Eraserhead (1976)

Starring: Jack Nance, Charlotte Stewart, Allen Joseph, Jeanne Bates, Judith Roberts, Laurel Near

First, the Lowdown: A mild mannered man finds himself taking care of a mutant baby – then it gets weird.

Meet Henry Spencer, a mild-mannered employee of an industrial printer who is enjoying a pleasant week off to traipse around the dessicated wastes of his neighborhood (I’m guessing he lives in Detroit). He arrives at his lowly one-bedroom apartment and is informed by the sultry lady across the hall that a woman named Mary X called and has invited him for dinner. Mary and Henry used to be an item, bur Mary hasn’t called or visted in quite a while. Not having anything better to do, Henry shows up at Mary’s house for dinner and is introduced to her oddball parents. After an abortive attempt to dine on “man-made chicken”, Mary’s mother finally gets to the point – Mary has had a child recently and the only man she has been in contact with is Henry. Mother X wants Henry to do right by her daughter and marry her, and Henry is too non-confrontational to argue the point further.

Married life isn’t easy for Mary and Henry. The “child” Mary gave birth to looks like a stillborn calf that constantly whines. Mary, frustrated at the abomination she gave birth to and the pretty squalid conditions that Henry lives in, walks out to go back to her parent’s place, leaving Henry to raise the misshapen abortion on his own.

This is my first time watching Eraserhead. (And whenever I make that confession a lot of the people who know me closely stare at me non-believing.) It’s a movie I’ve heard much about, and it seems that everyone who has described it to me has a different take on it. Even though my friends and acquaintances have had different (sometimes contradictory) descriptions of the movie they all agree on one point – it is weird as fuck. In fact “weird as fuck” doesn’t even scratch the surface of this film, the movie is like Un Chien Andalou with a plot. I was surpised to find out that Lynch didn’t fire rifles and set the theater on fire during its premiere.

With each passing moment of this film I wanted to shake my fists at David “this time-elapse sequence of decaying roadkill represents the philosophical decay of society” Lynch for encouraging future generations of aspiring film students to use grainy black and white cinematography of spilled milk and people walking up staircases while discordant music plays in the background so they can call it “art”. (Performance art is “art” too, but the message it says is always the same: “I stopped taking my medication.”) But in all honesty, to curse David Lynch for being the inspiration to a bunch of lazy copyists would be as effective as whining that Woody Allen’s Annie Hall created the modern romantic comedy or that Star Wars would eventually lead to Michael Bay. I did enjoy the movie for the same reason I enjoy a lot of the movies I’ve watched that have been copied unsuccessfully – I am always more impressed by the original than the multitude of weak duplicates. David Lynch – much like David Cronenburg – knows that often times the best way to elicit a reaction out of the audience is to hit them viscerally. All of Eraserhead feels uncomfortable, like you’ve stumbled into the open-casket memorial of a complete stranger – you are polite as you can muster, but there’s a dead body in the room.

Speaking of Lynch, I was afraid that the DVD presentation of Eraserhead would be filled with his usual directorial pomposity, and my suspicions were confirmed even before the movie began – after the usual copyright and anti-piracy notices, a series of diagnostic tests appears so that you can calibrate your TV screen to the brightness and contrast levels necessary to maximize the effective range of value the movie provides. (Gimme a break.) Lynch designed the DVD interface himself, not trusting anyone else to handle it properly (something I wish more directors did, actually.) Don’t get me wrong, I like the output – but a lot of the time he comes of like an artist who likes talking about himself more than he likes producing works.

I am going to sidestep the obvious choice a lot of reviewers of this film have made by giving my interpretation as to the film’s “meaning.” In an interview, Lynch has stated that none of the reviews he’s read or fans he’s spoken with have come close to guessing at the film’s true meaning – which tells me that the film doesn’t really have one. In a lot of respects the movie comes off like a Rothko painting – a collection of shapes and sounds that occupy space without any significance other than to be part of the collective whole of the movie (much like Dali’s Un Chien Andalou). Lynch has also stated that of his catalogue, Eraserhead is his most “spiritual” for him. And in a way it makes sense to me, the kind of images we’re presented with (especially at the beginning) is something that could be evoked by the kind of religious apotheosis that’s the result of days of fasting and barbed hooks driven into your flesh.

