Sophie’s Choice (1982)

Starring: Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Peter MacNicol, Rita Karin, Stephen D. Newman, Greta Turken

First, the Lowdown: The subject of a young writer’s crush tells him more than he bargained for.

Young Stingo has arrived to New York City from the South – full of dreams and aspirations. His current desire, to become a writer – but he knows his youth and the quiet, unchanging life on his farm have sheltered him from the bulk of human experience, thus his trip to the Big Apple. Stingo rents a room in Brooklyn and does his best to settle in. Almost immediately he is invited to dinner by the couple upstairs: Sophie and Nathan. Evening rolls around, however, and Stingo’s dinner invite seems to have dried up. Restless on his first night in a strange location, Stingo’s reading is interrupted by a loud argument happening in the room above him. The commotion spills out of the upstairs room into the central stairway. Curious, Stingo peeks out of his door to see what the matter is and watches as a man wrests himself free from his female companion – who is begging for him to stay. The man stomps off, but not without directing some of his anger at Stingo for watching the display, leaving the man’s partner, Sophie, to apologize for her boyfriend’s behaviour. Later on, Sophie appears at Stingo’s door to make good on her dinner invite of before, and assures the young man that Nathan didn’t mean anything that was said. When Stingo mentions his typing, Sophie assures that it won’t be a problem because it will remind her of her late father, who was an academic in Poland.

And sure enough, the next morning Nathan is a completely different person, cheerful and ebullient. After a few apologies about his previous behavior, Nathan invites Stingo to Coney Island for a day of fun. Against Stingo’s better judgement, he becomes quick friends with the two lovers. Things seem to be going well for the trio – until Nathan’s mood swings back to angry and morose. When Nathan gets into these kinds of moods, he starts accusing Sophie of infidelity and rants about being betrayed and humiliated. And it’s during these moments that Stingo comes to Sophie’s aid – both as a friend, and as someone who is hopelessly in love with her. Sophie confesses that as bad as Nathan is, her life has been worse: during World War II, Sophie was sent to Auschwitz – not because she was a Jew, but because her father was an academic – and the things she has to endure from her lover are nothing compared with what she had to endure there.

Sophie’s Choice is an interesting movie that is well textured and has some marvelous characterization to it. But for all of its layers, the movie has one fatal (albeit subjective) flaw for me: I saw it too late. I had a fair idea as to the movie’s subject matter – Polish immigrant survives the Holocaust and an abusive boyfriend – but it wasn’t my previous assumptions that clouded my reception of this movie. Simply put, I’ve seen much of this story told before using means that were far more captivating for me. When I found out that Stingo was a young writer coming to New York to find fortune and inspiration, I winced because the “virgin artist” cliché has been done to death. Making Stingo from the South only further worried me, but fortunately the young lad never uses any “aw, shucks” mannerisms or solves another character’s problems via an amusing anecdote about life in the country. Kevin Kline’s portrayal of Nathan was undermined by the fact that I have never seen him in a dramatic role, only comedies. I had to prevent myself from laughing when Kline first appears on screen because his ranting reminded me of a later character of his, Otto from A Fish Called Wanda. (Finding out that John Cleese picked Kevin Kline for the role after seeing Sophie’s Choice didn’t help either.)

I did find it interesting that the filmmakers found a way to put in a Holocaust flashback without making it feel shoehorned into the rest of the movie. And when the central characters have to return to the present world, the transition is not jarring. Most of all I like Peter MacNicol’s performance as Stingo, in spite of my earlier misgivings. His character is young and inexperienced, but he also exhibits the naïve determination that people have at his age, assuming that intention is enough to make in impact on other people’s lives.

Line of the Movie: “I was sent to Auschwitz because they saw I was afraid.”

Three and a half stars. Peace out.

My Trek of the Stars, Part 12: The Conscience of the King

Guest Starring: Arnold Moss, Barbara Anderson, William Sargent, Natalie Norwick, David Troy, Karl Bruck

First, the Lowdown: Kirk discovers a local thespian is Hitler-riffic.

A dagger descends on a sleeping man, but it’s okay because it’s all part of a play (either it’s Macbeth or Ed Gein: the Musical). In the audience, Kirk and another man watch intently – Kirk’s digging on the lead man’s ability, but his neighbor is convinced the actor is Kodos: The Executioner (as opposed to Kodos: The Barbarian; Kodos: The Destroyer; or my favorite, The Savage Sword of Kodos).

Kirk is rather put upon by the accusation – seems that the Enterprise was diverted to Planet Q (a planet in such a pain in the ass part of the galaxy, they didn’t even give it a proper serial number) because of a discovery of new kind of foodstuff that would help the starving colonists of nearby colony (the invention is called Velveeta). But I guess the food thing was just a ruse to get Kirk down there to arrest some actor. The man, Dr. Leighton, is convinced that the star of the play they watched is Kodos, and there is no shaking Leighton’s belief, as outlandish as it sounds (kinda like Mel Gibson). Kirk tells Leighton that Kodos is dead, someone char-roasted him into a blackened heap of potash. However, Leighton’s stubbornness is a little forgivable: apparently during Kodos’s bloody reign, he stole half of Leighton’s face. So, in order to make sure the actor isn’t really a Hitler-esque dictator in disguise (like Robo-Idi Amin), Leighton has invited the entire troupe to his house for a cocktail party (because no actor can resist the siren call of hard liquor.)

