Disastrous Demise: Martin Landau, 1928-2017

We've spoken before about the group of actors who belong to a certain distinguished club (which exists only in my own mind!) due to their having appeared in one or more big-screen disaster movies between 1970 and 1980. Dubbed the (oh so creative) Disaster Movie Club, or DMC, these performers nearly always hold a special place in my heart, though in today's subject, Martin Landau, the interest level extends even beyond that. So today we supply a photo essay on a man who enjoyed a more than 60-year career before the camera and saw his share of career highs and lows.

Landau, who was born on June 28th, 1928 in Brooklyn, NY, was initially a young editorial cartoonist for the New York Daily News until he opted to devote his attention to acting. A member of The Actor's Studio from 1955 on, he learned his craft alongside James Dean and Steve McQueen, among others. After appearing on TV in several 1950s series (including more than a few westerns), he landed on the big-screen in 1959 with a supporting role in Gregory Peck's Korean War drama, Pork Chop Hill.

That same year he made a rather indelible impression in Alfred Hitchcock's wildly successful chase drama North by Northwest. As chief henchman to the movie's villain James Mason, Landau's piercing eyes and sneering demeanor contained an element of simmering homosexuality and even jealousy of the leading lady Eva Marie Saint's relationship with Mason.

Surprisingly enough, he wasn't utilized in the cinema again for three years despite his (perhaps too creepily) effective performance in Northwest. Instead, he was relegated to television, busily playing a variety of guest roles until he was granted a co-starring role in the low-budget 1962 western Stagecoach to Dancer's Rock. He then became part of the imbroglio that was 1963's Cleopatra, whose adulterous stars made the movie an international sensation (even as it lost money thanks to the extraordinary waste of money during production.)

Regardless of his searing blue eyes, Landau often found himself cast as various ethnic types from Mexicans to Apache Indians. After working on still more episodic television, he was cast as Chief Walks-Stooped-Over in the unwieldy (and unfunny) big-screen action comedy western The Hallelujah Trail (1965.) That same year he played a rather understated Caiaphas in George Stevens equally bloated The Greatest Story Ever Told.

In 1966, he guest-starred on The Man from U.N.C.L.E. as Count Ladislaus Zark, a Dracula-like enemy agent working out of Transylvania. No one, not even Landau, could have known what this otherwise run-of-the-mill job was actually foreshadowing with regards to his career.

Still active in movies, Landau portrayed one of Steve McQueen's vicious enemies in 1966's Nevada Smith. As one of three men who killed McQueen's parents over some gold, he was hunted down and cornered in the movie's climax.

Next for Landau was a role on what would become a legendarily iconic TV series, Mission: Impossible. He'd very nearly been cast in Desilu Studios' Star Trek as Mr. Spock, but when Leonard Nimoy wound up in that role, he took part in Mission as part of a secret agent team who foiled various enemy plots each week, usually through elaborate schemes that kept viewers glued to their set in curiosity or fascination.

Also on board Mission as the team's principle device of feminine distraction was Landau's real-life wife (since 1957) Barbara Bain. Landau was initially meant to be a featured guest star, but wound up appearing as a regular, albeit on a year-to-year contract rather than for five years like his costars. For her part, Bain was a breakout star from the show and won three consecutive Emmy awards. (Landau was nominated each year, too, but never won.)

While appearing on Mission, Landau was a "master of disguise" and portrayed all sorts of characters in his efforts to thwart various dictators and evildoers. He and Bain had stayed through the axing of the series' initial star Stephen Hill, but when his replacement Peter Graves was to get a substantial raise in the fourth season and Landau wasn't, he walked and Bain walked with him. Ironically, his replacement on the show was Leonard Nimoy.

Landau had intended to do movies during his stint on Mission, but had little to no time to do that, so his first Hollywood film in four years was 1970's They Call Me Mister Tibbs! with Sidney Poitier, a follow-up to the superior In the Heat of the Night. Forthcoming offers were slim after the ugly parting with Mission and he found himself in low-rung fare like A Town Called Hell and the Jim Brown Blaxploitation movie Black Gunn.

He and his wife next moved to England in order to take part in what was intended to be a significant sci-fi program, riding the wave of increased interest in Star Trek, which took off in syndication. The 1975 show was Space: 1999. Expensive, elaborate, but troubled, the series was considered a bit too erudite and subdued in its first season, so it was revamped for its second, but thanks to jumbled distribution rights in the U.S., it never quite caught on enough to stay in production any further.

Among the projects he worked on during this lean time was the Canadian-made exploitation thriller Shadows in an Empty Room (which starred Stuart Whitman, seen here, along with John Saxon.)