Line of the Movie: “Oh, I don’t know much of anything.”

Four stars. There’s a hole in my pocket.

My Trek of the Stars, Part 10: Dagger of the Mind

Guest Starring: James Gregory, Morgan Woodward, Marianna Hill, Susanne Wasson, John Arndt

First, the Lowdown: A crazy-nuts inmate leads the Enterprise to a penal colony run by a greasy televangelist.

So the Enterprise is dropping off some supplies at the penal colony, Tantalus V. (The supplies being “infra-sensory drugs”, whatever that means.) But when the transporter crew tries to beam down the tubes and boxes labeled with random scientific babble on them nothing happens. Kirk strolls in and casually mentions that in order to beam down anything to a high security prison planet you have to message them first in order to get them to turn off their security screen. After straightening everything out with the colony, the supplies get zapped safely, and a new box gets beamed up. The box is filled with research materials bound for the Bureau of Penology (huh-huh, “penology”) in Stockholm – where the bestest prisons are. I guess the people on Tantalus V missed the memo on going “paperless”, all the records were probably printed on a dot-matrix too. Kirk tells the transporter engineer that security protocol is in the junior officer’s job description, so either he reads up on them or they replace him with a trained mandrill. He then leaves, chuckling at what an imbelice the man was. Our transporter chief exits too, probably to hit himself repeatedly for being so stupid, leaving only a lowly engineering intern to mind the transporter. While the intern is busy looking at unlabeled control panels, the box opens up and a crazy-eyed psycho crawls out! (Like that’s a surprise. “Research materials” my arse; you only need a box that big to hide a stripper or your grow op in it.) The Crazy-Eyed Psycho cold-cocks the poor intern and paces the room, unsure of what to do next.

Not realizing what has happened, the Enterprise leaves orbit to take a leisurely stroll (that may include a trip to McDonald’s if the kids behave themselves.) Kirk and McCoy debate on the merits of incarceration – the director of the Tantalus colony, Dr. Adams, has revolutionized the rehabilitation process, kinda like Dr. Phil. Kirk tells the ship’s surgeon that the prison systems are more like holiday camps now, whereas McCoy points out that he’s never been sexually assaulted at a holiday camp- oh, wait. An incoming message from the Tantalus colony warns the Enterprise that one of their inmates has escaped, probably in that box of crap they beamed up. (“There were baggies everywhere, man. Do you know how long it takes that shit to grow?”) Sure enough, our Crazy-Eyed Psycho has now stolen the poor cold-cocked intern’s uniform – so it’s like that one time an on-call “massage therapist” handcuffed you naked in a Motel 6 and then stole your wallet and car. (Or am I the only one who that has happened to here?) Our Crazy-Eyed Psycho stalks through the corridors of the Enterprise, desperately trying not to look conspicuous – which would be easier to achieve if he didn’t look like Amanda Plummer on amphetamines.

Kirk, not liking the idea of an unknown Crazy-Eyed Psycho on his ship (he prefers to be introduced first) orders a security alert. Immediately after the alert status is declared the Crazy-Eyed Psycho is spotted by a crewman (maybe the Crazy-Eyed Psycho should’ve curtailed his compulsive masturbating until he could find some privacy). When security is summoned to the area Mr. Crazypants has been spotted, he sneaks up behind a lanky redshirt, puts the sleeper on him and takes his phaser. Kirk confirms with the Tantalus colony that their missing inmate is on board the ship, and that he has enough problems as it is. Dr. Adams advises the captain that the missing convict is highly agitated and prone to violence (“Oh yeah, and he can’t stop masturbating for some reason”).

A security officer shows up to survey the bridge and is instantly judo-chopped by the Crazy-Eyed Psycho (I guess Enterprise security is on par with your local mall). Crazy-Eyed Psycho identifies himself as Van Gelder, nearly herniating himself in the process. He demands asylum from Kirk, who responds by having Mr. Spock break out his Bedtime for Bonzo neck pinch. Kirk then orders Mr. Psycho Van Gelder to sickbay and then tells the helm to return back to Tantalus so they can get some answers.

