The Twilight Zone was an American anthology series, created by one of my all-time favourite writers, Rod Serling; broadcast in the years between 1959-1964. Each episode provided a story that touched on a variety of themes that examined human nature. There were 156 episodes made, spread over five seasons, and because I have far too much free time on my hands, I have decided to choose my top twenty episodes. So, if you're like me, bored out of your wits, then join me on this journey through the Twilight Zone.
20. Death Ship (Season 4, 1963)
This episode tells the story of an intergalactic exploration crew whose job it is to survey planets for colonisation. They eventually land on an uncharted planet but, to their horror, they find an exact replica of their ship; crashed and showing no signs of life. When the crew examine the ship they find the worst horror of all: their own dead bodies. The crew, including their stubborn captain, try to make sense of the situation, but things only continue to get weirder.
Contrary to my introduction, this episode shows no clear morals, except may be not to discredit the obvious, which the captain does all of the time. That doesn't matter though because this episode spouts great performances from Jack Klugman and Ross Martin, and although the premise is fun in itself, I find the friction between Klugman and Martin's characters the most riveting thing about the whole affair; the two hate each other, yet have to rely on their initiatives to solve the problem. As with all fourth season episodes, Death Ship is an hour long, but it doesn't feel padded in any sense; in fact, I think it would have suffered at half an hour because it would not cultivate enough tension, and this is what drives this episode. There are a number of classic scenes: the slow-panning shot of the crew's dead bodies as the crew discover them, the scene where Martin's character returns home to see his long-dead wife and daughter and the penultimate scene in which all characters struggle to control their own fate.
19. Number 12 Looks Just Like You (Season 5, 1963)
In a dystopic future, people at the age of 17 undergo 'the Transformation' which changes their 'ugly' natural faces into 'beautiful' faces seen on models in order to prolong their lives. Whilst this looks good on paper, eventually everyone looks the same. The protagonist, Marylin, realises this and resists the Transformation; however, by doing this, she reveals the darker side of the state...
There is a lot to discuss for this episode. The main theme of course is to make a statement on individuality; Marylin resists the change because she wishes to be herself, rather than be a facsimile of everyone else and she respects her father's teachings of not being afraid to speak your own mind. The episode is also an indictment of fascism, the officials met in this episode are cowards but they are stubborn; they insist that Marylin's change is for her own good, when, of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The ending is one of the creepiest presented in the entire Twilight Zone canon as it shows that the Transformation changes not only appearance but personality and it proves that the Transformation is not for the good of mankind; it is a tool for oppression.
18. Living Doll (Season 5, 1963)
A girl comes home one day with a talking doll. Her stepfather, Erich Streator hates her and her doll because he is sterile and the doll is expensive. It is implied that he has psychologically abused her and her mother, so the doll, 'Talky Tina' declares that she hates Streator and threatens to kill him.
One of the classics of the entire Twilight Zone canon, 'Living Doll' is certainly one of the most grotesque and creepy episodes written for the show. Just the idea that an inanimate object can threaten you is creepy in itself, but when the object happens to be a Baby Born, you're in deep shit. Telly Savalas plays the miserly stepfather masterfully, and although you should hate him for abusing his family, you do end up feeling pity for him, especially when he gives the doll back to his stepdaughter after almost safely disposing of it. In my eyes the mother is the evil character because it is implied in the dialogue that she never told him she had a child, so when they married, he was trapped. The episode is an exercise in tension, and the scenes where Streator tries to destroy the doll in a vice are nail-biting. One of the very few noticeable episodes of the fifth season.
17. The Masks (Season 5, 1964)
A dying old man is ready to bequeath his entire fortune to his loathsome family that consists of a hypochondriac, a greedy business man, a narcissistic girl and a sadist schoolboy. He decides to meat out justice; at midnight, they are to wear grotesque masks that are visual representations of their character flaws if they are to inherit the fortune. Whilst this doesn't sound too bad, remember we're in the Twilight Zone and they receive one of the best punishments ever conceived.
One of my favourite speeches of The Twilight Zone is delivered by the old man who claims that his family are 'caricatures' and this couldn't be truer; the characters are so mechanically obsessed with the money that they seem too distant to be human and their fate at the end of the episode is deliciously ironic. Directed beautifully by Ida Lupino (whom appeared herself in The Twilight Zone much earlier), and written, as always, wonderfully by Rod Serling, this episode is my personal favourite out of the final, fifth season and is the final classic episode presented by the show in my opinion. Season 5 is below average, but when there's diamonds in the rough like this, then I suppose I can somewhat recommend the final season.
