osmic catastrophe strikes on Sept. 13th, 1999 when a lunar nuclear waste disposal facility somehow achieves critical mass. The resulting explosion hurls Earth’s moon out of orbit, flinging the 311 inhabitants stationed on Moonbase Alpha into a stellar diaspora. Their only hope: that the moon’s trajectory will take them near a suitable Earth-like planet so they can escape from their artificial and sterile environment.
Of course, this being a weekly television series, there are a number of false alarms and hopes destroyed in being cast on the celestial winds of fate, along with encounters with various aliens, time warps, alternate universes and even God. Making the tough decisions on how to manage this strange exodus is Cmdr. John Koenig, played by Martin Landau, a cool but fallible leader. Following the Star Trek archetype is medical doctor Helena Russell (Barbara Bain) and the scientifically cerebral Professor Victor Bergman (Barry Morse). Also in the Trekkie spirit, supporting characters represent various races and nationalities. Even the uniforms are color-coded according to command or support function, though with the lunarnauts it is restricted to a single sleeve of their otherwise monochromatic, zippered jumpsuits with absurdly flared trousers (designed by Rudy Gernreich, whose other claim to fashion fame is the topless bathing suit).
Indeed, the merits of these 14 episodes of Space 1999 are primarily visual. Highly reminiscent of the minimalist imagery of 2001: Space Odyssey, Space 1999 looks remarkably good some 25 years later, a testament to the artistic vision of producers Gerry and Sylvia Anderson in what was then the highest-budgeted TV series, at about $300,000 per episode. However, as good as it looks, in terms of plotline and characterization Space: 1999 suffers from the same deficiencies as Rudy Gernreich’s bathing suit design: there’s just not that much to it.
Breaking the laws of physics
By definition, science fiction is based on scientific principle or at least reasonable speculation. That an atomic meltdown of some sort could actually break the moon out of its orbit is highly dubious to begin with, but even more ridiculous is the idea that the moon would journey outside the gravitational pull of the solar system to encounter other worlds. The dubious science strains not only credulity, but also common sense. Why not just evacuate the base with the same Eagle launchers used in subsequent episodes to explore other worlds? Of course, with the loss of the gravitational effects of the moon, the Earth is undoubtedly having some of its own problems, though the folks on the renegade moon don’t seem to have too much concern about it.
A preposterous premise might be forgiven (after all, the faster-than-light travel that is the linchpin of many a space opera violates Einsteinian principles, and nobody gets too upset about that) if the storyline is strong. During the so-called Golden Age of science fiction, hack writers who are nevertheless revered because of the boldness of their ideas committed similar faults. Alas, there are no ideas here. Putting aside the quibble of logical inconsistencies among individual shows, the plots rely on hackneyed twists and cliches. For example, in "Matter of Life and Death" an alien deus ex machina appears in the last five minutes to empower Dr. Russell to reverse the deadly effects of a disastrous decision by Cmdr. Koening, and everybody comes back from the dead. Similarly, "Black Sun" attempts to deal with notions of an intervening God, but special effects of Morse and Landau aging as they go through the hole hardly qualify as any kind of meaningful exploration of the subject.
Even Star Trek at its silliest at least had the strength of characterization. But it’s hard to develop much empathy with a crew who seem as distant as their surroundings. The relationship between Koenig and Dr. Russell emits few sparks, which is odd considering the real-life marriage between Landau and Bain (though they ultimately divorced, it is to be hoped not as a result of this show). Similarly, there’s a hint of tension between Koeng and ace pilot Alan Carter (Nick Tate), but it never develops. Everything depicted in this show is very flat. Perhaps that was a creative decision to reflect the bleakness of space. While there’s a certain logic to that, from a dramatic standpoint, it doesn’t work.
It does look marvelous, though.