McCoy examines the waylaid psycho in sickbay – Van Gelder’s physical responses are like a meth addict on a Tilt-a-Whirl, but there’s no brain damage and no psychological symptoms either - it also took more tranquilizers to placate the man than what you’d find in your average Rolling Stones backstage party. Van Gelder also keeps trying to talk about something, but then shits himself into silence before he can finish.

On the bridge, Spock reports that ship’s records show Van Gelder was assigned to the Tantalus colony to assist Dr. Adams. Kirk calls down to Adams to report on Van Gelder’s condition, Adams then informs the captain that Van Gelder had injured himself while experimenting on a rehabilitative device – the device malfunctioned and transmogrified him into a Crazy-Eyed Psycho. McCoy however disagrees with Adams’s explanation, but he only has a vague reason why. Kirk again restates that they now live in the future, where going to prison is like Christmas every day, but the doctor states that any reasonable doubt he states must be followed up on, so there. Kirk reluctantly agrees to investigate the matter and orders the doctor to find a suitable assistant to accompany him (“Make sure she has nice hooters this time”).

In the transporter room, Kirk arrives to find the assistant McCoy had assigned him – Dr. Helen Noel. Our captain has to stifle his embarrassment, though – it seems a drunken Kirk stumbled into the science department’s Christmas party, but was too sauced to follow through on his lecherous antics.

They beam down near the front door for prison colony – a door that leads to a Tower of Terror-like elevator which plummets them down toward the mantle of the planet. Dr. Adams greets the landing party and introduces them to Lethe, a former inmate that is now a therapist at the colony. Lethe stares at them blankly and mechanically tells everyone that she loves her work. Kirk asks the former inmate why she was originally sent to the colony, Lethe says that it doesn’t matter because she was a different person then – she’s much better now.

Adams escorts Noel and Kirk on a tour of the colony, where everyone is smiling and looks perfectly content in the garish space kaftans they’re wearing. Kirk notices a side room that Adams tries to dismiss as an experimental device gone wrong, but there’s nothing to see there, nothing at all! The captain insists on investigating the room, which Adams begrudgingly obliges him.

Up in the Enterprise’s sickbay, Van Gelder is ranting like a homeless guy hungover from sniffing too much glue. He warns McCoy and Spock of a device called a “Neural Neutralizer”, but can only describe it using badly delivered coffee house poetry. Van Gelder’s rants then quickly devolve into apish grunts, so McCoy gives him a Valium shooter with a Thorazine chaser.

Whaddya know? It turns out the room Adams was so insistent the captain not go into houses a Neural Neutralizer. The device is designed to neutralize brain activity to calm the patient, which explains why the current patient’s bowels have loosened. It also is simple to use: the control panel only has an on/off switch and a power knob (yeah, yeah – it goes to “11” *eyeroll*). Adams informs Kirk that Van Gelder was injured by the Neural Neutralizer – well, that’s what you get when you try a stupid stunt without someone to witness it. When Adams, Kirk, and Noel depart, the operator in the booth takes over and cranks the power up to “Led Zeppelin Concert,” while telling the hapless inmate inside the device that he will remember nothing that has occurred – to do so will cause tremendous pain (and make him want to start masturbating).

Kirk reports back up to Spock, who is assisting McCoy in Sickbay – and possibly hoping to score a bit off of McCoy’s hypo. The captain explains to Kirk that it was Van Gelder’s fooling around with the Neural Neutralizer that caused his injury (why is it whenever one person invents something, someone else wants to stick their dick in it?). Spock responds that Van Gelder keeps telling them the captain is in danger (and something else about the Rosicrucians being linked to the Kennedy assassination). Dr. Noel disputes that claim – she’s come to the conclusion that Van Gelder is a Crazy-Eyed Psycho who should be drugged until he’s drooling. Kirk informs Spock and McCoy that he plans to spend the night at the facility in order to continue his investigation (and find out what the colony’s bar scene is like). Van Gelder chooses that moment to wake up raving and screaming – mostly about Kirk’s safety, but also throwing in a few complaints about his arm restraints preventing him from masturbating. Spock is fed up with Van Gelder’s tirades and decides to hack into the man’s brain using the Vulcan mind meld.

