Time-Travel Romance on Film: Archetypes and Structures

WYN WACHHORST

• We are indebted to H. G. Wells not only for the notion of voluntary time travel but also for the image hy which we conceive it: a sunny, Edwardian gentleman perched on an ornate steam-age contraption that moves through time in much the same manner that a streetcar moves across town. This spatialized view of time, along with its Newtonian catechism, has in- creasingly gone the way of howler hats and high hutton shoes in the new world of Einstein and quantum physics. The accelerating paradigm shift in Western culture—the "reenchantment of the world," as some call it—has created a parascientific twilight zone that encroaches on hoth the natural and supernatural, making it ever more difficult to distinguish hetween fantasy and reality, let alone fantasy and science fiction. To what extent, for example, does a film like Our Town or The Ghost and Mrs. Muir imply time travel? Searching for critical essays on time travel in science fiction is something like Leonardo da Vinci getting together a bibliography on air transporta- tion. One finds a half dozen pieces which are little more than short, anno- tated reading lists or exercises on the logic of time travel. The situation is worse for discussions of film, there heing only two items that extend heyond a passing reference, and these are no more than scant filmographies grouped into arbitrary categories.' Although the offhand treatment of the suhject reflects the state of science fiction film criticism in general, time travel has only recently become a frequent cinematic theme, having increased by more than fiftypercen t relative to the rise in total science fiction films during the past decade.^ Using various criteria, which form the suhject of another essay, I narrowed the 207 entries in my near-exhaustive time-travel filmographyt o 51

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items that I considered solid treatments of the theme. In a sentence, my definition required that the film explore the implications of the theme itself as a major aspect of plot and character development. The 51 films that qualify under these rather rigid conditions fall into two obvious categories: contact with the past and contact with the future. The psychological appeal of the two is so different that they have more in common with other science fiction themes than with one another. Thus the narrowing of the discussion to the couple of dozen items that iVe called the time-travel romance, a form dating at least from Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King A rthur 's Court, written in 1889 and filmed five times to date. It is the structure of the time-travel romance, I will argue, that is archetypal to all tales of encounter with the past.

The Archetypes of the Time-Travel Romance The fundamental components of the time-travel romance are (1) a male time traveler who encounters (2) a female inhabitant of another time. Usu- ally the male belongs to the present and the female to the past, though there are variations—notably Time After Time (1979) and The Philadelphia Experiment (1984), which are less successful as a result, and The Time Machine (I960), which owes much of its appeal to the fact that Weena is encountered in an Edenic setting associated with paradise lost. It is interesting that even in Quest For Love (1971) where the hero moves sideways in time into a parallel universe,^ the incongruities of the alternate world still suggest the innocence of the past - a more feminine world, where Everest and the moon remain unconquered and heart surgery is unknown—a world, that is, with less compulsion to violate the heart or displace God, one where Kennedy is still president, Vietnam still an obscure country, and the last bit of innocence was not lost in the sixties. Archetypal to the time-travel romance, then, is an innocent, feminine world invaded by the omnipotent male time traveler. The limited knowledge and provinciality of past society itself reinforces the aura of innocence as does the pastoral emphasis in the films. But almost without exception, the heroine herself projects a wistful innocence, even ingenuousness. The ravishing beauty who has never heard of a kiss has always been a science fiction staple; but pristine naivet6 is particularly common to time-travel romance. "Where is this Con-nec-ti-cut?" asks Alisande in Connecticut Yankee (1948), eyes blinking in dumb-blonde fashion. "I do not understand you, but I believe you," says Weena to Wells's time traveler, speaking always in short, simple sentences. The heroine's innocence also implies the archetypal role of Daughter, enhancing the hero's paternal masculinity. In Somewhere in Time (1980), EHse's Svengali-like manager reinforces her daughter image. And Jennie is a little girl when she first appears to the painter in Portrait of Jennie (1949).

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Paradoxically, however, the heroine is also the Mother. Her innocence and her Edenic milieu suggest a childhood universe in which her transcendent mystique can then imply Motherhood. Her attunement to the hero's inner being—her unconditional love- reinforces this image. Helen's sensi- tivity transcends the shallow sophistication of her aristocratic family in Berkeley Square {\93>^). She empathizes with the time traveler's apparent confusion and defends him against the others, who fear his strange manner. When the Connecticut Yankee is condemned as an ogre, Alisande protests, sensing innocence in his eyes. And it is Fiona who finally welcomes Tommy to Brigadoon after all the others have shunned him. in Star Trek's "City On the Edge of Forever" (1967), Edith Keeler functions like a Reverend Mother, serving free meals in her mission, preaching world peace, shelter- ing Kirk and Spock, and treating them like mischievous boys. When the time traveler in La Jetee (1962) searches for his childhood memory of the girl on the jetty, he at first gets only fleeting glimpses of her—like small- child memories of mother; and in the end he asks to be returned "to the world of his childhood, and the woman who perhaps awaited him." And in Somewhere in Time, as Collier enters the 1912 hotel in search of Elise, the orchestra is playing—no joke—"1 Want a Girl, Just Like the Girl That Married Dear Old Dad." The image of the omniscient Mother is aided by the aura of mystery and transcendence surrounding the women encountered by time travelers. In Berkeley Square, allusions to Helen's psychic ability are borne out when she views twentieth-century images by looking into Peter's eyes. There is often a sense that the heroine's deeper self (perhaps the archetypal Feminine—Nature, the Great Mother, or the communal oneness of all)'' somehow "knows" that he is a time traveler without her individual consciousness knowing that she knows. Alisande has "a strange forboding" that she will not see the Connecticut Yankee again. In Twilight Zone\ "No Time Like the Past" (1963), Abby says, "Why do I get this feeling that you are on the outside looking in, or just passing by. . . . Who are you, Paul Driscoll, and where are you from?" And EUse's soliloquy on stage in Somewhere in Time implies a suspicion that Richard is not really there. Some films go a step beyond psychic awareness and suggest that the girl's vision encompasses worlds beyond the reach of even the time traveler. Fi- ona harbors the secret of Brigadoon (1954) into the second half of the film. In Somewhere in Time, when the girt meets the hero by the lake in 1912, having triggered his time trip as an old woman in 1972, she whispers, "Is it you?" Similarly, in "Poor Butterfly," a segment of Journey into Midnight (1969), the hero finds himself at a mysterious costume party, circa 1929, where he is approached by a girl who says, "I was afraid you wouldn't come." The girl in Portrait of Jennie, who hears the stars come out, is

