This week’s essay serves more so as a slight recycling of elements from the past six weeks of essays ranking every episode of The twilight zone within their seasons. This week however I thought I’d conclude with a definitive ranking of the 20 greatest episodes of the show and my brief comments on them. Along the way I will comment on honourable mentions, and comment on the worst that the show ever had to offer. Anybody who has been following the essays so far will find no surprises in the final choice, but along the way may stumble across a few choice decisions that broke my heart to make.
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.
20. Night Call (Episode 139 – February 7, 1964)
Another tale of classic actress Gladys
Cooper being taunted by a fearsome ghoul of sorts, following on from Nothing
in the Dark from Series 3 of the show, comes this time in the form of
an episode penned by Matheson and culminating in a far crueller and more
unsettling conclusion. Cooper is sensational once more in this spooky tale of a
woman constantly plagued by a bout of constant phone calls from a voice of no
known origin, however as the origin comes clear, that is when the true pathos
and pain of this episode begins to show. Cooper and Matheson make this episode
one that not only haunts you whilst you watch it, but for a long, long time
after you have finished watching it. It’s a piece of classic horror and it’s a
more than worthy entry for third place on this rundown of classic episodes.
19. Living Doll (Episode 126 – November 1, 1963)
Another iconic episode of the show is a
very simple one more or less and in many ways works on as many levels as a
family drama as it does a horror tale of the supernatural. The source of
the Annabelle legend which would too eventually make its way
onto the silver screen, this tale from Jerry Sohl (ghost-writing for Charles
Beaumont) is a story on one level of a step-father attempting to kindle a
healthy relationship with his step-daughter, but on another is a chilling
journey into the heart of a man plagued by a supernatural figure of sentient
evil, in this case a talking doll. Telly Savalas is the undoubted standout of
the episode as Erich, the man tormented by this titular Living
Doll. Savalas starts off as a little off kilter, but only gets more
and more unnerved as this story places its dominos and lets them fall one by
one.
18. Long Distance Call (Episode 58 – March 31, 1961)
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.
16. Time Enough At Last (Episode 8 – November 20, 1959)
Or as many know it; the one with the
broken glasses, but like so many episodes of the show, it is about so much
more. From the short story by Lynn Venable, Serling takes into what begins as a
rather sophomoric light comedy piece about Henry Bemis, played by Burgess
Meredith, a man who simply wants to spend time with a good book, but finds
hurdle's at every turn. But Meredith and Serling are interested in an entirely
different genre in the second half, as they make Bemis the last survivor of a
complete nuclear holocaust. Here the piece becomes a episode about great human
loss and, once more, loneliness. Serling has commented before on how this may
just be his personal favourite episode of the one’s that he penned, and the
majority of fans would agree, with it topping many lists and even having it’s
unforgettable final moments ranking #25 on TV guide’s “100 most memorable
moments in Television”. The work of director John Brahm was even awarded here,
with him being given in 1960 a director’s guild award for his work on the
episode. I guess in summation I am trying to comment that all of
this acclaim is certainly worthy, and the episode still proves it on every
viewing. It simply can’t help but get a gasp when that final drop occurs.
15. On Thursday We Leave for Home (Episode 118 – May 2, 1963)
Without a doubt the finest episode of
the season and without a doubt one of the finest episodes of all time. Trust
Serling and Kulick to bring us one of the greatest episodes the show ever had,
in spite of every issue that arose format wise. James Whitmore gives us one of
the all-time performances the show ever had and perhaps the finest turn in his
entire career, including his iconic performance as Brooks in The
Shawshank Redemption. Whitmore’s Benteen is pitted against Tim
O’Connor’s Sloane for a fierce but ultimately complex debate and discussion
upon the pain and hardship of the choice that lies at the heart of the episode,
whether or not to leave the colony and whether or not to take the Thursday
flight that the title eludes to. This question and more is dissected in
Serling’s incredible script, brought to life by one of the show’s greatest
ensemble casts. Building effortlessly and tautly made, Thursday is
an episode that will never not make one feel a great sense of pain and fury.
14. Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (Episode 123 – October 18, 1963)
Still one of the scariest episodes the
show ever made with one of the all time jump scare moments of all time; this
gruelling, exciting and terrifying tale of air terror is fuelled by a riveting
script by Matheson and a sensational performance by William Shatner. However
the great victory of the show has to be the direction of Richard Donner who
fills every frame of this horror tale with visceral and dynamic tension and
suspense all until the gripping finale of some brand of catharsis. Our monster
in this tale is an unnerving bear like gremlin with a truly disgusting face
that taunts and scares at every turn when they brutally re-apear, whereas I
believe the gremlin to be a truly monstrous figure that still strikes fear
whenever they show up, Matheson believed that the gremlin instead “looked like
a Panda Bear”. Of course the nature of the monster is not the most terrifying
thing in this episode, it is instead the deeply human dread that pervades the
atmosphere of the place and fills each audience member with deep, deep terror.
