Space Cases, part 2

Originally published June 9, 1995, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1125

Continuing my journal of the making of Space Cases, a TV pilot for Nickelodeon, the kids’ television network.

April 24, 1995: The first day of shooting. In terms of the schedule and complexity of the shots, it’s hoped that we’ll actually wrap early.

We wind up going into overtime. Filmmaking remains a painfully slow process, and even the most routine of shots takes an achingly long period of time.

The entire day’s shooting takes place in the engine room. It’s an annoying set, in that it’s long and flat. There’s not a lot of angles at which director Burt Metcalfe can place the camera. He does manage to get around it to some extent, because the consoles are freestanding. We can turn them around and reverse the angle, giving the impression that the engine room is vast on both sides (as opposed to nonexistent on one side).

We also test a bit of business in which the superstrong Radu (Kristian Ayre) angry at Harlan (Walter Jones) over a transgression, holds him over his head with one hand and shouts at him. We have what amounts to a long seesaw. Walter lies flat on his back on one end and we hoist him into the air. We position a crew member under him, serving as a stand-in for Kristian. When the camera is correctly placed, the effect should be seamless.

I spend the evening, in addition to working on my Star Trek novel, banging out the outline for another episode of Space Cases. If we do go to series, we’ll have to move things along quickly, and Nickelodeon wants to get ahead on scripts.

The episode which will serve as our pilot is not an “origin” episode; Nickelodeon wanted a more “typical” episode to serve as the one it would test-market. Now, though, as we start putting together more scripts, it seems appropriate to have some sort of “their first day aboard the ship” type of story.

But we have no guarantee that, if we write an “origin” episode, Nick would necessarily air the series in that order. After all, 30 years ago NBC aired the Star Trek pilot “Where No Man Has Gone Before” in the second or third week. We’re reluctant to confuse the youngish viewers.

So we hit on the idea of doing an “in context” pilot. Entitled “Catalina Explains It All” (evoking the Nick series Clarissa Explains It All), Catalina explains to the viewers how they wound up aboard the ship. It allows us to “cheat” a bit, because by using her narration to bridge gaps, we can avoid having to build sets for the Starcademy (which would only be used once).

I’m also fighting a cold; my head is congested. I’ve certainly felt better, and this is the wrong time to get sick.

Tuesday, April 25: It’s the first day of shooting on the nerve center of the ship, the Command Post—or, as the students call it, the Compost, which bugs the hëll out of Commander Goddard (Paul Boretski).

It’s an incredibly impressive set. Whenever I’ve been on sets from other TV programs, I’ve always noticed that the sets seem smaller in person. The Compost, by contrast, is huge. It’s a blending of several different textures, giving it a truly alien feeling. Massive crystalline posts angle up into rocky arches which converge in the center in a huge crystalline stalactite. A ramp runs up the middle. Access is through the “Jump Tubes”—tubes in the wall that the characters slide in and out of.

I freely admit I swiped the idea from U.F.O., a series from decades ago—a goofy show about which I remember very little except that the women all had purple wigs, and, when the inevitable UFO showed up to cause havoc, they’d leap into action by sliding down these tubes in the wall. I remember thinking it was cool then, so I figure it’s probably still cool. And why should something that visually nifty be lost to the mists of time?

It’s Walter’s first extended day of work as Harlan Band. He does a wonderful job, putting a ton of energy into his portrayal. The Power Rangers people were foolish to let him get away.

And he works wonderfully with Rahi Azizi (playing the perennially morose Bova). Rahi is the youngest of the cast, yet he has the hardest part. Bova’s eternal pessimism would be difficult to put across without performance’s sinking into lethargy, even for an actor with decades of experience.

However, he has a terrific look; his eyes alone are enough to sell the character. Furthermore, all his scenes today are with Walter, and Walter is tremendously helpful: running lines with him and generally lending an air of support. At one point between takes, the two of them start singing “Hakuna Matata” in nice harmonies. Perhaps we’ll do one episode called “Space Cases: The Musical,” and just have various cast members break into song (for no discernible reason, of course; they’ll just start acting like they’re in a Broadway musical).

We also have to stage a variety of visual gags, as Harlan tries to avert a collision—but doesn’t know which controls to push and pull (since, in many ways, the ship is still an enigma to them). Consequently, his efforts to avoid a crash with another vessel only result in his getting hit with fire extinguisher foam and then blown halfway across the set by the abrupt release of the emergency air supply. (“Oh, good, the emergency air supply. That’ll be helpful when we’re smashed to bits,” deadpans Bova.)

Burt consults with me on several shots that will require effects work and also takes my suggestion for staging a particular insert shot. As opposed to other instances where I’ve been an observer, here—with my being co-creator and co-producer—I feel as if I’ve actually got a reason for being here, aside from polite tolerance on the part of others.

I’m almost tempted to take me aside and chew myself out, just so I can feel like a real producer.

That evening, we watch the dailies (the film shot the previous day). The performances are solid (particularly taking into consideration that it’s the first day of shooting), and the colors and designs of the uniforms and backgrounds give the entire thing a very “Flash Gordon” look. We notice some make-up things that have to be adjusted (Rosie’s red facial make-up is so red that she’s almost out of focus).

Other than that, it’s a promising start.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)