With the year 1999 fast approaching, the more literal-minded of us might be tempted to dismiss Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s Space: 1999 as some kind of failed projection into the future; but more important than the year itself is the symbolic significance of 1999—the dawn of a new age, and the great unknown of a new era about to unfold before us.

With this in mind—and clearly influenced by Stanley Kubric’s and Arthur C. Clarke’s enigmatic 1969 MGM film 2001: A Space Odyssey—Gerry and Sylvia Anderson began to shape a new science fiction television series that would become the most expensive production to date in the history of the medium. They were aided in their efforts to establish the foundation of the new series by the core members of their creative team, George Bellak who would write the first episode before leaving the series; Christopher Penfold and Johnny Byrne who would serve as Story Consultant and Script Editor respectively (as well as writing the bulk [and some of the best] of the first season episodes); their stars, Martin Landau (Commander John Koenig) and Barbara Bain (Dr. Helena Russell) who had considerable input; Director Lee Katzin who also had considerable input and succeeded in creating a believable moon base community in the series’ premiere episode; and their Special Effects Designer/Director, Brian Johnson; Production Designer, Keith Wilson; and Music Director, Barry Gray.

Conceived as epic in scale, and budgeted at a then mind boggling $275,000 per episode, filming on Space: 1999’s premiere episode, Breakaway, began in November of 1973, with the debut of the series to follow almost two full years later in September of 1975.

Premiering to great anticipation by science fiction fans starved for something new after the demise of Star Trek six years earlier, Breakaway was generally well received, but the episodes that followed in the next couple of weeks were of such uneven quality, failed to showcase their seemingly remote characters in a way that audiences could quickly identify with, and so different from anything else that had preceded them, that the series almost immediately took a nosedive in the ratings. Unfortunately, these early episodes—far from representative of the series as a whole—were used by most critics in reviewing Space: 1999, creating an impression of the series in the media that fails to hold up to scrutiny, but that somehow persists in the minds of much of the viewing public to this day.

Space: 1999 also received its share of blows from the scientific community. Rather than accept the nuclear explosion that propelled Earth’s moon out of the planet’s orbit as the dramatic device it was, literal minded critics railed on about the unbelievability of the premise. The force required to free the moon from Earth’s gravity would be of such a magnitude that the moon itself would be shattered they claimed. They also complained that it would take years and years before the Alphans would reach the nearest of the alien planets they visited each week.

Had these critics been watching more closely, they would have seen that Space: 1999 addressed this problem in episode three by having the moon pass through a "black sun" (black hole) in space, thus severing forever any reasonable hope that the Alphans might one day return home to Earth, and exposing them to worlds heretofore only imagined. In addition, it’s made clear in the series that the events depicted in each episode aren’t happening one week apart, but sometimes months and months from the events of the preceding week’s episode, with years of story time passing in a single season and additional warps in space propelling the moon and the stranded Alphans even further into the unknown.

But what about Terra Nova, the first planet the Alphans visit in the episode Matter of Life and Death after being torn from Earth’s orbit but before traveling through the black sun? Have you ever heard the saying, "Too many cooks spoil the stew"?

In Breakaway it’s established that a rogue planet is approaching Earth’s solar system just close enough for a manned expedition. By the end of the episode, as the last contact with Earth fades, signals from Meta are increasing as the newly freed moon approaches. While Meta was originally intended to be the first alien planet the Alphans made contact with, interference from ITC’s Abe Mandel forced a change in the storyline. Unhappy with the script for the second episode in production, Matter of Life and Death, Mr. Mandel insisted that the episode be changed so that it could be presented later in the series, rather than (as he perceived it) as a weak follow-up to the more satisfying and exciting Breakaway. Consequently, what once had been the reachable-from-Earth planet Meta was suddenly rechristened Terra Nova (New Earth, one of the most stunning of the Keith Wilson-designed alien landscapes created for this or any other series or film). In addition, minor dialogue was adjusted to hint at previous adventures, and a storyline that introduced Dr. Russell’s husband Lee—previously believed lost on a space mission and presumed dead, but now suddenly returned to Moonbase Alpha as an anti-matter being—lost much of its impact and reason for being.

What might have been a wonderful device to give us insight into the character of Dr. Russell was now diminished by interference with the plans of Chris Penfold and Johnny Byrne for how the series would progress. Unfortunately, this type of interference from the American production office became a pattern throughout the run of the series, and can generally be attributed to most of the lapses in continuity or intelligent story telling that would befall the series on occasion during it’s two season run.

Though off to a shaky start (much like the earliest episodes of the later Star Trek: The Next Generation), Space: 1999 found its rhythm. Over the course of the remaining 24 episodes of the first season all the elements gelled and the series improved dramatically, even while answering that other haunting criticism, that the characters were "wooden"—human equivalents to the puppets that populated many of the Andersons’ previous series such as Thunderbirds and Stingray.

