Special Report: The Music of The Outer Limits

The Twilight Zone had the vast CBS Music Library at its disposal (in addition to commissioning several new scores along the way). The show employed several significant composers (Bernard Herrmann, Fred Steiner, Nathan Van Cleave, Jerry Goldsmith, etc.), whose combined contributions form a rich and varied body of work; however, the inherent diversity in this approach denies the series a truly distinctive and individual musical voice (outside of the ubiquitous theme by Marius Constant). The Outer Limits, by contrast, had a single composer providing all the music for every episode (Dominic Frontiere in season one, Harry Lubin in season two).  This approach creates a powerful and singular musical identity and provides a marvelous consistency across otherwise unrelated episodes. In other words, every episode sounds like The Outer Limits.

Dominic Frontiere was fresh from scoring Daystar’s 1962-63 series Stoney Burke, and repurposed some of those compositions for The Outer Limits (one in particularly, which I’ve referred to as “The Stoney Burke Mystery Cue” in these pages, occurs so often that it’s often misidentified as a true Outer Limits cue). Of the first season’s 32 episodes, thirteen contain original scores; the remaining nineteen are “stock scored” with cues from both Stoney Burke and earlier Outer Limits episodes. Frontiere’s work ranges from sweeping romantic fantasy (“The Man Who Was Never Born”) to the avant-garde (“Nightmare”; “The Mice”) and everything in between, and stands as some of the greatest music ever composed for television (and film, for that matter).

Harry Lubin, meanwhile, joined the show after scoring three seasons of One Step Beyond, and brought his library of predominantly electronic compositions with him. Lubin’s cues tend toward the shrill and histrionic (“Shock Happenings" is particularly grating); however, he also provides several dreamy, ethereal pieces that perfectly evoke the loneliness of space and the strangeness of alien worlds.  For the most part, Lubin’s stuff is more generic and unfortunately less memorable (his cue titles are appropriately neutral: “Dramatic Tragedy,” “Dark and Scary,” etc.).

Frontiere’s Outer Limits music has seen two distinct soundtrack releases, so it’s easily obtained; Lubin’s, however, remains unreleased except for a couple of tracks on the One Step Beyond soundtrack (“Fear” and “Weird”) that would also appear on the show. There are bootlegs of Lubin’s library out there, however, including a 2-disc sci-fi/fantasy collection and deluxe 6-disc collection that encompasses The Outer Limits, One Step Beyond, and more (I happen to own the later; it’s a marvelous--- if a bit unwieldy--- beast). If you’re interested… well, I know a guy who knows a guy.

Episode Spotlight: "Second Chance" (3/02/1964)

“Second Chance”

Season 1, Episode 23

Originally aired 3/02/1964

Fifty years ago tonight, The Outer Limits went a bit cuckoo and presented a mediocre episode that, frankly, only a loon could love. Sorry, but this one's for the birds.

Dave Crowell is slumming as the captain of a flying saucer ride at Joyland Amusement Park, spending his free time casually flirting with Mara, the ride’s stewardess. What they don’t know is that, during the night while the park is closed, a bird-faced alien has been toiling to turn the ride into a fully-functioning, spaceworthy craft. 

The alien has telepathically lured five individuals to the park: the irate and volatile Arjay Beasley and his long-suffering wife Susan, along with a trio of teenagers: All-American quarterback Buddy, his girlfriend Donise and his lackey mascot Tommy. The alien approaches each of them, pretending to be a park employee in costume, and gives them free tickets to the flying saucer ride. Despite varying levels of ambivalence, all five show up at the ride.

The alien temporarily sedates Crowell and launches the ship into space. He explains that he is from the planet Empyria, a world that, in 82 years, will be struck by an Earth-like asteroid. Empyria will be forced out of its orbit and will eventually collide with Earth. The Empyrian has gathered these seven Earthlings in the hopes that they will help devise a way to avert the double catastrophe.

Crowell, who in reality is a disillusioned astrophysicist, agrees to help. The other Earthlings steadfastly refuse, however, clearly too absorbed in their own petty interpersonal conflicts. A struggle among the teens ends in tragedy when Tommy is accidentally sucked out through the airlock; later, Beasley resorts to attempted murder to convince the Empyrian to take them home.