342 Time-Travel Romance on Film herself the mystery from the first moment she appears out of the mist in Central Park singing her nonsense rhyme: "Where I come from nobody knows, and where I'm going everything goes." But the classic tale of a time traveler encountering a girl whose powers transcend his own is Twilight Zone's "The Trouble With Templeton" (1960), about a disillusioned man. Booth Templeton, whose only happy memories are of his wife, Laura, who died in her youth. Finding himself suddenly back in 1927, he encounters her in a speakeasy but finds her different: flirtatious, vulgar, and self-centered. At one point she slaps him and says, "Why don't you go back where you came from? We don't want you here!" His idyllic memories destroyed, he rushes out the door. The moment he exits, the raucous music, loud conversation, and laughter immediately cease, and all is silent and still. The smoke which had suggested gaiety a moment before now seems ghostly, while Laura's expression reflects her true nature: intelligent, full of sorrow and longing. Back in the present. Booth discovers that he has inadvertently pocketed some papers with which Laura had been fanning herself. It is a script entitled "What To Do When Booth Comes Back."' Laura had chosen the ultimate maternal sacrifice, risking all that remained of herself—her image in his memory—to destroy his obsession with the past. He thus picks up his life with new commitment. The autocentric aspect of this vision is important. Not only Laura but everyone seems centered on his life. All those in the speakeasy had apparently performed with an unquestioned sense of duty toward his well-being. Also important to the maternal aura is the benevolent, Edenic setting into which the time traveler arrives. Often an idyllic, pastoral landscape or some timeless structure, the setting suggests the lost insulation of childhood, or the static perfection of a world without conflict. (In the future- travel variant it is often an apparent Utopia.) It may be Camelot, a High- land village untouched by modernity, a lush, new Eden in the year 802,701, or a grand old hotel, sprawled across a manicured hill like a great white mausoleum. Rural, small-town America is a favorite: a bandstand, the old school house, laughing children, parasols, horsedrawn carriages, and highwheeled bicycles—Homeville, Indiana, 1881, in "No Time Like the Past." The post-holocaust present of La Jetee is particularly well chosen because it allows any past an association with paradise. But the first images of the past received by the hero of the film are subtitled "a morning in peacetime," a pastoral landscape dotted with trees, goats, and horses, roll ing into the distance; then come images of children, birds taking flight, a boat and oarsman reflected in still water. He walks with the girl down tree-lined paths, while the narrator adds: "He remembers that there were once gardens." The deliberateness with which these films seek to convey the

343 Wyn Wachhorst static and eternal is evident frotn the Seurat-like settings in Somewhere in Time, for which director Jeannot Szwarc made an extensive study of French Impressionists. In Portrait of Jennie, transitional views of New York City and Central Park are superimposed on a coarse, canvas-like texture, while La Jetee is composed almost entirely of still photographs. As opposed to the innocent Daughter/Mother/Mistress, attuned to a transcendent, communal reality, the male time traveler is the isolated individual ego par excellence. Alienated from his own time, he is disillusioned with his culture, his occupation, and/or his girl friend. He is the ultimate masculine principle, subduing time itself, but sacrificing all connectedness in the process. None of the time travelers in our sample have families. Four of them forsake fianc6es and girl friends in the present. Five are disillusioned with their occupations. Almost all the protagonists are in some way lonely victims of the depersonlized technological society—like the strug- gling New York artist who paints the portrait of Jennie, or the post- holocaust prisoner in La Jetee. In Twilight Zone's "Miniature" (1963), Robert Duvall is committed to an asylum for his obsession with the daily routine of a tiny woman who he insists inhabits an elaborate nineteenth- century doll house in a museum. Released from the asylum, he sneaks back to the museum and finds the woman weeping tears of loneliness. Through the glass he tells her that he too has been alone all his life, that together they could understand, help, and love one another. The guard later peers into the house and sees the carved wooden figure of the woman sitting in the parlor looking adoringly at a second carved miniature—Duvall. Alienation from modern culture ranges from the deliberate harangue in "No Time Like the Past" to the subtler din on domestic and corporate complaints in Brigadoon's posh New York bar, or the ubiquitous radio in Somehwere in Time, blaring jazz from Collier's Fiat convertible as he banks amid Chicago's skyscrapers, or—muted in the background during his traumatic awakening in the present—singing its call letters and cheer- fully jabbering the traffic report. Often the desolation of the present is con- trasted to the personal warmth of the past through literal metaphors. In Somewhere in Time, after Collier is torn from the past, he wanders the present-day lakeshore, empty and gray, strewn with windblown garbage. More extreme is the bombed-out Paris of La Jetee, or the barren, wind- howling planet where Captain Kirk encounters the Guardian of Forever. In all cases the male is the isolated, questing, rational man confronting the irrational, while the female, who carries the mystique of somehow "knowing" the truth, is caught up by great and incomprehensible forces, with no clear control of events. Without exception, the male is an aggressive master of the conscious world but bounded by his own skin, while the female is essentially innocent and passive but attuned to a larger reality. So far, then, we have the traveler as the powerful but alienated modern, await- 344 Time-Travel Romance on Film ed by the transcendent innocent, the Good Mother/Daughter, in the Garden of Eden before the fall—be it the fall of society into the fragmented, depersonalized world of modernity, or the fall of the individual from the enchanted world of childhood. The desire to return to Paradise is obviously basic to most of the elements so far described. The message of most time- travel romance, however, is that you can't go home again. One of the leading spokesmen for this edict was Rod Serling. Of the 156 Twilight Zone episodes, 39 (25%) manipulate time in some way, 21 of which qualify as solid time-travel tales. Of the 10 scripts centering on the question of going home again, 6 answer in the negative, 4 of which were written by Serling.* One of these, "Walking Distance" (1959), generally considered the best of all the Twilight Zone episodes, differs from the time- travel romance only in its substitution of the protagonist's literal parents and childhood for the mistress/ Mother in the Garden. Martin Sloan, a world-weary advertising executive encounters his hometown, Homewood, exactly as it was during his carefree summers as a boy. He confronts his parents who only perceive him as a lunatic; and when he approaches himself as a child, wanting only to tell the young Martin to savor his youth, the frightened boy falls off a merry-go-round and breaks his leg. As evening falls, his father, who has realized the truth, finds the man and tells him with quiet feeling that he must leave, that there is "only one summer to every customer." Reluctantly, Martin returns to the present—with a limp he got from falling off a merry-go-round when he was a boy.' Most authors seem to agree with Serling. The typical time traveler is forced out of Eden with the same inevitable finality that we sense in Some- where in Time when Collier watches Elise recede, as if she were at the en- trance to a tunnel through which he suddenly plunges backward. "One cannot escape time," concludes the narrator of La Jetee as the prisoner- hero, running toward the girl on the jetty, is shot down by an agent from the present. Again, the strongest statement is made in "The Trouble With Templeton," when Laura slaps her husband and says "Why don't you go back where you came from? We don't want you here!" E. J. Neuman, who did the script, explains, "I've often toyed with the notion of'You can't go home again,' and it should have been 'You shouldn 't go home again, ever,' which is what I was trying to say here."* To go home again—to seek unconditional love— is to deny the reality of confiict, compromise, and limits on the self. The dilemma, of course, is that individual identity depends for its very existence on confrontations and limits. To return to Paradise, in other words, is to annihilate the uniqueness of self; it is the very image by which we conceive of death. As with Twilight Zone, the Star Trek episode usually considered the best is a time-travel story ("City On the Edge of Forever") that rejects the longing for Home.' McCoy's dive through the time portal results in the annihilation not only of 345 Wyn Wachhorst his own present but the present of the entire universe as the crew knows it. To restore the world, the Mother figure (from whom the individual separ- ates to achieve identity) must be destroyed; that is. Kirk must permit the woman he loves to be killed in order to escape the nostalgic world of the 1930s and restore the isolated individuality ofthe Enterprise, adrift in the void of space. This association of the idyllic past with death is evident in the static, eternal mood ofthe pastoral settings. Not only does the past in Somewhere in Time suggest a French Impressionist painting on a museum wall, but the great white Grand Hotel itself sits on a rise like an "elegant, neoclassical crypt," as one reviewer described it. With its lights ablaze, and the dance music of 1912 floating down to the lake, it is reminiscent of filmsdepictin g the Titanic in the North Atlantic night. The sense of death is certainly en- hanced by the fact that from the time traveler's perspective the people encountered, especially the girl herself, have long been rotting in the ground. In Portrait of Jennie, the girl's death is communicated more strongly by the fact that it is she who materializes, ghost-like, in the present, first appearing in the dead of winter amid the barren trees of Central Park. The implications are even more direct in The Time Machine, where it is the time traveler's own world that is deceased, its accumulated knowledge crumbling to dust in his hands. Its true survivors, moreover, are the zombie-like crea- tures who live in darkness deep underground.'" The very same technique that suggests death, however, can also commu- nicate the hope of renewal and rebirth. While the pastoral scenes in these films may suggest the stasis and perfection found only in death, they are also lush, often green, filled with children, and set by fountains, streams, lakes, and oceans—the symbols of life. And if the Grand Hotel is the Ti- tanic, it is the frail vessel of the soul, afioat for an instant on the surface of fathomless eternity. The series of grainy, still photographs that make up La Jetee may have the archival quality of a dead past, yet these halted images of the lovers—beautiful, spare moments evoking the fragility of happiness— seem always on the point of movement, so that when one of the pictures comes alive during the seven seconds of actual movement in the film, and the girl awakens at dawn to the sound of birds, and simply blinks and smiles, there is a feeling of arrival and a sense of new beginnings and infinite potential. "To awaken in another age," says the narrator, "is to be born again fully grown." In Somewhere in Time, the dissonant minor chords that accompany Collier's ordeal through the night resolve into a sustained, multioctave major as he wakens in the soft sunlight of 1912, detecting a distant whinny and the clip-clop of hooves. Reinforcing this positive side of the paradoxical vision of Home is the spirit of affirmation and optimism radiated by the awaiting female. It is the