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk brushes up on his Kodos history by turning on the History Channel. 20 years ago, Kodos took control of the colony on Tarsus IV and killed half the people there (I guess they opposed prayer in schools or something). Kirk then reads up on Anton Karidian, the actor Leighton is suspicious of, and Karidian is your average Shakesperean player, only nothing is known of him durning the time of Kodos’s reign (then again, not much is known about Sir Lawrence Olivier during Hitler’s reign, so there’s precedent). Kirk compares photos of the two men – and Kodos and Karidian do kinda look like each other (in the same way that guy who works at the Mexican restaurant kinda looks like Saddam Hussein).

Later, Kirk mingles with the other guests of Leighton’s cocktail party and drinks the free booze. Leighton had to make a keg run, though – two of the actor jackasses got into a heated game of Quarters and now there’s no beer – but Mrs. Leighton says he should be back soon (unless he gets DUI’d again.) Lenore, the actress who played Lady Macbeth in last night’s performance, arrives – and Kirk immediately starts laying the mack on her. She tells the captain that Karidian is her father, and he never attends social gatherings (how handy!). Kirk, however, gets bored of the woman’s talking and suggests they leave for a nice leisurely stroll to some secluded area (“Don’t worry, I got a flask of gin on me”). But before the necking can commence, Kirk comes across the dead body of Leighton – an apparent murder. (You can tell it was a murder because boating accidents don’t usually happen in the desert.) Suspicious, Kirk arranges to transport Karidian’s troupe to their next destination (and hopefully catch up with where he and Lenore left off.)

On the journey to Benecia, the actors’ next stop, Kirk looks into Kodos’s file and finds out that everyone who can identify Kodos is dead – except for Kirk and Lt. Riley, who also is from Coincidenceville. Worried that some conflict may occur between Riley and Karidian should they encounter each other, he orders the junior officer to be reassigned back to the janitor’s office in Engineering. Spock is concerned with Kirk’s sudden need for secrecy and voices his opinions to the ship’s surgeon – but McCoy is too inebriated to care. Elsewhere, Kirk and Lenore have wandered into and nice quiet part of the ship, which looks like they’re waiting in line for Space Mountain. Kirk tries grilling Lenore about her childhood with Karidian – but the girl merely resumes with the smooching they wanted to get back to. Up on the bridge, Spock has the ship’s computer compare the profiles of Leighton, Kirk, and Riley for any event they have in common – and again hammers home to the audience what we already know. Spock then relays his discovery to McCoy, and retells the history of Kodos (even though the good Doctor is already an avid watcher of the History Channel): 20 years ago, a fungus destroyed the food reserves for the colony on Tarsus IV (“I wouldn’t say ‘destroyed,’ man, let’s just say that colors seemed a bit more talkative after you ate something.”) Kodos seized control of the government and, wanting to avoid the slow painful death of thousands of people, isolated a portion of them that matched his personal demographic, and executed the rest (you know, like they do on “Survivor”). Sadly, a rescue ship did arrive in enough time to prevent disaster, but not quick enough to prevent Kodos from going all kill-happy. Tracking the dictator down and arresting him proved to be more problematic than anticipated, for only Kodos’s poorly identified body was found.

Meanwhile, Lt. Riley is lamenting his transfer back to the custodial branch of Engineering (“Plus, it smells like someone’s been tanning leather back here.”) Bored and feeling outcast, Riley calls up to the Recreation Room and has Lt. Uhura give him a tune – which gives ample time for a mysterious figure to squirt Formula 409 into his milk. Sure enough, Riley guzzles down his drink and collapses to the floor with renal failure. Back in Sickbay, Spock reminds the audience that if Riley dies, then Kirk will be the next target.

A toxicology report determines that Riley injested a substance called “tetralubisol” – a common lubricant found in the Engineering decks (okay, fine, it’s “water-based”. Jeez you people). Spock is convinced that someone tried to poison the young lieutenant; McCoy only half-so because he’s not all the way sober. The two men confront Kirk about their findings: mostly because it means the captain is a potential target, but also to find out why someone who should know what Kodos looks like, doesn’t seem to have a clue. Kirk admits that he wants to be absolutely sure of his facts before he confronts Karidian – you don’t just go around telling people they’re Hitler, no matter what you find on the internet. In the midst of debating the point further with Spock, they’re interrupted by a humming sound. Knowing that he didn’t leave his vibrator out, Kirk recognizes the sound as a phaser on overload. If the phaser explodes it could take out the entire desk, so Kirk and Spock start searching the room by throwing things around at random. Fortunately, whoever planted the phaser didn’t think too hard on the matter and Kirk finds it hidden in a light fixture. With seconds to spare, the captain shoves the malfunctioning weapon into a garbage chute, where it explodes (killing a group of people just escaped from the detention level and some one-eyed tentacle monster too.)

Now pissed, Kirk confronts Karidian about his past. Karidian deflects Kirk’s questions about being Kodos, so instead the captain tries a different tack: he tells Karidian to recite a passage written on paper into a communicator, an analysis will be done between Karidian’s voice and Kodos’s to detect similarities. The passage is a speech Kodos gave condemning his colonists to death, and Karidian barely had to look at it. Kirk is pretty much convinced that the actor is Kodos and tries grilling him about his past – but Lenore intervenes and tells the captain that dogging on her father is no way to get in her pants.

