Scene V

We move into action-mode with this scene, and finally meet our 'real' (or imagined?) antagonist: the beast of unlimited power! The body count begins, and our hero learns about the Krell (poor things).

We open this scene with the familiar (translation: getting their money’s worth) shot of C-57D fronting the Altairian landscape. It’s twilight, but the quiet is broken by foreboding music. Is this to be the inciting event, where s**t gets real? Up until now it’s been interesting, but more in the ‘will they, won’t they’ love triangle subplot of Jerry, Alta and Adams.

The security detail on watch give us an indication of how the crew gets by on long voyages without female company. Something along the lines of “look at how beautiful the moons of Altair are tonight. Fancy a blowjob?”. Their foreplay is interrupted by (ahem) heavy breathing. The camera is placed at height and tracks as if we are looking out of the eyes of an invisible something. Something that breathes heavily and ascends the tertiary (I had to pick one) staircase. Inside the ship, the sprite opens the hatch. It stops, presumably aghast at the crappy sleeping conditions. Even WWII subs had better bunks than this! One of the crew awakes, has a good look at nothing then rightly goes back to sleep. The sprite then demonstrates its ability to use The Force by moving a gizmo out of its way.

We cut to Adams and Ostrow holding court over the hapless security guards, and the waking crewman. The charge is that “…valuable government property was sabotaged.” Presumably in the 1950’s there was nothing more serious in the military than allowing something valuable to be broken. In the 21^st century we are used to billions of dollars being spent on tech so useless that having it sabotaged would only rate mildly interesting. But this is a heinous crime and Adams duly loses his s**t in the way of all bad leaders before (and after) him. It’s never his fault, after all. 

Adams and Ostrow head off in the tarmac-mobile, leaving a miffed Farman to setup a Class A Security Perimeter. Nothing like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. Poor Jerry’s being left out in the cold. No more Altaira-ogling for him. Serves him right. Anyway, by the look on her face at the end of SCENE III Adams is saving him from becoming her newest pet. 

Cut to the inside of The Residence. Robby is brightening up the decor with some freshly cut flowers. A monkey - presumably escaped from one of Morbius’ dastardly experiments - tries to steal some fruit from a bowl. Without turning around, Robby shoots laser beams from the back of his head and vaporizes the critter! OK that’s not what happens, but it would have been cool. The little thief is just stunned and makes his escape, sans fruit. Adams and Ostrow miss this demonstration that Robby’s programming doesn’t extend to all living things. They ask to see Morbius, but he’s indisposed in his study. They decide to wait and Doc settles in. Adams however spots Alta in the pool. She’s in the buff, so he does the gentlemanly thing and turns his back. There’s some apologizing and…voila! She presents herself in the same dress that Helen used to start the Trojan War. They finally get it on, only to be interrupted by that most irritating of cold showers, the tiger. Nothing is guaranteed to kill an erection faster than a man-eating carnivore. The tiger roars and the sound doesn’t do it justice. Adams acts fast, pulls his gun and phasors the sonofabitch. The tiger disintegrates into a flame design that would look awesome on the side of my car. Poor Altaira is stunned as Adams defends his shoot first, apologize later attitude.

Adams saunters up to Ostrow. Not a word of what happened outside. Just killed a tiger, ho hum. Now it’s time for a bit of petty larceny, or breaking and entering as it’s known to UK law enforcement. The two enter Morbius’ study. But they are caught red handed by Morbius, who emerges from a secret entrance. Spotting a likely pair of light-fingered spacemen, Morbius tells them off. They don’t even apologize for breaking in. Typical. Adams gives Morbius the spiel about how his ship was violated during the night by a heavy breathing sex demon (which presumably had its way with the Klaistron vibrator and trashed it in the throes of orgasm). Morbius invites them to sit so he can tell a bedtime story.

We learn of the Krell, and of their epic rise and rapid fall. The soundtrack we’ve been listening to is actually Krell music. Now we understand why the Barron’s music was so apropos. 