346 Time-Travel Romance on Film nineteenth-century frontier belief that all things are possible, now withdrawn from geography to metaphysics, and from outer to inner space. The mood is captured by Edith's optimism about man's future in "City On the Edge of Forever," tbe singing and dancing in Brigadoon, or Jennie Apple- ton's energetic love of life in Portrait of Jennie. "Everything is possible! Everything!" exclaims Abby to the despairing hero of "No Time Like the Past." The most common affirmation is that love iiseXf—unconditional love—makes all things possible. In many cases the time trip itself succeeds through the power of love. In the last line of Brigadoon, the village sage explains to the hero why the town reappeared before its time: "If y' love someone deeply enough, anything is possible!"" This unconditional love is indispensable to the maternal aura. In spite of her love, the heroine of Berkeley Square convinces the time traveler that he must return to the future for the sake of his own happiness; wben he does, she herself dies. Tbe same altruism is present in Edith's Christian mission in "City On the Edge of Forever," Elise's life long seclusion in Somewhere in Time, and Laura's self-sacrifice in "The Trouble Witb Templeton." Tbe search for such love is a quest for the soul mate, a total stranger to whom one is linked by forces beyond space and time. The time-travel romance enables tbe hero to make tbis discovery in a literal sense. "The strands of our lives are woven together and neither the world or time can tear them apart," Jennie tells tbe painter. "Of all the people who've lived from world's end to world's end, there's just one you must love, one you must seek until you find bim." Less wordy is tbe encounter by tbe lake in Somewhere in Time, when Elise whispers to tbe time-traveling stranger, "Is it you?"'^ A variation on the theme is tbe discovery of the girl's "counterpart" in the present, as in Quest For Love, or Conneticut Yankee, where Alisande's contemporary counterpart winks at Bing Crosby, signifying tbat tbe lyric be crooned in Camelot, "love once, but always and forever," is literally true. Tbe omnipotent, all-pervasive power of such love is demonstrated in "Poor Butterfiy," where tbe girl's longing for her fianc6 is so intense tbat even tbe present day owner of his car is drawn into tbe past. Tbe car, in fact, seems to function as one of those concrete objects vested with mystical powers, so often found in fantasy. Tbe magical swords, rings, sboes, and boxes that the heroes of fairy tale come to possess represent the same unconditional love, tokens of the ultimate parental benevolence of tbe universe. Tbe powers of evil may also use magic, but black magic, like Satan, must pool its forces and conduct great campaigns; wbite magic, like God, is tbe final reality and can attend to the infinite and tbe infinitesimal simultaneously. In tbe time travel romance the mysterious objects that carry tbis kind of implication are often gifts or mementos from the heroine: Alisande's locket (Connecticut Yankee), Helen's Egyptian Crux Ansata