The Empyrian intercedes and laments the Earthlings' savagery and lack of cooperation. He explains that each of them was chosen because they, more than anyone else, needed a second chance, which this opportunity could give them. They still refuse to help, and the Empyrian agrees to return them to Earth. Crowell assures him that several scientists will eagerly volunteer to help, then shares a tender moment with Mara to simulate a happy ending.

RANDOMONIUM

“Second Chance” began as an original teleplay by Sonya Roberts called “Joy Ride,” which was heavily rewritten by Lou Morheim (both received screen credit).  Unhappy with the changes, she insisted that her pseudonym “Lin Dane” appear in the credits. The final episode suffers from its fractured authorship, much as earlier episodes like “ZZZZZ” and “The Children of Spider County” did. For every interesting character moment, there’s a corresponding sci-fi action cliché to undermine it. In his Outer Limits Companion, Schow places most of the blame on Morheim, providing copious examples and comparisons (which can be found here; scroll down to see the salient tear pages). 

My single favorite moment in the entire episode is when Crowley tells Beasley that it's all real, that they are in fact flying through outer space. Beasley, dumbstruck and dazed, asks "But why? Why is it real?" It's a moment of fearful, almost childlike wonder that, for a brief moment, humanizes the bitter and detestable Beasley. I'll assume I have Roberts (and not Morheim) to thank for that. 

Paul Stanley occupies the director’s chair for the first of three tours of duty; he’ll also helm “The Guests” in a few weeks and “Counterweight” next season (the latter of which is actually quite similar to “Second Chance”; more on the similarities when we get to it in December). Director of Photography Kenneth Peach brings a more austere, workmanlike look to the proceedings than we’re used to (yes, I already miss Conrad Hall’s intense contrasts and canted angles), but given the limited sets (a merry-go-round, a Coke machine and the interior of the flying saucer) he does fine. Act three opens with a seriously trippy 360-degree shot of the unconscious abductees with random lights swirling around. And speaking of canted angles, we’re treated to a hilariously over-the-top pre-Star Trek flinging-back-and-forth sequence as the saucer passes through a meteor shower. I don’t know if we have Stanley or Peach to thank for this (or both), but a good laugh was quite welcome as I slogged through the episode.

*Sigh* So once again we have a goofy and circuitous alien plot, the failure of which results from the alien’s puzzling failure to simply ask for help (“The Mice”), coupled with mankind’s inherent penchant for assholery (take your pick of the episodes we've already seen; humanity is almost invariably portrayed in a negative light on this show… probably rightly so). The abduction of Earthlings --- even a smart guy like Crowell --- seems laughably pointless, considering the fact that Empyria is four centuries ahead of Earth in technological development (try to think of a task we could only accomplish with the help of early-1700’s scientists. Can’t think of one? Me neither).  Of the seven (six after poor Tommy bites it) abductees, only Crowell could even hope to contribute anything of value (but again, I tend to doubt it). Beasley in particular is such a caustic dick that he could never be anything but a liability to the project. 

But really, all of the abductees are awful people with their respective heads shoved deep into their respective asses (except for Crowley and Mara, the Ross and Rachel of the group), and could never bring anything good to such a noble undertaking as saving two worlds. Donise is a shrieking basket case, Buddy is sullen prick, Tommy is a groveling suck-up, and Susan... well, I guess she isn't terribly offensive (her only real crime is staying with Beasley). I also have a hard time believing that these seven were chosen because they have “the least to lose” by abandoning their lives on Earth. Wait, these folks? Out of the entire human race? Really? Well, how about... I dunno, death row inmates? 

The sight of Tommy’s corpse floating outside the airlock is certainly chilling, but the fact that the others --- particularly his fellow teenagers --- seem to forget about it almost immediately dissolves most of its impact. There also seems to be no meditation on just how his absence will be explained, once the others are returned to Earth. His parting shot reminds me of the title sequence from TV’s Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, which featured a cutout of Gil Gerard spinning in a circle.