13. The Lonely (Episode 7 – November 13, 1959)
I guess the most obvious entry into our
prevailing loneliness theory is this 7th episode of the show,
placing Jack Warden as a convict in the future on an asteroid, during a new
realm of prison tactics, placing all criminals on desolate existences beyond our
planet. John Dehner is the captain who delivers to Warden a realistic robot
woman, to keep him some company. Jack Smight directs the episode and really
brings home the effect the desperate loneliness has taken on Warden’s Corry,
with a very simple but effective scene where Warden begs Dehner and his two
other crew members to stay (Including an uncredited Ted Knight for you Caddyshack fans
who noted that that man in the uniform sounded an awful lot like Judge Smails).
But Warden is the MVP here, bringing home in every line and action, the immense
effect that the whole endeavour has had on him. Jean Marsh, however, does give
us just the right amount of warmth in her performance as the robot Alicia, to
make the eventual romance wholly believable. But by that time, Warden’s
performance has led us to believe that absolutely any company would be company
that he would take with open arms. A truly effecting and painful episode, in
the great lineage in the show of sci-fi episodes focussing on the human result
of the grand sci-fi concept. In many ways this would be the most apt way to
describe the show in its entirety; exploring the human drama resulting from
stories of great horror, sci-fi and terror. There’s just nothing like this
incredible show.
12. The Howling Man (Episode 41 – November 4, 1960)
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.
11. The After Hours (Episode 34 – June 10, 1960)
This iconic episode based around the
concept of living mannequins finds Anne Francis as Marsha White, a woman
desperately confused but still compelled to return to a department store to
purchase a single gold thimble. Francis gives us the bewilderment needed, but
so many times also gives us a touch of a woman with her head firmly on her
shoulders, in many scenes willing herself to rationalise the completely
unrationable. The episode re-uses music from the earlier Where is
Everybody? and in many ways it shares a lot more with the episode than
a few leit-motifs, with a second act all but silent sequence with Anne
wandering around the empty department store, not unlike in the slightest the
man caught in that episode. Ultimately this has gained a reputation as one of
the creepier episodes of the show, but for me it is again more so in the
haunting and touching variety, with the scares hitting brilliantly, but the
camera and plot remaining to note what happens after those scares. Those human
moments. Those painfully silent moments, where the deafening silence is all but
enough to drive any person mad. Simply tremendous work.
10. The Midnight Sun (Episode 75 – November 17, 1961)
One of the rare occasions that the
whole “It was all a dream thing” worked, and hell does it work well here.
However before that brilliant climax Anton Leader directs a wonderful piece of
tragedy and thrilling tension as we come face to face with the acceptance of
death, with Lois Nettleton as Norma and Betty Garde as Mrs Bronson, two souls
trapped on an earth travelling closer and closer to the sun each day, leading
to the sort of heat that will melt the paint, dry the wells and eventually kill
them both off. This combination of intense sci-fi horror and the human drama of
accepting a fate and a death you have no control over leads to a sensational
episode with great performances all around and an overwhelming sense of heat
that makes you feel just about scorched too.
9. The Eye of the Beholder (Episode 42 – November 11, 1960)
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.
8. The Silence (Episode 61 – April 28, 1961)
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.
7. A Stop at Willoughby (Episode 30 – May 16, 1960)
One of the most upsetting episode of
the show and perhaps one of the most ghostly poignant. This Serling penned and
Robert Parrish directed tale follows James Daly as Gart Williams, a businessmen
who simply cannot go on in the life that he is currently leading. On his train
rides home, he gets a glimpse in his brief dreams of a simple town, going by
the name of Willoughby, a perfect and idyllic place, literally and conceptually
the place of Williams dreams. Another one of Serling’s all-time favourites, this
episode has an overall sense of pain about it, but also ultimately it’s an
episode about finding peace. Although the message of the episode could be
construded as giving the exceptionally wrong ideal, it’s a beautiful and
elegiac exploration into a man’s loss of faith in a world and where a man goes
where he has nothing else in life. Gart Williams finds peace, Serling gives him
it. Giving him it in the only place that he truly can, in The Twilight
Zone.
6. Nothing in the Dark (Episode 81 – January 5, 1962)
The aforementioned two-hander from
Clayton Johnson that I believe is the finest writing he ever did. Lamont
Johnson directs again and takes us through a relentlessly touching and
beautiful rumination on death and the acceptance thereof. Gladys Cooper stars
as the aged and decrepit Wanda, trapped by choice in her run-down home avoiding
the thing she fears most, a figure she has self-titled Mr. Death. The episode
follows Wanda as she against her will welcomes in Robert Redford in a very
young and ultimately star-making role, as a wounded police officer who is
brought in. Redford is charming and delightful and we can see exactly every
ounce of the star that he is about to become. This paired with Cooper’s pained
performance of the sort of trivial person we pass everyday leads to this
episode being one of the finest explorations on death that the show ever saw,
and that media ever saw. A splendidly taut and thoughtful episode that I will
truly never forget and I know will only grow in importance and power as my life
continues.