Then, along with a couple of TV-movies, came the film that earned him a spot in the DMC, 1979's Meteor. Meteor starred Sean Connery and Natalie Wood as two folks attempting to deal with the title object, which is on a collision course with Earth and which keeps sending bits of debris down ahead of time, wreaking havoc. Landau chewed the scenery as an aggressive general with his own ideas of how to proceed. The movie tanked at the box office and was an embarrassment to most of the folks involved with it.

Now Landau was being hired to ham it up in low-budget horror and sci-fi flicks with titles like Without Warning, The Return, Alone in the Dark and The Being.

An unquestionable nadir, however, came when he and Bain appeared as bad guys in a television movie called The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan's Island, one of several TV-movies reuniting most of the cast of Bob Denver and Alan Hale's silly, but enduring, sitcom which had proven a big hit in syndication. This was one hell of a long way from Alfred Hitchcock.

Plenty of middling fare followed, be it TV-movies or straight-to-video clunkers along with occasional episodic TV. Another low-point came when he (with "prestige-billing" if you can have such a thing on a project like this) played the villain in a 1987 s-t-v movie called Cyclone, which starred The Fall Guy bimbo Heather Thomas.

All was not lost, however. in 1988, Francis Ford Coppola selected Landau for a key supporting role in his auto industry drama Tucker: The Man and his Dream, starring Jeff Bridges and Joan Allen. It was the first outright Jewish part that the real-life Jewish-born Landau had ever been cast in. But more importantly it earned him an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor! Kevin Kline won that year for A Fish Called Wanda, but at least it was a shot of much-needed industry recognition of his talent. 

Next Landau, who'd also been working as an acting teacher to the likes of Jack Nicholson and Angelica Huston among many others, was cast in the 1989 Woody Allen ensemble film Crimes and Misdemeanors. He was working alongside Huston and others including Claire Bloom. Again, Landau found himself among the Best Supporting Actor Oscar nominees, though this time he saw the statuette go to Denzel Washington for his heartfelt work in Glory.

Now on the way back up after more than a few lean, questionable years career-wise, Landau and his wife Bain stunned everyone by divorcing after 36 years of marriage, much of which was spent working together in various projects. Their two daughters also worked in the industry; one, Susan Landau Finch, behind the scenes and the other, Juliet Landau, as an actress.

When Tim Burton was looking to cast the role of down-on-his-luck Hungarian actor Bela Lugosi, most famous for having played Dracula, in his upcoming biopic Ed Wood (1994), he could scarcely have found anyone better than Landau. Landau knew firsthand what it was like to enjoy success in movies only to fall out of favor and wind up in cheap drek. Only Landau had the great fortune (and talent to back it up) to emerge from the wreckage and reestablish a viable, remarkable career as an actor again. He received a third Best Supporting Actor nomination for his heavily-researched portrayal.

This time he was not denied the coveted statuette. Having stepped before the TV cameras as far back as 1953, he had worked for and with many of Hollywood's most notable names, yet fallen to having to earn a buck against some of its least-talented fly-by-nights. To come back and earn the industry's top accolade was a highly satisfying event. Landau continued to act as recently as this year, though he was eighty-eight years old. He even racked up three Emmy nominations as Outstanding Guest Actor in a variety of shows in the 2000s, having never been nominated as a guest before during all the decades prior. 

A heart attack claimed Mr. Landau just a few weeks after his eighty-ninth birthday. His series Mission: Impossible and Space: 1999 both still retain substantial cult followings while his movie roles endure, earning him new fans with every viewing.

Credits Where Credits Is Due...

Life keeps not only catching up with me but overwhelming me! So in order to keep things rolling around here I'm going to break away a bit from the usual and offer up a rundown of my favorite television show opening credits. These aren't necessarily the ones I say are THE BEST, they are just the ones that are my own favorites for reasons I will likely state as we go along. Apologies in advance if any of these contain pop-up ads or worse yet make you sit through a brief one in order to hear see and hear them.

10. Considering how nutso I am over guest stars, I really have to include the credits sequence from Arthur Hailey's Hotel (1983-1988) even though the lush, elegant music isn't really my usual bag. (I tend to go for more exciting sounds.) Each week after the regular cast was depicted, the animated elevator grids would cough out an array of guests and I couldn't wait to see who they would be each time.

