Spotlight on "The Borderland"

by Mark Holcomb

Written and directed by Leslie Stevens. Cast: Mark Richman (Ian Fraser); Nina Foch (Eva Fraser); Philip Abbott (Lincoln Russell); Gladys Cooper (Mrs. Palmer); Alfred Ryder (Edgar Price); Gene Raymond (Benson Sawyer); Barry Jones (Dwight Hartley); Noel da Sousa (Dr. Sung). Broadcast December 16, 1963.

Story: Physicist Ian Fraser creates a portal to another dimension, and an industrialist agrees to fund its exploration on the off-chance that his dead son has taken up residence there. A pair of carny clairvoyants plan revenge on Fraser for swiping their sugar daddy.

This first-produced episode of The Outer Limits as a series is a fitting if peculiar inauguration: The show was Leslie Stevens's baby so he deserved first crack, but the bombastic, ultimately superficial "The Borderland" provides no clue as to what was coming.

It doesn't much resemble the pilot, either, and broadcast-wise it wasn't even an inaguration. Network brass, jittery over "The Borderland"'s jargon-besotted highbrow characters and (big surprise) lack of a monster, pressured Stevens to put off airing it until nearly halfway through the season. So it was wedged between the problematic "It Crawled Out of the Woodwork" and "Tourist Attraction," a snoozer that gets my vote for worst of the season. It's a wonder anybody tuned in after that, although the lucky ones who did were treated to a micro-invasion by the low-lifes of planet Zanti.

Given its transitional place in the series' production timeline "The Borderland" probably deserved better, and even now its stuffy repetitiousness hardly puts it in the same league as the bore it preceded. "Borderland" is probably best approached as a self-contained one-off—a movie, really, something its large cast and converging story lines (both of which Stevens favored again in his final OL entry, "Production and Decay of Strange Particles") reinforce.

Better yet think of it as the middle third of a trilogy, since three of the four episodes Stevens helmed—his comedic budget-saver "Controlled Experiment" being the exceptionare linked in a seriously meta, possibly even autobiographical way. "The Galaxy Being," "The Borderland," and "Production and Decay" all center on driven, roguish geniuses who flout convention and risk their lives and careers to follow pursuits with no guaranteed payoff, and taken as a trio these episodes represent an intriguing story arc.

Allan Maxwell in "Galaxy" is all youthful exuberance and fearlessness, his regard for civic and marital protocol wholly overshadowed by his quest for cosmic enlightenment. Which he gets in spades. In "Borderland" Ian Fraser is equally daring on a personal level, but at least understands the need for professional schmoozing in order to fund his outre research. He gets two right hands for the trouble.

There are other subtle shifts in this episode. Fraser's wife, Eva, is his colleague, whereas Carol Maxwell is merely a disregarded, disgruntled bystander to Allan's striving. Fraser also has a pair of middle-aged confidants—his benefactor's business manager, Sawyer, and fellow scientist Russell—who bear a striking resemblance to Stevens himself. Fraser, for his part, isn't un-Stefanoesuqe, and his two de facto executive producers are inclined to advise caution in both creative and financial matters (advice he largely ignores).

OK, this undercurrent of torch-passing could just be a byproduct of my drifting interest in "Borderland"'s actual plot, but the timing of the episode's production roughly coincides with the initial partnership between Daystar and Villa de Stefano. Very roughly, but still. Regardless, the final third of the trilogy—the one with "Decay" in its title in which the rebellious scientist protagonist is an aged weakling who does sloppy work and sends his partner to certain nuclear heat-death—came shortly before The Outer Limits was yanked away from its creator, so draw your own conclusions. If these episodes are a chronicle of what producing a weekly television series does to a guy, maybe The Outer Limits was Stevens's cry for help.

Enough with the blue-skying, because "The Borderland" does have some interesting tangible qualities. The performances are good all around, with Cooper and Ryder being the standouts, and it's beautifully shot by John Nickolaus. Stevens's pacing is brisk and his compositions assertive, but what most surprised me is his story's alignment of science with hucksterism—the early scenes in which Fraser and crew woo moneybags Hartley are blatantly juxtaposed with Palmer and Price's spook-show shakedown, and there's a ritualistic quality to the physicists' experiments that isn't far from the seances the grifters conduct. Stevens's status as a hard-science nut is admirably undermined by these savvy parallels, and their cynicism is actually kind of refreshing. (Fraser's flamboyant flailing around and bellowing countdowns during the latter sequences—he never seems to touch a knob or dial himself—more resembles someone directing a theatrical play, especially with the stage-like dimension portal device looming in the background. More food for the OL-as-LS-autobiography theory.)

