2.2 — “Who Mourns for Adonais?”
Plot: On a reconnaissance mission to Pollux V, the Enterprise is immobilized in the grip of a giant, human hand. Kirk and a landing party are commanded to beam down to the surface by an alien being who claims to be the Greek god, Apollo. Time to gather laurel leaves, light the ancient fires, and kill a sacrificial deer!
Thoughts: Some things seem cheap about this episode, and make it stop short from being great. The cramped studio sets seem like a paltry effort, and there’s a certain lack of variety–no B plot and few significant revelations or plot developments after the landing party initially beams down to the planet. A sense of spinning wheels sets in, and you feel the budgetary restraints restricting the number of cast members depicted and their range of movement. At the same time, this episode is kind of great in spite of itself.
The title comes from a line from Percy Bysse Shelley’s poem, “Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats.” (I almost remembered this all by myself from my days as an English major, but until I looked it up I was vague about the details.) There’s a good bit of lyricism and profundity to be found in the script. Turning away from the old gods is like the abandonment of childish things. I thought about this a lot as a kid (primed by seeing reruns of this episode?). I wrote a short story in high school about poor, forgotten Charon poling his way along the banks of the Styx. Back in the day I was more than capable of crying for my old toys, because I didn’t play with them much anymore. (I got over this, however–the sentimentality of the Toy Story movies doesn’t do much now for me now.)
So, yeah, this episode gets me. Michael Forest’s Apollo, vainly thrusting his hands to the heavens, tears streaking down his face and pooling under his chin? Moved. Apollo: “I would have loved you as a father loves his children.” Got me with that line. McCoy: “I wish we hadn’t had to do that.” Got me again. Apollo: “She stood in front of the temple and spread herself upon the wind, thinner and thinner, until only the wind remained.” That’s freakin’ beautiful. Liked the thunderstorm effects with the stage lights and wind machines. The fact that it doesn’t look quite real adds to the poignancy, somehow.
The easy knock on this episode is that it’s sexist–i.e., not so flattering in its depiction of Lt. Carolyn Palamas. I know but…. In 1968, women leaving careers to start families was a real thing. Kirk and McCoy comment on this, but don’t imply that it makes Palamas less of a valuable crew member. She falls for Apollo very fast, despite the coercive circumstances–because he gives her a pretty dress. Okay, that’s pretty bad. Can we just think of this as a mind-control glamour? I could twist things argue that “Who Mourns for Adonais?” is a critique of the patriarchy, which thoughtlessly elevates work and duty over art, leisure, and generative pleasures. I hate to be an apologist; I guess I don’t want to not accept the beauty that exists in this episode by rejecting it out of hand for its cultural myopia. Your mileage may vary.
I liked Chekhov less in this episode than in “Amok Time.” He seems to be there to provide daffy comic relief. When you’ve got a guy wearing gold lame pretending to be Apollo on an obvious sound stage with Doric columns, comic relief may not be what you need.
I like that the remastered effects show the Enterprise being held by a giant, glowing green hand. That’s Apollo’s secret! He’s a member of the Green Lantern Corps!
2.5 out of 5 poor, forgotten deities.
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