9. Lost in Space (1965-1968) is a series I wasn't into very much at all. While I recognize some of the creativity and chemistry within the relationship, I just never could get fully on board with the Dr. Smith (Jonathan Harris), Will Robinson (Billy Mumy) and Robot (Bob May) triumverate that dominated the bulk of the episodes. However, the season three theme music is another story. The first two seasons featured a great little bouncy number with animated figures of the cast. The third season was far more zestful and dramatic, thus I love it. (Both of the themes and all the ones for Irwin Allen's other 1960's series - Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, The Time Tunnel and Land of the Giants - were composed by the masterful Johnny Williams, who later became film composer John Williams, possessor of five Oscars.) If I'm being honest, I actually like the season two opening music from Land of the Giants best of all these, but couldn't locate a video of them...

8. As I've mentioned many times here over the years, one thing any show can do to win favor with me is to show the photos of the guest stars within the opening credits. Virtually all of the Quinn Martin produced programs did this, often with the person's name being spoken by an announcer (which earns extra credit!) My favorite of all is the theme for Barnaby Jones (1973-1980), with the shifting puzzle pieces coming together and that week's round up of actors being announced over some jazzy, but ominous, music.

7. The British import Space: 1999 (1975-1977) was always a little difficult to find in the U.S. because it came in syndicated rather than picked up for regular viewing on a network. This meant a wide variety of time slots across the country, many of them horrible. The first season had a grand, foreboding (at times amusingly pretentious - such as when the series' stars are shown) credit sequence that morphed midway into a funky disco ditty as scenes from the current episode were flashed on screen. (This last aspect was a nod to the credits for Mission: Impossible, a show on which Martin Landau and Barbara Bain costarred previously.) For the second season, the show was overhauled and a more action-oriented, faster theme was called for. I like them both, but the second one is my favorite!

6. When the theme song from Hawaii 5-O (1968-1980) came pounding on, 1960's viewers knew they were about to be swept away to a whole new place, one they could only hope to visit someday. (Never mind that there was far more crime depicted on the show than ever truly occurred there at that time!) Innovative editing and a can't-miss piece of music from Lalo Schifren combined to make an arresting opening sequence.

5.  It's been played a thousand times, tweaked here and there and parodied, but it's still tough to beat the wonderful, throbbing opening theme music for Mission: Impossible (1966-1973.) I happen to dislike spoilers, so it's always hard for me to watch these before the episode because I'm afraid they'll give something away (though the plots were often so complex/complicated that one could never truly figure out what was happening from the snippets alone.) The version shown here is what I consider about the best one musically. Below it, I attached a version I like because Peter Graves looks good, Leonard Nimoy and Lesley (Ann) Warren are in it and the hunky Sam Elliott is there, too, but the music has been messed with and isn't as effective,

4.  I enjoyed watching Falcon Crest (1981-1990) for a significant part of its run, but it was never quite as much of an addiction as a few of the other prime-time soaps. It did, however, boast a really great opening theme, complete with the type of posed cast visuals I have cherished ever since I was a little boy. This rendition below is probably my favorite, if perhaps the strings do get just a bit shrill at times. Like many long-running shows, the credits and music would be tweaked and not always in a good way. This grand theme would eventually by season nine be fiddled with and synthesized until it completely lost its luster.

3.  Dallas (1978-1991) was on for a long time and had a truly wonderful theme song (that also endured quite a few permutations along the way.) The early seasons kept the all-important sweep and grandeur as the camera swung across the city and then the iconic three-part cast photos came into view. As the years went on, the music went through periods of twang and disco and the key and tempo were augmented. When the redux came out a couple of years ago, they made the surprising (in this day and age of highly limited credit sequences) to use the theme music (slightly trimmed), but didn't show the cast's faces along with the names. They later, much to my relief, remedied this, creating a great sense of nostalgia for longtime fans of the show.

2.  No series was as important to my childhood than The Big Valley (1965-1969.) I only saw it in reruns (weekdays at 4:00), never in its original run, but the appeal of the upstanding, closely-woven family to a latchkey, only child like myself was staggering. I never got unduly attached to eldest son Jarrod (Richard Long), though I liked him okay, but I admired rough & tumble Nick (Peter Breck), swooned at the sight of Heath (Lee Majors), stood in awe of Audra's (Linda Evans) beauty and downright worshiped Victoria (Miss Barbara Stanwyck.) After two seasons, the intro was revamped and made more visually and aurally appealing. In a strange occurrence, the credits for seasons two and four (my very favorite one) have been removed from view in syndication, with season one and three credits put in their place. The difference between three (seen below) and four is minor indeed, but it's mystifying nonetheless. (Beneath season three's opening I give you RARE season two credits from Germany with visuals that haven't been seen on American TV in decades. I used to think I was crazy for ever thinking I'd seen them as a kid, but I couldn't forget scowling Peter or Linda and Barbara in those different clothes and hairstyles.)