Back in Sickbay, McCoy records in his log that Riley is recovered (so much so that he’s bouncing off the walls), but Kirk has confined the junior officer so he avoids contact with Karidian. McCoy then ends his log entry with, “Oh yeah, and we think Karidian is Kodos – a murderer Riley witnessed when he was a young boy. I hope he doesn’t hear me saying this out loud.” Riley does, however, and am-scrays out of the medical section to seek bloody revenge, or at least give him a stern talking to.

As the acting troupe put on a performance of Hamlet, Kirk looks over the results of the voice analysis and they are nearly identical, but still have some differences – so either Karidian is Kodos or Rich Little. McCoy checks up on Riley before attending the play, and finds the man missing. Furthermore, the Armory reports a missing phaser. Concerned that he’s no longer the only armed maniac on the ship, Kirk heads to the ship’s theatre to intercept Riley before he does something hotheaded and stoopid. Sure enough, Kirk finds Riley backstage all rearin’ to go John Wilkes Booth on Karidian. Kirk talks the poor kid down by reminding him the safety is still on.

Between acts, Karidian – who overheard Riley talking backstage – tells Lenore about ghosts from his past returning to haunt him. But his daughter dismisses his over-dramatic ramblings (“Not a week goes by when you don’t complain about the past coming to haunt you, father,”) and makes a confession of her own: not only does she know her father is Kodos, but she’s been killing the witnesses they’ve encountered. Unfortunately, Kirk is present to hear all of this and demands the two be arrested. Lenore resists though and wrests a phaser from one of the guards – but insanity does nothing to improve one’s aim and she zortches her father instead.

Back on the Bridge, McCoy reports to Kirk that Lenore is certifiably bat shit insane – she now has no memory of killing her father and thinks he’s still touring. Kirk confirms the diagnosis – adding that he started to doubt Lenore’s sanity with how freaky the sex was.

Things to look for in this episode:

Karidian: Does acting with a capital “A.” I guess this is what John Gielgud sounds like when he’s sober.

Dr. Leighton: Dr. Leighton wears an eyepatch that covers half of his face. We’re told Kodos had something to do with it, but not how. I’m thinking since Kodo’s is the 23^rd century Hitler, then the 23^rd century Dr. Mengele was a plastic surgeon.

Lenore: Proof that Kirk thinks with his dick – Lenore kept dropping all too obvious double-entendres that would make most guys go “Wait a minute, what are you REALLY wanting?” (Listen to her talk about the “surging, throbbing” power of the ship if you don’t believe me.)

What is McCoy not today? Able to maintain a blood-alcohol percentage lower than .3.

And what about Spock? Spock is uber-suspicious in this episode. The way he keeps repeating stuff the audience is already aware of comes off like that one uncle who keeps telling you his theory about what REALLY happened to JFK.

The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951)

Starring: Michael Rennie, Patricia Neal, Hugh Marlowe, Sam Jaffe, Billy Gray, Frances Bavier, Lock Martin

First, the Lowdown: A man from outer space comes to Earth and tells us to make with the peace already!

At a remote Army base, radar technicians detect a large object that is moving at incredible speed. Soon, all over the world wires are buzzing about the craft with no means of identifying it. Radio announcements worldwide confirm that the object has come from space, but beyond that is anyone’s guess. People around the globe stand riveted, waiting for the least bit of information on the intruding craft. In DC, radio broadcasters are doing their best to put the public at ease – pointing out that the fine spring weather has brought the tourists out in droves to the various points of interest about the town.

Speaking of which, people in the National Mall are enjoying a fine morning walking amongst the various monuments and attractions to be found there. Suddenly, a whirring sound fills the air, and a large shimmering disk descends from the sky to land in a park. The police and National Guard are quickly summoned to cordon off the area, and soon the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the president are placed on full alert. The landing site is almost immediately secured and surrounded by tanks, armed soldiers, and frightened onlookers.

The ship lays quiescent for a couple of hours, but then a door opens and a ramp extends from the previously seemless surface. A man in a spacesuit and helmet emerges from the opening, assuring the crowd that he has come in peace and goodwill. As the spaceman descends the ramp to the ground below, the soldiers anxiously unholster their sidearms and train them on the visitor. Perhaps not realizing fully the gravity of the situation, the spaceman reaches inside his suit and produces an odd-looking rod. The gesture leads the military personnel to suspect it’s a weapon, and when the rod snaps open to reveal spiky protrusions, a nervous private shoots our spaceman.

But before the National Guard can take in a damage assessment, a giant robot stalks out of the craft. The presence of the alien homunculous is enough to scare away the civilians, who flee into the distance. The soldiers are now positive that the huge automaton poses a threat to them, suspicions that are confirmed when the robot begins to disintegrate all guns, artillery, and tanks in the area. The spaceman diffuses the situation by calling off his robot buddy and surrendering himself to the Earth authorities.

