Tomorrow will include an event absolutely historic and awe-inspiring for the United States. It will be a moment to reflect on how far we've come and how far we have to go. And it will be, hopefully, the start of a much-improved era of America's dealings with the rest of the world. I'm hoping it will be magnificent.
So. Let's talk about old TV shows.
Through the miracle of technology and a deep-seated inability to give up on anything I ever liked, I've had the opportunity lately to re-evaluate two sacred favorites from my childhood. With the tentative marriage of Netflix and TiVo, I am able to instantly view any episode of the first season of Star Trek whenever I feel like it.
And because some fanatics' prayers have been answered, the entire catalog of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. has been released on DVD, and that means I can rent each disc, one at a time, from Netflix (Netflix and TiVo run my life).
Now, it's important to provide some context: These two television shows were an integral part of my life for years, starting when I was seven years old (U.N.C.L.E.) and lasting until, well, so far I'm 51.
First, I was an U.N.C.L.E. freak. What seven-year-old boy wouldn't be? The show, about two agents of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement (which the producers thanked at the end of each episode, only adding to the mania in the under-15 set), came on the heels of the first wave of James Bond mania, and it gave us everything we could have wanted: two guys who saved the world once a week, shot pretty much anybody they wanted to, and were American (Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo--a name created by Bond author Ian Fleming) and Russian (David McCallum as Illya Kuryakin, and so what if he sounded British?)! Detente, years before Detente!
There were U.N.C.L.E. badges (Solo started out as #11, Section 1, but was eventually promoted to #2), special guns (plastic reproductions of which were readily available at a toy store near you), books, pictures, records (McCallum sang, sort of), and even an U.N.C.L.E. ViewMaster set (of "The Very Important Zombie Affair"), which I loved to look at. Hey, it was the Sixties. Pong was still a distant dream.
Even as the seasons went on (there were four) and the show became sillier, the two leads had a sophisticated wit and never, ever seemed to be worried. Perplexed, sure. Concerned, perhaps. But where any of the rest of us would have surely melted into a pool of quivering jelly over the problems they faced, Solo and Kuryakin would be mildly irritated over each new development, until the inevitable happened, and there was a fourth-act raid in which lots of people in colorful jumpsuits (after the first season, the show was in color) were shot and things generally blew up so the world could be saved. It was a young boy's dream, and I was crushed when the show was cancelled (for something called "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In"--I wonder how that show went over) in 1968.
That was a year before Star Trek--the original and, lets' face it, only real incarnation--was cancelled, after three seasons. By 1966, as a sophisticated nine-year-old, I had been all too eager to see the exploits of a crew exploring deep space.
The opening credits, with that narration by William Shatner: "Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise--its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new lives and civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before." And then that magnificent spaceship, not the cigar-shaped thing we were used to seeing fly Gemini missions on the news--would whoosh! by (who cares if there's no sound in space?), and if you were a nine-year-old boy worth his salt, you were on board, and five years didn't seem nearly long enough.
Here, Detente was REALLY prevalent: They had a black woman RIGHT ON THE BRIDGE OF THE SHIP and nobody seemed to feel she'd need protecting. They had a Japanese guy who was navigating the voyages. A hearty fellow with a very odd accent fixing the engines whenever they would (inevitably) break down. Eventually, a Russian (whose accent left you longing for McCallum's British take) was added.
And best of all, there was a guy on board who wasn't even human! And even though he was kind of weird, everybody accepted him, too! Was fourth grade really going to be all that scary now?
The story of Star Trek is well documented (check out the Wikipedia page if you don't believe me). Suffice it to say, it became a staple in many lives, including mine, and even now, I'm looking forward to seeing what JJ Abrams has done to revitalize the characters in a feature film due in May.
But in viewing the two series (or at least selected parts of them) recently, what's interesting is how much better U.N.C.L.E. has aged. That seems to be counterintuitive: Shouldn't a series that takes place in the future and features fantasy elements be more ageless than a Swingin' Sixties spy series about a couple of sexists who would probably have no problem with waterboarding (Jack Bauer, but with a sense of humor)?
Certainly, the last season of either series should be discounted; fans of both acknowledge that desperate attempts to bolster ratings and the departure of the original producers damaged the fourth season of U.N.C.L.E. (some would say the third, as well) and the third and last season of Trek. But even before: Trek features heavy-handed allegories, some horrifying dialogue ("No blah blah blah!"), cheesy sets and costumes (although a 2006 remastering has made some of the special effects look terrific), and, let's face it, acting by some--okay, Shatner--that borders on the horrible.
Does the series still work? Sure, but each episode will induce cringes even in some die-hards like myself. The ideas never falter; some character interaction is still wonderful. But the plots can make you plotz sometimes, and when they don't, well, the rushed schedule of a TV series is often evident. John Lennon told about a friend who went to see Elvis Presley in Vegas near the end, and his friend reported, "if you squint and imagine, it's still Elvis." Well, there are times watching Star Trek all these years later that you have to squint and imagine.
U.N.C.L.E., though, perhaps BECAUSE it's so much a period piece, holds up better. The first season (and one disc of the second, which is all I've seen so far) presents two characters who have a job to do, and do it, well, without sacrificing the occasional good time. They like each other, but understand the mission is more important than any one man.
Do they run into bizarre villains? Do they fight an organization named "THRUSH" for no discernible reason? Are they (especially Solo) flagrant sexists? Sure. But the characters seem to be self-aware enough that they KNOW it's all silly, but they can rise above that to succeed.
Leo G. Carroll, as the unflappable Alexander Waverly (the two agents' boss), adds that touch of class. And the studio backlot, pretending to be Yugoslavia (when there was one) or Argentina, depending on what week it was, is not a distraction. The characters are a joy to be around.
And spending an hour in your childhood every once in a while isn't such a bad thing, is it? Open Channel D, please. And Scotty, if it's not too much trouble...