1.  As long as I live I will never forget the night that Dynasty II: The Colbys (soon to be known simply as The Colbys) premiered in the fall of 1985 (lasting until 1987.) I was so curious as to what the opening credits would be like, especially knowing that still considerable stars such as Charlton Heston, Katharine Ross, Ricardo Montalban, Barbara Stanwyck and others were going to be featured in them. As the visuals began, I was immediately horrified because the musical trill was exactly like that of the parent series Dynasty and it looked as if someone had made the heinous decision to use precisely the same music for both shows! However, it swiftly became clear that they had cleverly used only the opening notes and that an all-new, very sweeping theme song had been developed for the spin-off. I loved it then and I still love it now!

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And now for a little Bonus Material. I also wanted to share a couple of my favorite TV miniseries themes. Now you know that if I love TV series credits that show the actors' faces, then I'm bound to love miniseries ones in which the parade of stars is typically even longer! Take a look at the run down of celebrities on The Moneychangers (1976), one of my favorite miniseries, and see if your jaw doesn't drop! (EDITOR'S NOTE:  The video I had embedded here turned out to be incorrect and I cannot get the one I want to load in...  Please visit this link for the right opening sequence!)

Another lovely miniseries theme (with a parade of stars sporting some hooty facial hair) comes from 1981's East of Eden. This one came to my attention after the music was used in a figure skating program by Michelle Kwan and it quickly became a favorite. This program, by the way, contains a positively feral performance by Jane Seymour. (I could NOT get this to embed for some reason. So this one is linked, too. Sorry!)

Speaking of Jane Seymour, Queen of the Miniseries, the follow-up to The Winds of War, War and Remembrance (1988), featured what I consider to be the most incredible performance she ever gave. I love the music (the same for both miniseries), but put forth the second program because I just cannot do Ali MacGraw in the first one (whose role was inherited by Seymour for the sequel.) Remembrance was a staggering undertaking, a truly mammoth production, that ended up not performing up to expectation and helped to spell the end of the epic miniseries made for network television, despite being of very high quality.

Back to soaps for a minute, the long-running Knots Landing (1979-1993) always had a rather bouncy, upbeat theme that was fine. But when the show came back for season nine, a crazy new approach was taken in which the music was slowed down and pretentiously dramatic black and white ("oooooh!") disembodied heads of the cast members struck meaningful poses over an arty painted backdrop. The rendition below contains a 30-second preview prior to the credits, but it was the best example I could find. After horrified reactions from the public, the faces were redone in color the following season and then the experiment was over with the theme reverted to an up-tempo one for the rest of the series' run.

Another of my other favorite TV themes was the one for Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994), but I didn't include it in my countdown above because they cheated a little by using music made for the feature films rather than something created especially for a weekly television show. In case it isn't clear by now, I tend to prefer rousing music over more sedate themes.

Similarly, when the underwater sci-fi series Seaquest DSV (1993-1996) came about, I was enthusiastic about its credits which borrow some of the ooh-ahh bombast of Trek, but pair that with multiple cast visuals (including the underused Stephanie Beacham in a woefully un-glamorous role.) The show floundered (pun intended) in the ratings and went through a couple of cast and concept overhauls before its demise.

Who remembers this hooty animated program from 1972-1974, Wait Till Your Father Gets Home? I can remember watching it sometimes as a pre-teen and enjoying it. The family dynamic (pudgy husband, short-haired wife, doofus older son, bespectacled daughter, younger son) almost looks as if it could have partially inspired The Family Guy! Even the house is vaguely similar.

An honorable mention when it comes to favorite TV themes of mine is the catchy one for Maude (1972-1978), starring the incomparable Bea Arthur. This is the first season rendition, but I'm including a later version afterwards because some of the visuals of Bea were changed (note how she became more glam as it went along!)

And finally... This is by far the weirdest set of credits in this post. I had just the vaguest, vaguest memory of seeing the Saturday morning kids show Lidsville (1971-1973) as a tyke. Several years ago, I got a DVD set devoted to the works of Sid & Marty Krofft and an episode of the show was on it. Needless to say I went completely nuts over them and watched them over and over (and over!) You just cannot beat crazy stuff like this from the '70s... and they are close to two minutes long! Can you imagine such a thing today?!

Let Me Give You Some "Space"

Most fans of sci-fi television know the drill when it comes to Star Trek (nowadays dubbed Star Trek: The Original Series in the wake of the many reincarnations and sequels that have since come forth.) The series ran for three seasons on NBC, always to dismal ratings and under the constant threat of cancellation. Only some significant letter writing campaigns kept it on the air for as long as it was. Then, in syndication in the early 70s, the show finally found its audience and became a pop culture phenomenon!

