55th Anniversary DVD Collection announced...

Looks like Image Entertainment is releasing yet another DVD compilation on July 1st (*yawn*). I already own the entire series on both DVD and Blu-ray, and if I didn't, I could watch it on Hulu (all five seasons) or Netflix (everything except season four as of this writing), so this kind of announcement doesn't excite me in the least. The only reason I'm mentioning it is because, as far as I know, it's the first item to commemorate the series' upcoming 55th anniversary, which falls on October 2nd. 

Having said that, it does contain a pretty great selection of episodes. The 2-disc set features the following:

"Walking Distance"

"Time Enough at Last"

"The Hitch-hiker"

"The Monsters are Due on Maple Street"

"A Stop at Willoughby"

"The After Hours"

"The Howling Man"

"Eye of the Beholder"

"Nick of Time"

"The Invaders"

"The Obsolete Man"

"It's a Good Life"

"The Midnight Sun"

"To Serve Man"

"Nightmare at 20,000 Feet"

"Living Doll"

"The Masks"

I have no argument with the selection: all 17 episodes are top notch (well, I'm not exactly fond of "Time Enough at Last," but I can't deny its iconic status). There are of course a few I'd swap out (I'd probably trade "The Masks" for "Third from the Sun," for example), but this is a really solid compilation. I guess it's a great (and inexpensive; Amazon's pre-order price is $18.99) way to introduce new viewers to the series. The fact that it's a DVD-only compilation is a bit troubling, however. There's simply no excuse in this day and age to restrict content ---- particularly content that has already been remastered in high definition --- to lowly standard-def. Given the number of times Image has milked the Twilight Zone cow, this is more than a bit disappointing.

Still haven't upgraded? C'mon.

Episode Spotlight: "The Last Night of a Jockey" (10/25/1963)

Season 5, Episode 5 (125 overall)

Originally aired 10/25/1963

Cayuga Production # 2616

50 years ago tonight, a little man’s dream of being big came true.  No, this isn’t the Tom Hanks movie.

Rod Serling’s “The Last Night of a Jockey” introduces us to disgraced horse jockey Grady, where we find him brooding drunkenly in his apartment after being banned from racing for horse doping. He engages in a conversation with a mysterious “inner voice” who describes itself thusly:

I'm your memory, your conscience, Mr. Grady. I'm every one of your aspirations and recollections. I'm every one of your failures and defeats. I also wear the wreaths of all your victories. I'm what you call the Alter Ego. 

Later, it elaborates further:

I'm the fate every man makes for himself. You generally find me down at the bottom of the barrel. I'm the strength dredged up in desperation. I'm the last gasp. In some cases I'm something very good. In some cases, depending upon the person I'm representing, I can work miracles. I come with heroism, sacrifice, strength. And even better than that, I can epitomize everything noble in men. 

The Alter Ego offers to grant the diminutive Grady a single wish. Grady, who harbors a grudge against the universe for his slight stature, wishes to be big. He takes a nap (or, more likely, passes out) and, when he awakens, is delighted to discover that he’s suddenly eight feet tall. He then receives a call from the racing commission with the unexpected news that he’s been granted a second chance. He looks ahead to future glories on the track, until a crash of lightning interrupts his reverie. He’s now ten feet tall, rendering his return to racing impossible.

It’s evident that Grady’s Alter Ego is much more than a simple voice in his head; it appears to be some sort of celestial entity capable of modifying its target’s physical form at will. This entity is only masquerading as a voice inside Grady’s head as a means of communicating with him. But what exactly is said entity? I have a theory: call me crazy, but I believe Grady’s Alter Ego is none other than The Twilight Zone itself.

The Twilight Zone isn't an easy thing to define. Despite Rod Serling’s opening narrations, it’s not really a physical location that you can “cross over into.” It’s more conceptual, more abstract: sometimes it’s a state of mind, sometimes it’s a strange situation or circumstance, sometimes it’s a supernatural event. Like ice cream or toothpaste (or even vodka these days), it comes in many flavors. But if there’s one prevalent manifestation of this nebulous entity, it’s a device by which cosmic justice is dispensed, righting that which is wrong through unusual means.  We see it time and time again throughout the series’ run: innocent or luckless people are granted second chances, while the cruel and selfish are knocked for a loop befitting their misdeeds. Grady falls into the latter category: his reinstatement (which turns out to be an unattainable carrot after his supernatural growth spurt) is nothing if not comeuppance for his years of cheating.

