The Cage by: Gene Roddenberry and directed by: Robert Butler

 

“The Cage” is written by: Gene Roddenberry and is directed by: Robert Butler.  It was filmed under production code 1, was aired specially for the 25^th anniversary of Star Trek, the 80^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on October 4, 1988.

 

If we’re being technical I have already discussed “The Cage” before in its adapted form into the series proper as “The Menagerie”, and there I discussed quite a large amount of how the episode is amended quite well into the show outside of an incredibly ableist ending and the stretching to the length of two episodes.  The fact that Star Trek managed to have two pilot episodes commissioned was an unheard of feat, largely because “The Cage” as a pilot impressed executive producer and head of Desilu Lucille Ball so “Where No Man Has Gone Before” was produced.  Watching “The Cage” after going through the rest of Star Trek is a particularly interesting experience because on paper this is an episode that lays out a lot of what Gene Roddenberry wanted to do with the series, something that a pilot should do on the surface.  There is the large crew of characters working in harmony with a largely diverse cast (though very few characters are named on screen, Majel Barrett’s Number One being one of the few strong female characters of the series as a whole), exploring the galaxy.  It’s a largely contemplative experience watching “The Cage”, Robert Butler is in the director’s seat and his work here includes several lingering shots couching the episode in the trappings of the science fiction films of the time.  There is an extended sequence as the Enterprise is traveling achieved by overlaying a starfield over the bridge while Alexander Courage’s main theme kicking in to depict the travel.  It’s a sequence that is a budget saver so there doesn’t have to be new model shots commissioned for the pilot.  Model shots for the Enterprise are saved for the title sequence and a genuinely impressive transition from the titles, an early version of the Star Trek titles without the voiceover but still with theme, to the Enterprise bridge set by actually zooming into the top of the model and using chromakey to transition to the set.

 

Contemplative is perhaps the best word to describe “The Cage”.  The Talosians as a species are Roddenberry’s comment on stagnation in the place of emotional serenity.  It’s fascinating since an aspect that would be carried through the series is Spock’s serene, emotionless state coming into conflict with his human half.  It’s a conflict that drives his character, but in “The Cage” it is largely absent from Leonard Nimoy’s performance.  That conflict of emotion is also attempted to play out through Jeffrey Hunter’s Captain Pike’s temptations by the Talosians.  The fantasies of temptation are all in an attempt to elicit and study that emotion.  It’s also clearly an attempt for Roddenberry to show the different types of settings he imagines Star Trek visiting, though in terms of integrating it with the plot it largely doesn’t work since they are disjointed fantasies.  The episode also attempts to use the female crew members as equal temptation for Pike which is a particularly Roddenberry plot point and where the episode largely suffers because the female characters have a tendency to become objects.  Number One as a character actually rises above the low bar set for female characters on Star Trek and especially those written by Roddenberry, though is still reduced by the Talosians to an object.  Roddenberry also still writes Vina's fate as ableist, even more ableist here as not only is she physically disabled but she is given her own fake Pike in the end to be in love with and this is treated as a perfectly pleasant ending and as a disabled man myself it feels even revolting for 1965 when this was made.  Butler as a director struggles with a script that while full of conflict of Captain Pike versus the Talosians, it doesn’t actually build enough of an arc for driving the plot forward.  It’s also an episode that overran the standard length for a pilot by nearly fifteen minutes, much of which would likely have been cut out like it was in “The Menagerie”.  This has a knock on effect of making the episode feel longer than it actually is in several ways, especially since instead of the Enterprise as a fresh new ship on a five year mission, there is the sense that Pike has been at this for far too long.  Everything feels a bit too old for a fresh new show.

 

Overall, while it has its problems, especially in the second half I believe I prefer “The Menagerie” at least for the first half’s added material of our main characters reflecting.  “The Cage” is one of those pilots with a lot of potential that it just plain doesn’t fully reach because of Roddenberry’s desire to be contemplative science fiction which would have largely limited the audience.  It’s contemplative nature means the episode standing on its own actually lacks the necessary dramatic through line which was done in a much better balance for “When No Man Has Gone Before”.  “The Cage” is honestly like seeing a picture of an old friend as a child, you can recognize them but there’s a lot that are some things about them now that are missing.  5/10.

Palace of the Red Sun by: Christopher Bulis

 

Peri Brown is a Doctor Who companion who has always drawn the short straw in terms of her stories.  Her entire arc on television should be about wanting something more from life but then producer John Nathan-Turner and script editor Eric Saward decided the direction of the show needed to be a darker one and Peri as a character would be one for the dads.  The character was often dressed in a sexually revealing way, directors especially male directors would shoot episodes to emphasize this, and the characterization would suffer.  With the Wilderness Years there is a chance to largely attempt to correct this, but that isn’t always the case.  Christopher Bulis as an author wrote multiple novels featuring Peri across both Doctor Who past doctor ranges: State of Change was his first for the Missing Adventures range and that saw a return of Peri transforming into a bird a la Vengeance on Varos while The Ultimate Treasure for the Past Doctor Adventures under BBC Books but Palace of the Red Sun is perhaps the weakest in terms of what it puts Peri through.  This is a book that largely starts well for Peri, having her examine why she stays with the Doctor and how her antagonistic relationship with him is something that she is actually getting some good from.

 

The opening chapters of the novel actually have the Doctor and Peri on a tranquil vacation which Bulis clearly demonstrates an ability for fun banter before the novel then shifts into the plot.  The plot of Palace of the Red Sun is what you would come to expect from a Christopher Bulis novel, there is a subjugated class on a planet where one half is in light and one half is in dark, the Doctor and Peri are separated and have to find the dictator and overthrow him.  The underclass are basically savage humans saddled with Peri for much of the novel and this is where the just plain uncomfortable elements of the novel really come into play.  This is a book where once again Peri’s plot is just there so she is sexualized, Bulis believing that to temper that is to continually have Peri quip and try to resist, but this is a book which builds to a point where Peri is going to be married off by integrating with a tribe of natives.