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{Berkeley Square), Laura's script ("The Trouble With Templeton"), Jen- nie's scarf {Portrait of Jennie), or Elise's antique gold watch {Somewhere in Time). Richard received the watch in 1972, gave it back to Elise in 1912, who gave it back to him in 1972, etc. To ask, as many smug critics did, where the watch came from in the first place is like asking the same question about time itself. For the same reasons that critics discard so many transcendental films like junk mail while fixating on pseudo intellectual French contrivances, they strangled Somewhere in Time before it could benefit from word-of- mouth. One of the more obvious findings,resultin g from a content analysis of 168 reviews of the film,wa s the degree to which opinion was polarized.'^ The significance of this fact should become clearer as we discuss the psy- chostructural context of the fourteen elements mentioned. The Structure of the Time-Travel Romance We begin with the polar tension, variously conceived as masculine / feminine, power/innocence, individualization/communion, reductionist/ho- listic, yang/yin, allocentric/autocentric, left-brain/right-brain, etc., that ultimately structures all genres, and represents finallyth e fundamental duality of human existence. ''• Archetypally, evil has always been equated with the first term in each of the pairs mentioned—with the quest for individual power and self-sufficiency apart from the group or the natural order of things. '5 Paradoxically, this individualization is also the process of life itself, beginning with the separation from the mother, then postpubertal self- assertion, and continuing in a lifelong expansion of identity. Man's dilemma, then, is that he must find some way of accepting his own nature—the individualizing thrust that tears him away from his primal ex- periences of the Good: womb. Mother, the personalized universe of childhood, and the collective projection of these in images of a preindustrial idyllic Garden.'* Heuristically modeled, the paradox of the life cycle is this: the prepro- gramming of the psyche ordains an individualizing process of increasing rational consciousness, during which the boundaries of the self are estab- lished through confrontation with external reality. At the same time, however, this limited self finds meaning within a transcendent context— through harmonious relationships with a loved one, family, community. Nature, or God. Both tendencies achieve self-definition, one by contrast, the other by identification. Both have a cancerous potential: total uniqueness suggests an omnipotence cut off from all contexts of meaning; total identification results in a loss of individuality comparable to the infant's inability to perceive itself as distinct from its mother. The one is pure in- strumentality with no inherent meaning; the other contains all meaning

348 Time-Travel Romance on Film

with no remaining function. The ultimate imperative, therefore, is toward an equilibrium between these two heuristic poles of the human condition. Mythically, they represent paradise lost and paradise to he regained— innocence and power. Alone, each is tantamount to zero; together, they are the dream of infinity, the idea of God. At the heart of all art is the attempt to resolve this isolation/communion paradox. The rhythmic tension between the two—like a singer's vibratto, or the wave/particle enigma itself—may he the principle structuring every aspect of our reality." The function of the superhero has heen to resolve this isolation/communion, power/innocence paradox hy somehow emhodying hoth polar extremes simultaneously.'* It could he shown that this applies in varying degrees to every type of hero, from Wells's time traveler and Captain Kirk to Shane, Babe Ruth, and Christ. Looking at The Time Machine and Shane, for example, hoth the Eloi and the homesteaders live in an innocent, Edenic community that is threatened hy the Morlocks with their machines or hy the cattlemen with their emotionless hired gun. The price of innocence (feminine, communion) is helplessness against the power of evil (masculine, individualization). The paradox is resolved hy the time traveler (or Shane) who is innocent a«(i powerful—the absolute perfection of both polar extremes rather than a flawed oscillation in the real world of limits. There is always the implication that Shane, like Christ, is both man and god; and the time traveler, of course, is literally unbounded by time. Yet at the same time they are innocent hecause they use their power for communal ends, gaining the unconditional love of the community and/or the girl. This is God's love hefore the Fall—the Mother's love before separation and alienation. The hero thus gains the larger context of helongingness and life meaning without heing displaced from the center of that context; that is, he individualizes without separating; he "gains the whole world" without "los- ing his soul."" Within this polarity, however, the emphasis of the time-travel romance differs from that of the western. In the time-travel romance, the innocent, communal pole of the paradox is represented hy the girl, though she is usually encountered in an Edenic setting as well. The symholism is therefore more direct and literal: she is feminine, she could be the Mother. But more importantly, the aura of mystery and transcendent perception that surrounds the girl also attributes to her a deeper power, beyond that of the time traveler himself. Her own transcendence of time is always implied, and is often overt, as in Berkeley Square and Connecticut Yankee. In "Poor Butterfly" and "The Trouble With Templeton," the time trip seems more in the hands of the woman; and in Brigadoon and Portrait of Jennie the woman herself is the traveler. Thus, while mastery, power, and individualization are in the foreground of the western, the final reality transcends the

349 Wyn Wachhorst hero of time-travel romance, often making him slightly ridiculous and ultimately tragic. There is thus a temptation to conclude, within the larger context of polar resolution, that the fan of the western is more concerned with separation and power, while the fan of time-travel romance is drawn to images of communion and innocence. The situation, however, is more complex. If the polar tension we have been discussing is basic to the human condition, such that the psyche is programed to seek an elusive equilibrium between power and innocence, individualization and communion, etc., then an im- balance toward one pole or the other might be less fundamental in deter- mining personality differences than the degree of polarization itself. The polarization would be most extreme in adolescence, when the desire to escape maternal bonds and all other limitations on individuality come into conflict with a strong, if covert and unconscious, desire to remain in Eden. During adulthood the polarization is narrowed—the tension mitigated— with the accumulation of defeats and frustrations by which we learn our limits. Many of us, however, reject any sense of limits and remain, in varying degrees, lifelong adolescents—pining for Eden, yet lusting for god- hood. Only the dead escape this polarization; the difference between adult and adolescent is one of degree. One might picture the polarity as a seesaw with the fulcrum at the border of the conscious and unconscious. When one pole is up (conscious), the other is down (unconscious). The greater the polarization, the longer the seesaw, the more violent the swing, and the more intensely conscious or deeply unconscious the respective poles. Deeply unconscious images tend to carry a religious power, while intensely conscious ideas become obsessive; from either source, one's activity is bound to extremes, which have in common a desire to purify the world, to cleanse it of all conflict, compromise and complexity—of all limits on the self. Depending on which pole is overt, one finds at one extreme a megalo- maniacal drive to power with fantasies of innocence, and at the other, passive withdrawal with fantasies of power. As an example of the latter, time travel provides an ideal model for power fantasies, for in many cases the hero's very innocence—his own longing and love—give him the power to transcend time. Moreover, no sacrifice of normal life is required; one need not, for example, be hermetically sealed into the purified womb of the spaceship Enterprise, one need only fmd a hotel room on Mackinac Island, or a boarding house in Homeville, Indi- ana. Furthermore, like Bing Crosby in Connecticut Yankee, who tells Ali- sande that he is no wizard but "a human being . . . just one of the boys," one's power becomes limitless without having to alter the real self; the time trip simply limits everything elsel The sardonic critics who called Chris- topher Reeve an awkward, boyish Clark Kent in Somewhere in rime failed to grasp that this role is exactly the time traveler's role; he is a Clark Kent

