By Noel Vera
Television
Star Trek
“Amok Time”
Directed by Joseph Pevney
FIFTY YEARS! Fifty years watching and re-watching and poring over the minutiae of this 1960s show by TV veteran Gene Roddenberry that lasted at most three seasons (that third almost universally reviled) featuring low-budget effects, cardboard sets, green-dyed women. Broke some ground with a racially diverse cast, was mostly forgiven for the somewhat misogynistic treatment of women (Short-skirted uniforms anyone?), was generally considered the most intelligent science-fiction TV series of its time (if we forget Dr. Who and The Prisoner).
Of the 79 episodes less than half might be considered decent; of the half 10 — maybe 12 — might be considered gems. Trekkers and casual viewers often cite “The City on the Edge of Forever” (director Joseph Pevney) as the single best episode ever, ostensibly for three reasons: 1.) It’s by science fiction legend Harlan Ellison (just try calling him a sci-fi legend — just try); 2.) It’s one of the earliest attempts in the series to introduce time-travel paradoxes (There was “Tomorrow is Yesterday” but who remembers that episode?) and the most effective in dramatizing the stakes involved (crazed crew member goes back in time, changes history; Mr. Spock (Leonard Nimoy) and Captain Kirk (William Shatner) must follow to try change it back); and 3.) It’s a fine love story.
I think so. Watching recently I was struck by how Kirk isn’t impressed so much by Edith Keeler’s beauty (Joan Collins, mind) as by her visionary idealism. “One day soon man is going to be able to harness incredible energies,” she declares, “energies that could ultimately hurl us to other worlds in some sort of spaceship.” To show she’s not all technology she further claims that humanity will “feed the hungry millions of the world and the cure their diseases” and “give each other hope and a common future.” It’s Roddenberry’s muscular technophile optimism in a handful of sentences, given eloquence by Ellison; it’s also perhaps the high point of Collins’ career — if we don’t include her memorable big-screen collaboration with Howard Hawks — and she gives the lines her very best delivery.
Edith later confronts the two friends about their incongruous demeanor. “Where would you estimate we belong Ms. Keeler?” challenges Spock. “You?” she replies; “At his side. As if you’ve always been there and always will.” Ellison makes a case for her uncommon perceptiveness, that she’s well worth falling for; with all that careful preparation the finale is suitably poignant.
All that said I much prefer “Amok Time” (scriptwriter Theodore Sturgeon, director again Pevney — not just prolific, he handled some of the series’ best stuff). If Ellison’s script mused on what we’re prepared to do in the name of love, Sturgeon decided to tackle a really spiky subject, especially for 1960s television: sex.
This was the second season’s premiere episode, with the characters by now solidly established: Kirk the two-fisted do-gooder and ladies’ man, Dr. McCoy (DeForest Kelley) the crusty but lovable ship’s physician, Spock the coldly logical Vulcan first officer. Sturgeon flipped all that with a simple question, directed by Spock to Kirk:
“How do Vulcans choose their mates? Haven’t you wondered?”
“I guess the rest of us assumed that it’s done quite logically.”
And that in my book is the brilliance of Sturgeon’s premise: Spock being so consistently rational (aside from the occasional sarcastic response) we (Kirk included) naturally thought all aspects of his life were equally geometric. We never really considered the possibility that aliens (humans too) might have some portion of their lives ruled by emotion — by acts and feelings we would regard with profound embarrassment, often attempt to hide behind rituals and a wall of secrecy. Substitute “masturbation” for “emotion” in that last sentence (though anything up to and including “golden showers” applies) and you see what I mean — Spock might be some flushcheeked teen trying to explain the bedsheet stains to his dad and the tone and dynamics of the scene would be the same.
So — Spock acts inconsistently (temper tantrums, shaky hands, a demand for immediate shore leave not just anywhere but on his home planet of Vulcan), is confronted. His eventual confession is hilariously painful, as if Kirk were yanking out molars. Part of what makes the scene so effective is Sturgeon’s dialogue, the delicate attempt to handle such an indelicate subject (“It has to do with biology.” “What?” “Biology.” “What kind of biology?” “Vulcan biology”); part is Spock’s ferocious sense of shame (if anyone had any doubts about Nimoy’s acting chops they should have ended here). Upshot of the conversation: Spock is to be married to his arranged bride on Vulcan, and Kirk and McCoy are to come along as Best Men (But aren’t they always?).