So the Empyrian uses his goofy medallion to disintegrate people (the night watchman at the top of act one) and objects (Beasley’s pocket knife in act four); more interesting is his ability to render people unconscious with what appears to be some kind of telepathic sedative (the visual manifestation of which is a series of concentric circles emanating from his face; we saw this identical effect in “The Galaxy Being” when Andy the Andromedan torched his various victims). So he really doesn’t need the medallion most of the time, since he could in theory sedate his foes indefinitely. And really, if the Empyrians are peace lovers, they really shouldn’t be disintegrating people at all, especially a minimum-wage slob just doing his fucking job.

The Outer Limits is often guilty of reusing props from other TV shows and films (last week’s “Specimen: Unknown” was practically drowning in leftovers from the 1959 CBS series Men into Space). For “Second Chance,” however, a brand new spacecraft was commissioned. Granted, it’s a fairly stereotypical flying saucer job, but it works in context (since it's masquerading as an amusement park ride). What’s really impressive is the full-scale set of the saucer’s interior. Two stories, baby!

As a lover of all things retro-futuristic (please bring back the original Tomorrowland, Disney!), I love the "vision screen" part of Joyland's Flying Saucer ride. We see some swell seen-'em-a-thousand-times stock shots of various space phenomena, accompanied by Don Gordon's soothing ruminations on the possibility of extraterrestrial life. Sublime.

“Second Chance” is something of a sci-fi take on Reginald Rose’s Twelve Angry Men (which is one of the plays I did in high school; I was Juror #7). Both feature a semi-random collection of people with varying neuroses (and varying levels of intolerance) trapped in close quarters, laboring under tensions that culminate in the threat of violence with a knife. Good thing the jury room didn't have an airlock.

The Empyrian’s bird-faced mask appeared again, rendered even more birdlike with the addition of a beak, in season two's "The Duplicate Man." It then resurfaced a couple of years later (with a different beak) in the original Star Trek pilot “The Cage” in 1966.

The act two scene in which Beasley angrily does battle with an uncooperative pop machine (with his poor wife trying futilely to diffuse him), is strongly reminiscent of a similar scene from “The Fever,” a first season Twilight Zone episode in which Everett Sloane tangles with a stingy slot machine.

The Empyrian clearly has some difficulties manipulating the controls of the saucer, what with his talons and such, but like the Chromoite before him, he gets the job done in spite of his sub-dexterous handicap. However, he has no trouble whatsoever getting handfuls of both ladies during act two (props and respect, Big Bird).

Other carnal delights include Janet De Gore’s glorious, unstoppable bosom and the above-described opening shot of act three, in which we’re treated to a floor-level pan across both ladies’ laps (while they’re unconscious, no less! Talk about a voyeur’s paradise!). I couldn't actually see up their skirts (though I tried; believe me, I tried), but it’s possible that DVD’s limited resolution simply isn’t sufficient to allow such wonders. MGM, if ever there was a reason to remaster the series in high definition….

AURAL PLEASURE

The music you hear in this episode is music you've heard before and, before the season is over, you'll most definitely hear again (and again, and again). That's right, kids, it's another stock-scored job in which you'll thrill to such timeless Dominic Frontiere tunes as:

Building Terror, Love Theme (“The Human Factor”)

Spaceship, Time Loops (“Controlled Experiment”)

Escape and Recapture, Transit Attempt, Chromoite Breaks In (“The Mice”)

The Big Finish (“The Borderland”)

I couldn’t place the music punctuating Beasley’s attempt to murder Crowell and their resulting struggle; I can only assume it came from Frontiere’s previous work on Stoney Burke. Speaking of which, our old friend the “Stoney Burke Mystery Cue” is back once again (at time stamp 11:11; see clip below). It appears twice more, at 19:12 and 23:30.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Don Gordon, who was marvelous in “The Invisibles” exactly one month ago, appears again here as Dave Crowell, Empyria’s Great White Interstellar Hope. Interestingly, he's billed as a "special guest star" this time around (wonder what changed during that month?). Gordon was also quite good in two Twilight Zones (“The Four of Us Are Dying” and “The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross”; the latter co-starred the lovely Gail Kobe, who appeared in last week’s “Specimen: Unknown.” He got to kiss her and everything, the lucky sumbitch). He also appeared in "The Trial," an episode of my newest sci-fi TV obsession, The Invaders (1967-69).