The spaceman is taken to Walter Reed Hospital to recuperate from his wound. The president’s secretary, Mr. Harley, comes to visit the alien – who identifies himself as Klaatu. Klaatu understands perfect English, looks human, and claims to have come from a neighboring planet. Mr. Harley points out planetary bodies are hardly “neighboring” (rockets and artificial satellites were still theoretical at the time), but Klaatu says it will be an adjustment Earth is going to have to make soon. Klaatu carries an important message, one so important that it must be delivered to the heads of state of all Earth nations. As laudable as the goal sounds, Mr. Harley informs Klaatu that it’s difficult to get nations that are on easy speaking terms to share a room together let alone ones who hold each other in mutual distrust. The spaceman is not concerned with the petty affairs of Earth politics, though, for the message he has eclipses their disputes in importance and the future of the planet is at stake. Mr. Harley agrees to pass on the suggestion to message all of Earth’s leaders for a meeting, but voices his doubts about their willingness to do so.

Evening falls on the giant spaceship, and the Army Corps of Engineers are doing their best to crack it open it, but the ship’s hull is impregnable. The robot has stood as a motionless sentry since the morning, and seems to be made out of the same indestructible material. In the following morming, the doctors who treated Klaatu are examining his x-rays and physiology, marveling at how his body makeup is nearly identical to a human being’s – right down to the internal organs. What’s more, Klaatu says the average life expectancy on his planet is about 130 – Klaatu himself is 78. Another attending physician enters the room with even more astonishing news – Klaatu had secreted a healing salve on his person and applied it to his gunshot wound – and it is now fully healed.

Mr. Harley returns with the invitation replies, and they all decline – almost petulantly. Klaatu restates that his message is too important for one nation or group of people – it has to be shared with the world. Klaatu suggests that he be allowed to mingle among the humans, to better understand our unreasoning nature, but Harley tells him that he is to remain in his hospital room, and will be kept under guard until further notice.

Later that evening, Klaatu makes his escape – having borrowed a change of clothing from the hospital’s laundry. Roaming the streets, he comes across a boarding house and takes a room – using a pseudonym borrowed from his clothes’ original owner, Mr. Carpenter. Mixing in with the natives, Klaatu desperately tries to find a way to get his message out to the world, and soon.

The Day The Earth Stood Still is one of those classics that I had heard much about, but had never gotten around to watching. As such, I knew about the rudiments of the story: spaceman comes to Earth with an ultimatum, indestructible robot named “Gort”, “Klaatu barada nikto,” etc. So it is impossible for me to view this with a completely blank slate.

Furthermore, I remember catching the gripping “first contact” scene when I was a child and I was kinda disappointed with it. I had been told about Gort from several library books on robots (Transfomers were my favorite toy at the time, but I was to later learn that practical robotics involved tasks that were a bit more pedestrian and we were a long way off from having wisecracking android sidekicks.) The books all had sections on robots in fiction and showed Gort as being one of the first robots presented in a movie – using vivid color production stills. So when I caught it as part of a TV broadcast, I was a little put off by the movie being in black and white (I was still of the mind that black and white was for old people and those too poor to afford a color set.) However, the scene where Klaatu exits his saucer was tense enough to hold my attention. And when Klaatu got plugged by a nervous tank driver, my first thought was “This is a guy who arrived in a flying saucer! You might as well count the last few seconds of your life, pal.” And I got a little bit of gratification by watching Gort zortch everything in sight. But then in the next scene it’s revealed that our spaceman not only looks human, but is about as gentle a soul as Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. No color, no marauding robot, and no bug-eyed alien made for a very disappointed 7-year old: Gort wasn’t holding up very well next to Optimus Prime.

Getting so late into the review process for this movie, it’s hard for me to come up with more things orginal to say about it. To confirm what many a critic has said, the picture is very intelligent – almost bordering on cynical, which I was not prepared for. Mr. Harley’s attempts at delicately explaining the selfish nature of human politics reveals a subvervise scorn for politics in general.

What struck me more than the “peace is the ultimate weapon” message the movie had (which shouldn’t be ignored – The Day The Earth Stood Still came out long before the phrase “nuclear disarmament”) is how sardonically the media is employed: at the beginning, the newscasters are doing their best to quell hysteria, but once the spaceman turns into a fugitive – every media outlet begins to fan the flames of panic. Famed radio commentator, Gabriel Heatter, delivers a Glen Beck-like tirade suggesting that the alien is hiding in the fields, forest, or sewers and should be hunted down like the animal he is. When Klaatu tries to contribute to a “man on the street” interview about the fugitive alien, the host becomes immediately disinterested in Klaatu’s suggestion to deal with the situation rationally. This is during a time when most movies represented news media as an honest institution that valued truth above all else.

A lot of people like to point out the heavy-handed Christian allusions in the movie: Klaatu is very Christ-like in his bearing and demeanor (he seems almost regretful when force is used); and there’s the not-so-subtle overtones in his assumed name “Mr. Carpenter”; and you would think having him being brought back from the dead would be a spoiler, but it’s not. One thing I’d like to point out to a lot of folks is that Christianity was the Scientology of the 1950s in Hollywood – it was almost expected to make some kind of connection between the Bible and whatever story was being portrayed: hell, it made it a selling point in quite a few of them.

Another thing people try to suggest is, with its talk about the United Nations and a nationless government, The Day The Earth Stood Still is either warning against or propaganda for Pat Buchanan’s New World Order. On that subject I have this to say: poppycock. People nowadays have become so used to depth and richness in our science fiction that it’s difficult to remember that it was not always so. The “golden era” works of Isaac Asimov, Lester Del Rey, and Robert Heinlein all tend to paint morality and philosophy with such broad strokes that a lot of their idealism can come off naïve at best and fascist at worst. The notion of a government free from sovreignity looks good on paper, but as this movie points out, humans are complex beings. If anything, it’s optimism for a unified government free from war and strife sounds a lot like the inexperienced wishings of a young child.