 

The Doctor’s plot is inciting an uprising amongst the service robots of the palace’s large and well kept gardens.  This could be interesting if there was really anything to say about the different structures of an empire and expansion, the empire is essentially one palace encompassing half the planet, but Bulis doesn’t make much of it.  The closest the novel gets is an attempt at debate on the nature of life and the ability for robots to overcome their programming and gain their own sense of life, however the characterization of the robots is incredibly one note.  Bulis doesn’t really make enough distinction even between the three classes of robots in the novel and by characterizing the Sixth Doctor as blustering he is the one that largely takes over.  Palace of the Red Sun is also a novel that largely suffers from having very little plot to sustain itself, there is a reason this review started with a discussion of Peri because she’s the character that gets the most devotion and time, even if that is spent poorly instead of examining who Peri is as a character.  The villain is essentially a stock character and one of the characters from The Ultimate Treasure makes a reappearance here, taking up his own plotline that honestly feels more akin to something Dave Stone would write on an off-day than anything Bulis had done.

 

Overall, Palace of the Red Sun is a novel with the glint of potential had this been with a more skilled novelist.  Christopher Bulis excels when sticking to traditional Doctor Who and even then he can be incredibly hit or miss when it comes to that.  This is a book that just cannot sustain its standard Past Doctor Adventures page count full of characters I do not care about and a plot that had already been done better before in prose and on television.  3/10.

Star Wars: Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade by: Delilah S. Dawson

 

Delilah S. Dawson’s Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade is the Star Wars book that I think ticks almost all of the boxes that I was missing as I read more of the Star Wars books.  Set during and in the immediate aftermath of the prequel trilogy, this novel is a look at the rise of the Empire from one of the survivors of the Jedi, surviving by becoming part of a group of Jedi tasked with ensuring the destruction of the order takes place after the initial massacres.  The Inquisitors are the Emperor’s elite group of essentially brainwashed ex-Jedi into being an elite group of bounty hunter assassins.  As far as I can tell this is one aspect of Star Wars largely explored in the current canon with only some mentions in the Legends canon, and as an idea it makes a lot of sense.  It helps explain how certain Jedi could survive and giving several options for authors to explore, but perhaps what makes Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade work for me is its focus.  Delilah S. Dawson has a central protagonist she is tracking the entire life of, though a character not created by Dawson whose ending had to be recounted in the epilogue of the novel.  The epilogue of this novel is where due to Iskat Akaris being introduced and subsequently killed in a comic book, those events have to play out.  As a chapter it is problematic because it is Dawson trying to fit her story into a larger story and the loop for the character has to close, but in doing so it is disconnected in style and in plot from the rest of the novel.  Only the final line feels particularly like Dawson is writing something original, tying into themes of the cyclical nature of violence and corruption making the epilogue at least make sense even if it is largely set apart from the rest of the novel.

 

Dawson as an author has an incredibly intimate style of writing as well as pouring much of her own life experience in different ways into her novel.  Iskat Akaris is far from a self-insert character, she is very much characterized in her own unique way, but with every good author there is some of Dawson in her character, prefaced in a very touching forward to the novel.  Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade is largely exploring the hypocrisy of the Jedi Order and a subtle aspect to how Palpatine was able to corrupt other Jedi and bring them to his cause to become Inquisitors.  This is all through Iskat’s perspective, the perspective of a woman trying to discover her identity and freedom.  Iskat does not know her own species, being given to the Jedi Order at a very young age and being from a species on the outskirts of the galaxy.  The numerous roadblocks to Iskat discovering her identity and family is initially the bureaucracy of the Jedi Order until Palpatine’s takeover and then it becomes the control of the Inquisitors over themselves.  Iskat is a woman who yearns for freedom, believing at several points in her life that different things will gain her that freedom, though the common throughline is discovering her identity.

 

 Iskat as a character is not so much easily manipulated, but is less able to devote herself to the very strict ideals of the Jedi, letting emotions rule herself and eventually let rage in slowly.  Dawson is brilliant at moving that line that Iskat will cross throughout the novel, the first time happening at the end of the first part of the novel before slowly pushing and pushing it.  Iskat becomes a woman able to manipulate those around her to gain her trust which is the clear cliff that leads her down the path to becoming an Inquisitor.  One other aspect explored, however briefly, is the fact that certain Inquisitors are not Inquisitors by choice but by explicit brainwashing.  This brainwashing is not the cult like brainwashing of the environment of the Sith that all Inquisitors are subjected to, but a torturous brainwashing that implies the torture continues afterwards to keep people in line.  It’s an environment that promotes anger, backstabbing, and violence in Iskat which adds to the tragedy of her inability to truly find her identity after getting what she wants, until she finds a horrific one in the end, all leading up to the point where she is going to fall which is honestly great.

 

Overall, Inquisitors: Rise of the Red Blade was a particularly good surprise, Delilah S. Dawson working so well at writing this character study.  The fact that it is a standalone that doesn’t need much knowledge of Star Wars on the whole definitely helps, Dawson recaps even the film information in the worldbuilding and writes as if she is writing her own science fiction world instead of a media tie in.  Iskat is a compelling protagonist and while this review didn’t discuss it, her relationships with others is what helps Dawson elevate this novel into something amazing.  9/10.

The Sun Eater: Demon in White by: Christopher Ruocchio

 

What is fascinating about The Sun Eater is that as a series it is spanning an incredibly long period of time but still following a central protagonist which is a trick to pull off well.  Demon in White is the third installment to build the series further into the future of Hadrian Marlowe and feels as if this is the point where Hadrian is reaching the apex of his power before the dreaded reputation will actually surface.  Much of the novel is concerned with Hadrian as the Halfmortal and dealing with the emotional fallout of Howling Dark, but Christopher Ruocchio as an author has finally pulled off the trick of making his extended narrative actually feel focused for the entire novel.  If there was something holding back Empire of Silence and Howling Dark it’s that both novels had at least one major diversion from the plot or one transitionary sequence that doesn’t quite work, but Demon in White has none of that.  Hadrian is thrust back into the world of nobility and cannot avoid those responsibilities, he is given a squire in Alexander and engaged to the heir to the throne while still being in love with Valka, this being a classic marriage proposal for political reasons.  Hadrian of course makes some of the same mistakes because despite every change he has undergone, he hasn’t fundamentally changed as a person despite the journey he’s going on seeing his position in the universe changing.  This is a novel that deepens Hadrian’s place in the universe and how the universe itself is toying with him, making him the demon and Halfmortal that the people have declared him.  Ruocchio has set up Hadrian to fall in a universe that is bigger than him, the Chantry drawing on Dune for its influence and Ruocchio specifically honing in on the general hypocrisy of the religion which uses technology.  It’s an idea Ruocchio introduced explicitly in the short stories preceding this third novel.