ABC was right that there's no bear lurking around in "The Borderland," but its visual effects are thoughtfully conceived and gracefully executed, and their obvious expense reminds us that we're watching early, pre-budget-crunch OL. The scene of Fraser's two right hands writhing on Hartley's tabletop is surprisingly creepy; instead of the cheap stunt it could've been, we see how such a condition could be crippling.

The last-act psychedelic blast during Fraser's extradimensional trip is the real show-stopper, though: It initially seems like a run-of-the-mill, slightly hokey frame-step montage, but ultimately accumulates into something truly sensory-warping and otherworldly. Give credit to the uncredited Byron Haskin who, along with effects house Butler-Glouner, made them work as beautifully as they do. Sadly, the effect I remember most strongly from when I watched this episode as a kid—Hartley disintegrating in the portal device—is practically ruined by yet another spoilery teaser.

But despite its solid effects "The Borderland" is still an unmemorable slog, bogged down by a continuous loop of talky, pointlessly amped-up lab scenes (also a feature of "Production and Decay") and a distracting milieu of wealth, power, and social rank, something The Outer Limits rarely indulged once Stefano was in charge. The episode quite literally goes nowhere, and what lingers most about it for me is a throwaway line from its opening Control Voice narration—something about the "wish to cross the borderlands that lie beyond the Outer Limits."

I don't know about you, but if there's something even further out and alien than what we experienced in this series, I'm game a spinoff.

Mark Holcomb writes about movies, television, books, and general pop-cultural ephemera for The Village Voice, The Believer, Time Out New York, Salon, and whoever else will have him. He first watched The Outer Limits in its original run as a highly impressionable, temperamentally morbid three year old, and hasn't been able to shake it since (not that he's tried). He and his twin brother, David, indulged their fascination with the series back in the pre-blog '90s, and their efforts live on here courtesy of David J. Schow.

The Borderland

Production Order #02

Broadcast Order #12

Original Airdate: 12/16/63

Starring Peter Mark Richman, Philip Abbott, Nina Foch.

Written and directed by Leslie Stevens.

Professor Ian Fraser (Richman) has made a staggering discovery in an accident that occurs during an experiment. His hand is slipped into another dimension and comes back...backwards! He's sure that further experiments are in order but he needs to convince mega-rich Dwight Hartley (Barry Jones) that Ian and his merry band of scientists should be funded. Hartley's desperate to contact his dead son in the afterlife and will grasp any straw to achieve that goal.

PE: Here's an odd one: an episode that begins like Thriller but ends like The Fly. A nice, atmospheric and (dare I use the word?) noirishly shot episode filled with scientific gobbledygook and bad science fiction flick trappings. The faux seance scene in particular is nicely handled and I did like the "what's in the bag?" shots of the cast looking down into the camera. On the downside, we have any of the shots to do with Fraser's duplicate hand, which look exactly like what they are: someone else off camera inserting their hand in the shot.

JS: While the idea of the flopped hand makes for one—count that one—creepy reveal, it doesn't hold up to much thought. At the point where he was in and out of the field, his arm is correct and reversed, you would think that the bones, tendons, veins, etc. wouldn't line up, right? And why did the mouse reverse but not his cage?

PE: You want examples of unneeded science talk? How's this for an exchange between Dwight Hartley and scientist Lincoln Russell (Abbott):

Hartley: I saw it. It turned around.
Russell: It did more than that. It reversed polarity and stabilized.
Hartley: Did they go into the other dimension?
Russell: They had to. They became negative matter.

Now, all that may make sense in scientific terms and in a theorem published in Reverse Polarity Weekly it might read smoothly but in a 60-minute sf tv show it could leave John Q. Public scratching its head and mumbling "huh"?

JS: You certainly can't complain about the production values. There were visual effects abound (not counting the stunt 'right hand' actor). Oddly enough, I thought one of the coolest images in the entire episode was probably the most simply achieved—the opening sequence with metal shavings being moved around magnetically. My other favorite image was when Ian was trapped in the field and we got the multiple exposure of his tortured self.

PE: POLARITY REVERSE!!! is my new catch phrase after watching Fraser man the controls of the get-me-to-another-dimension-whatchamajig. Every time he screamed the command to his wife and science lab partner, Eva (Nina Foch), he cracks an imaginary whip. In my script, Eva would patiently call out to her husband "Not until you say please."

JS: Richman certainly is committed to the role. I remember him fondly as the somewhat creepy Reverand father of Chrissy Snow (Suzanne Sommers) on Three's Company. Fans can order an autographed Outer Limits photo directly from the actor at his website.

PE: The fake seer, Mrs. Palmer (Gladys Cooper) and her dopey bodyguard/ P.R. man are a hoot wandering the halls of the power plant (this power plant is so important that anyone can wander in?). They reminded me of the Muppet hecklers, Statler and Waldorf, the old guys up in the theater box.

