Year Two the Alphans operate not from a place of not-knowing about outer space, but from a position of being able to defend themselves, and hold their own against all comers. One can argue for the dramatic validity of such a change, and indeed, in some senses it is logical.  The Alphans would be more prepared and defensive over time, given the nature of their odyssey. But by the same token, these changes are not explained in “The Metamorph,” or phased in “in universe. Year Two begins, and everything just seems different.  


That jarring change may actually be the reason so many fans have difficulty with Year Two as opposed to Year One. It’s not that the changes are wrong-headed, so much, as they are aren’t accounted for gradually, or in terms of the characters’ actual experiences or history.  


“It comes down to this,” Byrne told me. “The things that people to do prevent disaster are invariably what lead them to disaster. That’s the essence of Greek tragedy. We’ve all heard that man proposes and God disposes. That’s the theme of many Year One stories. That was lost to some extent in Year Two, although I know we both think it was also a valuable season.”


Byrne also pinpointed for me another concern, one much more having to do with a production crunch than any shift in concept. “The problem was that in Year Two our scripts were no longer consecutive, feeding into each other naturally, one after the next. Instead, there was broad commissioning of about twenty at once, and I think that led to a feeling of reduced momentum. But without Freddie, there would not have been an additional season of  Space: 1999 . I think I need to be clear about that. It was valuable to have those twenty-four additional shows, even if I would have preferred a different direction.”


I agree with Byrne completely on this subject.  I am grateful to have  Space:1999  Year Two and feel that many episodes, especially those at the start (“The Metamorph,” “The Exiles,” “Journey to Where”) and at the finish  (“The Séance Spectre,” “The Immunity Syndrome,” and “The Dorcons”) were good shows.  


“The Metamorph” remains tops in the revised format, though, and I remember watching it with Johnny at the Main Mission Convention in New York in 2000. We saw there, much in terms of  both virtue and potential. 


“I wrote the premiere episode, “The Metamorph,” and it introduced the character of Maya, the shape-shifter played by Catherine Schell,” he told me in our interview. “She wasn’t in my original script, which was called “The Biological Soul” and then “The Biological Computer.” But I saw the episode just recently in New York, and it looked absolutely wonderful.  It was fast-paced, smart, interesting and I liked what was left of my main character, Mentor…that idea of flawed genius.




Byrne tallied up so many good points there. Indeed “The Metamorph” moves with such confidence and purpose, that watching it, one feels like the series revamp could have been a remarkable thing.  The same atmosphere carries over to “The Exiles,” in my opinion.  After that, however, the feeling of quality starts to slip, and the production rush takes over, producing some slipshod episodes. It’s not that the writing in particular gets worse in Year Two, it’s that there’s the feeling that corners are being cut, and the series creator are constantly battling not to fall behind, instead of battling to produce great new stories in this format, of which “The Metamorph” is absolutely one.


What makes it so good?  
For one thing, the Alphans reach out in "The Metamorph." 
Despite the fact that they have been betrayed and disappointed by aliens in the past, Koenig reaches out to Maya, and makes a friend in the process.  
And Maya, to her credit, realizes in "The Metamorph" that there are some virtues greater, even, than family.  When she discovers the truth of Mentor's sadism and evil, she doesn't rally loyally (and mindlessly) to her father. Instead, she attempts to redress a wrong he has committed. It's not an easy choice for her, yet Maya does what is right, not what is easy.  This makes her a hero.

The episode's closing scene in the Eagle, with Koenig telling Maya that "we are all aliens, until we get to know each other," is an indicator that the Alphans are still human, still willing to extend a hand of friendship. Koenig and Helena want to help Maya, despite the fact that Mentor has been their enemy.  They don't let her former allegiance color their perception of her, and on the contrary, realize how much she has given up for them.
The episode also works in terms of Koenig's character, showcasing the isolation of his position.  He is forced to make a terrible choice in "The Metamorph:" give up his people on Psychon, or watch Alpha be obliterated.  
He attempts to turn the tables on Mentor, but for a time, his people, including Carter (Nick Tate) believe he is a coward. He silently carries that shame, rather than expose his plan to stop Mentor.
"The Metamorph" is also very exciting, from the sequence with Koenig's eagle experiencing terrible G-forces in flight, to the final confrontation in which Maya goes crazy, transforming from animal to another animal in a desperate bid to save her father from a fire.  
Most importantly, "The Metamorph" sets the stage for Maya's place on Alpha. She begins the episode asking her father, Mentor, if she would make a good Alphan. She ends the story with Koenig and Helena re-assuring her that there's a place for her there.
Although fans will always have their preferences regarding Year One and Year Two, I would nonetheless declare that Maya and Catherine Schell helped to make  Space:1999  Year Two exciting and memorable,  "The Metamorph" is an example of a success story in Year Two, and a demonstration of the revised format's potential.
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Published on September 10, 2025 11:00