 

The way Hadrian uses his privilege in this novel is of particular interest for where the novel goes.  He clearly does not wish to be a mentor to Alexander, but is assigned the young royal as his squire which places Alexander in the center of the narrative.  Alexander is written as a rich child, perceived very much as a spoiled rich kid paralleling the way Hadrian was seen by the reader in Empire of Silence, but Hadrian in the mentor role is one that he is clearly not suited for.  There is a moment where Hadrian breaks Alexander’s vision of him, a small moment in the grand scheme of the novel and one that relies on a trope of overhearing Hadrian complain about how Alexander isn’t wanted.  Hadrian as a character would rather not deal with the royal family and the only portion of the novel where he seems actually at home is reuniting with Tor Gibson who by coincidence is alive and studying where Hadrian can find the answers to what made him Halfmortal.  It’s perhaps the longest sequence in the novel and the one where he is genuinely at peace with the universe, integrating Ruocchio’s general sense of stretching time and giving into the fantastical of the universe.  Ruocchio obviously already established this as the human race in the future, but there are several points where the reader will realize exactly what happened to “modern” Earth history in the future with the idea of the Quiet as essentially technogods.  There is also the Mericanii technology obviously being American, an obvious example of language decay.   Ruocchio also wears his influences on his sleeve with subtle references to essentially every other major science fiction series that you can think of.

 

Overall, Demon in White is actually a novel that largely deserves its title and justifies its length.  It’s the longest installment of The Sun Eater so far yet Christopher Ruocchio has put in the work to refine his pacing to make the novel cohesive.  The climax which takes up basically the last 200 pages of the novel, give or take, is particularly interesting as it sets up Hadrian in the position for his actual fall.  His politicking ends up taking him down a peg and pushing people away who almost wish he would intervene and make them say.  Ruocchio is beginning to snowball the tragedy of The Sun Eater and makes this one his best installment.  10/10.

Turnabout Intruder by: Arthur Singer from a story by: Gene Roddenberry and directed by: Herb Wallerstein

 

“Turnabout Intruder” is written by: Arthur H. Singer, from a story by: Gene Roddenberry, and is directed by: Herb Wallerstein.  It was filmed under production code 79, was the 24^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 79^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on June 3, 1969.

 

Here we are, the end of broadcast Star Trek, the final episode airing in a new time slot after cancellation had already been carried down.  There’s a genuine sense of tiredness throughout the third season of the show, the slashed budget and departure of Gene L. Coon and D.C. Fontana clearly weighed heavily on the cast and crew, and the final episode is one that embodies that.  “Turnabout Intruder” is an episode from the mind of Gene Roddenberry, although scripting duties were handed to script editor Arthur Singer, and once again this one is about a social issue that Roddenberry just doesn’t understand.  The female characters on Star Trek have always been a bit of a sore subject for me, while Nichelle Nichols broke barriers with her portrayal of Uhura, and Majel Barrett as Nurse Chapel getting a single episode’s focus, their characterization was incredibly limited to being pretty faces and often were they reduced to sex objects (though not as often as pop culture would have you believe).  “Turnabout Intruder” is one of the few episodes where gender plays a significant role in the plot and honestly I have a theory.  John Meredyth Lucas’ “Whom Gods Destroy” was reportedly rewritten so 40% of the televised script was written by Singer, and since Singer is writing the teleplay for “Turnabout Intruder” it is reasonable to assume that all the dialogue is his responsibility.  It is not a stretch to assume that Roddenberry’s outline was more explicit in having commentary on the role of women in the workplace, something that is vaguely underpinning the actual episode but the script feels as if any actual commentary was surgically removed in favor of an over the top body swap story where a madwoman takes the body of Captain Kirk so she can be a Starship Captain, something for some reason women aren’t allowed to be.  Sure, they’re allowed to be on the bridge which would put them in the line of succession for command, but they cannot be captains.

 

“Turnabout Intruder” has a plot which opens with Dr. Janice Lester, played by Sandra Smith, swapping bodies with her ex-lover Captain James Kirk, is unable to kill him in her body, and brings him back to the Enterprise.  The rest of the plot is Kirk in Lester’s body attempting to convince the crew that he is Kirk while both Smith and William Shatner overact.  Shatner in particular is at his most Shatner in this episode, playing up the queer coded elements of a woman swapping her brain into a man’s body and giving into the stereotypes of women as emotional and unable to think rationally.  This episode has some of the most sexist moments in the show thus far, a particular note of the final episode of the series.  This is also where the theory that any progressive or even positive commentary about repressive gender roles feels surgically removed: to accomplish a plot like this where a woman oppressed rises up against her oppressors and falls by going too far would at the very least have to make the woman competent and sympathetic.  Janice Lester is presented from the start as an awful person, an ex-lover of Kirk’s whom he doesn’t even really care for (nor she him), being exclusively characterized as mentioned above as an emotional woman.  This is an episode where while she is in Kirk’s body, she openly records Captain’s Logs explaining exactly what she had done and how to stop her.  Also somehow Kirk in Lester’s body is recording logs of his own.  Creating Janice as so unsympathetic, partially because of Shatner’s performance, means that the actual messaging on screen is all about how women are unreasonable and should be kept down, up there with the most regressive messages the show has ever actually put out.  It’s also very telling for an episode where there are only three female characters that barely interact, Nurse Chapel acting as a nurse to Janice but not believing her, and a day player communications officer barely getting her own dialogue.  For an episode about gender roles, the men are the ones who are centered.

