Host Truman Bradley tells us some of the barriers to space flight.  The first step on the journey is to break the sound barrier.  Then the heat barrier, which melts airplanes at high-speed like a 10 cent plastic model recycled from a previous episode.  But most of all there is the gravity barrier, a small force which requires tremendous energy to lift a rocket or me after the COVID lockdown.

A naval task force, led by the USS Morgan, is in the Pacific.  Hmmm, there really was a USS John Morgan launched May 4, 1943.  Sadly, it was sunk 2 weeks later after colliding with the USS Montana.  Men were lost from both ships and the ships were needed for the war effort, so nothing funny about that.  But it is a fitting choice for this series.

Their mission has been publicly announced as a nuclear weapons test shot, but that is just a ruse — they are just going to test fire a rocket out of the atmosphere.  So rather than honestly inform the public of an event that would excite America after a depression and two wars, fuel the imaginations of kids who would grow up to be writers and astronauts and scientists, and energize the country by beating those darn Russkis, the government decided it is better to call it a nuclear bomb.  Although, to be fair, at that point, abominations like nuclear blasts and Buddy Hackett were still used as entertainment in Las Vegas.

The crew tells Dr. Porter that they are also sending 2 mice up on the rocket, which seems a very inefficient way to get rid of mice.  The men in the control room work busily to  launch the rocket and see it break through to outer space.  Dr. Masters gleefully proclaims, “Operation Outer Space is successful!”  Nice work maintaining that cover story, Doc!

The Hydrogen-Ion Propulsion System will keep the rocket traveling through space forever, but it is only programmed to go to the moon.  It successfully reaches the moon and circles around it.  On the way back to Earth, 6 flying saucers join it!  Holy smoke, the rocket crashes back on earth!  Only SFT could turn this into a boring gabfest.

One other barrier they neglected to mention is zero-gravity, maybe because it hits too close to home.  This show has no weight whatsoever.

At the time this aired, Alfred Hitchcock Presents was on the air.  The Twilight Zone and One Step Beyond were just 3 years away.  I just can’t fathom how something like this was considered acceptable.

Host Truman Bradley is trying to prove something again — as usual, I have no idea what.  He drops a mouse 2 feet and the little fellow is not hurt.  He then picks up a fully grown cat by the scruff — not cool, Truman!  — and drops him several feet. His next demonstration is the effect on a human body to being dropped from 35 feet.  To his credit, he does not roust some bum up to the roof.  On the other hand, he does game the results by using a ceramic statue.

This somehow illustrates that “as man evolved, he relied on brains more than brawn.”  However, “man eventually understood the benefits of physical fitness . . . programs of health and body-building are world-wide.  All sorts of gadgets and machines exercise our muscles.”  And that’s just so we can try to break our gym contract.

Truman tells us, “Our story begins on the campus of Haverly College”.  SFT normally gives its institution generic names like “small midwestern college”.  This might be the first time an actual name has been used.  Now, if we could only get One Step Beyond to adopt this standard for their allegedly “true stories”.

Hey, it’s TV’s Martin Milner playing Britt!  Old viewers might remember him from Adam-12 (1968-1975).  Older viewers might remember him from Route 66 (1960-1964).  Much older viewers might think he is their grandson.  Nurse, how did Timmy get on the picture-box?

Britt is getting chewed out by everyone for quitting the football team.  Even his girlfriend Jill doesn’t understand why he quit to go work with Dr. Kendall.  Now the football coach is trying to get him to rejoin the team.  When the coach suggests he is just yellow, Brit grabs his arms so tightly that it leaves huge red marks.

Ace reporter Jim Dale witnesses this and comments that Britt has recently grown 2 inches, put on a lot of muscle, and sure has a purty mouth.  The journalist runs from the Coach’s office determined to learn Britt’s secret and find a way to blame it on 10 year old Donald Trump.

Dale snoops around and catches Britt lifting enormous weights.  Then he watches Britt and Kendall go to the track.  Britt runs a mile in 3:10.  Yeah, I guess that’s impressive, but I was promised a THREE minute mile in the title! ^[1]  It’s not like Highway Speed Limits where you get a free 10 over.  Then Dale photographs Britt lifting a car.

Dale goes back to Kendall’s lab that night.  He tries to lift the weights, but finds them too heavy.  Jill also stops by the lab.  Dale hides, but accidentally unlocks the very poorly designed weight rack.  When Jill brushes against it, the huge barbell rolls right down the unnecessarily angled rack.  She is knocked down and the bar passes over her like a reverse limbo — over her feet, legs, and stomach, heading for her neck!  She is saved only because Britt is a tit-man.

I really wish this were clearer. Boobs — is there anything they can’t do?

The boiz show up and examine Jill’s predicament and luscious lifesaving breasts.  Dr. Kendall puts on an electronic belt that has enabled Britt’s superhuman feats.  He is able to lift the barbell while the other guys put on some Chubby Checker and slide Jill out.

The college sees the value of Kendall’s work and tells him he can have whatever he needs for his lab.  And that’s why Haverly College has the only lab in the country that looks like a Russ Meyer movie — Safety First!