JS: Coming off of "The Galaxy Being", one can't help but be disappointed at the lack of a Bear in this episode. Of course, had one stepped out of the magnetic field, that probably would have felt a little too similar to the prior episode's hijinks. The closest we get is the "Man with Two Right Hands," and an all-too-brief fade into a particularly un-Thriller skeleton bit (which methinks means ol' man Hartley (Barry Jones) is joining his son, although perhaps not in the manner intended). (Look how shiny that skeleton is! the producers must have picked it up at Ed's Hobby Shop just that morning! -PE) (I wish! That's a paint-by-numbers skeleton if I've ever seen one... -JS)

PE: I would have hoped that all this scientific yaddayadda would lead up to something other than a Talking Heads video. Professor Fraser’s constant cry of “Eva Eva Eva!!” reminded me of the two sprites who stand on the Tokyo cliffs and call out for “Gamera, Gamera!!”

JS: Um, that would be Mothra, Peter.

PE: Do I get points for not knowing that?

JS RATING:

PE RATING

David J. Schow on "The Borderland":

From The Outer Limits Companion, Copyright © David J. Schow, 1986, 1998. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission and by special arrangement with the author.

Next Up...

Spotlight on "The Galaxy Being"

by Gary Gerani

THE PROMOS

Like most fans of my generation, I fell in love with the Galaxy Being months before seeing the original show that introduced him to the world. Those ascending notes of “the New ABC” blared at TV viewers like crazy before the Fall season began, with heavily-promoted Outer Limits apparently the ultimate gift for monster-craving kids. And what a monster! This “front man” gargoyle was like the best of those ‘50s-style, rubber-suited sci-fi creatures we were accustomed to, but with an early ‘60s special effects facelift (he shimmers!). "The Galaxy Being" is still a remarkable, one-of-a-kind screen entity even in this CGI-ridden 21^st Century we currently find ourselves in. Those ABC promos back in ‘63 gave us some quick but unforgettable glimpses of what was just ahead: a taloned space creature emanating shock waves, blasting terrified people, speeding cars, and countless newspapers with the force of a hurricane. Needless to say, all the kids at P.S. 186 knew where they were going to be on the night of September 16^th.

THE PREMIERE

Much to my annoyance, mom and dad planned to watch Love is a Many Splendored Thing on Monday Night at the Movies (beginning at 7:30—crap!), which meant the living room TV was “reserved.” So I viewed the network premiere of Outer Limits on my 19” black-and-white portable, which sat on a rolling cart in my bedroom. I got comfortable, snapped open a bag of potato chips, and directly faced the glowing screen…

OPENING TITLES/TEASER

We all knew “The Galaxy Being” was the first episode of this newfangled Outer Limits TV series, which had obviously been created to give Twilight Zone a run for its money. Now I was very loyal to TZ; it was a show I watched with my parents every week, and we made a fun game of trying to guest the twist endings, the choice of still image in the end credits, etc. Rod Serling was practically like a beloved member of the family at this point. But hey, tough as it was to follow the seminal greatness of Zone, “Galaxy Being” certainly got everyone’s attention and became a case of must-see TV (except for mom and dad, of course). So… the episode begins, presenting viewers with “There is nothing wrong with your television set” for the very first time. It was that slightly extended version of the opening (“If we wish to make it louder…”), a tad pedantic maybe, but the graphics were cool and the absence of an actual host intriguing. We could tell right off that this was a sci-fi show that took itself very seriously. Okay, fine, cool; but Where’s the Being? Didn’t have to wait long for his first dramatic appearance, which occurs within the first few moments of the teaser. A great view of KXKVI’s transmitting tower is enhanced by the superimposition of an oscillating static field -- the series’ signature graphic—which finally settles into Maxwell’s 3D receiver, providing an elegant cinematic touch. And before we can even catch our breath, there’s the Being taking shape inside that receiver, with face of humanity Cliff Robertson (we all knew he was a classy actor) looking on open-mouthed. Yes!!

