Episode 9 – Perchance to Dream

Episode 9 – Perchance to Dream
Original Airdate: November 27, 1959


Plot: A man goes to see a psychologist because he fears that a recurring dream will kill him. After explaining his complex tale, it does just that.



Usually I try to sum up an episode from start to finish in two or three sentences, often revealing the twist ending because that's the part of the story that reminds people which episode it is. For Perchance to Dream, I just couldn't do it. There is so much story packed into these 24 minutes, multiple twists, and not a second to grow bored. Incidentally this was the first episode to not be written by Serling, and my favorite so far. Charles Beaumont adapted this script from a short story he wrote that was originally published in Playboy magazine of all places. Do they still put original fiction in Playboy? I was aware that there were words in there, I just don't know what they say.

We're introduced to a man named Ed Hall who has an overactive imagination and a heart condition. He's supposed to avoid overexerting himself, because the next big shock could be his last. The acting is superb – he's clearly mentally distressed and weary. The plot unfolds quickly but in a way that keeps you hanging on every word. There's a logical buildup as the stakes grow ever higher – transitioning from a childhood story to a paranoia-induced car accident to the unsettling amusement park dream sequence.

The dream sequence is one of the most true-to-life I've ever seen. This is exactly how (my) dreams (at least) play out: there's something resembling a story but it's pieced together by sudden turns that come out of left field, and the tone changes frequently.



Ed's having a fine time at the amusement park, then watches a performance by the sultry "Maya The Cat Girl" (starting to understand the Playboy connection), who suddenly takes an interest in him. We start to think it's going to be "one of those" kinds of dreams, but the tone shifts and now Maya is sinister, bent on Ed's destruction, and he no longer has the will to free himself. Back in the psychologist's office, Ed explains that the next time he goes to sleep he'll reenter the dream, and the shock will be too much for his weak heart.

Now the twists start screwing in. The psychologist's secretary is revealed to be the spitting image of Maya, causing Ed to leap out a window, something that was alluded to earlier. Finally we skip back in time to see that the entire psychological consultation was a dream, and that Ed fell asleep as soon as he entered the office.



It's a great use of a cliched ending, but there's another twist – the secretary really does look like Maya. We're left to wonder if Ed saw her on his way into the office and dreamed of her, or if there's an element of precognition to the story, and also how much of the dream story that killed Ed was solely a part of that specific dream. It's a great episode for people who like to over-analyze things.

As of this writing the full episode can be found on Hulu; I'd recommend this above all the others so far.

Episode 8 - Time Enough at Last

Episode 8 - Time Enough at Last
Original Airdate: November 20, 1959


Plot: An avid reader wishes for less distractions from his books. His wish is granted in the form of a hydrogen bomb that leaves just him and a whole lot of books, which he can't read because he's just broken his glasses.



I'm sure we're all familiar with this episode. Along with "To Serve Man" and "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," this is one of the episodes that became insanely popular and is continually referenced in pop culture to this day. The bulk of the episode consists of our bookworm, Henry Bemis, walking around a bombed-out cityscape in near-silence. Bemis is a pathetic-looking creature himself so the image is stark, and in a rare change of pace, Serling does voice-over narration in the middle of the piece, not just bookending the tale. Of course Serling saves the most eloquent lines for himself, or rather his narrator persona, but the episode seemed to drag for me prior to Bemis's discovery of the destroyed library. Somehow the books survived when the structure itself failed, and never mind the ramifications of nuclear fallout, but this is a fantasy story, after all.

Bemis is played by Burgess Meredith, who most of you will recall as Mick from Rocky, but I associate primarily as The Penguin from the Adam West Batman show. He's a character actor in the truest sense. Bemis is an introverted man, bordering on autistic, who can't get his nose out of his reading material when he's introduced. His reading addiction reminded me of so many that I know who are unable to be in a room for any significant amount of time without turning on a TV. While he is an extreme example of humanity, I can't say that I care for the character: many of his reactions, particularly upon discovering that everyone else is dead, are completely illogical. It's a problem that also plagues the character of his wife, who looks like she's about to crack up laughing while being cruel and malicious.



While the ending is famously ironic, I didn't feel that Bemis got his "just desserts." His reading addiction never really came off as a character flaw, since he never really got to do it so much. I'd say that the stronger message of Time Enough at Last is one of nuclear paranoia. Mankind now possessed the power to unmake the world, and ignoring that fact wouldn't make you safe.



Consider it a call to action, a rallying cry, radiating out of The Twilight Zone.

Episode 7 – The Lonely

Episode 7 – The Lonely
Original Airdate: November 13, 1959

Plot: A convict, sentenced to isolation on an asteroid, grows attached to the lifelike female robot that keeps him company. When he's cleared of charges and must leave the robot behind he fights it vehemently, and has to be reminded that it's "only a robot."