 

Herb Wallerstein directs and his direction is something that is particularly tired, often shooting things head on.  There’s a particular moment where Spock just walks into frame and the actual framing of the shot is ever so slightly off center that it looks like an amateur mistake.  This is also a plot that relies on the rest of the crew not realizing that Kirk isn’t acting like Kirk until the concluding act of the episode which can be done but the script relies on nobody actually thinking about what Kirk is doing until it is convenient for the plot.  There are a few decent supporting performances.  Leonard Nimoy as Spock is doing his best with the material.  James Doohan and DeForest Kelley get one scene together that is particularly good as they contemplate mutiny because they’ve realized Kirk isn’t Kirk, same with George Takei and Walter Koenig almost immediately after with the actual mutiny being communicated well in a single shot.  It’s one of the few aspects of the direction that is genuinely interesting and able to generate atmosphere, right at the end of the episode.

 

Overall, “Turnabout Intruder” is an episode with a reputation, and that reputation is one that is clearly deserved.  While I was not expecting anything special for the series finale of Star Trek since shows didn’t really do series finales in the modern sense until at least 20 years later, I wasn’t quite expecting it to end on such a whimper coming immediately after a thematically interesting episode that could have served as the finale.  The episode is sexist drivel that at least William Shatner had fun being William Shatner with.  3/10.

 

And since we are at the end of the show we have one final time to rank the worst and best episodes of the season and the series overall:

 

Top 5 Worst Episodes of Season 3:

5. Turnabout Intruder

4. Elaan of Troyius

3. And the Children Shall Lead

2. The Way to Eden

1. The Savage Curtain

 

Top 10 Worst Episodes of Star Trek:

10. Spock’s Brain

9. The Alternative Factor

8. Charlie X

7. Turnabout Intruder

6. Elaan of Troyius

5. And the Children Shall Lead

4. The Gamesters of Triskelion

3. The Way to Eden

2. The Savage Curtain

1. The Omega Glory

 

Top 5 Best Episodes of Season 3:

5. Is There in Truth No Beauty?

4. All Our Yesterdays

3. Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

2. The Enterprise Incident

1. The Tholian Web

 

Top 10 Best Episodes of Star Trek:

10. The Tholian Web

9. Journey to Babel

8. A Taste of Armageddon

7. The Trouble with Tribbles

6. The Corbomite Maneuver

5. Space Seed

4. Amok Time

3. Mirror, Mirror

2. The City on the Edge of Forever

1. Balance of Terror

All Our Yesterdays by: Jean Lisette Aroeste and directed by: Marvin Chomsky

 

“All Our Yesterdays” is written by: Jean Lisette Aroeste and is directed by: Marvin Chomsky.  It was filmed under production code 78, was the 23^rd episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 78^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on March 14, 1969.

 

It’s kind of surprising to have quite a strong character piece as the penultimate episode of Star Trek, but “All Our Yesterdays” is an episode that focuses almost exclusively on the relationship between Spock and McCoy being put in a perilous situation.  Star Trek as a series can be accurately described as focusing on the trio of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy in a situation so “All Our Yesterdays” as an episode is one that largely takes Kirk out of the scenario as he is relegated to the B-plot of peril.  The premise of this episode sees the main trio beam down to a planet which is hours away from dying as its star goes supernova and the populace have sent themselves back in time to live out the rest of their lives in a world of their own choice.  The Enterprise crew hasn’t actually come to stop the people from this fate, instead being motivated by attempting to save the entire planet under the belief that the inhabitants don’t know their extinction is coming.  The episode doesn’t go into the timeline breaking implications of sending the entire planet’s population into the past, hand waving it away by the librarian, Mr. Atoz played by Ian Wolfe, preparing them some sort of life in the past, something we see in Kirk’s plot.  Despite that this is a great premise, Kirk being sent into a past where he is accused of witchcraft after saving a woman from being attacked while Spock and McCoy are sent together into the planet’s ice age where there is a woman in exile Zarabeth, played by Mariette Hartley.  The danger of the trio being in the past is that they have not been processed, so they will be slowly dying and degenerating into versions of themselves that would fit into the time period they have been sent.

 

This degeneration means that Spock is going back to a more barbaric vision of the Vulcan people, being sent 5,000 years into the universe’s past with McCoy makes him emotional and specifically aggressive.  Writer Jean Lisette Aroeste sets Spock up romantically with Zarabeth, intentionally paralleling the romance from “This Side of Paradise”, Spock being manipulated by Zarabeth, who desperately does not wish to be lonely anymore.  The episode is clearly going to end in tragedy, the relationship will not last and McCoy is suffering from frostbite so they both need to get out of the ice age.  Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley get some of their best material here, Kelley especially as McCoy is the one who realizes what’s happening to Spock and tries to talk him out of it.  The pair without Kirk are much easier to come to blows creating this great tension and justifies Nimoy’s particular outbursts of emotion.  William Shatner as Kirk is given a weaker plot, mainly information gathering, but it’s still one that really works with who Kirk is as a person: he’s the one who is going to try and save the day, himself, and his crew above all else, willing to sacrifice only when he clearly cannot save others.  He’s the one who is able to get Spock and McCoy out at the last minute as the star is going nova and the planet is going to be destroyed.  He’s also the character given the large amount of the action, even when relegated to a B-plot.

 

Overall, “All Our Yesterdays” as an episode feels like an ending.  Some of this is coming from retrospect, there is technically one episode left but this episode was the last to be aired in what had been this season’s regular Friday night time slot and the show would be on hiatus for nearly three months before the final episode aired, but it as an episode it is almost wholly a reflection on the three characters responsible for driving Star Trek forward.  It’s a character piece that is honestly quite touching, even if there is a weak B-plot and the actual ending is a bit of an anticlimax.  This episode feels like a fitting goodbye to these characters and Jean Lisette Aroeste is clearly a fan turned writer who understands how to express this.  It’s just a bit of a shame that there’s one more episode left that happens to be an episode with an infamous reputation.  8/10.

Doctor Who and the Masque of Mandragora by: Philip Hinchcliffe

 

Doctor Who and the Masque of Mandragora was written by Philip Hinchcliffe, based on The Masque of Mandragora by Louis Marks.  It was the 38^th story to be novelized by Target Books.