ACT I

So cool to hear Dominic Frontiere’s doom-laden version of the OL theme as credits come zooming out at us. We’re now introduced to two annoying civilians: disc jockey Gene “Buddy” Maxwell (Lee Phillips, originally cast as the lead) and our protagonist’s long-suffering wife, Carol (Jacqueline Scott). It’s funny. These opening scenes in the sound booth have the texture of 1957; we’re practically in Jailhouse Rock territory. For those too young to know such things, the fabulous ‘50s lasted until around 1964, as Kennedy’s assassination and the arrival of the Beatles ushered in the “real,” protest-driven 1960s. Anyway… Before long Carol trundles over to her husband Alan Maxwell’s makeshift lab, kind of like a Tom Edison version of Radio Shack, but with cool, incessant sound effects generated by that 3D receiver unit. Here’s where we finally get to meet explorer Alan in earnest, and quite an earnest fellow he is. Robertson is worth his weight in gold. He happens to be one of those actors who radiates decency, intelligence, and a sense of childlike wonder—exactly what this role requires. Just about everything idealistic Alan says is poetry. He admits he’s a nobody, then goes on to explain that “the mysteries of the universe don’t mind. They reveal themselves to nobodies…who care.” Never has Stevens’ dialogue been more evocative and inspiring. Contrast this with wife Carol’s relentlessly conventional approach to everything in her orbit. She’s like a nagging mom (at least that’s how she came off to us kids) who wants to ruin Alan’s playtime because the laundry needs to be done, or something like that. Maxwell clearly considers a wife to be a grudging necessity, like paying the bills, as these two have precious little in common. Carol reminds Alan that a testimonial dinner is being held in his honor (I wonder why, exactly?) and that he’d better be all dressed up and ready on time, or else. The act fades out avoiding a high-intensity Frontiere music cue, one of the few times OL goes for subtlety in this regard.

ACT II

Okay, now we’re talking. Or rather, Alan and his finally manifested, three-dimensional alien visitor are talking. And such cool things they’re saying to each other! “Where you come from, is there death? War? God?” It was all pretty daring for 1963, and that heavily browed-and-high cheek-boned Being looks compelling in every shot he’s showcased in. “Infinity is God, God infinity. All the same…” is not only spoken with reverence, but with an actual bowed head. Ingenious, Mr. Stevens. Significantly, both human and alien are breaking society’s rules to achieve contact; these guys are clearly kindred spirits, self-contained loners, misunderstood by their respective cultures. Unfortunately, this remarkable gabfest is interrupted by a testy Carol, who pretty much tells Alan, “Look. I don’t care if you’ve made the greatest discovery in human history, we are LATE FOR DINNER!” Even in this moment of complete illogic (would you leave an actual ‘first contact’ experience for roast beef and stringbeans?), Robertson is wonderful, his face aglow with giddy excitement as he revels in his astonishing discovery while trying to placate his nagging wife. So Alan tells the understandably concerned Being to hang out for a while until he returns. Fair enough. Now we know someone’s going to do something stupid in order to propel this plotline into crisis mode. That someone turns out to be a vain substitute record spinner who amps up KXKVI’s transmitting power, forcing the agonized Being into our sphere of existence. WHAM! There goes the glass to the sound room’s circular window, with a formidable, perhaps even angry alien monster peering through. Wow. I mean, DOUBLE WOW. Great way to usher in a commercial.

ACT III

It’s monster movie excitement all the way as our Being takes a memorable stroll through 1963 suburbs, thunder and lightning accompanying his every move (an idea Mark Carducci and I ripped off for Pumpkinhead, btw). Cars are sent tumbling, a night watchman is assaulted by astral turbulence, and, best of all, an antique shop is invaded by the inquisitive extraterrestrial. Not only is this a great visual set-piece (dig those glowing binoculars when GB stares into them), but it speaks volumes about the entity’s personality; even caught in a catastrophic (and ultimately fatal) visit to a small planet, his sense of wonder is briefly held by the curious objects of art he inspects. Let’s face it, the Galaxy Being IS Alan Maxwell. Searching for his “other half,” this slip-sliding visitor somehow finds his way to that numbing testimonial dinner, and both Alan and (thankfully) fainted Carol manage to follow him back to the station. Befuddled cops and Frontiere’s neat, ascending cue usher in the final commercial break.

ACT IV

Now back at his work shack, Maxwell tries to undo the harm he’s caused, but the Being explains that his people “know I have broken law. They will come for me…” Stevens wisely snips the second half of that statement (“…destroy your planet.”), probably because it seemed a tad extreme, and also because it may have conjured memories of one-dimensional alien invaders from ‘50s movies. Speaking of the 50s, “Galaxy Being” borrows from The Day the Earth Stood Still just as Star Trek is obviously informed by Forbidden Planet (The Being is Klaatu and Gort rolled into one). This parallel becomes even more apparent when a few tanks close in on KXKVI, complete with the prerequisite trigger-happy soldier. Their assault allows our Andromedan “hero” to save Carol’s life, certifying his status as miraculous good-guy monster (and providing a variation of Klaatu’s awe-inspiring resurrection). It’s during these scenes where Carol strives to be more than just the obligatory boring ‘60s spouse; “Destroy you?” she asks the Being with some concern, and that’s even before he saves her life. Might’ve been cool if Carol had been given an even more palpable arc, but I’m grateful for the suggestion of personal growth we see. Anyway, the Being makes his big speech to the assembled authorities, tells us trouble-prone humans that “we must explore… we must reach out,” while at the same time destroying the transmitting/receiving tower that would enable us to do just that… contradictory advice, to say the least, coupled with a grim warning, again echoing Wise’s film. So what does it all mean? The end narration tells viewers flat-out that we’ll be meeting up with some “profound and inscrutable” aliens in future episodes… but before we can make sense of these grotesque strangers in our midst, “we must first learn to understand ourselves, and each other.” Amen to that, folks.