350 Time-Travel Romance on Film who needs never change to Superman. My contention, then, is that the time-travel romance appeals to the more polarized person, indulgent at both extremes, but whose power fantasies are encompassed within a larger vision of communal innocence. The western is for power seekers with fantasies of innocence, while the time-travel romance serves those who cling to innocence with fantasies of power. In the western, a powerful hero becomes innocent by identification with nature, and by defeating the very sort of evil that his own power implies. The western is about the salvation of power: the "powerful innocent." The time-travel romance, on the other hand, is about the salvation of innocence; an innocent hero proves his power as the "innocent omnipotent." At their extremes the two poles meet and are iden- tical; that is the key to their resolution, one achieved only in the fantasies of the sharply polarized mind.^" Is the alleged defense of the time-travel romance finallyonl y a confession of neurosis? Extreme polarization is indeed a maladjustment to the real world, but as the source of creativity and innovation it is also the means of transcendence, the inverse relationship of neurosis and transcendence being simply another example of the paradoxical, holographic nature of our reality. More important is the fact that the real world itself has become a neurotic projection of the Scientific Revolution, desperately in need of reenchantment. The linear, reductionist world view of the last half millen- nium, which has erased smallpox and taken us to the moon, has now reached a point where its one-sided perception of reality begins to devour itself in a nightmare of fragmentation and depersonalization.^' Like the contemporary fascination with drugs, the occult. Eastern religions, and the parascientific, the time-travel romance is an attempt to reenchant the world, to regain a sense of belongingness, to reinstate the magical, autocentric universe of the child and the primitive—while retaining the reality projected by rational, individualized consciousness. Unlike pure fantasy, science fiction always tosses some sort of lifeline to the shore of reality. It may be thin as a spider's strand but it enables us to ask, "Is this possible? CouWthis ever happen?" In this sense science fiction is less withdrawn than fantasy, which lacks the compulsion toward reenchantment in our consen- sus reality. Science fictioncare s about the possibility of rea/transcendence "out there"; therefore, it forever toys with the gaps in the paradigm, the paradoxes at the center of the atom or the edge of the universe. Though it is neither possible nor desirable to undo the Scientific Revolution, the ever- sion now evident at the borders of physics and astronomy promises to restore some of the balance. In the process, our reality is nudged in the direction of time-travel fantasies, leaving most film critics in the backwash, along with Wells's crude machine and Newton's watchwork world. A culture that prefers sex to love, or action to vision, in its entertainment is perhaps in a collective middle-age crisis. Cinematically, Road Warrior is 351 Wyn Wachhorst its Porsche, Blood Beach its rehellion. Reds its indiscriminate clutch at relevance. Ordinary People its confusion, and Gandhi its purest image of the Good. The increased attention to the time-travel theme, the universal celehration of E.T., and the fact that science fiction films account for a larger percent of the hox office than ever hefore suggests that the cinema reflects the growing vision of renewal. In the celluloid dreams of an ever more polarized world, science fiction fantasies hecome the myths and par- ahles of our time. Just as E. T. was not just for the kids. Somewhere in Time was not intended for incurahle romantics. Nor was it finally ahout time travel. Even to say that it was ahout the reenchantment of our watchwork world seems itself mechanical. Best to say that it was simply ahout a watch—that exquisite antique, which, when opened, seemed to release the first music of the film. Like the magical gifts of fairy tale, or the scarlet rihhons of folksong, it came we "will never know from where."

Notes This paper was originally presented at the joint meeting of The American Culture Association and the The Popular Culture Association. Wichita, Kansas. April 24. 1983. 1. See Edward Connor. "Of Time and the Movies." Films in Review, 12 (March. 1961). 131-42. 181; and Philip Strick, Science Fic/iwA/oviM(London; Octopus Books, 1976), ch. viii. Among the few commentaries on time travel in literature are Paul A. Carter. The Creation of Tomorrow: Fifty Years of Magazine Science Fiction (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1977), ch. iv; Larry Niven, All the Myriad Ways (New York: Ballantine Books, 1971), pp. 110-23; Malcolm J. Edwards, "Time Travel," in Peter NichoUs, ed.. The Science Fiction Encyclopedia (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, 1979), pp. 605-607; Stanislaw Lem, "The Time-Travel Story and Related Matters of Science Fiction Struc- turing," in Mark Rose, ed.. Science Fiction: A Collection of Critical Essays (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1976), pp. 72-88; James S. Jakieland Rosandra E. Levinthal, "The Laws of Time Travel," Extrapolation, 21 (Summer 1980), 130-38: and Andrew Gordon, "Silverberg's Time Machine," Extrapolation, 23 (Winter 1982), 345-61. 2. I have compiled an exhaustive, time-travel filmography along with a general file of all the post-1945 science fiction films that I have been able to discover. The statement is based on these sources. 3. The relationship of the alternate universe ("sideways in time") to the concept of time travel derives from the idea that parallel universes are the product of a fork in time, a notion that cleverly disposes of the "grandfather paradox" (if I can go back in time I can kill my own grandfather). If I come to a fork in the road, says the hypothesis, 1 actually make both choices, and a new universe splits off from the old. There are then two universes, one in which 1 went left and one in which 1 went right. Actually every wave/ particle of existence has an infinite choice of direction at every instant; thus an infinite number of parallel universes radiate from every infinitesimal point in time. 4. See Erich Neumann, The Great Mother: An Analysis of the Archetype (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1963). 5. Parts of the plot summary borrow fragments from Marc Zicree's outstanding reference work, ne Twilight Zone Companion (New York: Bantam Books, 1982), pp. 169-71. 6. The ten episodes are: "Walking Distance" (Serling); "The Trouble With Templeton"; "No Time Like the Past" (Serling); "The Incredible World of Horace Ford"; "A Stop At Wil-