One final thing: The Day The Earth Stood Still has a rather leaden monologue at the end of it, but something I found interesting is that there is no indication on whether the citizens of Earth took Klaatu’s message to heart or not – and there is equal evidence we would act either way.

Line of the Movie: “I am fearful when I see people substituting fear for reason.”

Five stars. How about a courtesy flush?

My Trek of the Stars, Part 11: Miri

Guest Starring: Kim Darby, Michael J. Pollard, Keith Taylor, Ed McCready, Kellie Flanagan, Steven McEveety

First, the Lowdown: Kirk & Co. find a parallel Earth, that’s run like Lord of the Flies with a case of herpes.

So the Enterprise is receiving an old-style Earth distress call, but can’t figure out why because there’s nothing local to them older than a 1993 Ford Escort. A nearby planetary body seems to be the source of the signal, and it looks and tastes like Earth, except in a different part of the galaxy. (And it also doesn’t appear to have weather on it, either.) All of the Enterprise’s attempts to contact whoever is sending the signal have failed, so Kirk orders up a landing party to beam down. (“Besides, my butt was falling asleep from sitting in that chair.”)

They beam down into a deserted Hollywood backlot that looks like it’s survived a fire. Obviously some kind of cataclysm has occurred ages ago, and by happy coincidence it looks like civilization on the parallel Earth melted down around the 1960s – it’s really thoughtful that they found a way to implode culturally so as not to confuse the viewing audience. With the apparent lack of people present, Spock deduces that the distress signal they’ve been hearing is automated – and comes from the only building with working electricity.

Still investigating the surroundings, McCoy finds a dilapidated tricycle weld in the street – and is immediately assaulted by Boo Radley with third-degree burns. Kirk breaks up the scuffle to figure out who their new special friend is, only the poor sap ends up convulsing and choking on his tongue before they can get anywhere. The only conclusions that McCoy can make is that the late retard’s metabolism has completely gone out of whack, like he’s aged several decades in the last few minutes (kinda like that one year of “Rockin’ New Years Eve” when Dick Clark when batshit insane on camera.)

Attracted to a noise from a nearby building, the landing party breaks into the condemned structure and flush out the creature hiding there: a girl about 13 years of age. The girl’s name is Miri and the sight of adults has put her into hysterics – or maybe it is Kirk’s passing resemblance to Justin Bieber. The captain orders Spock and the guards to spread out and search for signs of pollution or radiation, that way Kirk won’t get any on him. Outside, there does seem to be something there, peering at the crewmen with beady, verminous eyes, but it is keeping well hid.

Meanwhile, Miri tells Kirk and his staff about the times before when “grups” roved the countryside burning, looting, and killing (kinda like Boston when they win the playoffs). Miri also refers to the adults present as “grups” and is suspicious of their motives – and any kid who has heard the line “this hurts me more than you” can hardly blame her. According to the girl, the “grups” (a mash-up of the word “grownups”) got sick and went as crazy as a Pentacostal in a snake farm, so the “onlies” (a mash-up of the word “kids”) hid until those who had achieved majority had annihilated themselves.

Spock and the two redshirts are continuing their search of the surrounding backlot (I guess they took a smoke break every 15 minutes because they’ve only just rounded the corner). They investigate an alleyway only to be greeted with a rain of debris and the taunts of children’s voices (“Apparrently they assume my mother is so obese that her own shadow has a mass of approximately 20 kilos.”) Returning back, Spock’s suspicions about the planet being populated by feral children is confirmed by Kirk, so they decide to check out the local hospital to gather more information about what made the people there sick (and probably see if they got any oxycontin around too.) But before they can get very far, Miri finds a gangrenous sore on Kirk’s hand – a sign of the plague that killed all of the adults (see, this is why you wash your hands after using the bathroom).

Once they reach the hospital, it becomes apparent that everyone – except Spock – has a “touch of the clap” somewhere on their bodies. Conveniently, the building that was sending out the automated transmission also happens to be a research hospital with a fully stocked laboratory! (Next they’re gonna find out that the liquor stores have all manged to evade destruction too.) McCoy takes a tissue sample of everyone’s sores and discovers that there’s more bacteria found there than you’d get from the salad bar’s sneeze guard at Sizzler. Kirk orders up supplies and equipment to help Dr. McCoy – and further orders that no one else is to beam down either (“You don’t want this. It’s like fire ants are fighting each other on my scrotum.”) Rifling through the hospital records, Kirk finds a file on a “life prologation project” that looks to be the likely cause of the plague. (I guess it wasn’t from a lack of Purell.)

