By series 2, The Twilight Zone was a lot more in tune with the show that we now commonly recall it as, with also some strange additions and adaptations that haven’t aged particularly well in the long run. For instance the show now had it's almost instantly iconic title theme by Marius Constant, as opposed to the more languid Bernard Hermann first season theme, which in many ways I ultimately prefer. Due to a deficit, due to the show’s inflating budget and general expenditure outweighing its viewership, six of the episodes were filmed on videotape, as opposed to the beautiful film recordings of the other episodes. Although three of these episodes don’t suffer too much in quality, appearing on this list as a matter of fact, it still really highlights the power of George C. Clements’s photography of the other episodes. So with these notes addressed and without a further ado, lets jump straight into 15 more truly excellent episodes of this eternally iconic television series. Afterall episode for episode, pound for pound, this season has more ‘classic’ episodes than any other in my opinion.
NOTE: As many fans of the show, and many passive viewers know, there is a great aspect of the show that is the endings. Some such endings will be eluded to in these essays. If this affects you, then re-watch the seasons and then return here. However I do feel that with so many of these episodes, the endings are already iconic and never hinder my repeat watching’s in many instances, instead effects them in a positive manner. Albeit, you have been warned.
15. A Thing About Machines (Episode 40 – October 28, 1960)
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The inspiration for Stephen King’s Christine, is the simple tale of Bartlett Finchley and his intense hatred for machines of any kind, as the episode unravels however we come to
learn that perhaps Finchley’s paranoia is not so unjustified, all culminating
in a final ten minutes (where the biggest inspirations for King came) filled
with great practical effects and sterling tension and action. Richard Hayden
propels the story forward and brings just the right amounts of old miser and
concerned intellectual to Finchley, leading him to be a depthful character in
what could have easily been a cheap schlock episode. It is however the
direction of David Orrick McDearmon, particularly in the closing sequence of
machines running rampant, that leads to this episode receiving its place on this
list. Barney Phillips also makes one of his multiple appearances in the show,
as a TV repairman blissfully baffled by Finchley’s deep rooted hatred.
Phillips, it should be noted, will be appearing again on this list.
14. Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room (Episode 39 – October 14, 1960)
This third episode of the second series, written by Serling and directed by Twilight Zone legend Douglas Heyes, is a two hander with a difference. Both roles are played by the same man; Joe Mantell, as two sides of the put upon man Jackie Rhoades, as he is brought face to face in the mirror with the man that he could have been. My intro was of course false however, with the episode actually featuring another great performance from William D. Gordon, most famous for his later appearance in Eye of the Beholder, this time however Gordon is under far less makeup, but is no less effective as a wholly different character from his consoling doctor. Gordon is the gangster George and is just as biting and menacing as one would expect, following the level of nervousness that we see from Jackie. Heye’s camerawork, paired with Joe Mantell’s incredible two sided coin of a performance really makes this episode an intriguing and ultimately very successful experiment in form for the show.
13. Night of the Meek (Episode 47 – December 23, 1960)
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The one and only Christmas themed episode of The Twilight Zone follows a department store Santa who is granted his wish of having the real job for the night. This Santa is brought to us delightfully by Art Carney, who promptly brings us into the dower and bitterly alcoholic world of Henry Corwin with a delicacy and pain that only he could, culminating in a tragically wounded monologue illuminating the true brutal reality that many face all year round, that unfortunately doesn’t lessen over the winter period and in many ways just grows worse. Producer Buck Houghton commented that Serling wrote and conceived the episode purely around the conceit of wishing to see “Art Carney play Santa Claus”. It is in the hard edge of Selring’s script here that the pathos, hope and warmth of the winter episode can be found and makes this one of the all time TV Christmas specials and number 13 on this ranking.
12. Shadow Play (Episode 62 – May 5, 1961)
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A bizarre little episode from Charles Beaumont with the sort of classic hopelessly tragic conclusion that many view The Twilight Zone as perfecting. The episode considers what we know to be our lives and truths and realities well before any brand of Truman Show or Matrix and places the concept completely cerebrally, rather than in a world of science fiction. The basic plot follows Adam Grant, a man trapped in a perennially recurring nightmare where he is facing down death by execution. Grant is played here Dennis Weaver, who flits wickedly between great rationalised anger and conviction to a terrifyingly resigned sense of contemplative other-worldliness where he can comment freely on the situation logically, forgetting briefly that the situation is the current world of terror and fear that he inhabits. John Brahm directs the episode with an unbearable tension as the final hours draw ever and ever nearer, with Harry Townes appearing as the dubious lawyer whose convincing of the situation is the pivotal crux of the entire piece. The ultimate judgement and bookend climax is enough to fill you with immense fear and thrill Goosebumps all up and down you.