Rod Serling’s “The Last Night of a Jockey” is a fascinating variation on his earlier “Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room.” Both concern small, petty men, both of whom encounter alternate versions of themselves in mirrors. Both feature tour-de-force performances from their respective leads, and we get both ends of the retribution spectrum by comparing them: Joe Mantell’s likable but misguided Jackie Rhodes (the titular Nervous Man), receives The Twilight Zone’s patented second chance, while the coarse and hostile Grady is given the proverbial other end of the stick. While many of Serling’s contributions to the show’s fifth season are warmed-over retreads of earlier, better episodes, this is an unexpected (and quite welcome) exception; a Yang to a pre-existing Yin, if you will.

Yin and Yang... in The Twilight Zone.

 

In the late 80’s, CBS/Fox released a number of episodes on VHS, each volume containing two half-hour episodes (there were 22 of these tapes released, I believe). The episodes chosen for each volume often shared similar themes (“The Prime Mover” and “The Fever” are both set in Las Vegas; “Perchance to Dream” and “Shadow Play” involve nightmares; “The Last Flight” and “King Nine Will Not Return” concern military aircraft; etc.).  Neither “Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room” or “The Last Night of a Jockey” found inclusion in these releases; however, they would’ve made a natural, quite complimentary pair.

“The Last Night of a Jockey,” which takes place entirely in Grady’s cramped studio apartment, has an effectively claustrophobic vibe (which intensifies as Grady’s size increases). The sight of the ten foot-tall Grady stomping around his (now tiny) apartment is an effectively surreal sequence (I’m reminded of Orson Welles engaging in a similar room-trashing tantrum in Citizen Kane). 

Presumably Mickey Rooney was chosen for this role because of his previous work as a horse jockey in 1944’s National Velvet, not to mention his 5’2” height. It’s certainly tempting to dock this episode a point for typecasting; however, Rooney’s performance more than transcends any surface relation to that earlier role (or potential stereotyping). He’s an absolute revelation here, alternately violently hostile and mournfully self-loathing as Grady, and at the same time articulate and smug as Grady’s Alter Ego.

“The Last Night of a Jockey” has the distinction of spawning one of the strangest DVD commentary tracks ever recorded. The track (which first appeared in the Definitive Edition DVD season five set, and was surprisingly carried forward to the blu-ray edition) features an argumentative and uncooperative Rooney repeatedly barking at an unnamed interviewer and exhibiting several bizarre behaviors. When asked for any memories he has about appearing in the episode, he answers “No, I don’t remember it. I don’t care anything about it!” When asked how he might explain the episode to younger viewers, Rooney replies as follows: “The younger audience doesn’t want to see this. They’re all watching sex and things!” There’s much more where that came from; trust me, it’s a surreal and frequently uncomfortable listen.  Wait, I wonder if he was in character as Grady when he recorded it…? If so, the man’s a goddamned genius.

“The Last Night of a Jockey” is a welcome comeback after last week’s flaccid offering, setting the bar back up where season five started out. Sadly, that bar won’t stay up there for long.

Next week: She’s the doll that does everything. She moves, she talks, she…. kills???

Episode Spotlight: "Steel" (10/04/1963)

Season 5, Episode 2 (122 overall)

Originally aired 10/04/1963

Cayuga Production # 2602

Ah, the old Man versus Machine bit.  We've seen it before (“A Thing about Machines”) and we’ll see it again (“The Brain Center at Whipple’s”) but, 50 years ago tonight, The Twilight Zone brought us a fresh take on the subject… with boxing gloves, no less.

Richard Matheson’s “Steel” (adapted from his own short story, as most of his TZ teleplays were) introduces us to Joe “Steel” Kelly, former heavyweight boxer (he earned the nickname by never getting knocked down) and his sidekick Pole, who have just rode into town for a three-round bout. But it’s not Steel who’s doing the fighting… it’s Battling Maxo, a model B2 automaton who’s seen better days (and several generations of newer models). This is 1974, you see, and human boxing has been outlawed.

As he is apparently prone to do, Maxo breaks a spring during his pre-fight check-over, rendering his arm useless.  The guys are broke, so they have no way to get the parts they need to fix him, so Steel comes up with a clever (albeit dangerous) plan… one that will place him in considerable jeopardy.

The robot boxers are an ingenious creation, and quite well realized. They look human enough at first glance, but their artificiality becomes quickly apparent upon closer examination: their expressionless faces look like sculpted rubber, and their eyes appear to be made of black glass. They look menacing and soulless, which is exactly what they should look like.