Morbius takes Adams and Ostrow on ‘the tour’. This is in interactive experience and begins in a laboratory. Several facts are drawn out: Morbius built Robby; Morbius had his IQ boosted (and not by taking cod liver oil capsules); the Krell loved twinkly lights; and measuring IQ’s is a pissing competition. We learn an important clue here. The Krell had been doing something incredible in the time before their extinction. Sherlock Holmes would’ve deduced already that we are looking at cause and effect. Sadly, Morbius is obtuse (despite his doubled IQ). The tour moves on to its rollercoaster phase. 

Those readers suffering from a fear of heights should look away now. 

Pretty cool eh? Even today the image of the three walking over the gantry above the ventilator shaft is awe inspiring. Can you imagine? The next scene is cheesier, like something from Flash Gordon. Still, the juxtaposition of the three against the backdrop is great. 

Now comes a STOP point. 

Why? Because something happens which means nothing to the film but is central to the reason this book exists. That reason I’ll get to near the end, but here you might say there is served up an appetizer. Morbius offers Adams and Ostrow the chance to look at the Krell power source. To do this they must look in a mirror, since the real view (over their shoulders) would kill them. So there are two possibilities. Either (a) the Krell had eyes that allowed them to look directly at thermo-nuclear explosions, or (b) they didn’t have any notion of the word ‘fail safe’ and littered their world with dangerous bodily (or mental) land mines for the unwary. If (a), what was the point of building the mirror view? Did they anticipate extra-Altarian guests who would need shielding from the “Gorgon” (as Morbius calls it)? Which leaves (b); seemingly the less plausible explanation but, as we shall see at the climax of this tale, the more likely reason.

Back at base camp, Jerry Farman has the security fence all ready and raring to repel boarders. Having satisfied himself that it can incinerate any invisible bush that might try to tumbleweed them, he allows Cooky to exit the safe zone for some ludicrous reason. Farman’s lack of judgement is clear. He’s just not going to make it to Lt. Commander unless he can figure out when to bend not break the rules. Cooky duly locates Robby and the product of his distillery - really he should come up with a decent product label. Robby does the mechanical equivalent of pausing and looking up. “Somebody coming this way?” Cooky asks. “Nothing coming this way” Robby answers. Cooky, too busy shoving bottles of rocket bourbon into his pants, doesn’t bother to follow up. 

Cut back to the ship, and we see something (what is that?) push through the security grid. This is our first sighting of the real antagonist. Illustrated by Joshua Meador (on loan from Disney) the ghostly malevolence of the creature is palpable. You wouldn’t want it storming your house. Given a choice between this monster and Geiger’s Alien, I’d go for the Alien; at least you can see it! 

Despite the fact the something clearly triggered the security grid, Jerry Farman exhibits the sort of lax security management that today results in corporations being held ransom for millions of dollars in bit coins. His offhanded “we’ll check the system over in the morning” will resonate if the reader has been on call overnight. It’s always better to check things in the morning, preferably when the day shift can assume responsibility for finding out what (or more likely who) fucked things up. 

Our invisible Robinson Crusoe now leaves footprints which the T-Rex from Jurassic Park would have been proud to claim. In time to the music it plods along. Has nobody really spotted giant footprints appearing outside the ship? Really, the security protocols on C-57D are appalling. None of this would have happened on Captain Kirk’s watch. Fortunately, our invisible interloper is purely out for an evening stroll. The ship just happened to be in its way that’s all. It tiptoes right on by. Oh wait…no, it’s going up the stairs. Maybe it just wants a peek inside, wants to see what the inside of a real starship looks like (since sadly the Bellerophon isn’t around anymore). A shocking scream interrupts Farman’s attempt to begin notional diagnosis of the fence issue. It’s the scream of a man that sounds like a girl. Not a ‘I hit my thumb with a hammer’ scream. More along the lines of the ‘I just caught my foreskin in my zipper’ scream that Ben Stiller’s character in There’s Something About Mary exhibited with such gusto.