352 Time-Travel Romance on Film

loughby" (Serling); "Of Late 1 think of Cliffordville" (Serling); "Miniature"; "Young Man's Fancy"; "Kick the Can"; and "Static," The last four suggest that you can go home again. 7. Again, parts of the plot summary follow Zicree, The Twilight Zone Companion, pp. 41-42. 8. Quoted in Marc Scott Zicree, The Twilight Zone Companion (New York: Bantam Books. 1982), p. 170. 9. The best examples of Star Trek episodes in which not only other societies, but the Enter- prise crew and Kirk himself must be saved from the deindividualizing threats of various Edenic settings are "This Side of Paradise," "The Apple," "The Return of the Archons," "The Way To Eden,""City On the Edge of Forever,""The Paradise Syndrome,"and "The Menagerie" (the only one that suggests you can go home again). 10. Most literal of all, though not a romance, is Twilight Zone's "A Stop At Willoughby," about a man on a commuter train who keeps seeing an idyllic nineteenth-century town, the name of which turns out to be that of the home handling his funeral. 11. The ultimate affirmation in time-travel romance, of course, would be the ending that permitted the hero to remain in Eden. Most such endings, however, turn out to be qualified exceptions. Tommy's return to Paradise in Brigadoon probably reflects the musical more than it does the time-travel romance; nearly all classic musicals end with a beginning—a birth, wedding, graduation, or an escape to the Promised Land. And though the hero of The Time Machine returns to make his life with Weena, it is qualified by the fact that "Home" lies in the future rather than the past. The "counterpart" in Connecticut Yankee and Quest For Love offers at least a form of going home. And in "Miniature," the lonely Duvall does end up inside the nineteenth-century doll house. One other exception. Time After Time, violates nearly every rule we have covered. The main problem with the film is that it inverts the formula; instead of idealizing the past it lam- bastes the present. As in two other poorly scripted films, Timerider (1983), and The Phila- delphia Experiment (1984), the aggressive, sexually liberated heroine is the opposite of pristine innocence. The female critics did like Time After T/me better than the males. But the film finished just above failure only because the bits of violence, adventure, comedy, romance and who-done-it offered a token something for everyone. 12. The archetypal presentation of the motif in time-travel literature is probably C. L. Moore's "Tryst in Time" (1934). 13. On the following page is a summary chart of plus-minus, male-female reaction. The whole study analyzed a large number of factors in depth. The total sample involved almost 400 items, but many of these were interviews, publicity spreads, etc. 14. Some of the more interesting models of this universal dichotomy may be found in David Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence: Isolation and Communion in Western Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966); David Gutmann, "Female Ego Styles and Generational Conflict," in Judith M. Bardwick, et al, eds.. Feminine Personality and Conflict (Bel- mont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing Co., 1970), pp. 77-96; Leo Marx, The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Idea in America (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1967); and James Ogilvy, Many Dimensional Man: Decentralizing Self, Society, and the Sacred (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1977). The Jungian dimension may be found in Erich Neumann, The Origins and History of Consciousness (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univ. Press, 1970); and Edward F. Edinger, Ego and Archetype: Individuation and the Religious Function of the ft^c/ie (Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books, 1973). Another perspective derives from the recent discovery of man's split-brain functions; see, for example, Joseph E. Bogen, "The Other Side of the Brain: An Appositional Mind," in Robert E. Ornstein, ed.. The Nature of Human Consciousness: A Book of Readings (San Francisco: W. H. Freeman and Co., 1972), pp. 101-25; Ornstein's The Psychology of Consciousness

353 Wyn Wachhorst

Definite Qualif. Definite

Rating: +3 +2 + 1 -1 -2 -3 Total: 19 27 20 24 63 15 (168) % 11 16 12 14 38 9 % 28 26 46 % 40 61

Males: 10 18 15 14 46 10 (113) % 9 16 13 12 41 9 % 25 26 50 % 38 62

Females: 6 6 3 7 4 4 (30) % 20 20 10 23 13 13 % 40 33 26 % 50 50

168 reviews of Somewhere in Time

(San Francisco: W. H. Freeman and Co., 1972), ch. iii; and Sam Keen, "The Cosmic Versus the Rational," Psychology Today, 8 (July 1974), 56-59. A fascinating historical matrix is offered by William Irwin Thompson in At the Edge of History: Speculations on the Transformation of Culture (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), ch. iv. 15. See especially Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence, and Edinger, Ego and Archetype. 16. The image of the Garden is analyzed in Marx, The Machine in the Garden, and Paul Shepard, Man in the Landscape: A Historic View of the Esthetics of Nature (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1967). The maternal connection is further developed in Neumann, The Great Mother. 17. A fascinating expansion on the holographic implications common to the frontiers of modem science and age-old traditions of mysticism is Michael Talbot's Mysticism and the New Physics (New York: Bantam Books, 1980). On the idea of rhythmic tension, see also Edward R. Dewey, Cycles: The Mysterious Forces That Trigger Events (New York: Manor Books, 1973); and George B. Leonard, The Transformation (New York: Delta Books, 1972), pp. 15-19. 18. On the mediating function of the symbol, see Claude Levi-Strauss, "The Structural Study of Myth," in Thomas A. Sebeok, ed.. Myth: A Symposium (Bloomington, IN: Indiana Univ. Press, 1965), pp. 81-106. The ground-breaking article on the dualistic function of the popular hero was John Ward's "The Meaning of Lindbergh's Flight," American Quarterly, 10 (Spring 1958), 3-16. My own Thomas Alva Edison: An American Myth (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1981) analyzes the Edison image in the context of para- doxic polarities that have structured collective values in America. 19. For an interesting collection of essays suggesting that the powerful innocent (though they do not use the concept as such) has long been the archetypal hero in American popular culture, see Robert Jewett and John S. Lawrence, The American Monomyth (Garden City, NY: Anchor, 1977). 20. Contemporary theory on ego formation explains these two shades of emphasis, along with the polarized personality itself, as having its deepest roots in the process of psycho- 354 Time-Travel Romance on Film