While contractual obligations with Martin Landau (who would later win an Oscar) and Barbara Bain (a then three-time successive Emmy winner) ensuring them a large percentage of screen time left little room for growth and development of the series’ secondary characters—with the notable exception of co-star Barry Morse’s masterful and wonderfully endearing portrayal of Professor Victor Bergman—what many perceive as "wooden" acting is actually superior acting of a caliber and with a subtlety not generally found on weekly television. Space: 1999’s first season, with few exceptions, is a canvas of subtle performances painted in small moments rather than broad strokes, the stuff of films rather than weekly television, performances that involve the viewer, sometimes forcing him to think and consider the motivations of the characters beneath what might at first appear as ambiguous or restrained actions. Rather than three-dimensional cutouts, these are "real" and complex characters who, just like people in one’s everyday life, aren’t completely obvious, and don’t wear their emotions on their sleeve.

Like a puzzle with many layers, or a piece of fine art in which one constantly finds new details and levels of appreciation over time, Space: 1999 generally answers its "wooden" acting and other criticisms with aplomb. This is especially apparent in some of the smaller moments from various episodes, such as when Commander Koenig fights back tears as he is forced to give an order to detonate charges in Collision Course, even as he knows that by doing so he is almost surely condemning his friend, Eagle pilot Alan Carter, to certain death. Barbara Bain, who came in for the most serious criticisms in regard to the series’ acting, turns in some wonderful moments throughout, perhaps no more so than her elated participation in the birth and early hours of Moonbase Alpha’s first newborn, Jackie Crawford, in Alpha Child. She especially blossoms during the second season after her character, like the rest of the Alphans, has largely adjusted to her fate on the runaway moon.

Though some call it "thinking man’s" science fiction (while others call it virtually insipid), most of the episodes of Space: 1999’s first season are at least thought provoking and certainly stylish, visually stunning, and well produced. For some reason, Space: 1999’s greatest crime in 1975 seemed to be that it wasn’t a rehash of Star Trek. While Captain Kirk and crew often seemed to assuredly patrol an already settled stretch of the cosmos—much as a navy ship might a familiar stretch of the open seas—Space: 1999 offered us something different.

Where the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise in Star Trek had seemingly vast resources and prior experience in space to draw upon, the personnel of Moonbase Alpha—cast adrift on a rogue moon they couldn’t control, without warning or resources to deal with the situation—were essentially helpless and completely unprepared for their journey. Rather than act, they were acted upon, passive by necessity, and often at the mercy of an uncaring universe. There are no pat answers in the universe of Space: 1999, and often there are no eleventh-hour solutions. Just like real life, sometimes things come to pass, leaving the Alphans to wonder what it all means and to ponder their place in the scheme of things. To a largely American audience raised on western cowboy-style shoot-‘em-ups masquerading as science fiction (from Buck Rogers to Star Wars and beyond), the hallmarks of true science fiction, that existential, philosophical, and metaphysical What if?, What might happen? and What’s it all mean? quality seem to have escaped notice, or to have little basis for appreciation by the masses unless reduced to the level of soap opera. Consequently, those who "get" Space: 1999 will probably always be a loyal but select minority in the fan populace.

While the U.S.S. Enterprise wasn’t exactly a Love Boat to the stars, in contrast to Moonbase Alpha it was downright cheerful. Though Alpha (thanks to the masterful talents of Keith Wilson and Brian Johnson) looked sumptuously stylish (and still does nearly 25 years since it was initially designed), the Alphans’ situation could be considered positively depressing to the casual viewer.

Post "breakaway", the universe that unfolded before the reluctant castaways of Moonbase Alpha was eerily silent, mysterious, strangely indifferent, and sometimes horrifying. Like the influence of the monoliths in 2001, again and again there were hints that some kind of cosmic intervention was taking place, as though the Alphans’ journey might not be an accident at all, and that perhaps all would be revealed in time. It never was.

While the development of Space: 1999 was clearly influenced by 2001, the series succeeded in creating its own mood. Sometimes that mood was quite eerie and foreboding—a far cry from some of the other fare hitting television screens in the sometimes vacuous 1970s. As mentioned before, Space: 1999 premiered well and then rapidly declined in the ratings, but according to articles in Variety from that period, the series actually bottomed out and then started a steady rise back up in the ratings, and was actually doing quite well later in its run, sometimes winning its time slot in several all-important markets, and certainly with numbers respectable enough to warrant production of a second season. Instead of taking encouragement in these rising (and by then perfectly respectable) numbers and trusting in the efforts of the series’ creative team, Abe Mandel and company at ITC’s New York office felt that drastic measures should be taken to better tailor the show to the tastes of the all-important American audience; and so, pressures were applied to influence the direction of what was to be called (behind-the-scenes anyway) "Series 2"—if indeed there was to be a Series 2 or second season at all.