Back at Tantalus, Kirk drops in on Noel in her quarters – but before the medical advisor can rebuff his advances, he explains that he wants another look at the Neural Neutralizer. The prisoners they were introduced to all seemed happy and well-adjusted, but they were about as lively as a crate of mannequin parts. Dr. Noel reluctantly agrees to help Kirk look at the device again, silently containing her resentment at being pushed around by a man.

In sickbay, Spock has achieved perfect simpatico with Van Gelder (“I would remove the suggestion, Doctor, but we need the eggs”). Van Gelder reveals that Dr. Adams used the Neural Neutralizer to brainwash the inmates and when Van Gelder complained, he found himself in the evil chair staring at the magic light.

So, in the Neural Neutralizer control room, Kirk asks Noel to operate the device while he sits in the evil chair. Noel turns the machine on briefly at its lowest setting, which does nothing except make Kirk forget that she turned it on (pretty standard for Kirk, really). Kirk tells Noel to make a minor suggestion, so she turns it back on and tells him he’s hungry. After Kirk confesses a sudden craving for Cheetos (or maybe some Taco Bell, man), Noel tells him she implanted that thought in his mind. Still not convinced that the device is evil (but getting there), Kirk tells Noel to suggest something specific that only the two of them would know about. So the young doctor recounts the Christmas party, only this time Kirk had long flowing tresses and one of those billowy pirate shirts. But before Noel can continue her Harlequin Romance, Dr. Adams steps in and takes over. After setting the Neural Neutralizer to “The Who at Wembley Stadium”, Adams tells Kirk that he is intensely in love with Noel – that to be away from her causes intense pain and longing (kinda like how I feel about Christina Hendricks). Adams then commands Kirk to drop his phaser and communicator, turning the volume up to “Maxell Commercial”.

Kirk wakes up with Noel back in his quarters and starts laying on platitudes toward the female doctor. But before Noel can say “I’m just not into you,” Kirk snaps out of his twitterpation with her and notices a convenient air duct. He shoves Noel into the vent and tells her to work her way to the power room to shut off the security field. Moments later Adams’s assistants drag him back to the Neutralizer for round two. Back at the controls, Adams implants more suggestions into Kirk’s mind to make him more pliable (booze works much better). Lethe appears and reports that Noel is missing from her quarters, so Adams turns the Neutralizer all the way up to “Krakatoa” and insists that Kirk reveal her location otherwise he’s going to turn the captain into a Crazy-Eyed Psycho that compulsively masturbates.

Meanwhile, Noel has made her way to the Tantalus colony’s boiler room and conveniently finds the circuit breaker for the security field. At the same time, Spock is trying to find some way of hacking past the field so he can beam down, forgetting that we already established you can’t do that. While fidgeting with fuse box, Noel finds a big damn switch and pulls it shut, only to be attacked by one of the prison security guards. The interruption in power is enough to turn off the Neutralizer and gives Kirk an opportunity to kayo Adams and his assistant.

Down in the boiler room, Noel gets the better of her assailant by kicking him into the voltage box, causing the lowly guard to get blackened like Daffy Duck after getting shot in the face. (Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll be okay once they fade out and in again.) Having a man connect a fuse panel with his face caused the force field to weaken in the area around the boiler room, allowing Spock to beam himself down. Noel, meanwhile, absconds with the fallen guard’s phaser and crawls back into the air duct. Moments later, though, Spock appears, finds the conveniently labeled security screen controls, shuts them off, and notifies Enterprise security to beam down. Before he exits, he notices that the big damn power switch is turned off, so he flips it back on again. With the power back on, Dr. Adams finds himself on the wrong end of the Neural Neutralizer, which becomes louder and more evil with each passing second.

Noel returns back to Kirk’s quarters to report on shutting the field off, to which Kirk begins hitting on her with all the tact of Bob Packwood. Quicker than you can say “coitus interruptus” Spock appears with security in tow. Kirk suddenly remembers that he left Adams back in the Neutralizer room – funny how whenever Kirk sees a pair of breasts, he loses his short-term memory. The Enterprise crewmembers rush to the treatment room and switch the machine off – and discover the dead body of Dr. Adams (irony!). The machine wasn’t set high enough to kill, but without a twisted doctor to implant thoughts into your brain you die. (“Okay, I’ll buy that, Jim. But why are his hands down his pants?”)