Simon Oakland’s distinctive voice is unmistakable through his Empyrian costume, adding an extra layer of gravitas atop an already-standout performance. A year earlier, he appeared on Daystar’s pre-TOL series Stoney Burke (“Image of Glory,” which also guest-starred TOL alum Dabbs Greer). He also did a Twilight Zone (“The Thirty-Fathom Grave”), but y’all probably remember him as the psychiatrist who explains Norman Bates’ condition at the end of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho.

The detestable Arjay Beasley is brought to angry life by John McLiam, who did two stints on Stoney Burke (“Fred” and “Five by Eight by Eight,"). McLiam also visited The Twilight Zone a total of four times (“The Shelter,” “The Midnight Sun,” “Miniature,” and “Uncle Simon”; you won’t actually see him in that last one because his entire scene didn’t make the final cut). Oh, and he also popped up on The Invaders (“Storm”).

John McLiam (center), giving some fatherly advice to Bennye Gatteys (left),

whom we enjoyed recently in "The Children of Spider County."

We've got two TOL babes to drool over this week. First up is Janet De Gore, who plays space stewardess Mara Mathhews. Next we have Mimsy Farmer, who plays self-absorbed teen beauty Donise Ward (before you ask, Mimsy turned 18 before “Second Chance” went into production, so there’s nothing creepy about me checking her out). As far as I could tell, neither actress has any other series or genre connections. 

HOME VIDEO RELEASES

“Second Chance” flitted onto VHS in two forms. First, there was the standard retail edition, sold in fine stores everywhere, which featured the customary awesome cover (love the screaming women in the background; but hey, MGM, why no headlining actor? Don Gordon's name was shown on "The Invisibles" box; strange that we don't see it here). Second, there was the mail-order exclusive Columbia House edition, which paired the episode with “The Children of Spider County” from two weeks ago (creating a double feature of wasted-potential mediocre offerings).

Meanwhile, the episode got no love on LaserDisc: a total of 28 TOL episodes were released on the (then) superior format, leaving 21 to a tape-only fate. Until 2002, that is, when MGM released all 32 first season episodes on the (relatively) new DVD format (season two followed in 2003). MGM would go on to re-release the DVDs two more times (in 2007 and 2008), but as of this writing hasn’t taken the next logical step and committed to a Blu-ray release. Therefore, MGM, I fart in your general direction… but I’ll happily give you a “Second Chance” if you rectify this oversight pronto (see what I did there?).

Ah, Hulu, that gleaming wonder of modern entertainment! You (or somebody like you) can watch The Outer Limits on Hulu’s website, which means those of you who don’t own the series on home video can now easily enjoy every single episode with a few mouse clicks. The best part? It’s 100% free! I know… crazy, right? However, bear in mind that this particular Life Hack has a frustrating limitation: you can only take advantage of it on a computer. Hulu Plus, which allows paying members to stream content to mobile devices and Blu-ray players, does NOT include The Outer Limits at this time. Dammit.

TRADING CARD CORNER

Topps allocated an impressive three cards to The Empyrian in their 1964 Monsters from Outer Limits cards (a mint set of which will cost you at least a few C-notes; the 1995 reprinted set, which I own, can be had for a few fins or so). Our fine-feathered friend is recast as a “mad genius” from outer space who uses his “mind stealer” device to collect thoughts from unsuspecting humans. His downfall comes when he accidentally gathers the thoughts of the mentally ill and flees in a confused state. Oh. My. God.

MERCHANDISE SPOTLIGHT

You crafty model-building types might be interested in the Empyrian 1/8-scale resin model kit from Dimensional Designs, sculpted by Chris Choin (DD/OL/EM-04). I couldn't track down any decent shots of a completed model, so we'll have to settle for the single tiny image I found (right). $49.95 plus shipping and you can have your very own bearded alien-bird creature. Flying saucer not included.

THE WRAP-UP

"Second Chance," like other similarly-mediocre offerings from this middle-of-the-season slump, is ultimately less than the sum of its parts. Is it awful? No. Simon Oakland's Empyrian is one of The Outer Limits' most noble --- if a bit misguided --- aliens, and we do get some tasty eye candy (the ladies, the saucer, plenty of blinking lights, etc.) to make the trip a bit less disappointing.

