In this post to Pop Matters, I reviewed Gene Roddenberry's Pax TV movies, in which a post-apocalyptic Earth is ministered to by Pax, a sort of post-U.N. The viewer surrogate is Dylan Hunt who, like Buck Rogers, wakes up after centuries of suspension. In a classic of network passive-aggression, three of these supposed pilots were commissioned, aired and rejected, 1973-5. (Dylan Hunt's story did go to series, sort of: that's the name of the revived hero of Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda, one of two posthumous series developed from Great Bird outlines.)
In the first PAX movie, 1973's Genesis II, Hunt is played by Alex Cord, with his usual pornstache.
Dylan Hunt before his long sleep |
More substantively, I wrote, the suspense is undercut by the name of an otherwise mysterious civilization, the "Tyranians." Their subsequent villainy seems as inevitable as that of the Decepticons.
Flash-forward to 2021: midway into a history doc, my ears reddened, when I learned of the Tyrrhenians, legendary precursors to the Etruscans (and the Mediterranean between mainland Italy and Sicily/Sardinia is known as the Tyrrhenian Sea). d'ho.
At the risk of self-justification, I still think it doesn't work for Genesis II, in putting the average viewer ahead of the script, if only by an accident of phonetics (the movie never spells the word). Granted, it's Roddenberryesque to veer to controversial theories of Etruscan origins: his was a restless intellect (he named Star Trek: TNG characters after Benjamin Whorf and Texas Guinan). Still, the intriguing backstory would've been better developed for the pilot or saved for Season 1.
back to the forbidden zone
As a series, Island City would've focused on the "normals" who defend their eponymous outpost. The pilot movie spreads itself thin, with action, soap, humor and the figurative commentary for which TV sci-fi is known. It's unwieldy, but the humor is essential: as in the Geico commercials (and short-lived sitcom), modern-day cavemen = funny.
Even before getting to plotting, flaws: the fx are rather primitive for the '90s, including the backlot-armored vehicles, which recall the Pax movies, or the disposable, Saturday a.m. likes of Ark II. The patrol scenes resort to a disused quarry (or similar), like Blake's 7 and Star Trek: Deep Space 9. One character has a teen son hooked on VR (a '90s buzz-concept), while staying within family-show rails.
curate's egg
Like the Genesis II name-drop, Island City's bigotry parallel is intriguing in itself. The team soon adds a sympathetic half-Recessive who, like Spock and Worf, struggles with identity. All of which had become fairly standard (see also the soulful Diggers of Seaquest, the defensive androids of Tekwar), but there's further provocation, in that most of the elite still use the youth drug, necessitating mating-restrictions (compare the art-house Code 46).
Unfortunately, the pilot merely sideswipes this moral tangle, dropping hints of terrorism, as some norms abstain from the drug on political grounds. Granted, the filmmakers run out of time as they introduce the premise and a half-dozen regular characters. Still, it's all set-up without payoff. It didn't work in 1973, it wasn't going to work in the busy syndication market of 1994.
before their big breaks
Island City's talented cast features an amusing Hollywood synchrony: Brenda Strong and Veanne Cox play long-lost sisters (tough officer and man-hungry refugee, respectively). Each would soon make an impression on Seinfeld, Strong as "braless wonder" Sue Ellen Mischke, and Cox as Toby, the excitable editor. Sitcom viewers will also recognize Gregg 23 (better than clones #1-22, but clumsy) as Eric McCormack of Will and Grace, and trooper Seall is Constance Marie, Angie on George Lopez. One team member persevered in service: Kevin Conroy voiced the animated Batman.
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