Having returned back to the bridge, Kirk is given the message that Van Gelder has dismantled the Neural Neutralizer preventing anyone from using it. (Let’s hope he used it to undo the damage Adams had done to him, otherwise things will be awkward at the next staff meeting.) McCoy ponders on the ethics of such a machine, to which Kirk responds by telling him not to knock it until he’s tried it. (And once more fights the urge to unzip his fly and start masturbating.)

Things to look out for:

Dr. Adams – Everything about this guy is greasy. If my psychiatrist looked like him, I’d start considering Scientology.

Van Gelder – Every time he appears on screen you expect him to suddenly grow hair and fangs and start howling at the moon.

The Neural Neutralizer – Take the creepiest elements of a recording studio, a dentist’s chair, and the Newlywed Game’s soundproof booth.

What is McCoy not today? Complaining that he’s not something.

And what about Spock? Seeing him perform the mind meld in this episode is like watching someone get their aura “aligned” by a “chakra healer”.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974)

(Originally released as Angst essen Seele auf)

Starring: Brigitte Mira, El Hedi ben Salem, Barbara Valentin, Irm Hermann, Karl Scheydt, Marquard Bohm

First, the Lowdown: A lonely housekeeper falls in love with a Moroccan worker 20 years her junior.

Emmi, a cleaning lady, is drawn to a bar by the outside rain and the enchanting music playing within. The majority of the bar’s customers are Arabic, and the song playing on the jukebox is in their native language. A local pump tries flirting with one of the patrons, Ali (a Moroccan-born laborer), who rebuffs her – prompting her to dare him to dance with Emmi. Ali accepts the challenge and asks Emmi for a dance. The older woman agrees, happy that someone is willing to socialize with her. After they finish dancing, Emmi invites Ali over for some coffee, which he also accepts. In her kitchen, Emmi tells Ali that she has been widowed for the last 15 years and that her children are all grown, but never visit even though they live in the same city. When Ali has to leave to catch the last tram, Emmi invites him to stay the night in her spare room, that way they can both have breakfast in the morning since they both have to leave for work early. She loans Ali a set of her late husband’s pajamas and settles him in the guest room. Ali finds it difficult to sleep, however, and goes to Emmi to talk with her…

…And Emmi wakes up next to him in the morning. Emmi is at first shocked and checks herself in the mirror (whether it’s to see if she’s become younger or turned into a different person is unclear), but the same lined face and sagging eyes stare back at her. But change or no, it is clear that Ali has some feelings for Emmi, which she reciprocates.

A few weeks pass by, and the neighbors are becoming more and more suspicious of Ali, being a “dirty foreigner”. (They also scorn Emmi as well for not being entirely German herself – having taken the surname from her Polish husband.) The landlord’s son pays Emmi a visit to remind her that she is not allowed to sublet her apartment and that Ali cannot stay as a lodger any longer. Emmi, not wanting to be parted from Ali, tells the manager that they are planning to get married, at which the man demurs and apologizes for the intrusion. Because Ali’s grasp of German is limited, Emmi explains to him that her wanting them to get married was a ruse to throw the landlord’s son off. But Ali thinks that getting married is a good idea, since they like each other so much. The two get married and begin to have a life together – in spite of the differences in age and background.

Put together in 15 days, Fear Eats the Soul is Fassbinder’s stab at early 1970’s contemporary culture. One would think at the time that nationalism bordering on xenophobia died with World War II, but many Germans at the time saw racial preference as a way of being patriotic. Foreigners were fine for laboring, but treating them as equals was seen as proof that the national values were deteriorating. (Sound familiar, Glenn Beck?)

(Then again, a little xenophobia – especially toward those of Middle East and North African origin – is probably understandable: this movie was made two years after the 1972 Munich Olympics.)