 

The Masque of Mandragora is an overlooked Philip Hinchcliffe serial.  One of the few times the Hinchcliffe era really attempted a historical setting (the other two being Pyramids of Mars and The Talons of Weng-Chiang) and it’s quite resplendent in its Italian Renaissance setting.  It’s also one of four serials to be written by Louis Marks who novelized none of his stories, three novelizations falling to Terrance Dicks and Doctor Who and the Masque of Mandragora falling instead to Philip Hinchcliffe.  This isn’t the only serial Hinchcliffe would adapt for the Target Books range of novelizations but in terms of adapting the story it’s one of the ones that is perhaps difficult to talk to.  While Terrance Dicks famously adapts stories to be close to the story but with his easy to read style, Philip Hinchcliffe shows that there was a clear reason as to why he didn’t really write for the show.  Doctor Who and the Masque of Mandragora reads almost too straightforward in terms of what happened, making the prose have a tendency to just be glossed over in reading the short novelization.  In its shortness there is almost a paradox to the novel, it took me several days to get through because of how bland Hinchcliffe’s prose is, not helped by The Masque of Mandragora being a story which while having its fair share of action scenes, is more a contemplative piece in many ways.

 

On television the story was propped up by director Rodney Bennett’s use of location shooting in Portmeirion to serve as Renaissance Italy, and sadly Hinchcliffe doesn’t really add much to the descriptions.  There’s a sequence early on in the serial involving orange trees and the way Hinchcliffe translates it makes it feel normal when in the serial we have a beautiful forest and some sparkling dialogue leading into action.  The only thing that really does sparkle is the main dynamic between the Doctor and Sarah Jane, Hinchcliffe clearly being close to Tom Baker and Elisabeth Sladen through their three years on production.  Hinchcliffe actually does some small additions to the dialogue for the Doctor in particular which makes for a pretty fun addition, especially when putting the bombast of Tom Baker against the villain Hieronymus and the Cult of Demnos.  The events of the story are there and it’s perfectly fine as a novel.

 

Overall, Doctor Who and the Masque of Mandragora is essentially an example of why some people are better suited to suggesting ideas to produce instead of writing, something exemplified by Big Finish Productions as they adapted some of his unused ideas with scripts by other people.  It makes a solid story come across as incredibly bland on the whole, making the shortness of a Target novelization feel much longer and honestly leave me with little to actually say about it.  5/10.

The Savage Curtain by: Gene Roddenberry and Arthur Heinemann, from a story by: Gene Roddenberry, and directed by: Herschel Daugherty

 

“The Savage Curtain” is written by: Gene Roddenberry and Arthur Heinemann, from a story by: Gene Roddenberry, and is directed by: Herschel Daugherty.  It was filmed under production code 77, was the 22^nd episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 77^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on March 7, 1969.

 

Gene Roddenberry’s writer and story credit has filled me with a sense of dread and not since “The Omega Glory” has there been an episode this dire.  “The Savage Curtain” is an episode that once again because Roddenberry is a patriot for the United States of America as the best country in the world which is especially ironic considering this is an episode that went out during the early days of the Nixon administration.  It’s very easy to see where this patriotism came from, President Lyndon B. Johnson was largely seen through his Great Society as incredibly progressive making social change possible in response to the Civil Rights Movement, although Johnson was responsible for invading Vietnam and escalating the Vietnam War something Star Trek was critical towards.  1969 as a year could be historically described as a year where the swinging nature of the 1960s shattered: Richard Nixon taking office brought Republican power as the Republican Party’s base was undergoing a shift that began in 1964 making it the far right at best fascist adjacent party it is today, the anti-war movement was at its peak with Nixon beginning troop withdrawls after several disasters of the previous administration though the war would and essentially leaving Vietnam with many problems the United States had caused, and the fall would see the Manson murders be the culmination of the decade.  The early 1970s would be rocked with political scandal to fuel rightful distrust in a government including Watergate and the publishing of The Pentagon Papers.

 

“The Savage Curtain” as an episode is Roddenberry attempting to make a statement on the nature of good vs. evil by presenting figures from real and fictional history of the Star Trek universe and making them fight for a race of rock creatures in an episode that ends on the exclamation that good and evil are actually similar because they use the same methods when forced to fight.  This barely gets a refutation from Kirk and Spock who are included in the battle because they represent the current society.  It’s also a conclusion that feels fundamentally at odds with Star Trek’s own philosophy: this is a show that has largely refuted the ideas of pure good and evil, creating recurring villains that are largely given inner lives and sympathies in episodes such as “Balance of Terror” and even whenever the Klingons appear.  Using methodology to create similarity in philosophy is also just ridiculous because the methodology of two parties fighting on an essentially barren planet in a conflict they have been conscripted into by a literal higher power, and by having one party made up of people who aren’t really there.  There’s a hint that Roddenberry understands that at the very end, but this episode was also co-written by Arthur Heinemann who very easily could have seen what Roddenberry was proposing and attempted to damage control Roddenberry’s messaging, especially since this was both the third from last episode to enter production and third from last to air.

 

This is a bad message and it compounds with Roddenberry’s patriotism because the main historical figure from actual history is Abraham Lincoln, taken from a projection in Kirk’s mind of one of the great historical figures.  The historical figure from Spock’s mind is the founder of Vulcan society, Surak.  The episode actually opens with Lincoln appearing on the viewscreen and asking to come aboard the Enterprise hence an utterly ridiculous image that perhaps had the most potential to reflect on history.  Lincoln is clearly a historical figure Roddenberry admires, and largely for good reason.  I cannot discount Lincoln’s leadership through the American Civil War and his abolitionist stance, but this is also an episode from 1969 so it very much is ascribing to the Great Man theory of history.  Abraham Lincoln was very much an integral figure in the history of the United States of America and Earth’s history in general, and one of the better presidents, but this is an episode that posits Kirk’s impressions of him would ascribe to the Great Man theory of history.  This is also an aspect of the episode that largely mischaracterizes Kirk, mainly because why would he be interested so much in 19^th century American history.  Spock’s projection at least makes sense for being the mythical figure who started Vulcan society, but Kirk here is just in love with Lincoln, only vaguely mentioning that it’s probably not the real Abraham Lincoln.  Kirk is written with an uncharacteristic lack of curiosity and more as a strategic general so Lincoln can compare him to Grant which again doesn’t feel right for the character.  Yes, he’s a leader and is intelligent but he’s not really a master strategist in terms of fighting a war.