With the marriage of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson at an end, Mrs. Anderson ended her duties as Producer of Space: 1999 and left the series behind. Her contribution was missed. Fred Freiberger, who had been responsible for producing the third and final season of Star Trek, was hired as Head Writer to "Americanize" and "save" the show. Based on his viewing only eight episodes from the previous season (in light of his new position and the task he was about to take on, that he viewed just one-third of those episodes available to him is positively shocking), and clearly wanting to make his mark on the series and perhaps redeem himself after the failure of Star Trek while he was at the helm, Mr. Freiberger (now promoted to Producer in the absence of Mrs. Anderson) ordered sweeping changes, with little regard for what had already been established in the first season. Little did he know that his efforts would serve to alienate the core group of fans who had stuck with (or returned to) the series, and indeed, that his efforts would have just the opposite effect than those ITC was hoping for.

Casting continuity aside, Mr. Freiberger’s list of drastic changes included replacing the dramatic and impressive nerve center of Moonbase Alpha, Main Mission, with the much smaller and less impressive Command Center. (To be fair, this change was facilitated by the fact that the breathtaking and cavernous Main Mission set was difficult to light properly, and had been the source of numerous [and unacceptable] production delays during the filming of the first season.) Indeed, with few exceptions, the whole of Moonbase Alpha became a permanent set, with the same stretch of corridor reappearing week after week, and the Power Room set (across the corridor from the Medical Center set on the sound stage) redressed to whatever the needs of each week’s script might require. In addition, a Weapons Section set and surface-mounted laser guns were added to augment Eagle defenses. The Alphans would be passive and virtually defenseless no more.

Most glaring was that an entire forward section of the Eagle spaceship set was removed entirely, creating a conspicuous mismatch between the miniature Eagle and full-sized set, and ignoring the configuration that had already been established on the series throughout the previous 24 episodes. Unfortunately, probably due to the time constraints of getting the series completed on schedule after a late go-ahead from ITC, this general lack of concern for continuity or willing suspension of disbelief would grow in the coming season, even to the point of furniture pieces that had already been established on the moon base suddenly reappearing on alien spaceships.

The press releases of the time claimed that the series’ budget had actually increased, but we were certainly feeling just the opposite in viewing the episodes that unfurled before us. Gone were the wonderful guest stars of the first season (Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Joan Collins, Margaret Leighton, Leo McKern, and Roy Dotrice to name just a few). Space: 1999 lost something in the conversion. Certainly it lost its epic scale, but more than anything it lost its contemplative, thought provoking qualities, and the mood that made it distinctive and kept its core group of fans loyal and growing in number. To some degree, however, this was offset by the fact that the series was now more attractive and accessible to younger viewers, or to viewers who simply didn’t want, or couldn’t appreciate, the challenging and sometimes ambiguous and thought provoking storylines from the previous season.

Further changes to the series involved the addition of more colorful and varied Alphan uniforms (modifying the originals designed by famous avant garde fashion designer Rudi Gernreich), and the unforgivable exodus—completely without onscreen explanation of any kind—of major recurring characters such as Barry Morse’s Victor Bergman, Main Mission Controller Paul Morrow (Prentis Hancock), and Computer Division Head David Kano (Clifton Jones). (To get a sense of how this affected the audience, imagine showing up for work after a vacation only to find the office remodeled and some of your trusted coworkers missing, with newer, completely unfamiliar people in their place—but even more strange, no one you do recognize seems to have noticed or acknowledges the changes [quite Twilight Zone really]!) Anton Phillips reprised his role as Dr. Bob Mathias in only two episodes of the new series, and Zienia Merton (Sandra Benes) appeared only sporadically before leaving the series entirely. Nick Tate as Alan Carter (one of the better fleshed out of the secondary characters, and an impeccably sustained and charismatic performance by Mr. Tate) was slated for replacement, but when his overwhelming popularity became clear to Mr. Freiberger, the character was reinstated.

Along with Mr. Freiberger’s intent to better humanize the remaining characters—which he actually succeeded in doing for the most part—new characters were added to the revised format. Tony Anholt was cast as Italian Security Chief Tony Verdeschi, and Catherine Schell was cast as Maya, a playful, intelligent, sensitive, and exotically beautiful metamorph from the planet Psychon who joined the Alphans after her home world was destroyed at the end of the first episode of the new season.

Mr. Anholt and Ms. Schell both succeeded admirably in their new roles—particularly Ms. Schell, who is much admired by most fans of the series, even those who don’t particularly care for the second series or the general silliness of her character’s frequent Abe Mandel-requested rubber-suited alien creature transformations. Maya was a woman for the times. Capable, charming, confidant, and endearing, while at the same time called upon to use her "art of molecular transformation" to save her fellow Alphans on many an occasion. Like Lindsay Wagner’s Jaime Sommers character in The Bionic Woman (which also debuted in 1975), Maya was a heroine depicted in the early stages of the feminist movement who didn’t have to sacrifice her femininity in the least to be competent at her job and a valued member of the Alphan community.