The word that sticks out over the subtitles is “auslander”, or “foreigner”. (If literally translated, it means “out-lander”, someone from “outside”.) And it is the outsiders who are showcased in this film from its first shot: when Emmi enters the bar, everyone stares at her, making her uncomfortable. In a way this movie reflects a lot of the feeings that Fassbinder himself was processing – homosexuality had only been made “legal” in 1969 (by modifying Germany’s infamous “Paragraph 175”), and his lover (who played Ali) was Moroccan. Much of what Emmi and Ali encounter was probably inspired by similar conflicts Fassbinder and Salem were experiencing.

The great thing about this movie is that for all of its melodrama, there isn’t any grandstanding. There are no speeches berating people for their prejudices, there are no contrived circumstances that force someone to reassess their opinion. The source of drama is caused by the characters themselves and the trials they have to face.

Line of the movie: “Happiness is not always fun.”

Four stars. You’ll eat it and like it.

My Trek Of The Stars, Part 9. What Are Little Girls Made Of?

Guest Starring: Michael Strong, Sherry Jackson, Ted Cassidy, Harry Basch, Vince Deadrick

First, the Lowdown: Kirk finds a missing scientist, who’s gone fuckshit bananas for goddamn, dirty androids.

So the Enterprise is in orbit over the planet Exo 3 (a planet so boring they couldn’t be bothered to finish its name). On the bridge is the winsome Nurse Chapel, whose fiancé had gone missing there 5 years ago. In fact, Chapel had given up a promising career in bio-research (making a tastier cancer or some such) in order to sign up with a starship and find her fiancé. (General Hospital would later use a similar plotline where a heartsick Laura signs up with the merchant marines to find her estranged Luke in the Antarctic.) Exo 3 is thought to have been inhabited once, but the temperature is “Bitch-Ass Cold” in the morning and can go as low as “Ann Coulter’s Tits in a Brass Bra”. The head of the research team, Dr. Korby, is described as the “Pasteur of archaeological medicine” (which would be like calling Steve Jobs the “Francis Galton of computer science”). Even though he is an eggheaded genius, Kirk and Spock think it’s very unlikely that Dr. Korby is still alive (or that he has all of his fingers and toes, for that matter.) Even Uhura can’t get any response on the communicator, until she turns on the coincidence filter on her control panel and Dr. Korby’s voice comes over the speaker.

Dr. Korby is overjoyed to hear that Chapel has been pining for him all these years, but insists that only Kirk and Chapel come down to the planet because there is a AMAZING DISCOVERY that would require a major decision on the part of Kirk. Kirk sees nothing all suspicious of Korby’s request and beams on down.

According to the stock footage, Exo 3’s weather is “The Land of Dairy Queen”, but Kirk and Chapel materialize in the waiting area for the Matterhorn Ride at Disneyland. Not wanting to wait without entertainment, Kirk orders two security men to beam down. Kirk orders Redshirt One to stand guard while Redshirt Two accompanies them down the passageway.

After walking through the Cavern of Penises (not joking), they are greeted by Dr. Brown, Korby’s assistant, who is as lively as a pile of hair clippings. But just then, Redshirt Two plummets to his death in a chasm Chapel avoided falling into earlier. Brown transmits, I mean, tells Kirk that Redshirt Two must’ve slipped and fallen (because a good pratfall is a requirement for safety and security aboard the Enterprise.) However, Lurch in a Housecoat makes a hasty exit while everyone else is looking all agape at the chasm. Brown’s attitude at the man’s death is about as clinical and detached-sounding as Stephen Hawking’s voicebox. Chapel is confused that Brown doesn’t recognize her, but after a couple seconds of searching his hard drive, I mean scanning his memory, I mean thinking back on the past, Brown suddenly recognizes her. Kirk is suspicious at Brown’s emotionally blasé manner, but Chapel tells him, “Hey, if you were stuck on a planet for 5 years with no chicks and no beer, you’d be weird too.” Kirk calls up to Redshirt One to report on Redshirt Two’s death and tells him to report to the ship to bring reinforcements. But before Redshirt One can do anything, Lurch in a Housecoat pummels the poor man to death.