According to the file, whatever the “life prolongation thingie” was it happened 300 years ago. Given that there are no adults and only children, Spock deduces that the case of the clap that everyone has only affects you post-pubescently – and you thought untimely erections were embarrassing. Spock has deduced that the planetary scientists created a virus that would alter human DNA to extend one’s lifespan so that you would age one month for every 100 years (I guess the idea of overpopulation never occurred to them). But due to a miscalculation, all of the adults came down with a disease that brought on embarrassing sores, insane behavior, and death – all in a short period of time (kinda like Scientology). So once a child hits puberty, they become susceptible to it (around the age when you figure out Hannah Montana isn’t as cool as you originally thought.) Kirk knows that it’s very unlikely that the surviving children are aware of the disease’s nature, and enlists in Miri’s assistance in locating them (the fact that she’s becoming more enamored with Kirk’s George Clooney-esque charm is a further clue here.)

Back at the children’s playhouse, Jahn, a Holden Caulfield stand-in, is upset about the presence of adults and Miri’s contact with them. Jahn wants to organize and scare the adults off like ghetto kids with a truant officer, but when Kirk and Miri approach their hideout, everyone scatters and hides. Furthermore, when Kirk enters the dilapidated building, he’s attacked by what appears to be a 90-year old Aimee Mann. Naturally the poor girl has gone full-blown “clap-tastic”, so when Kirk stuns her, it puts her down permanently.

Spock has concluded four things: First, the disease attacks when its carrier hits puberty; Second, the older you are, the quicker it takes effect; Third, Spock may not develop a case of the disease, but he is a carrier; Fourth, they have seven days to bail themselves out of this mess; and Fifth, he can’t count to four.

Day two of their contagion comes along and the taunting refrains of little kid voices lure Kirk, McCoy, and Spock outside. Jahn and some cohorts then sneak into the newly abandoned lab and take everyone’s communicators – which are conveniently left out in the open. (Some people can’t be trusted with fancy gadgets.) Without the communicators, Kirk has lost the ability to contact the ship and McCoy can longer access the ship’s computers to run tests. (So here’s an important investment tip: sell your stock in Apple, the iPad technology won’t make it into the 23^rd Century.)

Day four: the disease’s progress is making all of the humans as twitchy and irritable as a group Republicans at an STD clinic. Furthermore, a study of the area indicates that the food is running out – the preservatives in Twinkies and Oscar Meyer only last for so long. Kirk and McCoy are at each other’s throats and amid all the tension Yeoman Rand finally breaks down and runs out of the room screaming – but when Miri observes the captain gently holding the sobbing yeoman, a bolt of adolescent jealousy fires within her. Just then, McCoy makes a breakthrough in his analysis and has isolated the viral agent that’s affecting everyone, and a cure should be ready before the end of the episode.

Miri has returned to the Romper Room with a scheme of her own: she’ll tell Yeoman Rand that one of the children has been injured, the kids will tie her up, and when Kirk comes to rescue her, they’ll beat on him like he’s Johnny Knoxville in Jackass. The flaw in her plan, however comes when Kirk demands to know where his subordinate is – and because the disease raging ever onward in him, he has all the tact as a hungover dad looking for the TV remote. Another thing Miri didn’t count on is that ever since she started being interested in the Twilight books, she’s become susceptible to the virus and has started to develop embarrassing sores of her own. McCoy and Spock have some good news, though, they think they’ve come up with a serum – but the bad news is, without access to the ship’s computers they don’t know what the proper dosage should be. So, it’s like buying LSD from a source you don’t trust: you could achieve a Kundalini-like experience that leaves you enlightened for the rest of your days, or you’ll spend the evening screaming about having sex with dead relatives while the walls are bleeding.

Kirk has Miri go to the kiddie playhouse to confront Jahn and get his communicators and yeoman back, but Kirk’s impassioned pleas to their children’s better nature goes over about as well as a white suburbanite volunteer in a classroom full of inner city kids. Miri, however, points out that she’s come down with the disease too – and to further hammer things home, Kirk points out that with the food supplies diminishing, the rest of the kids will die as well. (“This disease is nothing compared to a life without Little Debbie, kids!”)

McCoy, meanwhile, has grown impatient and wants to try the damn cure now (“I’m sure it’ll be nothing but tracers and a strange desire to rub my face in something soft, gimme the shot!”), so Spock leaves to check on Kirk’s progress. In the Vulcan’s absence, McCoy shoots himself up with an armful of cure and collapses on the floor mumbling a Velvet Underground tune. Spock rushes to the fallen surgeon’s aid, and Kirk chooses that moment to burst in with the audience from Bozo the Clown in tow. Conveniently enough, McCoy’s blemishes disappear right before their very eyes – leaving the children in awe at the adults’ magic.

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk tells his command staff that the kids should be all right – having been left a cursory medical team to keep an eye on them (I’m sure there was a glut of volunteers for that assignment). Starfleet is sending out a team of disciplinarians to curtail any further rowdiness on the abandoned planet. Yeoman Rand points out to Kirk that Miri really had a crush on him, to which the captain postulates on whether Miri’s relationship with her father was sound.

Things to look for in this episode:

Miri: I don’t know if this is what the producers were looking for, but she comes off like that one girl in grade school you knew was in an abusive home.

Jahn: Great Googlimoogli – Michael J. Pollard is funny-looking at any age. He looks like a troll doll after it’s been melted with a blowtorch.

The “destroyed city”: It looks like Disneyland’s Main Street USA after the apocalypse. The architecture, layout, and antiquated ruined cars give one the impression that they landed in Lincoln, Nebraska around the 1940s.

What is McCoy not today? Able to fight his addiction to his hypo. The man is going to wind up like Lenny Bruce some day.