There’s a subplot — a running gag, really — about the Enterprise needing to be at Altair VI for an important diplomatic ceremony, an imperative Kirk brushes aside, for the sake of one he calls “The best first officer in the fleet… an enormous asset to me.”
Vulcan in its one and only appearance in the original series doesn’t look or feel like your standard-issue alien world (no cardboard sets or beautiful green women): the sky is a furious red; the rocks curve to form an arena space and are a palette of reddish brown, accented by green jade (a hanging metal gong, some coolly tinkling wind chimes). The presumed heat causes Kirk and McCoy’s foreheads to gleam with sweat; a fire pit filled with hissing crystals add to the hellish ambiance.
Perfect setting for the web of rituals and intricate social codes that make up Spock’s wedding. Doesn’t help that Spock’s bride T’Pring (Arlene Martel) is manipulating the rules to satisfy her own agenda, that Spock’s intimidating family matriarch T’Pau (Celia Lovsky) — one of the most powerful figures on the planet (and “The only person to ever turn down a seat on the Federation Council!”) — is officiating, and that Kirk and McCoy are obviously in over their heads (Spock is no help; he’s totally lost in his plak tow or “blood fever,” a presumed hormonal madness that renders him unable to think or communicate). Upshot of all this is that Spock must fight for T’Pring’s hand; worse he must fight Kirk, who may have to kill him to survive (“That’s not what I came to Vulcan for is it?” Kirk asks).
It’s a comedy of errors turned deadly serious turned small-scale tragedy, despite which one might be hard put to point out any real villains in this episode. Well there’s T’Pring but she was at most acting on behalf of her own interests; she didn’t mean to see anyone hurt, or — more to the point — doesn’t care.
This isn’t the first time Sturgeon sailed into sexuality, human and otherwise: there was his short story “The World Well Lost” (about alien homosexuality) and novel Venus Plus X (about a planet of hermaphrodites). “Amok Time” came out a month before his short story “If All Men Were Brothers, Would You Let One Marry Your Sister?” appeared in the anthology Dangerous Visions (leave it as an exercise to the reader to guess what aspect of sexuality Sturgeon dealt with).
In effect Sturgeon is no stranger nor shrinking violet on the subject, is in fact quite the philosopher about its polymorphous aspects.
I submit though that “Amok Time” is about much more, and the key exchange illustrating this happens late in the episode, between Spock deep in his plak tow and his family matriarch:
“T’Pau.”
“Thee speaks?”
“My friend does not understand.”
“The choice has been made Spock. It is up to him now.”
“He does not know. I will do what I must T’Pau, but not with him. His blood does not burn. He is my friend.”
T’Pau is startled to see Spock can communicate despite his blood lust; she’s equally impressed that Kirk and McCoy elected to stay, despite the complications that arise in the wedding. I suspect she’d be impressed to know that Kirk had already sacrificed his career to bring Spock to the wedding (cue Alfred Doolittle song) — or did she already know? She wouldn’t have sent a special message to the Federation for nothing.
What am I talking about? I’m talking Spock and Kirk and McCoy throughout the episode again and again setting aside life and career and biological imperative to plead their case for each other, their very obvious affection for each other. They’ve saved each others’ lives often at risk of their own, they’re willing to do it again if necessary; everything else is secondary if you like, or as Kirk puts it “Very impressive, very diplomatic, but it’s simply not that vital.”
I’m talking Sturgeon, clever man, writing an episode about Vulcan sex that turns out not to be about Vulcan sex at all — that’s just exotic gift-wrapping meant to sell his real goods, which are as familiar and comforting and in his (and my) book far more powerful than any mere sociological psychological biological drive.
Star Trek’s “Amok Time”is available on Amazon, Netflix and other sources.