 

The first moment in the episode where you realize something is going to go horribly wrong with the commentary is giving a scene between Lincoln and Uhura, largely because it’s another scene written from a white perspective.  Roddenberry and Heinemann, I’m not certain which but lean towards Roddenberry, have Lincoln refer to Uhura as a term that would be historically accurate but is a racial slur.  The slur is also gendered subtly contributing to the sexualization and exotification of women of color and black women in particular, which actually could have been interesting if it would be used to show Lincoln’s own biases but because this is a very white led show from 1969, the conclusion is essentially sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.  Watching the scene you can see Nichelle Nichols holding back emotions at having to claim the slur doesn’t affect her because slurs have no power in the future which is attempting to be optimistic about the future, but ignores the very real power of words in the present.  This is partially because Rodenberry and Heineman are white and are clearly not aware of the systemic natures of bigotry, see other Roddenberry penned episodes like “A Private Little War” and “The Omega Glory”.

 

Overall, “The Savage Curtain” is an episode without a discernable message that an already weak production from director Herschel Daugherty on some very small sets and action that is honestly poorly choreographed (and like many 1960s productions the guest cast is all white including a projection of Genghis Kahn and a very dark Klingon).  Gene Roddenberry proves once again how limited his progressive vision of the future is in writing an episode which is incredibly regressive while philosophically deciding that good and evil are the same actually.  Not since “The Omega Glory” has this episode been that bad and like “The Omega Glory” it’s one where there is a blinding patriotism informs the characterization all while the world around Star Trek had been crashing that patriotism down around it.  One of the worst.  1/10.

Star Wars: Tarkin by: James Luceno

 

Peter Cushing’s performance is one of those elements of Star Wars that doesn’t get discussed in larger circles, people being more interested in how it lays the groundwork for the trilogy with The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi often overshadowing Star Wars, for good reason.  Cushing, however, is one of the actors that really ties the original film together, acting as the primary antagonist and as an actor is a guide for Carrie Fisher’s performance in particular.  Tarkin is a novel that expands upon Grand Moff Tarkin as a character leading up to the beginning of the Death Star’s construction after the events of Revenge of the Sith.  This is a novel of two halves, the first being interspersed with flashback’s to Tarkin’s upbringing and first meetings with Senator Palpatine.  It’s these sections where author James Luceno excels at portraying the nature of Tarkin’s family and personhood, focusing on the general ruthlessness and awareness of what he is doing.  There aren’t excuses made and this novel isn’t portraying the character as at all sympathetic, Luceno is portraying a fascist rising the ranks of a democracy in the middle of a fascist takeover.  This is a particularly difficult task after all, one pitfall would be attempts to make Tarkin sympathetic which is avoided by making it very clear that his ambition is both something instilled in the character from his upbringing as well as making them his ambitions.  The man is immediately willing to grab at any piece of power he can while having this gentlemanly attitude towards the galaxy at large: he will stab you in the back but while he do it there will be such a niceness to it that you can’t help but be charmed by the man.  Luceno makes this partially a mask the character is wearing and developing, but not a mask of lies, Tarkin is that manipulative but still develops it over time.

 

Where the back half of the book excels is not the plot, that is actually the weaker aspect of the novel becoming a bit too obsessed with getting the reader to the point of the Death Star being built and as such many of the subplots are particularly shallow, but portraying the trio of Tarkin, Vader, and the Emperor.  The Emperor as a character obviously had a particular image and this novel was published after the prequel trilogy released, but Luceno is interested in characterizing Palpatine as he was in the original trilogy.  This is a character who has won everything and it is almost a clash of genres whenever Palpatine and Tarkin interact, Palpatine is a megalomaniac while Tarkin is a Peter Cushing character.  There is a moment where Tarkin refers to the Emperor by his first name which stood out in particular: it creates a moment of humanization to the evil again without creating sympathy for the devil.  Darth Vader completes the trilogy and it is utterly fascinating to keep the stoic and calm Vader of Star Wars throughout this novel which features quite a bit of scheming to keep the Empire’s power intact.  The fragile situation of the Empire is particularly fascinating, something that would be maintained throughout its rule.

 

Overall, Tarkin works at its best when it is focused in on being a character study, especially in the first half where that’s all it is doing.  The second half suffers by rushing through to the point where Star Wars needs to begin and the Death Star needs to be built and that rush really brings down what could have been a great book to just a pretty good one.  7/10.

The Myth Makers by: Donald Cotton

 

The Myth Makers was written by Donald Cotton, based on his story of the same name.  It was the 97^th story to be novelized by Target Books.

 

The existing audio for The Myth Makers is one of those underrated Doctor Who soundtracks.  It’s quite the humorous serial, only really getting dark at the very end with the recreation of the sacking of Troy.  Donald Cotton wrote another serial in 1966 and ended his connection with his show until the 1980s when he novelized The Myth Makers.  This novelization was published in 1985, only a year after the show began to be released on VHS so it is in this space where it is still being written for an audience who wouldn’t have the chance to rewatch it had it survived the junkings and not yet essentially for the fans.  Yet Donald Cotton clearly decided to take novelization as writing an original novel, something he pivoted to after leaving radio and television.  The Myth Makers is far closer to a traditionally published historical science fiction novel, deciding to present the Doctor, Steven, and Vicki as seen by the epic poet Homer.  This is posited as a special early draft of the Iliad, told orally revealed in an epilogue to the Doctor at some point in the future.  Homer even takes the role of Cyclops from the television story which does make me imagine the narration as Tutte Lemkow which is a fascinating effect.  This makes for a fascinating novel because it’s reformatted from the events of the serial to be a novel, following largely the Doctor for the first half, Vicki only briefly whenever it’s important to establish the relationship between her and Troilus, and Steven in the second half.

 

There is something heightened about the characterization, especially of Cassandra in an attempt to somehow outdo the camp of the television story, as well as make the Trojan characters in particular filling into the camp sensibilities of the story.  The Doctor is also perfectly characterized and just as stubborn, but if there was one point where this novelization failed it would be on Steven and Vicki in the first half.  Vicki in the second half actually gets some focus with Troilus actually providing romantic interest instead of the last-minute relationship of the serial, and having Homer speculate on her inner life means there is at least some justification, however Cotton decides that Steven and Vicki both need to be characters from modern day Earth instead of the future.  Steven in particular suffers because Cotton doesn’t have access to any novelizations featuring the character as this would be the first, Vicki at least had Doctor Who and the Zarbi and Doctor Who and the Crusaders, but Steven is just generic male companion which would bring down an otherwise perfect book.  9/10.