logical separation from the mother. In a sentence, the issue pivots on the point at which the parental image is transferred to the world at large; if the mother-child relationship was one in which each understood and accepted the limitations of both, then the identity derived from relationships with the world at large will reflect the same equilibrium. If not—if mother was selfishly overprotective, failing to deny the child's omnipotence, or, conversely, it she ruthlessly destroyed that omnipotence without communicating her own mortality, producing a sense of impotence, then the likely result is a polarized individual, one who goes through life seeking both the unlimited power and the unconditional love demanded by impotence and omnipotence alike. The syndrome has had many clinical names. In TTie Problem of the Puer Aeternus {Zurich: Spring Publications, 1970), Marie- Louise van Franz argues that the "eternal child" syndrome has undergone a twentieth- century expansion of cancerous proportions. A popularized version of the same argument is Dan Kiley's The Peter Pan Syndrome (New York: Dodd, Mead, and Co., 1983). Otto Kernberg's research on the "narcissistic personality" has spawned such cultural applica- tions as Christopher Lasch's The Culture of Narcissism (New York: W. W. Norton, 1978), and Aaron Stern's Me: The Narcissistic American (New York: Ballantine Books, 1979). Maxine Schnall's Limits: A Search for New Values (New York: Clarkson N. Potter, 1981) describes essentially the same personality. 21. This was, of course, the thesis of the plethora of cultural jeremiads that began pouring from the pens of Charles Reich, Philip Slater, Theodore Roszak, George Leonard, Wil- liam Thompson, et al, in the late 1960s. In recent years, however, beginning perhaps with Roszak's Where the Wasteland Ends: Politics and Transcendence in Postindustrial So- ciety (New York: Anchor Books, 1973), the argument has become more sophisticated. Physicist Fritjof Capra's The Turning Point: Science, Society and the Rising Culture (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1982), and Morris Berman's The Reenchantment of the World {hhaca, NY: Cornell Univ. Press, 1981) are current examples.

Filmography

Key: 1st line: director; producer; distributor; length; color or bw sp: screenplay or script src: source est: cast

Berkeley Square (1933) Frank Lloyd; Jesse L. Lasky; Fox; 90 min.; bw sp: Sonya Levien, John L. Balderston src: Berkeley Square, play by John L. Balderston and John Collins Squire (1926), based in turn on The Sense of the Past, unfinished novel by Henry James (1917). est: Leslie Howard; Heather Angel; Valerie Taylor; Beryl Mercer; Alan Mowbray; Samuel Hinds; Irene Browne; CoUin Keith-Johnston; Betty Lawford; Juliette Compton; Ferdinand Gottschalk; Olaf Hytten; David Torrence The only print known to exist belongs to film critic William K. Everson. Remade in 1951 as I'll Never Forget You (qv.).

Brigadoon (\95^) Vincente Minnelli; Arthur Freed; MGM; 108 min.; col; scope sp: Alan J. Lerner 355 Wyn Wachhorst

src: Brigadoon, musical by Alan J. Lerner and Frederick Loewe (1947); based in turn on the German story, Germelshausen, by Wilhelm Friedrick Gerstacker(1862). est: Gene Kelly; Cyd Charisse; Van Johnson; Elaine Stewart; Barry Jones; Albert Sharpe; Tudor Owen; Hugh Laing Available in 16mm and video. A Connecticut Yankee (\92i\) David Butler; Fox; 78 min. (orig. 97); col sp: Owen Davis, William Conselman src: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, novel by Mark Twain (1889). est: Will Rogers; Maureen O'Sullivan; William Farnum; Frank Albertson; Myrna Loy; Brandon Hurst Other versions made in 1920, 1948, 1955, 1979. The Connecticut Yankee At King Arthur's Court (1920) (Rel. 1921) Emmett J. Flynn; Fox; 8,291 ft; bw; sil sp: Scenario by Bernard McConville src: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, novel by Mark Twain (1889). est: Harry C. Myers; Pauline Starke; Rosemary Theby; William V. Mong; Charles Clary Other versions made in 1931, 1948, 1955, 1979. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1948) (Rel. 1949) Tay Garnett; Robert Fellows; Paramount; 107 min.; col sp: Edmund Beloin src: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, novel by Mark Twain (1889). est: Bing Crosby; Rhonda Fleming; William Bendix; Cedrie Hardwieke; Murvyn Vye; Henry Wilcoxon; Richard Webb; Alan Napier Other versions made in 1920, 1931, 1955 (NBC-TV production ofthe Rodgers Hart musical), and 1979 (Disney's The Spaceman in King Arthur's Court).

The Final Countdown (1980) Don Taylor; Peter Vincent Douglas; UA; 105 min.; col sp: David Ambrose, Gary Davis, Thomas Hunter, Peter Powell sre: Story by Thomas Hunter, Peter Powell, and David Ambrose est: Kirk Douglas; Katherine Ross; Martin Sheen; James Farentino; Ron O'Neil; Charles Durning; Vietor Mohiea; James C. Lawrence; Soon-Teck Oh; Joe Lowry; Alvin Ing; Mark Thomas; Peter Douglas

I'll Never Forget KOM (1951) Roy Baker; Sol C. Siegel; 2Qth Fox; 91 min.; col (bw sequence) sp: Ranald MacDougall src: Remake of Berkeley Square (1933), based on play of same title by John L. Balderston and John Collins Squire (1926), based in turn on The Sense of the Past, unfinished novel by Henry James (1917). 356 Time-Travel Romance on Film