Episode Spotlight: "The Bellero Shield" (2/10/1964)

“The Bellero Shield”

Season 1, Episode 20

Originally aired 2/10/1964

Fifty years ago tonight, The Outer Limits presented another extraterrestrial nice guy who has no choice but to deal with humanity's passionate insistence on screwing everything up.

Inventor/scientist Richard Bellero Jr. has toiled in his larger-than-life father’s shadow for his entire adult life, but has never managed to impress him. His latest invention is a “laser light” cannon of sorts that Bellero Sr. interprets as a weapon and promptly dismisses (his Bellero Corporation’s mission statement is explicitly anti-war). To add insult to injury, Bellero Sr. is due to step down and isn’t planning to pass the torch to his son, much to the chagrin of Judith, Bellero Jr.’s power-hungry wife.

Alone in Bellero Jr.’s observatory/lab, Judith watches in shock as the laser cannon intercepts a humanoid life form, which slides down the laser beam and into the observatory. The Alien immediately throws up an impenetrable shield, which he controls with small handheld mechanism. Judith immediately seizes on the idea of presenting the shield to Bellero Sr. as one of Jr.’s inventions, which she hopes will change his mind about making Jr. his successor. To that end, she murders the Alien and wrenches the control pod out of his hand, severing a tubule that connects to his wrist. Mrs. Dame, Judith’s housekeeper and confidant, hides the body in the basement while Judith summons Bellero Sr. back to demonstrate the shield. 

Bellero Sr. is predictably blown away by the “Bellero Shield” (which Judith activates around herself) and promptly begs for his son’s forgiveness. However, things turn sour fast when Judith is unable to deactivate the shield and is trapped inside. All attempts to free her are fruitless and, with her oxygen supply running out, she relents and confesses her crime.

Mrs. Dame, determined to protect her, rushes to the basement to dispose of the Alien’s body, followed by Bellero Sr. They exchange some words on the stairs and, incensed, she clocks him across the head and sends him tumbling to his death… at the bottom of the stairs, where the Alien’s body lies. Jostled, the Alien opens its eyes, apparently not quite dead from its mortal gunshot wound.

Mrs. Dame rushes him upstairs, where he explains the biological aspect of his shield: his own blood is the “prime ingredient” (hence the tubule between his wrist and the control pod), without which the shield doesn't work (Judith was able to activate it initially because a few drops remained inside the control pod). He uses a dab of blood from his wounded wrist to reach through the shield and retrieve the pod, then deactivates the shield right before he succumbs to his injury.

Unfortunately, Judith still believes she is trapped inside the shield, having been rendered insane by the events of the night. Bellero Jr. and Mrs. Dame look on in sorrowed shock as she whispers: “It will always be here. Nothing can ever remove it. It will always be here.”

RANDOMONIUM

For “The Bellero Shield,” Joseph Stefano and Lou Morheim mapped out the story, and Stefano wrote the teleplay. Like Stefano’s previous “Nightmare,” the episode has a strong theatrical vibe; it would translate easily (and quite effectively) to the stage… as well it should, since it’s essentially a variation on Shakespeare’s Macbeth (which is most evident in the final shot, in which the cuckoo Judith has the Alien’s glowing blood on the palm of her hand à la Lady Macbeth).

After the somewhat bland “ZZZZZ” two weeks ago, the team of director John Brahm and D.O.P. Conrad Hall more than acquit themselves this time around. “The Bellero Shield” is beautifully staged and overall quite impressive visually; Hall’s trademark shadowy, high-contrast photography is gorgeous to behold. The opening shot of Bellero Jr.’s mansion, with the laser beam shooting upward out of it, is a simple but effective introduction to the proceedings: these are some awfully rich folks, and there’s some mighty nifty science stuff happenin'. *

With its small cast, limited sets and relatively low-key alien design (as opposed to, say, the Chromoite or the Thetan), “The Bellero Shield” could have been one of executive producer Leslie Stevens’ quick-and-inexpensive “bottle shows”… until you factor in Bellero Jr.’s impressive high-powered laser weapon platform, which couldn't have been cheap to build. Just look at it! I want one in my house.

