The Twilight Zone (1959) s02e15 – The Invaders

One of my major complaints about “The Twilight Zone” is the ending reveal somehow distracts from the rest of the episode. It’s a “gotcha” moment. And The Invaders does have a gotcha moment, and it does shuffle star Agnes Moorehead off-screen ingloriously, but at least it doesn’t do anything to undercut her performance.

The episode begins with host Rod Serling explaining we’re at a farmhouse, not unlike many other farmhouses, except this one doesn’t have electricity. And its sole occupant, Moorehead, has lived on her own for many years. That detail seems to be setting up Moorehead not to have any dialogue. Throughout the episode, as she becomes more and more agitated, she gets more and more vocal, but there’s a hard limit.

The “no electricity” detail allows for much of the episode’s terror. Moorehead goes from hearing sounds on the roof to battling the unexpected–tiny little alien men. The aliens have heat weapons, which cause welts–one of Moorehead’s best scenes (in twenty-some minutes of great scenes) is when she’s silently discovering her injuries and trying to dress the wounds. They may or may not jet pack technology. The episode’s definite about how many Invaders Moorehead has to fight, but it also likes having danger behind every door, around every corner. It’s dark, after all, and there are going to be noises from their spacesuits, so why not amp it up?

Heyes does a fantastic job directing the episode, embracing the limited lighting–Moorehead’s on a quest for survival through the unseen familiar, but with new danger. Most of the episode showcases Moorehead’s performance. There are a handful of action set pieces; otherwise, it’s all about Moorehead’s expressions of fear, determination, and anger. With the scant details Serling delivers at the opening, we’re able to contextualize Moorehead’s experience until the twist, which intentionally turns it over.

Outstanding teleplay from Richard Matheson. Did he write all the little moments for Moorehead or were they actor’s prerogative? There are certain story beats–finding the spaceship, losing this candle or that candle, planning scenes–but when it’s not an effects sequence, Invaders feels more like Moorehead’s doing a one-person show and showing off. She’s spellbinding.

The special effects are adorable. The aliens are just mechanized toys, which someone had a great time making ambulatory. They mostly stand still and shoot at Moorehead with their phasers or whatever, but every once in a while it’s like somehow tossed them across the shot and–whee–jet packs.

The ending twist changes the entire episode–Rod Serling’s got to be the least reliable narrator in television history–but Moorehead’s already done such fantastic work, there’s no lessening factor. Also–highly recommend watching with the lights out. Heyes and cinematographer George T. Clemens clearly meant it to be an uncanny tale for the dark.

Oh, and the Jerry Goldsmith score is excellent, too.


The Twilight Zone (1959) s05e19 – Night Call

Night Call’s pre-Rod Serling tag has lead Gladys Cooper having trouble sleeping through a thunderstorm. She then gets two phone calls at 2 a.m., with just static on the line. The next day, after the Serling intro promising Cooper’s in for a momentous event, Cooper tries reporting the phone calls to the phone company but they’ve been having lots of trouble on account of the storm. The operator kind of dismisses her, as does her day-time caretaker, Nora Marlowe. See, Cooper’s kind of a mean old lady–her family doesn’t want anything to do with her–so she gets zero sympathy from Marlowe and, really, Night Call.

The phone calls continue, with the buzz eventually becoming moaning (a man moaning) and then the moaning just becomes the guy saying “Hello” over and over again. Cooper in a full panic, Marlowe is just as unsympathetic (the utter lack of chemistry between Cooper and Marlowe probably hurts Night Call but it’s hard to even imagine they could have any rapport), the phone company is investigating. All Cooper can do is wait. While the calls keep coming.

And somehow Marlowe’s never around to hear them–she’s convinced Cooper’s lying for the attention or something. Turns out, of course, she’s not. Instead there’s some highly contrived explanation along with some pointless comeuppance–watching Marlowe berate Cooper in one scene seems like elder abuse but also with some sexism thrown in–and a pat, predictable ending.

Cooper’s performance is… mediocre. Better than Marlowe, though Marlowe’s got no character to even hint at playing, but still quite mediocre. Tourneur’s direction is similarly middling. The interior stuff is boring, the exterior stuff is not. Except when Tourneur’s got to hammer in the point for the big finale. Rather nice photography from Robert Pittack (especially outside) and solid editing from Richard V. Heermance.

Night Call doesn’t particularly have anything going for it–acting, directing, writing–it’s kind of fine, but so what.

The Twilight Zone (1959) s05e03 – Nightmare at 20,000 Feet

Nightmare at 20,000 Feet races. Director Donner and writer Richard Matheson pace out the episode perfectly–though it being a “Twilight Zone” episode means they can also utilize some of the series’s credit formula to great effect.

