To commemorate the 50th anniversary of the premiere of Star Trek, I am celebrating my five favorite episodes from the original series. Episodes one through four are all “bottle shows,” meaning that through the course of each story, the crew of the Enterprise pretty much never leaves the ship. With my #5 episode, we touch down on a planet and we also encounter an alien that, at least at a glance, might seem to belong in the outlandish absurdity of Lost in Space. But it just goes to show you how some things deserve more than a cursory glance, and this episode is one of them. I think the closer one looks at it, the more impressive it becomes.
The episode is Who Mourns for Adonais and right from the start this story (by Gilbert Ralston and Gene Coon) seems to verge on the ridiculous. The Enterprise is orbiting a planet that seems to be fairly normal and unthreatening- that is until some sort of huge, bizarre green hand seems to reach out and grab the ship, holding it in its unbreakable grip.
The “hand” is actually some sort of strange force field- and within moments the being responsible for it reveals himself to the ship. He calls himself Apollo and seems genuinely thrilled that people from earth have finally reached out into deep space and found him. Apollo demands that Kirk and some of his officers beam down to the surface for a face-to-face encounter- but once they’re there, Apollo insists that they remain there forever so that he can care for them and they can worship him in return.
Kirk must figure out some way to escape this immensely powerful being, while Spock, aboard the Enterprise, searches for a way for the ship to escape the force field that imprisons it. They eventually ascertain that the imposing figure before them was very likely a member of a fantastic alien race that centuries ago found its way to earth and settled among the ancient Greeks- and came to be regarded by them as gods because of their fantastic powers and abilities. He is still powerful, but his power is not limitless, and in part by provoking his anger, the Enterprise is able to tax his powers to their limit and destroy (with the full bombardment of the ship’s phasers) the temple which is the source of his power.
In less gifted and sensitive hands, the climax of such a story would have been an entirely triumphant victory- but instead Kirk and his officers express a deep sense of regret and even sorrow over what they had to do in order to gain their freedom. And it’s made clear that this was always about more than just escaping from imprisonment; it was about the need for human beings to live in freedom. But none of that matters to the heartbroken Apollo, who says to them with tears in his eyes “I would have loved you; cherished you as a father cherishes his children.”
The special effects are astounding by the standards of 1967, the year that this episode was filmed and aired. I’m especially amazed by the dramatic excitement of the final scene, when the Enterprise begins its phaser bombardment of the temple and Apollo responds by hurling angry lightning bolts into the sky. It’s a combination of the effects, the music, precise editing, and the ferocious performance of Mike Forrest as Apollo that gives this moment such impact.
This reminds me of another detail of the original series that I think does not receive the attention and appreciation that it deserves: the believability of the main cast when it comes to the manipulation of their respective devices and control boards. Those actors all knew- as we all knew- that none of those buttons really did anything. There were just illuminated plastic pieces, all completely fake. And yet, when it was time for Mr. Sulu to fire the ship’s phasers, I would swear that George Takei (the actor portraying Sulu) pressed those buttons as though he was really firing actual phasers!
That might seem like an inconsequential matter – maybe even a laughable one – but not for me. I really give George Takei, Nichelle Nichols, James Doohan and Walter Koenig (among others) all the credit in the world for doing what they did with such rich and compelling authenticity. In fact, I would venture to say that plenty of people who have followed them in the Star Trek universe in subsequent series and films haven’t always brought that same level of commitment to the task. I think it doesn’t help that everything beyond the original series has reverted to glass touch screens – but when it’s time to fire phasers, there’s nothing like a physical button to give it a sense of tangibility and realism.
Of course, like so many episodes from the original series (although in none of my top four episodes) there is a love story woven into the mix. In this case, it centers around the ship’s historian, Dr. Carolyn Palamas, who – by handy coincidence – is a specialist in Greek and Roman mythology. She’s also quite lovely, which attracts the unwelcome attention and affection (at least it’s unwelcome for awhile) of Apollo- much to the consternation of Scotty, who also seems quite attracted to her, and which leads him into several foolish attempts to protect her from Apollo’s advances.
She eventually is forced to choose between a new life with Apollo or her familiar life with her shipmates. Needless to say, she chooses the latter- but it is a painful choice for her to make. And at the end of the episode, when the broken, defeated Apollo stand weeping before her, she feels terrible anguish. It is a wrenching moment of rich emotion- and it is exactly that quality that saves this episode from becoming silly or formulaic or both. (Bravo, Leslie Parrish, for your sensitive performance.) It’s one thing when a story involves the Enterprise escaping from some sort of danger. That’s par for the course. But when such a story carries real emotional, dramatic weight – and moves us in profound ways – then one is getting the best that Star Trek has to offer: the adventure/excitement/fun coupled with poignancy and meaning.
