ZZZZZ

Directed by John Brahm; written by Meyer Dolinsky (additional material by Joseph Stefano). Cast: Phillip Abbott (Ben Fields); Joanna Frank (Regina); Marsha Hunt (Francesca Fields); Booth Coleman (Dr. Warren). Broadcast January 27, 1964. Story: In search of a lab assistant, prize-winning entomologist Ben Fields settles on the uniquely qualified Regina, who all but lands in his lap. Searching for a human mate to prolong her species' life span, mutant queen bee Regina settles on Ben, whom she considers a prize. Mrs. Fields, seeking only a happy marriage, is altogether unsettled by the set-up.

To bee, or not to bee....

Sorry about that. What I was getting at is how difficult it is to justify the inclusion of "ZZZZZ" in a serious analysis of The Outer Limits. It's anything but a seminal episode, and often elicits—and usually gets—only derision. Yet "ZZZZZ" is far from the worst first-season episode (that honor belongs to the execrable-in-every-way "The Special One") and it never approaches the banality of most of the second-season offerings; despite its many contrivances and the patent ridiculousness of its premise, its lowly reputation is in many ways undeserved. "ZZZZZ" may not be top-notch Outer Limits, but it does have some interesting and intriguing things to say about the chaotic, ever-hopeful human heart. In that respect, it's a classical (if not classic) episode that deserves attention regardless of its flaws.

Flaws are something that "ZZZZZ" has in abundance, to be sure, chief among them the essentially conflicted nature of its story. As Outer Limits historian David J. Schow has reported, screenwriter Meyer Dolinsky and Joseph Stefano were in disagreement over the motivation of the episode's characters virtually from the start: Dolinsky favored a more ambiguous approach in which Ben Fields is seriously tempted by Regina, while Stefano preferred a more customarily moralistic tone wherein Ben is committed to his marriage at all costs. With Stefano's considerable input (you can detect his style in such lines as "a disorderly man is usually guilty of something far more chaotic than disorder"), the resulting film is a sort of nebulous hybrid of both points of view. It's little surprise that the two approaches don't graft together particularly well. The sexual tension at work in Dolinsky's screenplay is all but absent from the final film, and the unfortunate effect is that Ben comes across as an oblivious, asexual dimwit while Regina appears to be little more than a simple-minded sexual predator. Hardly the stuff of groundbreaking adult drama (let alone an engaging insect takeover story), and watching Ben absent-mindedly rebuff Regina's repeated advances makes one wonder why he keeps her around at all; she's shrill and idiotic, and her presence clearly distresses Francesca, whom Ben plainly loves. (A cursory link is established between Regina and the Fields' deceased child, but it's quietly dropped after a single scene.) The near-surgical extraction of any palpable lust from "ZZZZZ" leaves little of the potential dynamism in Dolinsky's story intact, and the film's human relationships are uncharacteristically infeasible and stiff.

This central defect hardly helps to obscure the episode's other, more practical shortcomings. The science-fiction motif in "ZZZZZ" is uninspired and half-baked at best, and such devices as the "language analyzer" seem patently absurd in the context of the weakly developed domestic triangle. Similar devices in other episodes (like the voice translator in "The Zanti Misfits" or the titular spying device in "O.B.I.T.") succeed in part because they help to more sharply focus the terror and dread that drive these stories; here, in the absence of any strong thematic motivation, the implausibility of the analyzer—and the notion of a bee/human symbiosis, for that matter—is impossible to overlook. The high-pitched insect voices that emanate from the analyzer only add to the silliness, as do the unconvincing "transformation" scenes involving Regina and a superimposed photograph of a bee. (The metamorphosis that occurs at the start of the episode is just as poorly realized, but it manages to be cheaply surreal in a way that eludes the film's other effects sequences.) It's difficult to understand why Project Unlimited couldn't come up with more imaginative creature effects (the episode's budget notwithstanding), but perhaps the fault lies less with technical implementation than with listless direction. The quiet, understated gravity of John Brahm's directorial style, which works as beautifully for "The Bellero Shield" as it does for the many Twilight Zone and Thriller episodes he directed, creates an inappropriately mannered atmosphere in "ZZZZZ," and only serves to call attention to the curious lack of emotional tension between the principle characters. Given the material and its unfortunate, meddled-with condition, one can hardly fault Brahm for his lack of enthusiasm; still, a more dynamic approach might have worked wonders (just imagine what Byron Haskin could've made of the wicked Regina and her flimsy ploy). At the very least, it might have distracted viewers from the painfully insubstantial plot and drawn attention to the film's more successful elements.