Before we get too far into this, I should probably briefly discuss the Alien's name. He, um, doesn't have one: we're never told what planet he hails from, what intergalactic species he belongs to, or what his name might be. Judith likens the Alien's shield to their "Bifröst," which in Norse mythology is a rainbow of sorts connecting Midgard to Asgard (that's earth to heaven for readers who don't speak Thor). The Alien is commonly referred to as the "Bifrost Alien" only as a point of reference for us after-the-fact-commentators. I thought about calling him "Frosty" but, after a few days of being snowbound, I'm done with anything remotely related to ice or snow. Therefore, I'll be referring to him as "Bif" from this point on.

The Vaseline-on-the-lens trick used in the fourth act of “The Man Who Was Never Born” is re-employed here to give Bif a shimmering, otherworldly look. The downside to this approach is that anyone who gets too close to him is unavoidably obscured by the blur; however, it does create a nice bit of unintentional visual continuity, as Martin Landau has now been smeared in this fashion twice on the series.

If I have a complaint (and you know I do), it pertains to the quick sequence depicting Bif’s arrival. And no, it’s not the first shot of him writhing as he slides down the laser beam (it’s a charmingly strange sight, and I actually like it a lot)…. it’s the collection of weird, disjointed shots that follow it. It starts with a rather abrupt medium close shot of Bif standing perfectly still as Judith cowers behind a chair. In the next shot, Bif suddenly drops (presumably from the platform) and does a goofy chicken dance as he catches its balance. We then get an extreme close shot of his face, followed by a shot of Judith firing the laser pistol at him The pacing is just... I dunno, off somehow. It feels awkward. 

In all fairness, this may have been intentional. Perhaps it was an effort to present a heightened encapsulation of the surreal shock experienced by both Judith and the Alien upon meeting. If that's the case, then... well, bravo. Y'all nailed it.

Bif’s shield is an ingenious contrivance, made all the more impressive by its relative simplicity: it’s controlled by a handheld pod (plush ball?) with a button, connected to the user by what amounts to a basic IV port… and that’s it. The concept of such a device linked to the wearer on such an intimate biological level is fascinating; it’s also decades ahead of its time (as a society, we’re only beginning to explore the vast potential of organic and synthetic hybrid technology). Science fiction is of course filled with all manner of cybernetic beings, but I’m reminded most of the Borg species from Star Trek (multiple series, mostly The Next Generation and Voyager) which, in addition to its bio-mechanical physiology, possesses a form of personal shielding.

By smearing a drop of his blood (which looks suspiciously like Elmer’s glue) directly onto the shield’s surface, Bif is able to reach through it to retrieve its control pod. I appreciate the tangibility aspect of the shot: we see Bif’s hand pass through a physical slit of sorts in the shield’s membrane, reinforcing its organic (or semi-organic) nature. The shield, which has been represented by panes of glass up to this point, now looks like some kind of flexible clear vinyl-like material.

I love the opening shot of act four, in which we pan across multiple tools and assorted other implements that Bellero Jr. has tried against Bif’s shield, obviously to no avail. It’s an immediate and quite effective way to convey the mounting desperation of the situation (and to indicate that some time has passed since Judith first found herself stuck inside the shield). And hey, speaking of Thor, is that his mythical hammer there next to that ax....?

After the homoerotic undertones present in last week’s “The Invisibles,” it’s nice to see the ladies getting equal time this week. It’s nothing as painfully obvious as Oliver Fair’s attempt to get into Luis Spain’s “little room,” or alien parasites mounting humans in a fairly evident metaphor for sexual penetration, but there’s definitely something sapphic swirling around beneath the surface here. It appears that Judith is having an extramarital affair with Mrs. Dame (Schow calls it a “faint whiff” in his Outer Limits Companion, but it seems pretty apparent to me; I dunno, maybe I'm more attuned to these things for some reason...!). They engage in a kind of Master and Servant game between them in the early scenes and, later, Mrs. Dame relays the following to Bellero Jr.: “Sometimes, when she is dreaming, I am there.” Mrs. Dame is clearly prepared to go above and beyond to protect Judith, much more so than your average live-in housekeeper would, and she’s clearly devastated as Judith’s ultimate fate becomes apparent. It’s pretty apparent that she’s in love with Judith; sadly, it seems Judith views her as little more than a sexual playmate. In this light, Judith’s end feels a bit less tragic, and Mrs. Dame emerges the true victim.

TEASE ME!