British husband and wife producing team Gerry and Sylvia Anderson had been making various entertaining TV shows for years including Thunderbirds (featuring big-headed marionette puppets on elaborate sets) and my own personal favorite, Captain Scarlet, whose puppets were far more proportionate and lifelike and, to be honest, sorta hot! They also did a live-action sci-fi series called UFO (famous now for the handsome, hairy men who wore funky, often sexy, costumes.) UFO was faltering in the ratings and was about to be retooled into a version that had people stationed on the moon. When, due to a variety of reasons and events, this didn’t pan out, the seed of the idea remained and the Andersons went on to produce Space: 1999.
Wishing to capitalize on the success that Star Trek enjoyed in its second run, while retaining the grandeur and immense style of the hit film 2001: A Space Odyssey, they formed a series called Space: 1999. Knowing that casting the principal roles with American actors would help ensure success in the United States, they went with husband and wife team Martin Landau and Barbara Bain. (This was over Sylvia’s protests, who would have preferred Robert Culp and Katherine Ross, if she’d have gotten her way.)

Landau and Bain had enjoyed great success on the U.S. series Mission: Impossible several years before (Bain won three consecutive Emmys for her role of Cinnamon Carter!) until exiting the show in a rather nasty contract dispute after three seasons. Landau had gotten the opportunity to flex his acting muscles by playing a variety of “types” while undercover on the show and was considered a key part of the series' success. Bain was unbelievably chic, stylish, sensuous and beguiling as the "distraction."

While the show was all business, the pair seemed to display some degree of levity, fun and amiability off screen. While the contract dispute did hurt them somewhat, especially Bain, they retained that sense of star quality they’d enjoyed from M.I. and landing them as the leads on Space: 1999 was considered quite desirable.

There were various concerns with Space: 1999 from the beginning whether it be the financing, the imminent closure of the studio in which it was to be chiefly filmed (Britain’s Elstree Studio) or conflicts regarding the tone and direction of the material. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, who had worked together on so many projects, saw their marriage end before the second season (or, as they are referred to in the U.K., series) was filmed.

The show concerned a radioactive blast that knocks the moon out of earth’s orbit and sends it hurtling through space, encountering other planets as it goes. A facility with over three hundred employees, Moonbase Alpha, continues to run in its mostly self-sufficient way though the people know that they will eventually have to depart the moon for a habitable planet. The trouble is, there’s always something wrong with each planet they encounter whether it is the atmospheric conditions or hostile forces and so on.

Commander John Koenig, played by Martin Landau, was the head of Moonbase Alpha. Unlike Star Trek, in which most officers and crewmembers respected Captain Kirk and deferred to him in most cases, Landau faced, mostly at first, a disbelieving and, at times, hostile contingent of fellow survivors. Most did not hesitate to call his decisions into question or complain openly if they didn’t like his plans. Incidentally, Landau had actually been first choice to play Mr. Spock on Star Trek: TOS!

Doctor Helena Russell, played by Barbara Bain, was his chief ally and implied love interest. With all the problems the Alphans encountered and endured, she had her hands full trying to come up with cures, solutions and suggestions. These two figured prominently in most episodes, particularly the first season. Bain, who had been one of TV’s most sophisticated, chic beauties, was beginning to see the effects of a lifetime of heavy smoking, not helped by a muted makeup scheme.
For one reason or another, perhaps because the Andersons were used to dealing with puppets (!), the Landau’s posed in any number of awkward, stilted poses for publicity purposes (because you always sit like this on a buggy on the surface of the moon with your helmet off!) and continued, especially in the case of Bain, to deliver stiff, sedate, overly reverent types of performances that, again mostly in the case of Bain, have an almost hypnotic effect that can put less alert viewers to sleep against their will! Bain would whisper a great many of her lines and seemed to have something against blinking or moving hurriedly.

Professor Victor Bergman rounded out the top trio. Played by Barry Morse, he was the scientific expert who frequently came up with ways to solve the many issues that befell the moon as it found itself nearing other bodies in space. He was something like Mr. Spock, but with more charm and ease. (The actor chose some creative body language, sometimes practically lying on the furniture!) Morse was famous in the U.S. for his role of Agent Gerard, the man chasing David Janssen’s The Fugitive, many people never realizing that he was British all along and only used an American accent for that show!

Eagle (the small craft that were capable of flying away from the moon) pilot Alan Carter (portrayed by Australian Nick Tate) was another prominent crewmember whose rough and ready persona was a refreshing contrast from the other, mostly subdued, people around him. A virile man with an in-shape physique and a hairy chest, he was often shown in action sequences.