Other Stuff:

• [1]  Roger Bannister just broke the 4 minute mile 18 months before this episode aired.
• I don’t see Science Fiction Theatre on the TV Schedules for 1956-1957.  Could this all be a cruel hoax?

We open in the home of Roger Brown, “an outstanding attorney at law”.  He and his wife Anna are enjoying a quiet evening at home watching Mendoza the Mentalist perform “an amazing demonstration of mental telepathy.”  Even more astounding, Brown is smoking a pipe while lying on his back.  Bravo!

Vertical pipe smoking: #1 cause of burnt corneas. #2: Emily Ratajkowski.

They watch as Mendoza correctly describes the contents of an envelope that contains a picture of the host’s nephew in a graduation gown.  The crowd is less impressed when Mendoza correctly predicts that the TV host will be voting for democrat Adlai Stevenson in 11 days.

Anna believes the demonstration, but Roger thinks the scientist observing was duped.  He says, “It would be a lot easier to get an innocent man out of the death cell by mental telepathy.  You know, just sit here and tell it to the judge.”  Yeah, I agree the existence of telepathy would clear the “innocent people” out of death row, but not the way he thinks.

Anna thinks there was something paranormal about the way the Sloan case landed in Roger’s lap at the same time new evidence just happened to be revealed.   Roger chalks it up to coincidence:  “The young man’s guardian just happened to wander into my office, that’s all.  A pure paranoid — wants to sue the city because he tripped on the sidewalk.  A pathological liar who let it slip he was with Sloan on the night of the murder.”  Wait, so you’re building the defense around the testimony of a known pathological liar who has a pre-existing relationship with the accused?

Brown has a pilot’s license, but apparently from the same Caribbean correspondence flight school as JFK, Jr.  Brown goes down like Frasier.  He wakes up paralyzed in the wreckage and tries to send out a telepathic SOS.  An old man driving by picks up the signal.  Hundreds of miles away, Anna involuntarily writes the word CRASH on a piece of paper.  How that slip of paper made it into the Best Picture envelope at the 2005 Oscars is not discussed, but explains a lot.

Roger wakes up in a hospital, but is unable to move or speak.  A nurse thinks she heard him ask for a glass of water, a doctor enters the room thinking he heard Roger call for him, and KHJ says he was caller #4 for the Carl Perkins tickets.  Anna enters the room, so I guess he telepathically sent her the hospital address also.

The rest of the episode is as lifeless as Roger’s paralyzed body.  At least one thing is cleared up.  The guardian is again referred to as a paranoid psychopathic liar.  But he is the accuser, not defending the prisoner.  Roger is able to get the man released.  But, c’mon man, he was probably guilty of something.

This was really a slog.  The story was not very interesting, the lead character was paralyzed, the video was in terrible condition, and Roger looked like Fredo Corleone.  That last item might not sound like a big deal, but now I’ll be imagining Fredo banging cocktail waitresses two at a time all weekend.  Maybe I would have been better off with one of the recommendations dailymotion put on the same screen.

Yes, a lot of potential there.

Oh, this is a recipe for disaster.

“At an atomic test base in Nevada, preparations are underway for the detonation of a nuclear device.  The purpose of the test is to measure metal resistance in military planes for heat and shock waves generated by a nuclear blast.”

Dr. Raymond Michaels looks at the weather report.  A low pressure area is forming to the west, and will be here in 18 hours.  It will be a week before atmospheric conditions are stable.  Dr. Michaels decides, because of the storm, to move up the nuclear bomb test, which sounds like the kind of thing that could be arbitrarily rushed through with no ill-effects.

The only problem is that Dr. Barton is visiting his family in family in Los Angeles.  Hey, it’s TV’s DeForest Kelly from TV’s Star Trek!  He and his son are looking at complicated formulas on a blackboard.  Mrs. Barton tells her son that his father works on physics all week, so he probably doesn’t want to look at it in his off-time.  She got this theory from her sister who married a gynecologist.  Turns out Barton and his son were working on a formula to see who would win the World Series, where e = steroids and the Astros were stealing the cosines. ^[1]  Barton gets a call from Michaels to come back to Yucca Flats.

Sadly, his plane’s ETA gets later and later until it finally just disappears from the arrival board like a Delta flight.  Like Lindsay Lohan, it is no longer even a blip on the radar.  As a precaution, the scientists opt to delay the nuclear tests, although why there is an FAA approved flight-path over a nuclear test range baffles me.

There is an extended sequence of stock footage which prompts credits at the end thanking the Civil Air Patrol, the Uncivil Air Patrol, and the Antifa Air Patrol which just harasses travelers at the terminal food court.

The Civil Air Patrol finds an aircraft rudder and amusingly runs it back to the lab.  One of the CAP dudes says, “That was Barton’s tail section alright.”  OK, but why wouldn’t it be in the same vicinity as Barton?  He wasn’t hit by a missile like TWA 800 after all.  OK, maybe he bailed out.  Or had an escape pod like the President in Escape from New York. ^[2]

Back at the base, the CAP commander says they can’t find the rest of the plane.  He surmises that it has disintegrated on impact and the pieces disappeared like Flight 93 or the plane that hit the Pentagon on 9/11, although his intimate knowledge of those future events is problematic at best.

