Leonard Randall walks to a comfortable chair in front of a classroom of students. He requests quiet and soon slumps down in the chair. He suddenly becomes alert and states in a confident, somehow electronically-enhanced voice, “I am Delos, and I am here.” He says he was born 10,000 years ago and died 9,500 years ago. C’mon, I’m down with his perfect English, his being from Atlantis, and his ability to project his consciousness millennia into the future, but he lived to be 500 years old?
He offers his wisdom to the paying customers. So I guess they aren’t students. They are people who have paid good money to be fed a line of intellectually bankrupt nonsense by a con-man. Say, maybe they are students.
The first rube uses her opportunity to access the wisdom accumulated over millennia from all reaches of the cosmos and planes of existence to ask if she should marry her boyfriend. Delos, admittedly, gives a nice parable about a butterfly that makes her happy, but maybe not so much her boyfriend.
He says, “This vessel grows weary” and can only take one more question. He calls on “the one this vessel calls Julia.” She asks why Delos stayed silent for so long, and why he came back now. That’s a better question, but would be about #300 on my list. He says, “This vessel called Leonard has been chosen to receive wisdom. The universe has selected him.” He comes now because he senses the same decay that caused Atlantis to sink below the ocean. He further states that they have choices to make, that they will tilt the cosmic balance between good and evil, that there is light in each of them, and that cassettes will be available in the lobby in 30 minutes.
Backstage, Leonard’s manager updates him on retreat bookings, and the sales of crystals, tapes and amulets. It is clear they regard Delos’ followers as wallets with legs. Leonard is surprised when a different voice comes out of his pie-hole, even deeper and more electronically enhanced than Delos.
It would be even more tedious than usual to recap what follows. In this case, however, that is not a sign of the episode’s mediocrity. Peter Scolari defies expectations of anyone who knows his other work. He is utterly believable not only as Leonard, but as Delos, and then the legitimate entity who eventually speaks through him. Even better, and allowing a little of his comedic chops, are the transitions between conciousnesses. Despite some humor, Scolari commits 100% to the part without the slightest wink or irony.
Kudos too to the writing which was tight throughout. The transitions are as well written as they are performed, with the real entity being contrasted with the vacuous Leonard. Even the entity’s platitudes, which we have heard before from a thousand snotty-ass aliens, have an elegance and a gravitas we don’t often see. Finally, it is an interesting choice to have the real entity be kind and interested in improving humanity. How often does that happen?
Actually, it is a little ambiguous whether the entity is a threat or will usher in a new era of peace through Leonard. But he has a soothing voice and looks a little Jesusy, so I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Leslie Nielsen is hanging out in his apartment wearing a tie, and lets his wife Joan in with groceries, all exactly like he did six weeks ago in
sy” and has seemed to have had a sinister outcome. Well, not really — this was the first story he pitched to Morton for free, not one of the two he was paid $500 each for. “Will all the stories you write for him end in some tragedy?” she frets.
The aliens tell them to take an hour to pick a spokesman, which seems pretty generous “or else you will meet the same fate as the last unfortunate creatures to trespass in this sector.” The warning picture they show is too confusing to be effective. There is a stereotypical alien, but what is that other thing? Is it his entrails being pulled out? Is it a chestburster? Is it a baby? An alien bagpipe? Is it significant that one tendril is touching the alien’s noggin? This is an alien, after all — how do we now this isn’t just what they look like? One crew-member objects and his mouth is fused shut; sadly it is not Steven Bauer.
He stumbles back into the cell. He tells them the aliens want to know what the device is. He says he told them “the truth. I don’t even know what the damn thing is.” Well, that’s not exactly true — he told them it was a research tool, not a bomb. Anyhoo.
It comes out that Neguchi also guilt-ridden about the deaths of some pilots under his command at an air show. His cockiness led them to try a dangerous loop that killed two of his pilots . . . and four people were injured on the ground . . . including a six year old girl . . . who was blinded. We all love a good story about kids being blinded, but the lack of a similar irony for Valentine’s sealed mouth makes this a little clunky.
The phone rings at the US Weather Bureau Hurricane Warning Center. Jim Tyler picks it up and a few seconds later says, “US Weather Bureau . . . yes, mam. Fair today and Thursday. No change in temperature. Moderate southwest winds.” Really, people are calling the US Weather Bureau to get the weather report?
be 74 MPH to even be classified as a hurricane. Did hurricanes only get up to 90 MPH in the 1950s? Have they gotten that much worse? Was Al Gore right?
Julie and Tyler are still worried about Bobby, but he comes bounding in and they are happily reunited. Drs. Bronson & Fredericks smile and clink their coffee mugs together in congratulations like they had something to do with his safety. Kind of like when the FBI was high-fiving each other and saying “We’re #1!” when they caught the Unabomber . . . after 20 years . . . when his brother turned him in. Good job, fellas.