The Cloud Minders by: Margaret Armen from a story by: David Gerrold and Oliver Crawford and directed by: Jud Taylor

 

“The Cloud Minders” is written by: Margaret Armen, from a story by: David Gerrold and Oliver Crawford, and is directed by: Jud Taylor.  It was filmed under production code 74, was the 21^st episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 76^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on February 28, 1969.

 

“The Cloud Minders” is the definition of a great episode of television that utterly falls apart in the third act.  It’s another episode of Star Trek engaging with social commentary, this time directly looking at slavery and to a lesser extent some of the contemporary myths as to why slavery in the United States of America was justified, presenting them largely as ridiculous and as part of upholding the system.  The premise is that there is a planet in danger of ecological collapse that the Enterprise needs a mineral, zenite, from the planet Ardana.  Standard stuff for Star Trek, Ardana’s main city being Stratos, a floating city in the clouds where the rich and intelligent live while there are miners, the unintelligent Troglytes, on the planet’s surface responsible for mining the zenite.  It’s setting up an obvious class divide based around intelligence, a belief that mirrors contemporary and modern-day racism with the leader on Stratos, Plasus played by Jeff Corey, is insistent that the divide is an objective fact of reality.  This is biting commentary and honestly quite bold for Star Trek to attempt, being explicit for the first two thirds of the episode in pining the problems on the system itself and not just individuals in the system, all through having one person represent that system.  This is assisted by the attempts to present Stratos as literally heavenly and having the first scenes set on the planet be outside of the mines, on the ground with Troglyte revolutionaries because yes there is an attempted revolution occurring, using the Enterprise’s needs in the crossfire.  They are holding the zenite hostage and what shows promise for the episode at this point is that Kirk and Spock are presented the conflict and do not immediately take the side of the upper class.  They immediately criticize the government for not following Federation regulations and set to getting the zenite.

 

The first crack in the episode is that the class divide by intelligence has an actual reason that is not due to systemic oppression, but because of an odorless gas that affects the brain through prolonged exposure removing the intelligence from the Troglytes.  This is apparent from the Troglyte servant Vanna, played by Charlene Polite, being intelligent and one of the leaders of the rebellion.  Vanna later in the episode is derided for being ungrateful for what the cloud city of Stratos gave her, reflecting the idea of the white man’s burden in the sphere of colonial powers directly.  It’s also a stroke of genius (and slight padding for the episode) to have Vanna mistrust Kirk throughout when a solution of filter masks to avoid the effects of the gas are suggested.  This is where the episode begins to fall behind, partially due to the need of Star Trek to wrap up a conflict in a nice 50 minute package, as it suggests the centuries of oppression can be undone by a simple solution while still showing Plasus in power and unwilling to see the equality of the Troglytes.  The episode ends with an almost glib comment that he will continue, though one reading could be of an understanding that the quest for equality would still be ongoing despite the masks.  The third act also decides at points to be sympathetic to Plasus as an oppressor and Kirk directly chiding the Troglytes for their resistance.  There’s a sequence of Kirk trapping himself, Vanna, and Plasus in a cave to show the existence of the gas which is an odd plan to lead to the end of the episode when it would also be possible to beam the trio up to the Enterprise for mediation.

 

“The Cloud Minders” as an episode title also doesn’t make much sense, according to Google a minder is essentially a bodyguard so apparently this is about people who protect the clouds in what is a clear attempt to reference the sky city setting, but it’s kind of non-sensical.  The script itself has also clearly undergone several drafts.  David Gerrold and Oliver Crawford are credited with story by credits, Gerrold’s influence being the strongest in terms of the outline of the plot while Crawford feels at least partially responsible for the commentary, but the actual script was by Margaret Armen.  Armen had previously penned two episodes, both plagued with problems in retrospect on being contradictory in terms of their messaging.  This is an episode where there is a beautiful woman as a character just there to be a sex object and someone for Spock to talk to, Spock being characterized in places as more human in a very odd way that feels like Armen’s influence.  While I do not wish to blame Armen without any proof of what she is responsible for in comparison to Gerrold or Crawford, but it is telling that this is her strongest episode and it’s the only one not coming from one of her own story ideas.

 

Overall, despite a third act that falls apart, “The Cloud Minders” is one of the rare third season episodes of Star Trek that manages to work incredibly well.  The biting nature of the first two thirds of the episode being so strong is really what makes it work, and after the commentary of “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield”, doing an episode like this which looks at the system as a whole as a form of oppression (even if it fails in the end) is the logical next step.  7/10.

The Way to Eden by: Arthur Heinemann from a story by: Michael Richards and Arthur Heinemann and directed by: David Alexander

 

“The Way to Eden” is written by: Arthur Heinemann, from a story by: Michael Richards (a pseudonym for D.C. Fontana) and Arthur Heinemann, and is directed by: David Alexander.  It was filmed under production code 75, was the 20^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 75^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on February 21, 1969.

 

There’s something fascinating about media’s attempts to show generational divides and you would think Star Trek with its largely progressive messaging would have done this more than once in its initial run, but that was only saved for an episode near the end of the third season.  “The Way to Eden” is one of those episodes taking an idea submitted by D.C. Fontana and then altering it so much from the original proposal that Fontana requested to be credited by her pseudonym Michael Richards while Arthur Heinemann rewrote the outline and script for the episode.  “The Way to Eden” is an attempt by Star Trek to engage with the counterculture of the 1960s which despite everything the show has attempted in progressing television, it seems to have great contempt for it while also paying lip service to the basic ideas of wishing for peace, love, and understanding in the end.  Most of the issues here are down to Heinemann who previously scripted “Wink of an Eye” and as with the previous episode “The Way to Eden” struggles in terms of providing any characterization for the group of hippies.  Instead Heinemann is focusing on how the space hippies of the episode are on paper intelligent, but have no real motivation outside of some generic authority bad before hypocritically following a central leader who leads them to their doom.