What a powerful episode.

Shot in Death Valley, the exterior shots on the "asteroid" caused numerous crew members to pass out from the heat. Reportedly it got up to 140 degrees Fahrenheit, forcing the crew to reconstruct the metal shed's interior on a sound stage rather than in the field as had originally been planned.



Serling revisits the theme of isolation and the human need for companionship that constituted the whole of the pilot episode, but here it's just the jumping-off point for a slew of philosophical questions: what constitutes "life?" What makes us value human life above other forms of life? If something makes you happy, does it mater if it's genuine or not?

The robot, Alicia, is capable of learning and shows concern for the convict. Superficially, she's an attractive human woman. When the convict insults her, she even cries. So how is she different from a human? "Well," one might argue, "she isn't experiencing actual emotion. She's reacting to her programming."

Isn't that what we all do?

Hard drive and wires, brain and synapses... we're all just organic robots that feel like we serve some greater purpose. Is it any surprise that the convict shows only mild concern for his robot after seeing her clockwork insides? Why then does it perturb us so when we witness human death? Is it just sympathy, or do we feel the need to protect our own kind? Is that a part of our programming?

Episode 6 – Escape Clause

Episode 6 – Escape Clause
Original Airdate: November 6, 1959



Plot: A hypochondriac makes a deal with the devil to ensure his safety and immortality. Acting irrationally, he is sentenced to life in prison whereupon he gratefully invokes his escape clause – death.

Not a tremendous episode, but not bad. The Twilight Zone Companion has little to say about it, save for the fact that it was really just "par for the course." The thing I like about Serling's dialogue (actually, by and large it's monologue) is that even when he's telling you an absurd story, you still find yourself drawn in by the clever wording and syntax. I say absurd because none of this story comes across as believable. Even when I'm writing my most outlandish tales, I always strive to inject the action with realistic characters who behave as people do. "Escape Clause" is a pair of stock characters and a doting wife who should really have gotten herself on match.com. I say this because throughout the episode I kept wondering why she would stay with a obviously crazy, disaffected man. But I had to ask myself: don't we all do this? Haven't we all made excuses for our loved ones, and loved unconditionally? So I can make an excuse for the wife character, but there is no way I can explain her husband's utter boredom at her demise. I should like to see the original script for this episode, to read Serling's description of the main character's reaction.



While I didn't care for the acting in this episode (the Devil character was about as menacing as a side of french fries), I was impressed with the long takes and some of the blocking. The scene where the Devil first appears was particularly well done, with characters moving about the room, being shown in the mirror, and acting for long stretches without fail.

Episode 5 - Walking Distance

Episode 5 - Walking Distance
Original Airdate: October 30, 1959



Plot: A businessman stops at a gas station and realizes he's not far from his hometown. While his car is worked on he takes a stroll into his own past, accidentally breaking his younger self's leg and giving himself a limp in the process.

A relatively simple tale, the entire premise seems to built upon the phrase, "you can't go home again." The protagonist attempts to enjoy the things about his childhood that he enjoyed at that time, but they're in the past now and that is no longer his life to live. It's more of a parable than an actual story, but it gets the point across. Our memories are a reflection of who we were at the time, but no place remains the same.



According to The Twilight Zone Companion, the script was a hard sell. The vice-president of CBS had read the pilot script and ok-ed it on the grounds that because the bulk of the story happened in the protagonist's head, it was feasible. Here he was presented with a tale that was entirely fantasy, in which change occurred in the real world due to supernatural phenomena. This just wasn't done on television at the time. Fantasy belonged in comics and pulp magazines; a mainstream audience for fantastic stories had never been given the chance to announce itself. It took the producers many hours of meetings, but they managed to get the script approved.

This just seems ludicrous to me. Aside from comedy, there is very little entertainment that I care for that doesn't contain elements of the impossible, and I'm sure much of my generation feels the same. It's the same story of old, out-of-touch men dictating what is presented for public consumption. It makes you wonder how many truly great stories are never told because they fall on blind eyes and deaf ears.

Watching this forced me to consider how I recall my own childhood. One thing is for sure: if The Twilight Zone had been airing in prime time when I was a kid, I would have watched it at that time. I can't tell you how hard it is for me to watch anything when it airs, rather than recording it, downloading it, or pulling it up online. Hey, look at that, I just missed South Park. Ah well, I'll catch it tomorrow. I've been trying to watch these Twilight Zone episodes on the day they originally aired, but I don't think I've managed it once! Perhaps one day, when I have a family, I'll once more watch television as it happens, if conventional television broadcasting still exists then. I stand amazed at the future I've grown into. We are living in a sci-fi story.