Brown explains that as the sun that Exo 3 orbits dimmed, its inhabitants retreated underground. He further lectures about how Dr. Korby theorized that it was the human species freedom of movement that helped our culture become innovative. Exo 3’s people seemed to have proven that theory, because when they moved underground they became stagnant, almost robotic.

They are lead into a common room that looks like your parent’s basement (minus the pool table) and are greeted by Andrea. (It’s pronounced AHN-drea, not ANN-drea.) Chapel takes a moment to make a catty comment, when Korby walks into the room. And when the affianced couple lock eyes, the music swells, birds start singing, blah, blah, blah. But when Kirk tries to make a report to the Enterprise, the fun gets sucked out of the room. Brown orders Kirk to put away his communicator, and to make sure he’s clear, he points his phaser at him. Korby tries to explain that his AMAZING DISCOVERY is so important; he cannot risk having more people from the Enterprise know about it. Kirk manages to gain the upper hand and shoots the hell out of Brown, but then Lurch in a Housecoat appears and disarms the Captain. Chapel looks at the fallen Brown and screams in horror – because the man was a goddamned, dirty robot all this time. (I guese the future holds a upswing back to using vacuum tubes, because that’s what comes leaking out of Brown’s wound.)

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk transmits his status report to Spock – but what’s really happening is Lurch in a Housecoat is talking on the other end in Kirk’s voice! Korby further demonstrates Lurch in a Housecoat’s talents by having him impersonate everyone else’s voice. But when he copies Chapel’s tone of voice, Korby becomes angry and orders Lurch in a Housecoat to never make fun of her and to obey her orders. Korby finally gets down to the point of all this deception. The society of Exo 3 has made such an AMAZING DISCOVERY that Korby fears that the whole find will be fed into a bureaucratic sausage mill before any significant analysis will occur. (And considering how much henpecking flak scientists give other scientists, I think some of his fears are pretty valid.) Kirk tries to make a last minute escape, but Lurch in a Housecoat snaps him up and tosses him aside like a defunct Stretch Armstrong.

Later, Chapel has a conversation with Andrea about female stuff when Kirk is drug into the room with Korby. Andrea reveals herself to be another goddamned, dirty robot – leading Dr. Korby to marvel at the precision at which she was created. Andrea appears to be completely human, right down to skin coloration, body heat, etc. Chapel, however, finds it interesting that Korby’s choice for a demonstration model looks like a Vegas showgirl. (Ha-hah! Fully functional.) Korby dismisses her suspicions by saying that as an Android, Andrea is incapable of love, she only does she’s programmed to do. (I mean, ladies, you don’t get jealous at the socks on your boyfriend’s floor, do you?) To prove his point he orders Andrea to kiss Kirk, and then orders her to slap him. (It’s a good think he didn’t say “ Now do that thing with your tongue.”) Kirk, however, is more concerned that if the androids only do what they’re told, then why did Brown threaten him earlier, and why did Lurch in a Housecoat kill the two Redshirts?

To answer Kirk’s question he’s stripped naked and put on a Micro-Go-Round. Lurch in a Housecoat loads a snot mannequin onto the opposite side. Making an android requires a lot of spinning and turning dials at random. Chapel implores to Korby about the moral and ethical boo-boos he’s calling, but it’s all for nothing as Kirk finds himself lying next to his fabulous self. Not quite finished, Korby prepares to copy Kirk’s neural patterns into the duplicate – but Kirk starts spouting a hateful platitude about Mr. Spock as the copy is made.

Later, Chapel and Kirk gather in the common room for lunch. Kirk asks Chapel about how she feels about what has happened in the last few minutes. The nurse admits to being concerned abot Korby’s actions, but insists the man isn’t crazy (and that bruise she had earlier? The door.) Kirk then asks Chapel if she is capable of betraying her fiance, and of course she isn’t. When the nurse notices that Kirk hasn’t eaten anything, he replies that it’s because he’s a goddamned, dirty, robot! Korby, Lurch in a Housecoat, and the real Kirk enter. Kirk tries debating not-Kirk to a battle of wits, and not-Kirk has all of the real Kirk’s memories and quirks. Korby remarks that Kirk’s debate with his duplicate is akin to “trying to outthing a calculating machine. A calculator, if you will.” He then dismisses not-Kirk to carry out his programming. Korby further explains that with the proper materials he could transfer a person’s consciousness into an android form, making it nearly immortal. Furthermore, because androids can be programmed, he can take out all of those undesirable elements of an individual and replace them with new programming (like Scientology.) Kirk, however, has heard enough and takes advantage of the shoddy condition of the basement furniture by pulling a cord out of his chair in order to garrote Korby. In the confusion, Kirk escapes to the Cavern of Penises to hide, but Lurch in a Housecoat follows though and quickly catches up with him.