IN CONCLUSION

This is a sober, straight-forward, beautifully directed episode, arguably the finest film Leslie Stevens ever made. Although we’re denied the juicy German Expressionism of those Conrad Hall-shot entries, John Nickolaus is no slouch as a visualist; he and Stevens put their camera in curious, unexpected places (Alan and Gene checking the car radio), have figures enigmatically rise into frame with their backs to us (the night watchman), and those compelling close-ups of the Being, along with Maxwell’s, are chosen very carefully for maximum effect. Not as wild as some later episodes, “The Galaxy Being” nevertheless serves as an ideal primer for Outer Limits, combining the pleasures of ‘50s-flavored sci-fi thrills with an introspective analysis of perplexing human behavior. Along the way, it gives us one of the best damned alien entities ever conceived for the screen, large or small.

Gary Gerani is the author of Fantastic Television, the first book to focus on science-fiction, fantasy and horror TV. In association with IDW, Gerani recently launched a new publishing company, Fantastic Press, with November's TOP 100 HORROR MOVIES. Next up is TOP 100 SCI-FI MOVIES in April. His graphic novel, BRAM STOKER'S DEATH SHIP (which takes on that famous nightmare voyage from Varna to Whitby, as you-know-who feeds on the crew of the Demeter), is available now and has garnered several nice reviews.

The Galaxy Being

Production Order #01
Broadcast Order #01
Original Airdate: 9/16/63
Starring: Cliff Robertson, Lee Philips, William O. Douglas, Jr.
Written and directed by Leslie Stevens.

Allan Maxwell (Robertson) and his brother Buddy (Philips) run radio station KXKVI. While Buddy is focused on the job, Allan is more interested in using the station's resources to experiment—like reaching out to other intelligent life forms via microwaves. Imagine his surprise when something materializes in three dimensions. Everything is proceeding nicely until an overzealous deejay cranks up the power on the station transmitter, releasing the interstellar guest (Douglas).

JS: I thought it was a nice touch how the sine wave pattern from the titles worked it's way into the pilot episode.

PE: I was wondering how the meeting with the network brass went after they screened "Please Stand By," which is essentially the same episode as "The Galaxy Being":

Brass: Well, we really love this show, but we'd like you to rework it and make some changes.
Stevens: Like?
Brass: Well, um, err... that title has to go!

Outside of a few very minor details, I can't imagine why they'd bother messing with this thing. In fact, when I became aware of the "Please Stand By"/"Galaxy Being" and watched "Please," I naturally assumed they'd be re-filming those dreadful special effects but, alas, they're just as bad as in the first incarnation. Chalk it all up, though, to the dawning of spfx in television and don't hold it against the show. I didn't.

JS: If this is any sign of things to come, the next 10 weeks should be a breeze. Interesting story, fine performances, a cool creature, effective music, nicely photographed—what more could we ask for? (Elizabeth Montgomery? Ursula Andress? Mary Tyler Moore? Nope, out of luck. -PE)

PE: Agreed. I liked the story as well. Cliff Robertson is really good in this. He's a character we've never seen before: a handsome science geek. He's a very good-natured dude. Allan smiles in a vacant way when his wife (Jacqueline Scott) pushes him to make a decision. I get that same look on my face when my girlfriend asks me a question while Adam-12 is on.

JS: The episode is cut from the same cloth as Robert Wise's seminal Day the Earth Stood Still (a bit too much in the climax. -PE). A benevolent alien met with fear and violence from the establishment... what makes it particularly interesting is that it's completely free of flying saucers. And unlike Wise's cautionary tale, not everyone makes it through the event unscathed (the deejay who let him loose may have deserved his fate, but the station caretaker was more of an unwilling victim of the Andromedan's radiation) (and don't forget those four DOAs in the car. -PE). And appealing to the monster kids in the audience, you can't help but feel a little bad for the Andromedan, who is unable to return to his home and therefore chooses to willingly "tune himself out."