Like Trek, the series sought to populate itself with multinational and multiracial personnel. There were Asian and African cast members featured along with European ones from various countries, though the bulk of the people involved were British. One of the key people from season one was Paul Morrow, played by Prentiss Hancock. Handpicked without an audition by the Andersons, he affected an endlessly dour, “who farted?” expression that wore quite thin before long. A bit lighter in attitude was Zienia Merton as Sandra Benes, a shorthaired Burmese actress, who managed to inject a tad more humanity into her role. My favorite lady on the series was Suzanne Roquette as Tanya Alexander, though she hardly ever had anything to say or do. I called her “Greta Garbo,” for reasons that ought to be obvious from looking at this snap of her with some other crew people. The grey-haired gentleman above her was a prominently featured extra who I liked to look at, too. In a bit of sloppiness, they once cast him as someone else on a planet, hilariously doubting that anyone would know the difference even with that distinctive hair!

That first season had an opening credits sequence that recalled Mission: Impossible in some ways. While M:I began with a match being struck and lighting a fuse as scenes from the upcoming episode flashed before the viewer, Space’s credits commenced with an imposing drum roll followed by snippets of the episode to follow. Season one had a theme song that was majestic and funky all at once, perhaps disjointed, but entertaining all the same. Every episode ended with a simple, haunting series of notes played over the final bit of dialogue, giving the show an elegance and a feeling of eerie isolation.

There was a lot of money poured into the production. The main mission center was a spacious, two-tiered set with multitudinous equipment, screens, lights, etc… and was connected by sliding doors to Landau’s private office. The sets were a monochromatic scheme of white and taupe with limited lighting. (It was not rare to see Bain or Landau sitting at a desk writing or otherwise working as a Joan Crawford-esque beam of light hit part of their face while the rest was very dim!) Upon first glance now, it seems tacky in places (especially those awful blue viewing screens and some of the plastic furniture), but in its day, this was a sleek looking set up.

The aliens, as was the case for decades in film and on TV, were often campy and ludicrous looking, but Space: 1999 did tend to be pretty gruesome at times, surely more so than Trek ever was. One episode, more than any other, was downright unsettling. In Dragon's Domain, a tentacled, hideous monster keeps dragging people into it, swallowing them as they scream in fear, only to spit out their eviscerated remains a few moments later! Many fans recall this episode above any other as having scared the bejesus out of them as children.
Bain’s personal friend Rudi Gernreich (creator of the infamous topless women’s bathing suit!) was enlisted to create the Moonbase Alpha uniforms. The nearly colorless beige costumes, consisting of a pair of flared trousers and a scoop-necked tunic (Landau's had a collar) with one colored sleeve (usually yellow, red or blue) were clearly meant for tall, svelte astronauts, but too often wound up on paunchy, out of shape people. Bain, who always looked like a million bucks on Mission: Impossible was certainly done no favors by the uniform. It didn’t help that her beige hair looked like someone sculpted it out of modeling clay and formed it onto her scalp. The Alphans were also give cool little ray guns that fit, u-shaped, over the fingers.

The upside was that the pants were so clingy in the crotch area that any man who put them on ran the risk of showing his goods to the viewing audience at home. Tate was one of the primary actors who continually wound up letting everyone know precisely where his penis was resting during long shots (so to speak) on the show.

Another regular costume, that of the hospital patient, was a set of filmy, blue silk pajamas. These gave many a guest star the chance to show off his chest and, in some cases, his crotch. The backers of the series included an Italian firm and there was, in return, supposed to be a regular Italian character. However, the casting of Tate (in which that character’s name and nationality were altered) meant that, instead, there would be a series of Italian guest stars. These gentlemen had their voices dubbed by, typically, the same English-speaking man, lending an odd quality to their performances. (The voice-dubber did have an Italian accent, however.) The man shown here -bottom right- was one of the Italian featured guests. He had three nipples (!) and that was not part of the storyline, just a strange biological fact disclosed when he took off his shirt on camera.

The special effects eschewed the blue screen ones that were most popular at the time. Instead, miniatures were filmed against a black velvet backdrop and filmed in a way that was extremely polished and elegant, much like 2001: A Space Odyssey had been done. This was no coincidence as 1999 utilized some of the same effects crew as Kubrick’s film had employed. This meant that images would be sharper and more distinct, but that individual elements could not overlap (i.e. – a ship could be seen approaching a planet, but not on top of it, visually.)