 

Heinemann struggles with providing an actual drama for the 50-minute runtime of the episode, much of the episode being devoted to musical numbers about finding Eden and sticking it to some sort of man (but not really).  There is a moment where their plan is to take over the Enterprise and shout Herbert at Kirk as some sort of idea of authority.  They’re also ready to just outright kill the crew on the Enterprise to get to Eden for reasons that aren’t defined at all, the episode wants them to be intelligent enough to understand this.  Some of the drama is also having the hippies deny that one of them is a carrier of a deadly disease because technology is apparently responsible for the disease, so it shouldn’t be a problem.  A better writer would use this as a commentary on how humanity has a tendency to create many of its own problems, largely due to society’s obsession with money and profit, but Heinemann isn’t interested in attempting any sort of messaging.  Heinemann just wants to write an episode with hippies and songs and a conclusion of them all essentially dead by their Eden being a poison.  The most charitable reading on the ending is what would be a great one against those who are obsessed with the return to traditionalism, however, because it is hippies that are the ones wanting to “return to tradition” which is just a gross misunderstanding of the hippie counterculture of the 1960s.  On the production side, this being an episode of the third season of Star Trek it is greatly affected by the slashed budget of the season and that shows.  David Alexander is directing the episode and he is clearly trying his best to bring emotion out of the actors, but he’s also dealing with an episode whose costume design is particularly lacking.  The design of the space hippies are essentially dressed in rags with died hair and prosthetics to imply something, I’m not entirely sure if they’re supposed to be aliens or just humans into body modification.  The script implies that the episode is about humans, but the prosthetics around the ears and the particularly bad wigs indicate the hippies are aliens.

 

Overall, “The Way to Eden” is easily among the weakest of Star Trek’s episodes and like many of the weak episodes, it’s one where things could have easily gone differently had the writer been interested in actually saying something with the premise.  There’s barely 20 minutes of material stretched to 50 with inane musical numbers and very little to actually say about its premise.  2/10.

The Sun Eater: Howling Dark by: Christopher Ruocchio

 

When I took a look at Empire of Silence I discussed many of the influences in terms of science fiction and media in general which I don’t think would be nearly as effective when looking at Howling Dark, the sequel.  Empire of Silence was a sprawling epic looking over a large section of Hadrian Marlowe’s life while Howling Dark sees author Christopher Ruocchio honing in on looking at who Hadrian is as a person exploring the universe largely as a mercenary.  Much of the novel is spent worldbuilding the universe, the Cielcin especially get an exploration with Hadrian and a Cielcin high priest/scholar Tanaran having this fascinating arc.  The novel excels at this centering of Hadrian as a character and by writing a novel where less time passes for Hadrian so instead of covering several decades, we are only looking at a particularly short period of time.  To accomplish this Ruocchio has to accomplish a writing trick to avoid taking the pace down to a near standstill and making Howling Dark feel sluggish.  It does take Ruocchio a while to make the pace work as well as Empire of Silence did, the opening chapters do become dangerously close to become a slog, partially because of how much of the early portions feel as if they are in Hadrian’s head in terms of following exactly what he is doing.  This perhaps indicates that in early stages of writing Ruocchio was intending to follow the pacing of Empire of Silence with Howling Dark.  There are also sequences in the novel where some of the flow of the narrative is interrupted so Ruocchio can get Hadrian to a place where he needs to be for where the plot is going.  Now The Sun Eater as a series has the framing of Hadrian writing his own memoirs, largely as the final moments of each installment so far and some at the beginning, so these issues with the flow could be a deliberate choice on the part of Ruocchio as presenting Hadrian as at least partially unreliable as a narrator of his own story.

 

This idea of Hadrian being unreliable is something that becomes apparent with the back half of the novel, this being where Ruocchio really kicks his writing into high gear and surpassing even the first installment of the novel.  The idea here is Hadrian Marlowe on the precipice of a fall in terms of what he is becoming.  The idea of the Ship of Theseus is present throughout the novel, much of the metaphor being applied to the universe as a whole (mainly the Cielcin and humanity) and to Hadrian as a person.  Ruocchio connects Hadrian as a character to Theseus, one of the Ancient Greek heroes who while not one to die a tragic death, has several stories to highlight the worse aspects as a character.  Hadrian compares himself to Theseus, specifically through the ship metaphor and Theseus’ most popular myth of slaying the Minotaur and navigating the Labyrinth.  This is an apt metaphor for Hadrian’s character arc, ending with Hadrian essentially at his most powerful but at some very interesting costs.  This is a book that sees Hadrian push away those he thought (and those who were) friends because those friends made one bad choice under pressure.  Hadrian as a character is leaning heavily into the prideful mindset, something worthy of a Greek hero and a Greek tragedy.  Hadrian’s romance with Valka in the novel is also in line with this thinking, Valka being a clear match for Hadrian and one to make him move past Cat’s death in Empire of Silence.  Ruocchio is also excellent at realizing the characters other than Hadrian despite being in the first person perspective, largely because the worldbuilding is intent on showing how much of the universe is harsh.

 

The Cielcin in Empire of Silence are largely off-screen as it were, but in Howling Dark much of the novel is spent among them and Hadrian’s attempts at a treaty where it is revealed that while humanity is an imperialist empire throughout the universe, this does not mean the Cielcin are innocent.  They are equally as harsh in terms of society, much of the translation of their language being inadequate, the novel building to a more accurate translation leading to a final reveal about exactly what they want with humanity.  Ruocchio is clear in making this a morally gray conflict where there are no heroes but there certainly are villains.  This makes Hadrian being on the precipice of falling such a compelling character despite the obvious villainy in his future.  There is much talk of identity and existence in three dimensions as Ruocchio also adds other forms of life in a fascinating sequence in the middle of the novel where Hadrian like a Greek hero essentially seeks an oracle.

 

Overall, Howling Dark is certainly a worthy if very different follow-up to Empire of Silence.  Like with Empire of Silence this review can hardly cover the depth of what is a very large novel, but what Ruocchio has done is further his science fiction epic by bringing in specific ideas from fantasy, Clarke’s law being invoked at several points.  It ends as if everything is about to fall apart in the best way possible as Hadrian has risen high and has left those behind him with some of his own humanity, both literally and figuratively.  9/10.