Unfortunately, many fans in the Star Trek camp, who could recite the meaning of Gene Roddenberry’s IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations) even while they failed to understand or apply it, wrote the character off as a token alien, as Space: 1999’s answer to Trek’s Mr. Spock. (It didn’t help that Mr. Freiberger also made her Alpha’s Science Officer—a job title she shares with that most famous of Vulcans.) Maya, as performed by Catherine Schell, was so much more. In Ms. Schell’s lovely and capable hands, even the most banal of scenes became something special to be relished.

The jarring changes and uneven script quality of the second season (which at its best could be brilliant), and the direction of the series away from thought provoking dramas toward at times near-Saturday morning children’s fare, left many viewers confused and feeling somewhat betrayed. Those who had stuck by the series throughout the previous 24 episodes seem to have found the changes too jarring. Those who never connected with the series in the first place saw little reason to give it a second chance. The second season ratings soon began to slide, and it was reported in industry papers later in it’s run that if Space: 1999 continued for a third season, it would be without the services of Mr. Freiberger. According to actor Martin Landau, Space: 1999 came very close to being picked up for a third season, but in the end the series was abandoned because its budget was just about the same amount of money that ITC needed to promote its new big screen theatrical release ventures. 

It should be pointed out that while in retrospect the addition of Mr. Freiberger to the mix seemed a recipe for disaster, this most vilified of behind-the-scenes production personnel seems to be (unfairly in this writer’s opinion) considered by many fans as the scapegoat for all the ills of the series. To put the weight of Space: 1999’s decline on one man’s shoulders is to fail to understand how television production (which is by definition collaborative in nature) works. Mr. Freiberger was doing what he was hired to do. He was making changes to the series at the direction of his employers to better conform to the tastes of the times (and remember, this was an era in which comedy was king, and in which the likes of Charlie’s Angels and Three’s Company were just about to hit the airwaves, giving credence to the oft suggested notion that Space: 1999 in its first season guise was simply ahead of its time). Did he make the right choices overall? In light of the series’ declining ratings and ultimate cancellation, clearly not. Was he entirely to blame? Not at all.

Judged on their own merits, it is difficult to find fault with some of the Series 2 episodes—the season opener, The Metamorph, in particular. That the quality of the second season was inconsistent should be considered in light of what the production team was up against. So late into the game did they get the go-ahead to start shooting that on four separate occasions the production company was forced to film two episodes simultaneously just to meet American air date commitments. It must have been pure chaos. The pressures of working in this kind of environment for nearly a year would have been staggering, and quality would have suffered in just about anyone’s hands. Surprisingly, the series’ Brian Johnson-directed special effects—always the one area that invariably came in for the most lavish of praise by even the most critical of Space: 1999’s detractors—actually improved during the second season, and once again viewers were treated on a weekly basis to effects that pre-dated Star Wars and still hold their own over 20 years later.

Though Mr. Freiberger alone seems to be blamed for the death of the series, if one were to remove the over-reliance on (quickly predictable) rubber-suited Maya transformations to save the day, Series 2 stands up rather well in retrospect. Though not as epic in scale as it’s predecessor, the second season is still visually glorious and has held up surprisingly well over time. The cast is quite attractive and appealing, and they have much more opportunity to showcase a wider range of emotion during the second season. Commander Koenig and Dr. Russell in particular now have a playfully sophisticated and acknowledged (rather than simply hinted at) romance, and Barbara Bain seems to shine in the second season to a degree that wasn’t even hinted at in the first.  In addition, human interaction throughout the base outside the confines of one's job function seems better represented. This increased depth of characterization has it’s followers, and while still in the minority, to a sizeable number of fans, the second season of Space: 1999 is actually preferable to the first.

Remembered just as much for what it might have been as for what it was, 21 years after its cancellation Space: 1999 is still remembered and supported by a large and growing number of loyal fans. Infrequent television screenings and video releases have introduced the series to a generation of new fans, while the Internet in particular has been a blessing to the series, connecting fans from all over the world who at times admit to having felt isolated and quite alone in their devotion and regard for the series. New fan-produced web sites and memorabilia continue to appear on a regular basis. Conventions and fan clubs and fanzines continue on. George Eichler in Baltimore, Maryland continues his superb work with the Space: 1999 Fan Activity Network (S9FAN). All in all Space: 1999 has answered its critics quite successfully, even if evidenced only by the fact that it continues to attract (and retain) the growing and loyal fan base that it does.

Robert Ashley Ruiz, all rights reserved.