This week’s teaser is the scene in act four in which Mrs. Dame dispatches Bellero Sr. in the basement. I realize that any teaser is unavoidably a spoiler on some level, since we're seeing a scene before the fact (albeit out of context). However, seeing Bellero Sr. take his fatal tumble, followed by the presumably-dead Bif’s eyes suddenly popping open, are what I would categorize as MAJOR SPOILERS, since foreknowledge of them dramatically undercuts the dramatic tension level throughout the second half. It doesn’t help that it’s probably the single best scene in the entire episode, so seeing it right out of the gate… well, kinda sucks. Anyway, It’s edited some for expediency’s sake (1:42 in length versus 2:00); however, the most notable difference is the use of “It’s Here” from “The Human Factor” as the underscore. 

AURAL PLEASURE

“The Bellero Shield” is scored with pre-existing cues by Dominic Frontiere from earlier Outer Limits scores, most notably “The Man Who Was Never Born” (“Andro Breaks Mirror”; “Enter Andro”; “Andro Revealed”); an interesting choice which, like the Vaseline lens trick, serves to connect both Martin Landau episodes. We also hear “Scarecrows” from “The Architects of Fear,” here underlining a romantic moment between Bellero Jr. and Judith in act one. 

Regular readers will recall that I’ve been obsessing over a mysterious music cue that we first heard in “O.B.I.T.,” then again a month later in “It Crawled Out of the Woodwork.” It was composed by Frontiere for Stoney Burke, Daystar Production’s pre-TOL series (1962-63).  I’m happy to report that the cue appears again this week, three or four different times, but most notably in act four (time stamp 42:19) where it can be heard in its full minute-and-a-half glory, with only a smattering of dialogue and sound effects on top of it. Have a listen:

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Martin Landau heads up the cast as Richard Bellero Jr. and, as already mentioned, visited The Outer Limits before in “The Man Who Was Never Born.” Another interesting TOL connection: Landau also starred in “The Ghost of Sierra Cobre,” the pilot episode of Joseph Stefano’s next series attempt The Haunted (a series which never got off the ground, unfortunately). He crossed over into The Twilight Zone twice (“Mr. Denton on Doomsday” and “The Jeopardy Room,” the latter of which will turn 50 in April). Landau also starred as Captain John Koenig in TV’s Space: 1999 (1975-77), a series which also starred TOL alum Barry Morse (“Controlled Experiment”).

Sally Kellerman is marvelous as the power-hungry Judith Bellero in her second TOL role (she was quite good as Ingrid in “The Human Factor”; in fact, she was probably the best thing about that mediocre episode). She played Dr. Elizabeth Dehner in Star Trek’s “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” and she briefly appeared in an uncredited role as an office worker in The Twilight Zone’s “Miniature.” Most remember her as the original “Hot Lips” Houlihan in 1970’s M*A*S*H, but 80’s kids like me recall her work in the 1986 Rodney Dangerfield vehicle Back to School. I said it last time we saw her, and I’ll say it again: she’s a bona fide TOL babe.

John Hoyt is unrecognizable as Bif the Bifrost Alien; even his voice is manipulated to the point where his distinctive voice is almost impossible to discern. He has two other TOL credits on his resume (“Don’t Open Till Doomsday” and next season’s “I, Robot”), along with one appearance on Star Trek (“The Cage”) and two on The Twilight Zone (“The Lateness of the Hour" and "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?”).

If Neil Hamilton (Richard Bellero Sr.) looks extremely familiar, it’s because we just enjoyed him last week in “The Invisibles.” He’s probably best remembered as Commissioner Gordon on TV’s Batman (1966-68), which guest-starred a number of TOL alums throughout its run, including Cliff Robertson (“The Galaxy Being”), Grace Lee Whitney (“Controlled Experiment”), and one of our beloved Ichthys, stuntman Paul Stader (“Tourist Attraction”).

And finally, Chita Rivera is quite good as the barefoot Mrs. Dame. This is the only genre work on her résumé, but she has a pretty major real-life TOL connection outside of “The Bellero Shield”: she was married to Tony Mordente (Genero Planetta in last week’s “The Invisibles”) for nine years!

The Mordente-Rivera wedding, 1957 (picture pilfered from Rivera's website).