And what about Spock? Spock seems annoyed that he’s a carrier of this case of “space-herpes”. It’s like that time when your brother got the chicken pox, and you knew you were gonna get it too, it was just a matter of time.

Chinese Roulette (1976)

(Originally released as Chinesisches Roulette)

Starring: Anna Karina, Margit Carstensen, Brigitte Mira, Ulli Lommel, Alexander Allerson, Volker Spengler

First, the Lowdown: A disabled girl manipulates her inattentive parents into an extremely uncomfortable situation.

It’s the start of the weekend and Ariane and Gerhard Christ are frantically preparing for their separate trips abroad. In their absence, their daughter Angela (who cannot walk without crutches), will be placed in the care of her governess. Angela watches the frenzy of preparation with the aloof detachment of someone who has seen the same play over and over. The Christs part company, Gerhard wishing his wife good luck in Naples as she departs. Gerhard, however, isn’t going on a trip – at least not abroad – as he picks his mistress up at the airport. The mistress, Irene, is excited to spend the weekend at the ancestral mansion Christ owns in the country – which reminds him to call the governess and tell her not to go there this weekend. Angela receives the phone call, however, sees through her father’s story about being in Oslo, and informs the governess that she wants to spend the weekend at the mansion.

Meanwhile, Gerhard and Irene have been greeted with some confusion by Kast, the housekeeper, and her son, Gabriel. To make things even more awkward, Irene and Gerhard stumble into the living room and encounter Ariane entangled sensuously on the floor with Kolbe, Gerhard’s assistant. Realizing that there’s no hiding each other’s infidelity any longer, the Christ’s laugh it off – which makes their lovers all the more uncomfortable – a discomfort that increases when Angela arrives with her governess.

There are times when I wonder if Fassbinder sees love as more of an illness than a laudable achievement. In quite a few of his movies, the cynical message is “in love, one is always used,” which is played out a little more subtly in this movie than in some of his other pieces. The Christs seem to be perfectly fine to discover each other’s affairs, almost relieved. But the extramarital lovers grow more and more ill at ease once they discover what they thought was an exhilarating and loving relationship is nothing more than something on the side to alleviate their partner’s from the dullness of routine.

At the hub of this is Angela, a disabled pre-teen who has grown weary of feeling like a burden to her parents. (She confesses to Gabriel that she knew her father’s infidelity started when she was diagnosed with her illness.) But having been shoved into the background of her parent’s lives has provided an interesting vantage point – the problem with ignoring someone is that they aren’t always ignoring you back.

In a lot of ways the movie’s climax reminded me of Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”. “Chinese Roulette” refers to a party game where the players are divided into teams, one team selects a person from the other, and the other team has to guess which one they chose by asking indirect questions for clues – “If the person was a car, what would they be?” As the ringleader, Angela’s talent for manipulating the emotions comes to its pinnacle here, but has a result she wasn’t expecting.

Line of the movie: “What would this person be in the Third Reich?”

Three and a half stars. It’s broccoli time!

Phantasm (1979)

Starring: Angus Scrimm, Michael Baldwin, Bill Thornbury, Reggie Bannister, Kathy Lester, Terrie Kalbus

First, The Lowdown: An annoying teen and his older brother finds out the local mortuary really put the “fun” in “funeral”.

It’s 2am, and a guy who looks like a roadie for the Little River Band is getting it on in the middle of a cemetery with a blonde chick that looks way out of his league. (And before you start thinking roofies were involved in the process, note this: the blonde chick is on top.) Sure enough, things run their course and before you can say “90-second wonder”, the blonde chick grabs a knife and goes all stabby on the poor schmuck. Fast forward to the schmuck’s funeral: it turns out that other two members of the late schmuck’s Steve Miller cover band, Reggie and Jody, are stunned to find out he killed himself. Jody steps away from the Schmuck’s memorial service to pay respect to his own parents – who died before the movie took place or something. What Jody doesn’t know is that his precocious little brother, Mike, has snuck away to spy on the funeral service. (Why Mike wasn’t invited isn’t made too clear, my guess is that Jody didn’t want him overtired for his audition with Sigmund and the Sea Monsters.) After the service is over, Mike hangs back to watch the burial, only to see the creepy, dollar store version of Christopher Lee pick up the casket by himself and shove it back into the hearse.

But Mike can’t spend too much time worrying about that because he has bigger things on his mind. Since the death of their parents, Jody has been serving as Mike’s guardian – which is taking time from his busy schedule of driving around in his sweet Barracuda and impersonating Knight Rider-era David Hasselhoff. Mike is naturally worried that his 24-year old sibling will dump him off at their aunt’s place (you know, the weird one with all the cats and the composting toilet). For some reassurance, Mike calls upon a schoolfriend of his, whose grandmother is a fortune teller – that only speaks through her granddaughter for some reason. Before telling his future, grandma tells Mike to put his hand in a black box that has magically appeared in from of him. Mike does so and the box clamps down on his hand painfully. Grandma tells him that the only way to get his hand out of the box is to not fear it (because it’s the mind-killer, donchaknow). Mike lets go of his fear like his Bene Gesserit mother trained him to do and frees his had. Oh yeah, and the fortune teller says he as nothing to worry about (and something else about a “quick-draw haberdasher” or something?).