Twenty-four episodes were shot before the series was put on the market for sale. This presented a problem because U.S. networks were reluctant to air a show of which they had zero creative control. The season was a done deal from the start and, thus, no changes (“retooling”) could be enforced the way things sometimes are done midstream with other network shows. It eventually became a programming debacle because the show was sold in syndication to individual stations, some network, most independent, so it aired all over the place time-wise and often in an unreliable fashion.

Due to various technical and logistical reasons, a couple of years passed before the show was seen on television! The austere, intellectual, often low-key, show was completely at odds with what was being shown on U.S. TV at that time. The show, like 2001, used gorgeous classical music such as Beethoven’s Adaggio or Mars, The Bringer of War, to underscore the more dramatic or awe-inspiring sequences. Compared to a lot of televison sci-fi from that general era, it was a class act and also quite serious.

When the first season underperformed in many of the international markets, it was decided to bring in a new producer and punch up the show. Fred Freiberger, an American TV writer and producer took the reins (as Sylvia Anderson departed the show and her husband) and the program was given an overhaul.

Morse’s Dr. Bergman was out, with no explanation given. Also, the bulk of the main mission crew was sent packing, replaced by actors and actresses who (in my opinion anyway) offered absolutely no noticeable improvement or dynamics to the proceedings. A new male second in command appeared in the form of Tony Anholt as Tony Verdeschi, a dark-haired, fiery-tempered guy who figured in many of the plotlines. Tate (as Alan Carter) was intended to be let go along with the majority of his costars, but it turned out that (with 5000 fan letters a week!) he was one of the few people involved with the show who had any sort of fan base or following. He was retained after all and appeared in all but about six episodes of the full run of the series.
Another new character was created in order to add a sense of excitement and mystique to the show. Maya, a shape-shifting alien, was introduced in the first episode of the second season and swiftly made a part of the Moonbase Alpha team. Played by Catherine Schell (who had guest-starred the prior year as someone else), she was given distinctive makeup touches in order to drive home her alien roots. Her eyebrows had little nubs in a row that stood out, her ears were brown and she had sideburns that came in close to the front of her face. Some of these elements were softened before long to where she had normal ears and reduced sideburns, but she kept the funky eyebrows.
Schell was very successful in the role and gleaned a lot of new fans. Unlike the stoic Mr. Spock of Star Trek, she was a science officer with lots of genuine emotion and feeling. While it’s true that her powers were never really utilized to the extent that they might have been (more often than not, she would be something like a chimp or a bird, something easy for the producers to wrangle!), she nonetheless became a highlight of that second year, with Schell’s sensitive and astute acting playing no small part in that success. An attractive lady with a good figure, she was also used to add some glamour and sex appeal to the show on occasion. She and Anholt were depicted as a burgeoning romantic couple.
The entire look of the show was tweaked, with the costumes being augmented to include turtlenecks, more color, jackets, optional skirts for the ladies (I must admit I kind of liked that) and softer hair for Barbara Bain. She now sported a feathered, more relaxed ‘do. The cavernous main mission set was reduced to a fraction of its former size (one online reviewer snarkily referred to the new set as a broom closet, though it wasn’t quite THAT bad!) In lieu of the mannequin-like poses in the opening credits, the Landaus were now shown in motion and a far more throbbing, fast-paced theme was introduced. (I have to say I do love the second theme song, perhaps even more than the original one.)

Due to the shift in focus, as well as for budgetary reasons, the Landaus, while still maintaining their star status, were not always the chief protagonists in the second year, (there were several times in which two episodes were filmed simultaneously, with Landau and Bain filming one show while also doing bits of another, in which they would be less featured.) By now, they were becoming more and more disenchanted with the whole enterprise anyway. Landau bemoaned this new direction of the show and found himself embarrassed by some of the scripts. Bain, according to some sources, had always been rather difficult to deal with whether it had been her tardiness to the set or her acting style conflicting with the material or just general displeasure. It must be said, however, that both leads were very much committed to the series and its success, often arguing to preserve its integrity. Freiberger (who, whether justified or not, had earned the nickname “The series killer” because he oversaw the final seasons of Star Trek: TOS and The Six Million Dollar Man and then this program) saw to it that Space: 1999 became a far more conventional series. It was more action-oriented, more colorful, easier to understand and even had uncharacteristic comic bumps at the end of each episode, with forced humor taking the place of the eerie musical ending that once was in place.