HOME VIDEO RELEASES

“The Bellero Shield” has enjoyed three distinct releases on VHS. First and foremost, it was available at retail; I probably bought mine at Tower Video (R.I.P.), which is where I snagged most of the ones I owned back in the day. Interesting note about the cover on this one: it’s the only time in the entire 48-tape series that two actors’ names appear.

The episode could also be found in Columbia House’s exclusive mail-order VHS club. Each volume featured two episodes; “The Bellero Shield” was paired with “Keeper of the Purple Twilight” (one of the sillier offerings from the show’s second season), a damned awkward pairing to be sure. Meanwhile in the UK, a paltry 16 TOLs were released on VHS (two episodes per tape); the 8th and final volume paired “The Bellero Shield” with “Demon with a Glass Hand,” one of season two’s best and brightest offerings. 

TOL fans who collected LaserDiscs probably know that “The Bellero Shield” appeared on the second LD collection (out of a total four). I wasn’t one of them, but I always harbored a peripheral interest in the format. Was it really that much better than VHS? Anyone?

I dread writing this paragraph every week, since there are only so many unique ways I can impart the exact same information. Like I did a couple of weeks back, I’m going to crib from myself and raid a previous entry: “(‘The Bellero Shield’) has found its way onto three different DVD releases: the season one boxed set in 2002, the volume 1 set in 2007 (which comprised the first half of season 1), and the complete series boxed set in 2008. In all three incarnations, the discs are exactly the same, those unreliable DVD-18s (double-sided and dual-layered) that are the bane of the so many collectors’ existences.”

Children of the Information Age (of all ages) can bypass physical media entirely and stream the entire series via Hulu, which will give you near-DVD quality if your internet connection is halfway decent (however, if any of you are still using dial-up, you’re S.O.L.). The best part? It’s totally free!

TRADING CARD CORNER

Bif was rechristened “The Radio-Active Man” in Topps’ 1964 Monsters from Outer Limits trading card series. As is the case with the other monsters and aliens depicted in the set, the information on the back of the card has virtually nothing to do with the episode’s story: here he’s a human scientist mutated by exposure to radiation, which isn’t nearly as goofy as most of the stories concocted for these cards.

MERCHANDISE SPOTLIGHT

Bif would've made a great Sideshow Collectibles action figure (something of an opposite for their Ebonite Interrogator; an all-white angel to play off that black devil). Sadly, it wasn’t to be since the line ended so quickly and, aside from X-Toys’ excellent Thetan figure from last year, nobody seems interested in exploiting The Outer Limits’ vast collectible potential these days. Given the (severely) limited merchandising of the series over the years, many (okay, most) of the show’s aliens and monsters have been criminally under-rendered.

More often than not, the only game in town is Dimensional Designs, which has managed to create high-end model kits of almost every beast in the series’ run. Bif is happily represented here in a resin kit sculpted by Chris Choin (DD/OL/BA-01), which you can acquire for $49.95 plus shipping. Of course, he’ll arrive unassembled and unpainted, so you’ll need the proper skill set for this kind of thing (which, sadly, I lack). Mr. Enamel has impressive talents in this regard, however….

Speaking of skills, our friend Woody Welch is an artistic force to be reckoned with. Here are his pencil renderings of Martin Landau and John Hoyt which, like all of his sketches, are startlingly accurate.

THE WRAP-UP

"The Bellero Shield" is a beautiful and atmospheric tragedy, yet another top-notch Outer Limits episode. If it's not a top ten favorite of mine, it hovers damn close. I'm probably starting to sound like a broken record with my weekly gushing, but hey, you can't  blame me if the show is so great so much of the time.

Wanna program a great Macbeth-themed black and white mini-marathon? Start with Orson Welles' 1948 Macbeth (available on blu-ray from Olive Films), segue into Akira Kurosawa's 1957 Throne of Blood (recently released on blu-ray by The Criterion Collection), and finish up with 1964's "The Bellero Shield."  I'm gonna do this soon....

* These episode spotlights are never written in order; that is to say, I write each section in nonlinear spurts and chunks, not from start to finish. At this particular point in the process, I was pretty buzzed on 10 Barrel Brewing’s Pray for Snow Winter Ale while we were experiencing a fairly severe (by Pacific Northwest standards) snow storm, so forgive my lapse into trailer park vocabulary.