5. To Serve Man (Episode 89 – March 2, 1962)
Yes, it’s that one. The one with those
three magic words that anybody with a passing knowledge of the show, or a
previous viewing of the episode, screamed in their heads the minute they read
the episode title. But as with our last episode discussed, this is
so much more than those three words, despite my own admitted love of those
three words myself. As a matter of fact I recently showed a group of six or so
people who had never even heard of the show, never mind seeing it, this episode
as their first ever episode, for in many ways it epitomises everything that
people have come to know of the show. Richard Kiel is wonderfully still and
sardonic as everyone of our Kanamits. Susan Cummings has the great line and
takes relish in it. Lloyd Bochner is our centre and is great too, adding a
further oddity to the episode with a 4th wall break, that fits
here in this episode all in all. A great, great and ultimately very classic
episode of television.
4. It’s a Good Life (Episode 73 – November 3, 1961)
This ingenious adaptation by Serling of
Jerome Bixby’s short story, directed by James Sheldon, tells the story of
Anthony Freemont, a little boy played by Bill Mumy with the precision and
calibre of a well aged performer. Little Anthony is one of the most horrifying
creations ever put to a screen and this episode milks every brutal ounce of
horror that can be milked from the concept. Cloris Leachman and John Larch are
just to name a few of the exceptional ensemble that lead to this episode being
one of the most deeply unsettling and completely unforgettable episodes that
the show ever made. Every single line of this script is delivered with an
insane amount of complexity in performance, balancing pure rage, with great
horror, deep sadness, all purveyed by a childlike naivety that will consume
them all. A truly incredible episode that Times magazine named the third best
episode of all time and I am naming it the best episode of Series 3.
3. The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street (Episode 22 – March 4, 1960)
From so many points of view this is one
of the most perfect episodes ever created for the show. With a truly flawless
script by Serling used, studied and adapted over and over again across the
years. It really is an undisputed gem in the show’s cannon, telling the story
of paranoia on a suburban street, with an alien force revealed to be the
ultimate source by the end. But it is of course the human drama that leads to
the ultimate destruction of Maple street on the fateful night we view as an
enraptured audience. What begins as a simple back and forth between friends and
neighbours, swiftly grows at a rapid pace to a dilemma of indescribable
battling. Ron Winston directs the episode, slowly building the tension and also
the visual language of the episode, until the final five minutes is a true
onslaught of dynamic and vital imagery shot at the viewer with them unable to
turn away. The ensemble cast for the episode is one the greatest in the show’s
run, with each member adding a different perspective and another slant to an
already divided debate. Claude Atkins is the perilous do-gooder attempting at
all times to quell the swelling panic. Jack Weston is ferocious as the
loud-mouth who’s taking most everything at face value. Barry Atwater is just
the right amount of sinister to add suspicion into the neighbours and the
audience’s minds. All this ultimately leads to an absolute barn-stormer of an
episode, that will remain timeless forever more, and will no doubt remain in
the consciousness for another 60 years, and another 60 after that.
2. Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up? (Episode 64 – May 26, 1961)
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.
1. Walking Distance (Episode 5 – October 30, 1959)
The episode has garnered a rather high reputation amongst the critical body regarding The Twilight Zone, but often is an outlier on many rankings and ‘best of’ lists. I feel this is chiefly down to the fact that it’s perhaps not as famous as the others, nor does it have any of the sci-fi or horror elements so culturally related to the show, embedded to no end in its mythos and iconography. People know Beemus breaking his glass, people know the bandages being removed, people know “it’s a cookbook”. But it is the unfortunate rarity that people know of Martin Sloan and his return to Homewood. I hope that those who don’t soon do and those who do return to this glorious episode, for as I found in re-watching it for the umpteenth time; there is an elegiac and profound beauty that never grows old, nor weary as we might, or as Sloan might. The episode lives on and shall forever and is now submitted for your approval as the greatest Twilight Zone episode of all time.
And so concludes our seven week journey into the greatest TV show ever made. Maybe second to Mad Men. But there is no doubt that without Rod Serling’s pen and vision then the world of TV would be an entirely different landscape and perhaps would be a place where stories were still surface level and characters had no depth. Serling breathed life into a medium and began the first step toward the prestige world of TV that we are in today. True, one might say we are in the golden age of television now, but there is a small part of me that wishes I was in 1960 and I was sitting down in front of a very small TV, viewing a Twilight Zone episode for the first time and no knowing a damn thing about what I was going to see. For no matter whether the bandages are coming off, or we are strolling through a library, or even strolling through our old hometown... we are in The Twilight Zone, and what a perfect place that is to be in.
- - Thomas Carruthers
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