THE MUSIC

“Steel” features original music by Nathan Van Cleave, a welcome jazz score with a few avant-garde touches.  Of particular note is the “Test Run” cue, which plays during act one (when Steel and Pole are checking Maxo’s reflexes before the fight, time stamp 10:30).  Frenetic strings intertwine with warbling guitar notes for a minute-long aural smack upside the head. It’s a vivid and exciting piece, one that would've made a great Twilight Zone title theme (if that pesky Marius Constant theme wasn’t so deeply ingrained in the collective consciousness, that is). Have a listen:

As with all season five scores, Van Cleave’s “Steel” has never been released (no vinyl, no tape, no CD, no mp3, no nothin’), but it can be found, isolated for your listening pleasure, on both the Definitive DVD and blu-ray release of season five from Image Entertainment.  I wish the same could be said of Van Cleave’s other jazz score from season five (“Black Leather Jackets”), which is NOT isolated on the season five sets and continues to be maddeningly unattainable in any form.

Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots first appeared in 1964, the year after “Steel” first aired. I can’t help but wonder if the toy’s designer, Marvin Glass (no, it wasn’t Horace Ford, smart ass) saw this episode, came up with (or, y’now, outright stole) the idea and immediately starting producing them.

2011’s Real Steel, on the other hand, didn't rip off Matheson’s idea, as he actually has a writing credit in the film. I haven’t seen it, so I can’t really comment. It’s got big robots and Hugh Jackman, so how bad can it be?  

FAMILIAR FACES

Lee Marvin, last seen in season three’s “The Grave,” is excellent as the mono-minded Steel Kelly (but really, he’s excellent in almost everything he ever did). For some reason I was thinking he also starred in the upcoming episode “The Old Man in the Cave,” but that’s actually James Coburn. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? Take this as an indicator that my season five memories are very fuzzy.

Ah ha!  I’m not the only one who’s made this mistake!

Joe Mantell stops by The Twilight Zone for another visit (he was marvelous in season two’s “Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room”). Pole is pretty cardboard as written, but Mantell makes him breathe. Pole is generally argumentative and negative, but witness the fear in his eyes when he somberly predicts the outcome of the bout: “Steel, you’ll be killed.” He’s pre-grieving, and it’s very effective.

As The Maynard Flash, Chuck Hicks is convincingly soulless and mechanistic. We’ll see Hicks again in an uncredited role as an unnamed furniture mover later this season in “Ninety Years without Slumbering.” Apparently this particular B7 was able to find work when he was supplanted by later B models (I’m reminded of Mountain McClintock from Serling’s Requiem for a Heavyweight, in which an over-the-hill boxer seeks work through the Employment Office).

Two more TZ vets to mention:  Nolan is played by Merritt Bohn, who was also the truck driver in season one’s “One for the Angels” (you know, the one who runs over poor Dana Dillaway). Maxwell is played by Frank London, who was also the truck driver in season two’s “A Penny for Your Thoughts” (you know, the one who almost runs over Dick York).  I imagine these guys were good buddies with Dave Armstrong, who was equally dangerous behind the wheel on this show.

And speaking of familiar faces, what's the deal with the screaming guy in the crowd? He looks a lot like the star of next week's episode....

    Shatner.                        Not Shatner.

“Steel” is definitely upper-tier TZ which, as season five trudges forward, will become an increasingly rare thing to behold.  It’s tight and toned and sturdy on its feet… in other words, no oil paste or replacement springs needed here.

Next week: Captain Kirk sees a Mugato on the Enterprise’s port nacelle and totally loses his shit.

Special Report: The Lost Five

The original five-season run of The Twilight Zone is comprised of 156 episodes.  After the series ended in 1964, 151 of these episodes were assembled into a syndication package and began airing in local markets around the country.

But wait, that’s five episodes short.  What gives?

First, let’s list the missing episodes. 

(originally broadcast 2/21/1963)

(originally broadcast 12/13/1963)

(originally broadcast 2/28/1964)

(Originally broadcast 4/03/1964)

(Originally broadcast 5/01/1964)

Cayuga Productions accepted outside teleplay submissions for consideration; however, they rejected a great many of them.  Unfortunately, there were subsequent lawsuits filed by some of the aspiring writers they’d turned down.  Theoretical example:  Dick Johnson submits a script about a rampaging army of telepathic squirrels, which gets summarily rejected.  Serling then later writes a script that happens to incorporate a telepathic squirrel, which gets produced.  Dick Johnson believes Serling stole his intellectual property, so he screams plagiarism and files a lawsuit.  Of course I’m simplifying this some, but that’s the basic gist of things. At the time the series’ syndication package was put together, three episodes were stuck in mid-litigation (“Miniature,” “A Short Drink from a Certain Fountain,” and “Sounds and Silences”) and were therefore held back. 