The episode has a few phases. Introducing William Shatner and Christine White (they’re married, he’s just recovering from his mental breakdown while on an airplane), putting Shatner in the window seat, him seeing the gremlin. Those events all happen in the first phase. Second is him trying to get help with the gremlin, third is him taking it into his own hands. These phases take place inside a three act structure. It’s an intense story, made more intense through the direction and then Shatner’s performance.

Shatner does fantastic work, as the viewer has to believe they’re going crazy with him. There’s a hesitation; Shatner, Matheson and Donner make sure the viewer gets past.


The Twilight Zone (1959) s01e14 – Third from the Sun

Third from the Sun suffers from a far too obvious ending. The episode forecasts it a few minutes early and then it all falls into line. However, it’s an obvious twist ending and it is a “Twilight Zone” after all, so who knows if it’s just predictable now because of the series having such an impact.

Mostly the episode is Fritz Weaver freaking out about coming nuclear war and having to convince his family they need to escape. Weaver does really well during his paranoia scenes, even though he eventually has to start sharing the episode.

Joe Maross and Edward Andrews show up about the same time. Well, Andrews has a long bit at the beginning too; he’s the villain. Maross is Weaver’s sidekick. Once the paranoia ends for Weaver, both Maross and Andrews have a lot more to do.

Bare shoots everything tilted (more obvious foreshadowing), but it’s good.

The Twilight Zone (1959) s01e23 – A World of Difference

It’s another man in a weird world “Twilight Zone” from Richard Matheson. This time, Howard Duff is a regular American middle class guy who all of a sudden wakes up in a world where he’s an actor playing that regular guy.

There’s a lot of great panic from Duff–he’s startlingly effective. Matheson and director Post keep finding ways to make it even worse for Duff. Post’s direction Eileen Ryan’s scenes (as Duff’s alternate universe wife) is outstanding.

Matheson’s script leaves a lot unsaid, including any explanation for Duff’s character losing it, but the episode’s best moments are the ones when Duff visually responds without a dialogue. The madness plays across his face.

After Ryan departs, David White takes over as a somewhat supportive ear (another Matheson “Twilight Zone” norm), but he’s nowhere near as compelling. When Ryan starts doubting reality, she’s wondrous.

Besides a rush finish, Difference is excellent.

The Twilight Zone (1959) s01e18 – The Last Flight

The Last Flight has some fantastic sound design. Especially at the beginning when Kenneth Haigh’s plane lands. He’s a World War I flier who journeys through time to the late fifties, landing on an American airbase. The sound for the base and the planes is just phenomenal. And the episode hasn’t even really started yet.

Richard Matheson’s script doesn’t concern itself too much with the time travel. Well, wait, it does. But more accurately, it concerns itself with the consequences of the time travel. Haigh figures the whole thing out in a rather long scene. He talks Simon Scott–as a modern Air Force major–into it. A little, anyway. He raises the question.

Great performances from Haigh, Scott and Alexander Scourby as the bewildered commanding officer.

There’s some decent shots from Claxton, but Last Flight succeeds because of Matheson’s script–which winds and unwinds–and the actors performing it.

The Twilight Zone (1959) s01e11 – And When the Sky Was Opened

The magic of And When the Sky Was Opened is Rod Taylor’s lead performance. He’s an astronaut who holds on while reality loses track of his astronaut copilots after they return to Earth. Whether he’s loud or quiet, Taylor makes the episode work.

The concept is simple enough, but Taylor is able to sell the emotion of it all. When he realizes he forgets his girlfriend (Maxine Cooper), the viewer too realizes he or she has forgotten all about her too. She’s not important to Taylor at that moment; there’s no reason the viewer should worry about her either.

The episode also features a nice supporting performance from Jim Hutton. His job’s mostly just to react to Taylor, but he eventually gets his own moment in the spotlight.

Charles Aidman, in the distant third role, is mediocre. He’s not terrible, but he’s not doing anything amazing like Taylor.

It’s good.

The Twilight Zone (1959) s05e16 – The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross

Don Siegel can compose no matter what ratio, so his shots in The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross are all fine. There’s a lack of coverage and the edits are occasionally off, but it’s a TV show (an episode of “The Twilight Zone”); it’s expected.

And Siegel does get in the occasional fantastic shot. He’s got a great lead actress with Gail Kobe and Vaughn Taylor’s all right as her father. The problem’s the lead, Don Gordon. Gordon has some great monologues but when he’s acting or reacting to someone else, he falls apart. It’s probably the script, which concerns a listless thug who discovers he can magically trade physical and psychological conditions with people.

He figures to “improve” himself with the power. But the character has no motivation other than filling twenty-some minutes of a television program.

Still, a single great Siegel shot makes up for the rest.