PE: Well, actually, the reason the Andromedan can't get home is because he's never progressing while he's walking. In several scenes, he looks like he's on a treadmill. The background (blue screen) is not following his pace. And what's with that extra baggage up front? A bit of an Alien beer belly? Is the he really a she? My laugh-track moment comes when the alien steps out of his dimension into ours. Well, he doesn't really step out so much as shimmy out of a vent duct and fall face first on the floor.

JS: I did have to laugh when he gives his speech, indicating he's going to leave in peace, the military and civilian onlookers all just turn and walk away. Um, he's still right there, folks! And no one even thought to try and take a picture? I thought the negative technique used to film the Andromedan gave him a very cool look. (if they had taken a picture of the big dude, what would the negative look like? -PE)

PE: You mentioned The Day The Earth Stood Still. In the end, "The Galaxy Being" merely recycles the message from that classic Keanu Reeves film: We better stop our aggression or someone will step in and stop it for us. Does his race keep a monitor on all civilizations or are we just so violent we’ve made a reputation all the way to the Andromeda system?! Do aliens film movies (in the Andromedan version of Hollywood) about us invading them?

JS: Keep in mind, Peter, that like Allan, 'Andy' was screwing around on the job. He wasn't supposed to be monitoring extraterrestrial traffic either, which is a big difference between this and the ol' Klaatu-Barada-Nikto.

PE: A few words about our first "Outer Limits Babe": Jacqueline Scott carved out a nice career as a character actress in films and especially on TV; parts on all the usual suspects: The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, The Twilight Zone ("The Parallel"), Have Gun, Will Travel, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, Ironside, Planet of the Apes, etc. On the big screen, she had roles in Bert I. Gordon's Empire of the Ants and Don Siegel's Telefon (with Charles Bronson). She'll be seen later in the Season 2 episode, "Counterweight."

JS Rating

PE Rating

JS: The original pilot was titled Please Stand By, as seen in the following opening and closing credits. For more on the variations between the versions, check out David J. Schow's write up below.

David J. Schow on "Please Stand By"/"The Galaxy Being":

From The Outer Limits Companion, Copyright © David J. Schow, 1986, 1998.  All Rights Reserved.  Used by permission and by special arrangement with the author.

Next Up...

The Outer Limits - A First Season Primer

by David J. Schow

   The Outer Limits became the pivotal monster show for entire generations of 60s and 70s fans due to being a creative anomaly, where production value fused with a unique weirdness and skewed POV to provide a phenomenon legitimately greater than the sum of its raw material. To others, it was an unsung treasure, a bridge from the snap-in-the-tail morals of The Twilight Zone to the derring-do of Star Trek. It targeted no specific audience (unlike the juvenilia of Irwin Allen’s contemporaneous assortment of gimmick series like Lost in Space or Time Tunnel) and offered as many terrors for adults as for kids—a heady, hallucinogenic mix of cerebral paranoia, Gothic milieu, Expressionist rendering and gooshy critters from outer space…or in one case, straight out of a vacuum cleaner. To still others, The Outer Limits pointed the way and provided the inspiration for dozens of nascent filmmakers, many of whom grew up to enable our modern five-channel, CGI-slathered blockbuster entertainment machines. It is worth restating here that the 1963-era special effects, mocked today as falling far short of the plotting demands of the writing, demonstrate a peak of imaginative problem-solving, far preferable to today’s exemplars of fantastic film—movies and TV shows where, conversely, the writing is no longer up to the level of the effects, and “willing suspension of disbelief” by audiences seems to have passed its spoilage date long ago.

    Which begs the question: Why does The Outer Limits endure?

    For many, the “classic” memories of The Outer Limits are grounded in several instantly identifiable creatures or aliens, the most popular of these including “The Galaxy Being”’s titular Andromedan; the big-brained, hyper-evolved Homo Superior portrayed by David McCallum in “The Sixth Finger”; the crawly insect antagonists of “The Zanti Misfits”; or the lava-complected time traveler played by Martin Landau in “The Man Who Was Never Born.” All of these are present and accounted for in the First Season episodes—most importantly, they are available for examination in the company of the other episodes made around them. The Outer Limits crew had to wrap one of these miniature feature films every seven days, which makes the quality control on view—plus the fast-forward innovations deployed to get each episode in the can on time and on target—all the more amazing. There were no recurring characters, sequels, or clip shows to take up production slack, yet the series displays an admirable continuity as a unified, 32-part whole through the ingredients that matter most: acting, direction, writing, music, cinematography (before it was called that), editing, and the wild concoctions of Project Unlimited—possibly, TV history’s very first independent, all-purpose special effects shop. This is not like settling into a sofa to watch a season of The Sopranos or The Mary Tyler Moore Show all at once, familiar characters engaging in the routine of the human condition and providing the usual surprises according to a soap-operatic “arc.” The Outer Limits is a puzzle-box wherein a hidden panel leads to a secret door which reveals yet another bizarre compartment. The show’s tenor is not sequential, but like the spokes of a wheel—whereas The Twilight Zone dealt in ordinary people caught up in extraordinary events, The Outer Limits most frequently engaged highly unusual people in the intrusions of the mundane, “larger” world outside their experiments, research or predicaments. (A dossier on the show’s moody, romanticist characters would probably read like a psychologist’s case file on aberrant personality.)