In many ways he can’t be blamed because in TV Land, you have to give the people want they want (or think they want) and sometimes, the fluff is more readily accepted than that which is more challenging or intellectually stimulating. (I will say that now, despite the preponderance of trash TV and all sorts of mindless programming, there is an audience for shows that are of a higher quality. They just tend to be on specialty cable networks. Even with that said, we see cable channel after cable channel drop the good stuff in order to fill their line-up with utter junk… And shows that once were stellar, like, say, Inside the Actors Studio, which once interviewed many tremendous talents like Paul Newman, Gene Hackman, Meryl Streep and others, eventually began featuring the casts of The Simpsons, Will and Grace and Everybody Loves Raymond and acting geniuses like Brooke Shields and Chris Rock.)

I was sort of mystified by Space: 1999 as a child. I found it very creepy and strange, especially since I was used to the more colorful and accessible Star Trek. My favorite toys on Earth were my Mego Star Trek figures and the accompanying bridge playset. Mattel tried to get in on the act by introducing action figures of Commander Koenig, Dr. Russell and Dr. Bergman. They even had their own (flimsy!) Moonbase Alpha playset. I had Koenig and Russell, but was disappointed that they didn’t mesh with my Trek figures as they were of a slightly different scale.

There was lots of merchandising, actually, from lunch boxes to comic books to coloring books to bubble gum cards as shown below.
One Christmas, I got a different type of Space: 1999 toy, this one a highly detailed model of one of the Eagle crafts. It came with three small figures representing Koenig, Russell and Bergman. Thing was, when I unwrapped it, the box looked like it had been kicked across the parking lot or damaged in a truck accident or something. When I opened the box, everything was fine except the Helena Russell figure had one arm detached! I hated the fact that the figures were so cheap that their faces weren’t even colored in, but just plain peach tone all over, hair and all! Within days, Helena’s other arm came off!! I don’t want to offend anybody, but I really was not into playing with handicapped action figures. The toy began to collect dust. In researching this post, I saw the toy for sale on eBay and would you believe that the one for sale ALSO has a virtually paraplegic Helena Russell?! WTF?! I am reminded of the movie Boxing Helena, in which a man keeps taking off the limbs of his girlfriend in order to keep her within his control. Jesus…

Over the course of the series, particularly during season one when the budget went further, there were a number of notable guest stars, the greatest number of them being British. Jeremy Kemp, Ian McShane, Brian Blessed, Judy Geeson, Leo McKern, Sarah Douglas and Stuart Damon all appeared on the show. More notable, though were the appearances of Margaret Leighton, Joan Collins and Christopher Lee. Each of them was given long, albino-like hair, making quite a contrast from what they typically looked like at the time. Margaret played one seriously old lady. It was just about the last thing she did before leaving this world in 1976. Joan, in a short, pink, tunic, was done up in all sorts of shimmery eye shadow and with a headpiece that looks like it may have broken off of one of Liz Taylor’s from Doctor Faustus or The Blue Bird. Christopher’s face was painted with geometric makeup, accentuating his already angular features.

The producers had planned a third, albeit shortened, season and also a spin-off series for Schell’s Maya, but neither project continued. The plug was pulled and the moon was left careening through space in search of a home. (Incidentally, a lot was made of Isaac Asimov’s proclamation that the science behind the moon’s departure from Earth’s orbit was not feasible and that all of this was impossible. Really? I think that’s why it’s called science FICTION. Consider the stark reality of such programs as Buck Rogers in the 25th Century or Jason of Star Command! What about Star Wars?! Give me a break…)

In the wake of the show, Landau struggled to keep himself with a viable career. He worked in supporting roles in TV films and features, but they were low-rung for the most part. Bain had it even worse, working far less frequently and rarely starring. Perhaps the nadir of their careers occurred in 1981 when they were the villains in a TV movie called The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island, a dire mess that they surely must hope is never made easily accessible to the world. Both of them bounced back in time, though, especially Landau who went on to win an Oscar for Ed Wood! Bain worked in James Coburn’s final film, American Gun, as his wife. They continue to act even now. The couple, married since 1957 and seemingly so connected, divorced in 1993.
Fans of the show, those present at a convention anyway, got some degree of closure to the story when actress Zienia Merton appeared in a short film in 1999, in character and costume as Sandra Benes. The film, called Message from Moonbase Alpha, was scripted by one of the series’ writers and had her relaying the info that the moon inhabitants had finally been able to evacuate and relocate on a new home planet. Recent DVD releases have included this short film as a special feature.
In spite of a really spotty history and a lot of issues along the way, Space: 1999 continues to have a loyal fan following. While many fans dream of a remake, I have to ask them if they have ever seen some of the vomitous remakes of classic TV shows that have come about. In order for it to not be a calamity, it would have to be produced by people who really care about the material. Also, the world we live in doesn’t allow for much in the way of austere, intellectual and understated science-fiction, so a remake would likely be taking its cue from the dumbed-down, ramped-up second incarnation.