He continues to believe that Barton is still alive.  He calls the base meteorologist.  By feeding the computer the last known location, time of bail-out, wind-speed, and Dr. Barton’s weight, they hope to calculate where he landed.

At 13:47, the audio went out on the Dailymotion video I was watching.  I  will try to follow the story just from the visuals.

They input the data into the computer which is, appropriately, as enormous as a 1956 computer.  It gives them a range where Barton might be.  Major Sorenson goes out into the desert and finds Barton in a box canyon.  Barton thanks God that Sorenson showed up because he was about to cut off his arm to escape.  He then complements Sorenson’s firm buttocks, although that is just speculation since the sound is out.  I could be thinking of other movies.

He is taken back to the base.  Thank God he is in no danger, so the base can perform its A-Bomb test which is visible to Barton in the hospital, tourists in Las Vegas, and soldiers at the base, leading to all their early deaths decades later.

This series is impossible to rate, but I will miss it when it is gone.

Other Stuff:

• [1]  I know more about cosines than sports, so apologies if the Astros reference makes no sense.  I blame Google.
• [2]  Did ya ever think how goofy that was?  The President ejects with no Secret Service?  Plus, that must have been a rough landing with no parachute.  And WTF is a Limey doing as our President, anyway?
• Truman Bradley earned his pay this week as there is a huge amount of narration required over the stock footage.
• DeForest Kelly was paid a princely $150 for his work on the episode.

Instant classic from Truman Bradley.  He picks up a tree branch . . .

Actual Introduction:  Ordinarily one wouldn’t think of a stick as a scientific instrument.  The primitive man who first picked up this branch to knock down a ripe apple or to smack a new wife into obedience was taking a giant step in the history of science.

Say what?  Somehow this evolves into the ability of man to hear beeps from transmitters 20,000 miles away.  Where the f*** are they?  You can never be more than 12,000 miles from any point on earth, and even Sputnik would not launch for another year.  I’ve read how this series was loved by 1950’s nerds but, my God, the stupidity is astounding.

The Association of Government Physicists is having their 4th annual convention.  “Since the top physicists in the nation are all meeting in one hotel, rigid security regulations were strictly enforced.”  I guess the physicists in private industry are dumb-asses.

Dr. Wissman goes to the front desk asking for Dr. Sinclair.  Security makes him open the box he brought which contains his new invention.  He says it is a device to direct Meson Beams.  Sinclair is outraged by this security.  He tells Security Chief Ed Martin, “There are more security men than scientists.  We can’t go to a drinking fountain without one of your men checking credentials.”  And, in 1956, credentials = skin color.

Left to right: white guy, white guy, white guy

Wissman goes to Sinclair’s room.  While they are talking, they hear a high-pitched scream.  The housekeeper has found Dr. Coleman murdered.  Dr. Sinclair says, “There is no sign of bullet holes or a struggle.”  Dr. Wissman notices a shattered light bulb,  a cracked vase, and a broken watch crystal — all signs of, you know, a struggle.

Dr. Sinclair concludes that Dr. Coleman was killed by supersonic vibration.  He walked past a clandestinely placed photo-electric cell that triggered the device that killed him when he tried to sneak a Snickers from the mini-bar.  Keep this amazing device in mind . . . the one that was just used to murder a prominent physicist . . . the one that is so pivotal that the episode is named after it . . . the one that could revolutionize everything from warfare to medicine.  Good luck remembering it, because that is the last time it will be mentioned in this show.

What follows is an excruciating mix of procedural nonsense, exposition, and more padding than a chair with a lot of padding.  Finally they get to the big reveal.

Wissman’s invention is a camera which can detect cracked pipes underground.  Oh, by the way, it can also take pictures in bright light or pitch dark, through any solid object, to a distance of 7 miles.  WTF?  You’re using it to find pipes?  How about finding oil reserves, or rescuing trapped miners and spelunkers and minor spelunkers?  Maybe finding treasure chests.  If they can finally get that Oak Island series off the air, it would be worth a Nobel Prize.  Dudes, give it up!

The footage he projects shows detectives (in negative) chasing a man through the building across the street.  This device is so amazing that it is also able to switch between camera angles and edit the footage.  Now this is what the episode should have been named after!

This is either a negative or Mike Pence.

Wissman is able to identify the killer by his gold teeth which the miraculous camera detected.  Hey, what ever happened to that fancy super-vibrating machine?  And, uh, that housekeeper?  Guys, don’t bust in next time you hear another high-pitched scream.

This is episode 24 of Season 2.  In a more sane time, that would be it; the season would be over.  In an insane time — say, now — it might have been over 11 episodes ago.  But no, these maniacs cranked out 39 episodes a year.  And this was before cocaine was invented.

I rate this zero decibels.  No, give it 2 decibels — photo negatives are always cool.  But that’s vs an AC/DC concert.