    What’s really striking about the complete First Season is how seamlessly the behind-the-scenes parts-of-the-whole melded and complemented each other to yield an episode-to-episode consistency, from the most popular classics to the oblique and cryptic segments; from the indelibly-remembered monsters, stories and situations to the forgettable or embarrassing desperation measures; from the most expensive single (non-pilot) segment (“Tourist Attraction”) to the cheapest bottle show (“Controlled Experiment”). Every instance of the highs and lows navigated by the show’s unique and unreplicable creative team can be examined here—from Leslie Stevens’ shining technological sci-fi to Joseph Stefano’s baroque, Old Dark House approach; from the combined brilliance of Stefano, director Gerd Oswald and director of photography Conrad Hall (a “troika” responsible for 14 episodes, a third of the whole First Season) to the gem-like one-shots (“The Chameleon” starring Robert Duvall is just one such standout); from the goofy monster ragouts like “Fun and Games” or “Second Chance” to the more grown-up fear factor of “Corpus Earthling” or “The Invisibles.”

    Apart from what seems to be the main “mission statement” of The Outer Limits—that monsters are frequently less monstrous than the humans they encounter—an overview of the First Season episodes can also emphasize the “extraordinary people in ordinary situations” dichotomy that makes the program more a negative-reversal, and less a mirror image of The Twilight Zone. The universe of The Outer Limits has little truck with the real world-at-large, isolating its dramas into the outback of private research labs, off-the-beaten-path small towns, remote mansions and the silent shelter of space. Emotional violence is visited with dark and savage frequency while actual physical violence—that staple of TV narrative—is laid back to an almost surprising extreme. Past a smatter of stock-issue screaming heroines and deployments of military firepower, guns are in evidence in many shows, but rarely fired, and when fired are seldom fatal. When a plot does resort to firearms, a single gunshot is often the hub on which the entire story revolves, as in “Nightmare,” “Controlled Experiment,” or “The Bellero Shield,” and several shows severely inconvenience themselves by the sheer absence of available weaponry (never moreso than in “The Mutant”).

    Apart form the usual star suspects—Robert Culp, Martin Landau, Robert Duvall, Martin Sheen, Sally Kellerman, Vera Miles, Barbara Rush, David McCallum, with the inevitable invocations of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, plus anyone was ever nominated for an Oscar since then—The Outer Limits maintained a keen interest in resurrecting many “lost” or little-used character actors, lending the show a population of faces that abetted its “look,” which was unlike any other series on television. Sir Cedric Hardwicke’s final film performance was in “The Forms of Things Unknown” (he replaced Peter Lorre and Joseph Schildkraut, both of whom died before they could be cast). Stefano requested and got, as he put it, “people who were not working in movies or TV anymore; people with fabulous faces, types and styles, like Sydney Blackmer, or Neil Hamilton, or George MacReady with his great scar. In “Don’t Open Till Doomsday” we find the last hurrah of Miriam Hopkins… in the company of sci-fi stalwart John Hoyt. The dramatis personae on view include Walter Burke, Phillip Abbott, Vaughn Taylor, Nellie Burt, Henry Brandon, Ruth Roman & Alex Nicol, Warren Oates, Betsy Jones-Moreland, a post-blacklist Jeff Corey, Harry Towne, Russell Johnson, Tim O’Connor, John Anderson, and Mimsy Farmer logging an early job (“Second Chance”) prior to seeking European refuge in films like Barbet Schroeder’s Pink Floyd-scored trip into psychedelia and drug addiction, More (1969). Oscar-winning cinematographer Conrad Hall called The Outer Limits a “school for the development of my craft,” and in many of these episodes you can see him working all the angles in the company of his camera operator, another then-nascent luminary named William Fraker.

    In the words of the Control Voice, you are about to participate in a great adventure.

(adapted from “The Outer Limits Arrives on DVD,” originally published in Video Watchdog #89 [Nov. 2002].  © David J. Schow, 2002.  Used by permission.)

The Outer Limits and Us... and the Schedule!

Before we begin, we feel it's appropriate to set the stage explaining our history with The Outer Limits.