Fade to Morbius, sporting a utilitarian uniform that would have impressed George Orwell. One wonders why, with the lurid art scattered around his house, Morbius can’t dress himself better? Clearly Alta has all the verve and taste. Her stodgy old pop looks like Mr. Hankey come to life. He’s having a good ‘ole ding dong with Adams about the perils of Krell technology and who’s going to control it. Altaira is hanging around in the background, like an EA who doesn’t know if they should stay or go whilst their SVP is being lambasted by the CEO. Adams wants United Planetary supervision of the Krell’s remains (naturally); Morbius has set himself up as judge and jury of mankind’s inability to be allowed such power. The inference here is that humanity still hasn’t matured out of its philosophical diapers, so can’t be allowed to play with expensive toys like home assembly robot kits. Morbius will dish out tit bits of knowledge like rewarding patient cats. It’s the old Monarchy vs. Democracy argument: if Morbius is a good and just governor of the Krell’s legacy, then humanity shall benefit. But if he’s an a*****e with a Zeus complex, then the best Earth can hope for are automatic storm shutters that can be patched into your home assistant. 

The verbal thumb wrestling is interrupted by Adams’ comms. It’s Farman. Luckily the girly scream was not the result of a ripped foreskin. Unluckily it was due to Chief Quinn being ripped limb from limb and having his body “plastered all over the communications room”. Given the choice I’m sure Quinn would have still gone for option B - that being the less painful way to go. Farman tells his boss that the rest of the crew were “outside on guard duty”. This is like a chef telling the diner that their steak has been incinerated because all the cooks were watching the stove. Ostrow and Adams (with Nielsen’s expression the most sombre I’m sure it would ever be in any film he ever made) leave for the crime scene. Alta, sensing that her time as a prop has finally ended, slides into the office. She’s wearing a fetching black number that may be sequined; lovely! Her dad, hands literally wringing, utters his line, “It’s started again.” On my DVD we’ve entered scene 18 of 25, more than two thirds into the movie. Now for some action?!

Back at the ship, it’s clear that Quentin Tarantino isn’t directing (c’mon Quentin, you know you want to do a remake). We don’t get to see the blood-soaked communications room (boo). However as recompense we do get to see what Doc. Ostrow can do with plaster of Paris. Quite a lot as it turns out, he’s a man of many talents. He lugs a mysterious bag onto the desk in front of Adams (interrupting Adams checking out the a*s of a passing crewman. Well, it has been a long voyage). The bag is unwrapped and - ta da - Ostrow has made his Capitan a footstool for his birthday. It didn’t come out exactly right, but turn it upside down and you’ve got a place to prop your feet as well as a handy hook to hang your blaster from. It turns out to be a cast of our invisible fiend’s foot. Adams looks impressed, “that’s fantastic” he says. 

Ostrow gives Adams a lecture on Darwinian evolution that would have made Spock proud [Trek Alert: perhaps Ostrow is McCoy/Spock combined?]. The creature is a paradox: four footed yet bipedal; ground dwelling yet arboreal. The plot thickens. 

Cooky gives Robby an alibi, so he’s off the suspect list. Who, or what, is left? 

Quinn’s burial is short, the definition of burial at sea. He will be part of Altair IV henceforth. Morbius, Robby and Altaira (bedecked in elfin cloak and hood) have been watching from the sidelines. Alta once again demonstrates an acting will of iron to stand doing absolutely nothing whilst two other actors have a scene. It’s incredible. She just strikes a pose and stands in the background like an attractive tree. She could stunt double for a shop window manakin. Robby is doing the same, but he’s just in character. Anne Francis takes inaction, perhaps un-acting would be a better description, to a new level. Morbius now gives a plot spoiler of epic proportions. Really this is awful scripting. He basically tells us that he’s the one causing the attacks. The next one will be “more deadly,” he says. Adams demands to know how he knows that. “I seem to visualize it,” Morbius replies. 

Note to self, if you cause a horrible monster to attack and kill a spaceman don’t tell the captain of the ship that it will happen again (except worse!). Adams takes the premonition as an ultimatum; fundamentally ‘get the hell off my planet’.