11. The Trouble With Templeton (Episode 45 –
December 9, 1960)
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From E. Jack Neuman comes this episode which in many ways serves as a re-telling of the conceit of my favourite and in my opinion the greatest Twilight Zone episode ever made; Walking Distance, hence in other words – the episode has big shoes to fill. However the departures from the original conceit and the performances lead to this being a worthy counterpart and double bill, on top of the obvious fact that it’s a marvellous conceit to begin with. Neuman translates the story of a withered older gentleman returning to the people and places of his youth in a pseudo dream state to the world of Booth Templeton, a nostalgic actor played truly marvellously by Brian Aherne, returning to reunite with his best friend and love of his life. The episode also features a great turn from director Sydney Pollack, who I have always felt has given many excellent acting performances, alongside his many wonderful directing efforts. In actuality he plays a director here. But it is in the chief concluding subversion of the Walking Distance formula that Templeton and Templeton finds there pathos and, yes, there ‘twist in the tale’. But this is no cruel twist, this is instead a very touching offering from Neuman and director Buzz Kulik.
10. Static (Episode
57 – March 24, 1961)
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Another story of an older man coming to terms with the pain of his youth through a nostalgic trip into The Twilight Zone is this fantastic episode, another of the six videotapes, another Kulik directed Beaumont script. This time with the sterling Dean Jagger and an old defunct radio that transports him auditory and then physically to the happier days of his past. This piece doesn’t suffer where others do from the videotaping with the focus being so much on the text and the performances, over the visuals. It’s not that this episode doesn’t have its share of lovely visual touches, primarily the final cut back and forth from Jagger in his older years to his younger and soon to be more fulfilled 20 year old self. Carmen Mathews plays off him beautifully as the lost love Vinnie, really levelling the story out with a scene in the middle of the piece bringing the nature of their lost love to bear in all its tragedy, making the final conclusion all the more heart-warming and touching.
9. A Penny For Your Thoughts (Episode 52 – February 3, 1961)
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This much acclaimed comedic turn episode from George Clayton Johnson gives us Dick York as a simple bank clerk granted with the ability to read minds, for the day at least. This episode takes its comedy lightly however and instead utilises it to fulfil the human needs of its characters, in many ways that’s the most succinct way to describe the use of comedy in most Twilight Zone episodes. York is terrific as Hector B. Poole, our newly imbued telepath who flits between motivations of securing the banks safety, before securing his own possible love life and benefactoring the hopes and dreams of his fellow employees. The simple manner in which the telepathy is presented adds to the simplicity of the episode and ultimately brings the story to light without it ever getting in the way of itself. Cyril Delevanti takes a similarly terrific turn as L.J Smithers, a rather put-upon man who Poole takes on, before granting his wish. A lovely episode that gives you lots to think about, pardon the pun.
8. The Invaders (Episode 51 – January 27, 1961)
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This obscenely simple tale of one woman fighting off creatures from another planet will never not fail to shock, repulse and riddle with tension any viewer who dares to enter the small world of a woman, all alone in her shack with two truly terrifying visitors/invaders. Agnes Moorhead is that woman and gives us some of the greatest physical acting of her career, with the episode being almost wholly silent, bar one line of off-screen dialogue, aswell as Serling’s opening and closing narrations. The story and its wicked twist come from Twilight Zone alum Richard Matheson, however the episode’s greatest strengths do lie in its visuals, with Douglas Heyes taking on the challenge openly of making two of the smallest little toy robots you’ve ever seen, two of the scariest creatures the small screen ever had upon it. By the time the final reveal comes around, which is a doozy, it actually doesn’t matter what the final twist is, afterall the piece up to that point has been so supremely sensational. But that final twist is exactly what it should be – the ultimate cherry on top. A feat to the talent of all involved.
7. Nick of Time (Episode 43 – November 18, 1960)
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The first of William Shatner’s appearances on the show, follows him and his newlywed Patricia Breslin as they face down their superstitions and their concepts of fate and fortune, in a small rinky-dink diner when they begin playing with a fortune telling machine. What starts out as a whimsical tale, swiftly becomes a tale with more depth than one could ever imagine, with concepts of morality and trust and honesty coming to the surface, in a piece that simply begins with a few simple cards that ended up telling the truth. Once more this is more so an episode of hope and a vanquishing of cruel tricks of fate, ultimately the power for one to really take back one’s own life and not be ruled by an outside set of circumstances. Shatner and Breslin are superb in Richard Matheson’s simple story and bring to light all the pain and suffering that can be brought along by the future becoming more powerful than the present.
6. The Obsolete Man (Episode 65 – June 2, 1961)
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This third incredible turn in The Twilight Zone from Burgess Meredith is another all time classic episode, owing its debts to the great totalitarian apocalypse texts that came before it, whilst also breathing its own life into a story as old as time, climaxing in a truly bitter and inevitable finale, before one of Serling’s most profound and elegant closing comments. All in all this has some of Serling’s best text he has ever written, whether it be melodramatic or heavy-handed or not, this episode serves more so an expressionistic worst case scenario, rather than one of the realistic episodes of the show. The crux of the episode falls into the hands of a back and forth between Meredith and Fritz Weaver, Meredith as a simple librarian titled ‘obsolete’ and Weaver as the unnamed chancellor ruling this didactic horror society with an iron fist. Both offering truly excellent performances that elevate material already at a supremely high level of quality.