How does "ZZZZZ" manage to succeed, despite the odds? First, by clearly distinguishing the orderly, rational insect society from the chaotic, emotional human one; and second, by shifting the balance of order and chaos from one species to the next several times during the course of the episode. This mutable distinction gives "ZZZZZ" a depth and ambiguity it might have otherwise lacked, and it's tempting to give Stefano all the credit. But Dolinsky exhibits as keen an understanding of human frailty as Stefano in his other episodes, "The Architects of Fear" and "O.B.I.T.", and it is in this sense that "ZZZZZ" is a true, artistically salvageable collaboration between the two writers.

Ben and Francesca's emotional attachment to one another is enough to convince Regina and the bees that humans are a haphazard species ripe for genetic compromise; she puts it succinctly when she tells her minions that humans "live by what they think, not by what they know." It's true that the couple is well-matched and genuinely loving, and their touching relationship is reminiscent of Allen and Yvette Leighton's in "Architects". Yet in other ways the Fields' marriage is as orderly and regimented as the activity in the bees' hive. Francesca is as staid and repressed as Ben is narrow and unimaginative, and it's clear that the passion has drained from their marriage and left in it's wake a comfortable but stifled and uninvigorating friendship. The two are ripe for the sort of intrusion Regina and the bees represent, and in a way they deserve it: Ben, after all, spends his days intrusively listening in on the bees as Francesca dutifully and unquestioningly serves his every need (almost). Regina, on the other hand, exhibits a vibrant sensuality and playful impulsiveness that embody the passion that's missing—or that's been misplaced—from the Fields' relationship. In spite of her professed commitment to order, Regina's liveliness upsets the order of the marriage, and seriously unnerves both Francesca and Ben at the same time that it attracts them; at one point, Ben even suggests that Francesca buy Regina "some starched uniforms" for her work in the lab. His desire to "starch" her vivacity (not to mention her monumental bosom) recalls an earlier scene in which Regina (in orderly mode) straightens a plaque on the laboratory wall as she compliments Ben on his "organized mind." She wants to shape Ben to fit her needs as much as he wants to obscure his desire for her.

This halting dance between Regina and Ben—and between order and chaos—comes to a head when Francesca spies Regina seductively licking a flower in the Fields' garden at night. Francesca's repulsion (ostensibly at glimpsing Regina in her bee form) and the implicit, open-ended sexuality of Regina's act helps set the Fields' tragic downfall into motion. The intrusion of chaotic passion into their lives ultimately does them in, just as Regina's reliance on order destroys her when she fails to account for Ben's sloppy, emotional rage after Francesca's death. It's a situation from which none of the characters can emerge intact, and it leads to one of The Outer Limits' characteristically bleak resolutions. But while Dolinsky manages to capture the confused jumble of emotions attendant with infidelity in "ZZZZZ" (and the equally jumbled ambivalence of married life), the episode barely scratches the surface of its tricky themes: no real infidelity occurs, and we never feel that Francesca's fate is in any way justified. (It doesn't help that her death scene, which should have been terrifying, is ineptly shot.) Ben's climactic outburst at Regina is equally confounding. His vociferous defense of marriage—and, implicitly, of all human endeavors of the heart—is indignant and unyielding, and implies something even more orderly and certain than the bees' rigid society. It's at odds with Ben's previously neglectful and distracted behavior, and with the powerful ambiguity that the episode manages to build.

The cast of "ZZZZZ" does what it can with the addled material. Phillip Abbott captures Ben's drone-like obsequiousness quite nicely, and he seems unusually qualified to play the scattered-scientist type so common in second-rate Outer Limits episodes. Marsha Hunt perfectly expresses Francesca's quiet discomfort, but she is made to be too dowdy for the role; an element of long-buried but still discernable sensuality would've added another layer of ambivalence to the episode, something it sorely needs. Joanna Frank is alluring and exotic as the human queen bee, but her performance suffers from a flippancy that erodes any sense of authority on Regina's part; she hardly seems capable of ruling a fleeting congregation of mayflies, let alone a smooth-running bee colony. The actress complained of a serious lack of direction from John Brahm, and if that's the case she does a fine job of compensating: Frank is never actually embarrassing to watch, and she gives Regina a spoiled, mercurial haughtiness that is entertaining to behold.

In many ways, "ZZZZZ" is a confused, lackluster Outer Limits budget-saver that fails to strike any deep chords; small wonder that even the most forgiving series fan will scoff at the idea of a rewarding second viewing. Yet amid the confusion, authors Dolinsky and Stefano deftly explore the ambiguous distinction between chaotic love and dutiful order, and raise the intriguing possibility that, like humans and bees, the two aren't as different as we might like to believe.

—MH