Back home, Reggie has taken a break from his job as the Good Humor man, and shows up at Mike & Jody’s to jam on the front porch (and thus “adult contemporary” was born.) Later that night Jody goes to the neighborhood dive to drink away the headache that his brother is giving him. And who should start hitting on him? The same creepy blonde chick from before. Jody and creepy blonde chick stroll through the same cemetery where she got all stabby earlier, and unbeknownst to them Mike has been following close behind. Things between the inebriated lovers start progressing rather quickly, with clothing being shed. However, the woods are filled with creepy noises and shadows and- hey, was that a midget in a robe? Mike apparently has an irrational fear of those with dwarfism because he runs screaming out into the cemetery like he was in a Benny Hill short (I swear, the scene needed “Yakety Sax” playing in the background). Jody follows after his cockblocking brother, who has started ranting about weird scary things that he can’t fully articulate.

Back at home Mike is working on his brother’s sweet Barracuda when he starts hearing weird voices – much like what he heard in the forest earlier. Before he can investigate, though, the car falls off its wheel chocks and would’ve crushed the poor lad if Jody hadn’t shown up just then. Mike tries convincing his older brother about something weird going on, but Jody isn’t having any of it. Frustrated, Mike decides to do some snooping around at the funeral home. At first things there look just like they would in a Scooby Doo episode (Mike’s probably thinking “Is Don Knotts or Cass Elliot going to be the guest star tonight?”), but the kid’s hopes of getting “jinkies” with Velma in the back of the Mystery Machine are quickly dashed when he is attacked by disgruntled groundskeeper. The groundskeeper can’t hold his own against a juvenile though, and in the scuffle gets struck in the noggin by a prop that looks like something that would happen if Black Sabbath had done “Tommy”. Mike am-scrays amid the chaos, now thoroughly convinced that something not good is indeed afoot at Tall Guy’s Discount Funeral Parlour.

Hoo boy, where to begin?

Looking around on the internet, I’ve noticed that there’s a bit of a cult surrounding this movie. And as with a lot of fans of “esoteric cinema”, I’ve found that the more you point out a film’s flaws, the more people rally around it. So with that in mind I’ve decided to say, “I’m gonna tear into this movie like a bull elephant forcing itself on an ostrich. I don’t give a reconstituted shit if the fandom community declares a fatwa on me.”

Having seen many a film, I’ve noticed that movies are often like women I’ve dated: even the worst ones will sometimes have at least one interesting, positive feature in them. For example: Friday the 13^th, Part IV is considered (even amongst its die-hard fans) to be one of the more boring and formulaic entries into the franchise – with the exception of watching an obviously stoned Crispin Glover gambol about, the movie itself is pretty dull – even when the teen-meat starts getting killed. However, Part IV has one genuinely creepy scene in it that involves an 8-year old Corey Feldman desperately shaving his head and confronting the hockey mask-wearing psycho. (It has to be seen in order to be believed.) There are numerous entries in my catalogue of reviews that are too laughable to be considered horrific, but still contain one element – no matter how brief – that hits off of something subconscious in me. Which is why there are times I’ll be awake at 3 in the goddamned morning worried about some maniac is going to slice me to bits – and simultaneously pissed that even the stupidest concepts make sense late at night when you’re fatigued.

Phantasm has none of that.

I’m not joking either: I went to bed after watching Phantasm, got up at about 3 to use the bathroom, and it occurred to me while I lay awake afterwards that even in retrospect there was nothing remotely scary or creepy about the film. Yeah, the Tall Guy was kinda weird and had several “surprise!” moments, but the guy’s built like Christopher Lee after he was pulled from retirement. I’m 6’6” and 300 lbs, I’m pretty sure I could take him out. My roommate told me to watch Phantasm because it scared the hell out of her when she was a kid. But after we saw it she said, “That movie scared me a lot more before I started bleeding from the crotch.”

One detractor, for me at least, was the special effects. Phantasm is pretty obviously a self-financed feature, and it shows everywhere – especially in the “mausoleum” that’s made out of contact paper. I’m not one to laugh at the special effects of a film that was put together by a bunch of average Joes looking to make a movie, but couldn’t you guys at least tried to create some fake blood? The people here bleed either red or yellow – in the same kind of consistency that you’d find at your local hot dog stand. Phantasm’s showcase effect – the evil chrome ball with blades and stuff on it – is quickly undermined by the fact that when it hits its victim, he bleeds one of Heinz’s 57 varieties. Even worse, the “ball shot” starts out kinda nasty, but gets comedic when the victim’s catsup-like blood spurts out the back of it like a fountain. For a second I thought I was watching an Italian PSA about the warning signs of a stroke.

Another place the movie’s grassroots show is in the writing – the whole of the movie is filled with “wouldn’t it be cool if X happened” ideas that are never really fully fleshed out. I get the impression that the filmmakers got really high in their college dorm and started tossing premise after premise out, and no one was there to say “Uh, wait, that last one sounded kinda stupid.” Being an aspiring filmmaker myself, I know that oftentimes you have to make adjustments in the script and story to save on money – but here it looks like the director chose the easiest way out because it meant more of the budget could be used for Cheetos and beer.

Line of the Movie: “What we gotta do is we gotta snag that tall dude and stomp the shit out of him, and we'll find out what the hell is going on up there!”

Two stars. 57 varieties and they all suck.

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”.