5. Long Distance Call (Episode 58 – March 31, 1961)
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The best of the videotaped episodes follows a family torn apart by the death of the father’s mother. We come to learn very quickly in this morbid and scary tale from Beaumont and Bill Idleson, that the most affected person in the film is the son and grandson in the family, little Billy Bayles, played very well by Bill Mumy. The episode succeeds most when it goes to the darkest places imaginable, which it does often. So many times our writers top themselves, taking the episodes story to darker and more disturbing places. Similar to other episodes of the show, the most mundane items are imbued with the most horrific terrors one can comprehend. Here it is a simple toy telephone that fills the episode with sheer horror and ghostly ambience. The closing sequence of Phillip Abbott, as Billy’s father, on the phone (or possibly not) to his dead mother is some of the best and most pained acting that the show ever saw.
4. The Howling Man (Episode 41 – November 4, 1960)
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Another spooky campfire tale brought to us by Beaumont, and perhaps the best director that the show ever had, Heyes. This time we delve more so into the world of folk-lore than we ever really did on the show, with H.M Wynat as a lost and weary traveller who finds refuge in an abbey of monks who have imprisoned a howling man who they claim to be the devil. John Caradine is marvellous as Brother Jerome, unveiling the plot of the episode and quandary at the heart of it, of who to believe or not. The gothic nature of the episode really adds to its splendid atmosphere and lends to the paranoia, whether misplaced or not, of all the characters involved. Concluding with a sensational reveal and a wonderful Tell-tale Heart fashioned bookend, the episode fills one with fear and doubt at every turn and leads it to be our number 4 ranking today.
3. The Eye of the Beholder (Episode 42 – November 11, 1960)
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One of the most known twists that the show ever had still
can’t hinder the immense power and craft of this episode, from its sensational
performances (mainly voiceover based), to it’s truly groundbreaking makeup, to
its sheer immense craft in its visual storytelling. The entire episode walks a
tightrope and many viewers do understand what lies on the other end of that
tightrope as soon as they start watching, anyone with a keen eye could take a
guess on the twist, but ultimately that doesn’t matter, for the power of the
text and the visuals leads us through one of Serling’s most prophetic and
commiserating tales of woe that he ever wrote. William D. Gordon is so blissfully
sensitive to the plight of our lead, Maxine Stuart (before becoming Donna
Douglas), both of which provide performances brimming with dread and
acceptance. One of Serling’s, Heye’s and the show’s best indeed.
2. The Silence (Episode 61 – April 28, 1961)
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An episode nothing short of absolutely sensational with one of Serling’s most deviously deceptive and cunning scripts, dripping with wit and brutality at every turn. The episode follows a relatively simple bet in a gentleman’s club that quickly becomes a subject of a cat and mouse game between two minds of equal stubbornness and unfortunately equal hubris. An evolution by Serling’s own admission of Anton Chekhov’s short story The Bet, the episode brims with conversations and battles of intellect, usually one-sided by the nature of the situation, making them all the more tragic and hard to watch. These two men come to us played by Franchot Tone and Liam Sullivan, with Jonathon Harris as the chorus-esque over-seer of events. Tone is incredibly cunning and evil in this, with his final comments being filled with the great tragedy of any acceptance of defeat. But Sullivan’s titular silence and his ability to convey all with just the eyes, leads to the images from this episode that will stick with me forever.
1. Will the real Martian please stand up? (Episode 64 – May 26, 1961)
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This wickedly dark and funny whodunit from Serling is the closest the show ever got to something in the grand tradition of an Agatha Christie tale, with our players being caught in a snow storm in a roadside diner, one of whom is a Martian. The players are all terrific with the obvious standouts being John Hoyt, Barney Phillips and Jack Elam, but with further sensational work from Jean Wiles, John Archer and William Kendis. This is one of the Serling comedies that really works and he clearly knows here when and when not to add suspense and tension, and when to offer us those final shockingly dark twists. Serling moulds a world so blissfully enjoyable and so deviously dark that we are completely sucked in and are caught in the crossfire of this simple whodunit with extremely extra-terrestrial responsibilities about it. One of my all time favourite episodes and in my opinion the greatest episode of this second iconic series of this forever seminal show.
And so concludes another iconic series of revolutionary television. It really doesn’t matter how many times I watch these episodes, or how many times I discuss them with people, or talk about them. They always never fail to impress me with their power, relevance and timelessness, but mostly the pure skill of storytelling and craftsmanship that went into almost every single detail of making each episode. These fifteen episodes especially include many episodes that will appear on the top 20 ranking of all time, in a couple of weeks. A truly marvellous season, but then again, they all were.
- - Thomas Carruthers
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