est: Tyrone Power; Ann Blyth; Michael Rennie; Dennis Price; Beatrice Campbell No known print available. British title: The House in the Square. Filmed in England. La Jetee (1962) [ The Jetty] France; Chris Marker; Argos Films; 29 min.; bw; composed of stills sp: Chris Marker est: Helene Chatelain; Jacques Ledoux; Davos Hanich; Andre Heinrich; Jaques Branchu; Pierre Joffroy; Nar: Jean Negroni Available for viewing at Pacific Film Archive, Berkeley, CA. Journey Into Midnight: "Poor Butterfly" (1969) Alan Gibson; British TV; 60 min.; col sp: Jeremy Paul src: Story by William Arney Journey Into Midnight consisted of two episodes from the British TV series Journey to the Unknown; the series ran for one season in the U.S. on ABC-TV as Out of the Unknown. The Philadelphia Experiment (1984) Stewart Raffill, Douglas Curtis; New World Pictures; 102 min.; col sp: William Gray, Michael Janover src: Story by Wallace Bennett and Don Jakoby, from a book by William L. Moore and Charles Berlitz. est: Michael Pare; Nancy Allen; Bobby Di Cicco; Louise Latham; Eric Christ- mas; Kene HoUiday Portrait of Jennie (1949) William Dieterle; David O. Selznick; Vanguard Films & Selznick (UA); 86 min,; bw (sepia sequence; color sequence) sp: Paul Osborn, Peter Berneis src: Portrait of Jennie, novelette by Robert Nathan (1939) est: Jennifer Jones; Joseph Cotton; Ethel Barrymore; Lillian Gish; Ceeil Kellaway; David Wayne; Albert Sharpe; Henry Hull; Florence Bates Available on 16mm. Music by Dimitri Tiomkin, based on Debussy. Quest For Love (1971) (Rel. U.S. 1973) Brit.; Ralph Thomas; Peter Eton; Peter Rogers Productions; 91 min.; col sp: Terence Feely, Bert Batt src: "Random Quest," short story by John Wyndham (1961). est: Joan Collins; Tom Bell; Denholm Elliott; Laurenee Naismith; Lyn Ashley; Neil MeCallum; Juliet Harmer; Simon Ward; Trudi Van Doorn; Geraldine Moffatt; David Weston; Dudley Foster; Ray MeAnnally; Angus MacKay; Bernard Horsfall; Edward Cast; Sam Kydd Alternate universe. Music by Eric Rogers; theme: Peter Rogers Solaris (1972) Soviet; Andrei Tarkovsky; Mosfilm; 165 min.; col sp: Friedrich Gorenstein, Andrei Tarkovsky 357 Wyn Wachhorst

src: Solaris, novel by Stanislaw Lem (1961). est: Donatis Banionis; Natalya Bandarchuk; Yuri Jarvet; Nicolai Grinko; Vladislav Dvorzhetski; Anatoli Solintsin Somewhere in Time (\9S0) Jeannot Szware: Stephen Deutsch; Universal; 103 min.; col sp: Richard Matheson src: Bid Time Return, novel by Richard Matheson (1975) est: Christopher Reeve; Jane Seymour; Christopher Plummer; Teresa Wright; Bill Erwin; George Voskovec; Susan French; John Alvin; Eddra Gale; Sean Hayden; Richard Matheson Available on video. Music by John Barry; uses Raehmaninoffs Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, "Eighteenth Variation." Star Trek: "City On the Edge of Forever" (1967) Joseph Pevney; Gene Roddenberry; NBC-TV; 60 min.; col sp: Harlan Ellison, Gene Roddenberry est: William Shatner; Leonard Nimoy; Joan Collins; DeForest Kelley; Nichelle Nichols; George Takei; Jimmy Doohan; David L. Ross; John Harmon Available on video. 1st season; 28th episode. Script won the 1968 International Hugo Award, for Science Fiction. Time After Time (\919) Nicholas Meyer; Herb Jaffe; WB; 112 min., col sp: Nicholas Meyer sre: Story by Karl Alexander and Steve Hayes est: Malcolm McDowell; Mary Steenburgen; David Warner; Charles Cioffi; Andonia Katsaros; Patti D'Arbanville; Geraldine Baron Available on video. Music by Miklos Rozsa. The Time Machine (I960) George Pal; George Pal; MGM; 103 min.; eol sp: David Duncan src: The Time Machine, novel by H. G. Wells (1895) est: Rod Taylor, Yvette Mimieux; Alan Young; Whit Bissell; Sebastian Cabot; Doris Lloyd; Paul Frees Available on 16mm and video. Academy Award for special effects. The Time Machine (191S) Henning Sehallerup; Charles E. Sellier, James Conway; NBC-TV; 120 min.; eol sp: Wallace Bennett sre: The Time Machine, novel by H. G. Wells (1895) est: John Beck; Whit Bissell Available on video. Remake of I960 film. Other films based on The Time Machine: World Without End (\955); Beyond the Time Barrier (\960)\ The Time Travelers (\9(A)\ and Journey to the Center of T/we (1968). Timerider (\9%'i) William Dear; Harry Gittes; Jensen Farley Pictures; col sp: William Dear, Michael Nesmith 358 Time-Travel Romance on Film

est: Fred Ward; Belinda Bauer; Peter Coyote; L. Q. Jones; Ed Lauter; Richard Masur; Tracey Walter Twilight Zone: "Miniature" (1963) Walter E. Grauman; Herbert Hirsehman; CBS-TV; 60 min.; bw sp: Charles Beaumont est: Robert Duvall; Pert Kelton; Barbara Barrie; Len Weinrib; William Windom; John McLiam; Claire Griswold; Nina Roman; Richard Angarola; Bamey Phillips, Joan Chambers; Chet Stratton 4th season; 8th episode. Twilight Zone: "No Time Like the Past" (1963) Justus Addiss; Herbert Hirsehman; CBS-TV; 60 min.; bw sp: Rod Serling est: Dana Andrews; Patricia Breslin; Robert F. Simon; James Yagi; Tudor Owen; Lindsay Workman; Maleolm Atterbury; Marjorie Bennett; Robert Comthwaithe; John Zaremba 4th season: 10th episode. Twilight Zone: "The Trouble With Templeton" (1960) Buzz Kulik; Buck Houghton; CBS-TV; 30 min.; bw sp: E. Jack Neuman est: Brian Aherne; Pippa Scott; Charles S. Carlson; Sydney Pollack; Larry Blake; King Calder; Dave Willoek; John Kroger; David Thursby 2nd season; 9th episode. Twilight Zone: "Walking Distance" (1959) Robert Stevens; Buck Houghton; CBS-TV; 30 min.; bw sp: Rod Serling est: Gig Young, Frank Overton; Irene Tedrow; Michael Montgomery; Byron Foulger; Joseph Corey; Ronnie Howard; Pat O'Malley; Bill Erwin; Buzz Martin; Nan Peterson; Sheridan Comerate 1st season; 4th episode. Other episodes with similar theme: "The Incredible World of Horace Ford"; "Young Man's Faney"; "Of Late I Think of CliffordviUe"; "Kick the Can"; "Statie"; "Miniature." The Two Worlds of Jennie Logan (1979) Frank de Felitta; CBS-TV; 104 min.; eol est: Lindsay Wagner; Alan Feinstein; Marc Singer; Linda Gray; Henry Wilcoxon

359