Robert Bloch (S02E07)Airdate: December 22nd 1967Written by: Robert Bloch Directed by: Joseph PevneyRunning Time: 50 minutes Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS) has, since its 1966 debut, cultivated a fervent, multigenerational fanbase, its enduring appeal rooted in Gene Roddenberry’s vision of a utopian future defined by rationality, inclusivity, and interstellar cooperation. Yet, for all its progressive credentials, the franchise has not escaped criticism. Among its detractors, radical feminists have long scrutinized the original series, arguing that its portrayal of women—particularly in episodes like Season 2’s Wolf in the Fold—exposes a regressive undercurrent beneath Roddenberry’s enlightened veneer. While TOS is lauded for breaking barriers in diversity, its handling of gender often feels anachronistically crude, with female characters frequently reduced to sexualized victims or peripheral figures. For modern “woke” audiences steeped in discourses of equity and representation, episodes like Wolf in the Fold—with their reliance on exploitative tropes and patriarchal assumptions—risk alienating viewers, prompting calls for the series to be “cancelled” or memory-holed to obscurity. Yet, to dismiss the episode outright would be to overlook its genre-bending ambition, technical craftsmanship, and the uneasy tension between its problematic elements and its thematic resonance.

Russia’s history, a tapestry woven with threads of upheaval, conflict, and revolution, has long provided fertile ground for filmmakers seeking to dramatise its tumultuous past. From the Time of Troubles to the Bolshevik seizure of power, the nation’s narrative is punctuated by episodes that, when refracted through the lens of cinema, often reveal as much about the era of their depiction as the events themselves. Yuli Karasik’s 1968 docudrama The Sixth of July, adapted from Vladimir Shatrov’s play of the same name, occupies a peculiar niche in this tradition. Neither a propagandistic triumph nor a wholly subversive critique, the film stands as a paradoxical artefact of Soviet cinema: a work commissioned to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the October Revolution yet one that inadvertently interrogates the contradictions of Soviet historiography. While it lacks the cinematic audacity of contemporaries such as Gillo Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers (1966), its stark portrayal of the 1918 Left SR Uprising offers a window into the ideological tensions of the late 1960s, both within the USSR and beyond.

Obsession (S02E18)Airdate: December 15th 1967Written by: Art Wallace Directed by: Ralph SenenskyRunning Time: 50 minutes The enduring strength of Star Trek as a franchise lies in its capacity to revisit core thematic ideas through divergent narrative lenses, a flexibility that allowed it to thrive even in its formative years. Nowhere is this more evident than in Season 2 of The Original Series, which produced two episodes explicitly channeling Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick within weeks of one another: The Doomsday Machine and Obsession. Both episodes, though separated by mere weeks in their original broadcast, demonstrate how the show’s writers could adapt a singular literary archetype—the obsessive pursuit of an unstoppable force—into distinct stories with unique tonal and philosophical emphases. While The Doomsday Machine leaned into Cold War-era anxieties about nuclear annihilation, Obsession delves into the psychological scars of guilt, redemption, and the tension between emotion and rationality. This dual exploration underscores Star Trek’s early ingenuity in repurposing classical narratives to interrogate contemporary human dilemmas.

The era of spaghetti Westerns, though brief, produced a treasure trove of grand classics that proved non-Hollywood cinema could rival, and even surpass, Hollywood in terms of creativity and narrative audacity. These films distinguished themselves through their irreverent, cynical, and exploitative subversion of traditional Western tropes, offering a gritty, morally ambiguous alternative to the polished heroism of Hollywood’s frontier sagas. However, some spaghetti Westerns pushed this subversion so far that they became self-sabotaging, too radical for mainstream audiences and critics alike. The Great Silence (1968), directed by Sergio Corbucci, is a prime example of such a work. A bleak, uncompromising masterpiece, it was virtually buried in Anglo-American markets upon its release, yet it has since achieved cult status and recognition as one of the genre’s most daring and memorable entries. Its refusal to adhere to familiar conventions—whether in narrative, tone, or thematic scope—initially alienated audiences but ultimately cemented its legacy as a provocative outlier in a genre already known for its iconoclasm.

Valentine’s Day (S05E16)Airdate: 14 February 1997Written by: Tom Fontana Directed by: Clark JohnsonRunning Time: 46 minutes The seasonal rhythms of 20th-century American broadcast television frequently dictated that episodic storytelling revolve around holidays or calendar-specific events, a practice that occasionally produced uneven results. Homicide: Life on the Street, known for its gritty realism and character-driven narratives, was no exception to this trend. While some episodes successfully balanced thematic cohesion with the show’s signature procedural rigor—such as those centred on Christmas or New Year’s—others faltered under the weight of contrived seasonal hooks. Tom Fontana’s Valentine’s Day, from the fifth season, exemplifies this duality. Though its ambitions to explore love, marriage, and societal decay are commendable, the episode’s fractured narrative structure and uneven execution leave it feeling like a missed opportunity, emblematic of the series’ gradual shift toward crowd-pleasing sensationalism in its later years.

The Deadly Years (S02E11)Airdate: December 8th 1967Written by: David P. Harmon Directed by: Joseph PevneyRunning Time: 50 minutes The inexorable march of time, with its toll on both mind and body, has long served as a haunting motif in speculative fiction—a testament to humanity’s universal fear of decay and oblivion. Star Trek: The Original Series, despite its optimistic veneer, occasionally grappled with such existential dread, and Season 2 episode The Deadly Years stands as one of its more audacious attempts. This episode leverages the premise of accelerated aging to weave a blend of body horror, morbid comedy, and melodramatic stakes, though its execution remains uneven. While the concept is compelling, the narrative stumbles under the weight of predictable pacing, contrived subplots, and a reliance on character archetypes that dilute its initial promise. Yet, its bold visual effects and a gripping finale ensure it endures as a curious footnote in the franchise’s history.