John: My first exposure to The Outer Limits would have been in the mid to late 70s. While I can't remember the first episode that I saw growing up, I will never forget the monster from the most memorable one... the human-faced ants, the Zanti Misfits. I was such a fan of those little guys that I bought a life-size one when Sideshow released them a number of years ago.

Peter: I'm not old enough (believe it or not) to have caught OL on its initial run so it would have been probably on one of its first syndications in the mid to late 60s. I think the first memories I have of OL is of the creature with the boomerang from "Fun and Games." I do remember the Zantis giving me nightmares and causing a deep fear of bugs (especially the kind with human heads). I also can very clearly recall sitting on the edge of my couch while Adam West hung on the edge of his rock in "The Invisible Enemy." Having watched a few of these already in the past couple weeks, I've marveled at how close in style they are to Thriller, at least in the photography, shadows, and atmosphere, if not in the themes.

JS: I don't know if this is true for many of you, but for the most part, my memories of The Outer Limits are of the monsters themselves, and not the stories from which they sprang.

PE: Absolutely. OL provided some very memorable nasties for grade school lunch time discussion.

JS: That said, I'm looking forward to revisiting the series—If I had to guess I'd say I've probably only seen half of the episodes, and of those many have long since been forgotten. But there are some that have stuck with me through the years; one of which I will be providing the special "Spotlight On" entry for. But that's still a number of weeks away, so I won't spoil the surprise.

PE: I'm looking forward with some trepidation. Some of these are bound to disappoint my memories. I just pray the Harlan Ellison fans aren't as rabid as the "Pigeons." I think what excites me most is the surprises we have lined up for our readers this time.




Need a tease? Check out a few commercial promos here.

If you followed A Thriller A Day, we thought that we'd point out how we'll be doing things a little bit differently with We Are Controlling Transmission. As previously noted, we'll only be running episode reviews Monday through Friday. And this time out, we've decided to approach the episodes in production order, as opposed to broadcast order. To that end, here is the schedule in advance so you can keep in sync with us.

1/3 The Galaxy Being
1/4 The Borderland
1/5 The Human Factor
1/6 Tourist Attraction
1/7 The Architects of Fear

1/10 Controlled Experiment
1/11 100 Days of the Dragon
1/12 The Man with the Power
1/13 A Feasibility Study
1/14 Specimen: Unknown

1/17 The Sixth Finger
1/18 The Man who Was Never Born
1/19 Moonstone
1/20 OBIT
1/21 Nightmare

1/24 Corpus Earthling
1/25 The Zanti Misfits
1/26 It Crawled Out of the Woodwork
1/27 The Mice
1/28 The Invisibles

1/31 ZZZZZ
2/1 Dont Open Til Doomsday
2/2 The Bellero Shield
2/3 Forms of Things Unknown
2/4 Children of Spider County

2/7 The Mutant
2/8 Second Chance
2/9 Fun and Games
2/10 The Guests
2/11 Production and Decay of Strange Particles

2/14 The Special One
2/15 The Chameleon (last ep of first season)
2/16 Wrap up and look back at Season One
2/17 Cold Hands Warm Heart
2/18 Soldier

2/21 The Invisible Enemy
2/22 Counterweight
2/23 Behold Eck
2/24 Wolf 359
2/25 Keeper of the Purple Twilight

2/28 Expanding Human
3/1 Demon with a Glass Hand
3/2 Cry of Silence
3/3 I Robot
3/4 The Inheritors (Part 1 & 2)

3/7 The Duplicate Man
3/8 The Brain of Colonel Barham
3/9 The Premonition
3/10 The Probe

Rather than giving you a cumulative rating, Peter and John's individual ratings will be listed separately (so it will be clear for you to direct your hate mail to Peter). Ratings will be in the form of 0-4 Zanti Misfits:

In the absence of commentaries on the DVD sets, we have assembled a panel of Outer Limits experts to provide special "Spotlight On" essays for particular episodes. If you followed A Thriller A Day, several names will be familiar to you, however we're pleased to say you'll find a few new voices as well. Watch for our daily reviews to be posted each morning, and the "Spotlight On..." essays for the episode of the day in the afternoon.

Check back tomorrow for a Season One Primer from the leading authority on all things Outer Limits, and then return on Monday for our look at the premiere episode of The Outer Limits: "The Galaxy Being."

And now we'll leave you with one last promo video to whet your appetite...

Seasons Greetings!

"Here comes Zanti Claus, here comes Zanti Claus, right down Zanti Claus lane..."

As we're just a week away from the launch of We Are Controlling Transmission, we wanted to take a moment to wish all of our readers a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. We hope you enjoyed A Thriller A Day in 2010, and that you will join us on our new adventure with The Outer Limits in 2011!

John & Peter