“The Encounter,” meanwhile, contained some fairly heavy racial content, so it too was omitted (which is kinda odd, since it was allowed to air in the first place).  “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” was left out because it wasn’t really a Twilight Zone episode at all… but we’ll delve into that particular story when we get to it (a little over a year from now).

Aside from “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” getting a repeat broadcast during the summer of 1964, these five episodes essentially disappeared.

Fast forward 20 years. To celebrate the show’s 25^th anniversary in October 1984, a feature-length syndicated special was aired which resurrected three of “The Lost Five”:  “Miniature,” “A Short Drink from a Certain Fountain,” and “Sounds and Silences” (coincidentally the same three that had been previously suppressed for legal reasons; presumably their respective lawsuits had either been dismissed or otherwise dealt with by 1984).  The special was hosted by Patrick O’Neal (who had starred in “A Short Drink from a Certain Fountain”).  Here’s a link to the New York Times’write-up.  

I think the episodes may have suffered some minor editing (we’re talking about syndication, after all), but they seemed relatively unscathed… except for “Miniature,” the fate of which we’ll address later this week.

“An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” and “The Encounter,” meanwhile, first reappeared on VHS in 1992 in the two-tape Treasures of The Twilight Zone set.  The set also included “The Howling Man,” “Eye of the Beholder,” “The Masks,” and “Where Is Everybody?” This release was later broken up into two separate DVD volumes in 1999 (Treasures from The Twilight Zone and More Treasures from The Twilight Zone; incidentally the first two TZ DVDs ever released; both "Lost Five" episodes appear on the first volume).

“The Lost Five” formally rejoined the series for the first time when the entire 156-episode run was presented on VHS by Columbia House.  You had to join the club, and wait impatiently as the volumes trickled out once a month but, at the time, this was the only way for a collector like me to acquire the entire series… at a pretty enormous cost (with shipping, I ultimately paid close to $1,000.00 to complete my set; it still amazes me that the entire series can be bought now, in pristine high definition with copious bonus features, for a mere fraction of that… in 2013 dollars, no less!).

Offer no longer valid... but hey, it might be fun to try.

At some point, probably in the early 2000’s or so (I’m totally guessing here), “Miniature," "A Short Drink from a Certain Fountain" and "Sounds and Silences" were added to the syndication package, reducing "The Lost Five" to "The Lost Two." Despite the fact that "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" and "The Encounter" remain MIA from the syndication package to this date, all 156 episodes are easily available on both DVD and blu-ray (and via streaming: all 156 are available for free on Hulu, while paying members of Netflix can view all the half-hour episodes); in other words,“The Lost Five” aren't really lost at all these days.  Their unique history is little more than a footnote now, but for those of us who pre-date the digital age, “The Lost Five” were once frustratingly out of reach, and therefore hold a special unique place in the legacy that is… The Twilight Zone.

*Speaking of plagiarism claims levied against The Twilight Zone… well, stay tuned.  I’m working on a pretty big expose that I hope to publish in the next month or two.  You might find it quite eye-opening.

Season 3 Opening Sequence (1961-1962)

The third season of The Twilight Zone premiered on September 15, 1961, and with it came a brand new opening title sequence. The theme music by Marius Constant remained the same (until late into the season, when a decidedly different rendition would appear... but we'll get there in time), and Rod Serling's opening narration was only minimally revised. Season three's opening sequence, designed by Pacific Title (thanks to fellow fan --- and fellow Portland native --- Joel Henderson for this tidbit of info), is the simplest of the entire series. It's literally one single object --- a spinning top of sorts ---spinning away from camera, off into space. And yet, in its simplicity, it manages to evoke a surreal, almost trancelike vibe.

The spinning spiral, by the way, was not new to The Twilight Zone. We saw it way back in season one's "Perchance to Dream," framed by a dreamlike fog. Coincidence? Perhaps.



Okay, let's break it down. Cue the music.

You're traveling through another dimension...

A dimension not only of sight and sound...

...but of mind.

A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.

Your next stop---

The Twilight Zone!

Here it is in full-motion glory, down-rezzed into a fuzzy mess by Blogger...

That distinctive spiral appears on the covers both the DVD and blu-ray editions of season three from Image Entertainment.