Back on the Enterprise, not-Kirk has made it all the way to the real Kirk’s quarters, but not without attracting the attention of Spock. When the first officer inquires as to captain’s plans, not-Kirk says, “Yeah, whatever, sugartits,” and leaves with the command packet kept in Kirk’s safe. Spock then orders another landing party assembled after not-Kirk beams back down on the planet surface.

Having returned, not-Kirk presents Korby with his order packet. Korby wants to take the android-making technology to someplace small, where he will create enough goddamned, dirty robots that they show up as an option on the Census poll. The real Kirk, meanwhile, is in confinement. When Andrea comes to retrieve his meal tray, the captain forces himself on the fembot, making her retreat uncomfortably. Then Lurch in a Housecoat appears in order to give some backstory. Unlike Andrea and Brown, Lurch in a Housecoat was created by what he calls the “Old Ones” (what they called The Golden Girls in Europe). Because of some kind of android Alzheimer’s, Lurch in a Housecoat had forgotten that his robot brethren had risen up and destroyed their creators, who were panicking at how indestructible they were. Just as Lurch in a Housecoat makes the epiphany that he has to kill Korby, the scientist appears! But before Lurch in a Housecoat can rip Korby’s arms out of his sockets, Korby takes out a phaser and disintegrates the android.

Korby leads Chapel and Kirk at gunpoint back to the common room, but Kirk takes advantage of a doorway and slams the other man’s hand in it. Korby breaks free, still holding the phaser. However, his hand got wounded in the scuffle, revealing to everyone that he is another goddamned, dirty robot! During his expedition, Korby became too wounded to continue, and had his memory transferred to an android. Before he can go into yet another telling of “I Can Explain”, an alarm sounds. Having received the real Kirk’s “message”, he has arrived with a security detail in tow. Korby orders Andrea to find a weapon and kill whoever has entered. Well, the first person she encounters is not-Kirk, who she tries to kiss. The android duplicate doesn’t see the logic in snogging and brushes her off, but hell hath no fury like a fembot scorned – Andrea disintegrates not-Kirk.

Meanwhile, Korby is still trying to convince Chapel and Kirk that he’s the same ol’ guy, just made out of non-conductive green board and that silicon stuff they make Real Dolls out of. But the more he talks, the more Korby starts failing his Turing test. When Andrea enters the room, however, she realizes that he took out the wrong Kirk, making her very confused. The real Kirk asks Korby to give him the phaser he’s carrying before he kernel panics. The goddamned, dirty robot concedes, but when Kirk tries the same maneuver on Andrea, her compiler spits out a GPF and she starts expressing her love for Korby. Korby, having seen the abomination he has turned into, embraces the forlorn fembot and uses her phaser to disintegrate them both. Conveniently, Mr. Spock arrives with security in tow.

Back on the Enterprise, Chapel informs Kirk of her decision to remain on the ship, while Spock expresses his concern about the type of epithet Kirk used to convey his message (he responds better to “nectar-nipples”, you see).

Things to look out for:

The Cavern of Penises: Remember folks – stalactites stay tight to the roof, whereas you might stub your toe on a stalagmite. Whatever the case, the place looks like a Cave of Wonders for a size queen.

Lurch in a Housecoat: Played by Ted Cassidy (what, you thought I was joking about the Lurch part?), everytime he appears you expect to see him in hair rollers and fuzzy slippers.

What is McCoy not today? In the episode. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Does Sulu get stoned? He’s not in the episode either, so it would explain the funny smell coming out of the Jeffries tube. Come to think of it McCoy’s not present either. I guess they do have medical marijuana in the future!