16. Deaths-Head Revisited (Season 3, 1961)
Grunter Lutzer is an ex-SS commander who visits the concentration camp at Dachau out of nostalgia. While there, he bumps into a familiar face...
This episode, as you can probably guess, is an indictment of Nazism and the atrocities they committed to Jews in those godforsaken places. This episode is almost Shakespearean in its delivery (Lutzer is put on trial by spirits) which gives it even more permanence. The speeches given by the spirits are wonderfully poignant and continue to teach the audience the true horror of Nazi Germany. Like The Masks, Lutzer's comeuppance is well-deserved and satisfying. I think Serling conveys the message best in his closing narration:
All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buchenwalds, the Auschwitzes-all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worst of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by this remembrance, then we become gravediggers. Something to dwell on and remember, not only in the Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth.
15. Walking Distance (Season 1, 1959)
Martin Sloane, a tired and stressed businessman, decides to take a walk to his hometown, Homewood which is in 'walking distance.' When he arrives, he finds that things are JUST as he remembered them; there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts. He eventually comes to the conclusion that he has gone back in time to his youth. Initially delighted, Sloane eventually realises that the world he has longed for doesn't embrace him back and he must face the cold, harsh reality of his own time.
This episode is one of the most popular amongst Twilight Zone fans and I, for one, agree with their opinions of this episode: it's beautifully written, wonderfully acted and well directed. To top it all, it boasts a score from the legendary Bernard Hermann, who was most probably most famous for scoring such films as Citizen Kane and a handful of Hitchcock films, including Vertigo, North By Northwest and, most famously, Psycho; which highlights the nostalgic longing of Sloane and undercurrents the sentimentality. In short, this episode is more than 25 minutes of television, it's a statement on nostalgia and how unhealthy it is to wallow in it as it may scar people. Serling's closing narration for this episode is one of my favourites out of the entire series and is the icing on the cake to such a great episode and summarise it perfectly:
Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives - trying to go home again. And also like all men perhaps there'll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he'll look up from what he's doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind there'll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he'll smile then too because he'll know it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory not too important really, some laughing ghosts that cross a man's mind, that are a part of the Twilight Zone.
You may wonder why I didn't put 'Walking Distance' higher, well it's the obvious choice as the greatest Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this blog, we'll be looking at my personal favourites and I happen to like fourteen more episodes over this one.
14. The Obsolete Man (Season 2, 1961)
Romney Wordsworth is an outcast in an oppressive society of the future where books, religion and similar practices are banned and declared 'obsolete.' After being found guilty of obsolesce, Wordsworth is determined to go out with a bang and undermine the government which sentences him to an early grave.
Whilst 'Number 12 Looks Just Like You' presents an implied threat of a tyrannical government, 'The Obsolete Man' is centred around one. Wordsworth is played by Burgess Meredith, best known as Rocky's trainer in the first two films or The Penguin in the 1960s Batman TV series, playing the idealistic, cunning and insightful outcast. With his knowledge, it is obvious to see why the government want him dead. Fritz Weaver plays the government chancellor, (who ironically looks like Arnold Rimmer in the first two series of Red Dwarf), the cowardly, cynical and officious character that provides the tension between the characters and that's the joy of the episode, seeing the two character's ideologies clash and this culminates in the spectacular ending, complemented by Serling's closing narration:
The chancellor, the late chancellor, was only partly correct. He *was* obsolete, but so is the State, the entity he worshipped. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man, that state is obsolete. A case to be filed under "M" for Mankind... in the Twilight Zone.
13. Passage on the Lady Anne (Season 4, 1963)
The Ransomes are on the verge of divorce decide to take a second honeymoon in order to save their marriage. The wife wants a nice, long cruise to London; however, the only cruiser available is the Lady Anne. Ignoring warnings from the travel agent and other, elderly passengers, the Ransomes prepare for the voyage.
Although the synopsis makes this episode sound forbidding, it is actually the most touching, romantic story told on The Twilight Zone and it showcases wonderful acting from British actors from yesteryear such as Gladys Cooper and Cecil Kellaway and, most notably, Wilfrid Hyde-White, who played Crabbin in The Third Man, as the elderly passangers that, at first, try to dissuade the Ransomes, but later make the Ransomes realise their love for each other. If it wasn't for the ending, this would be one of the few episodes that doesn't have supernatural elements; however, the ending only insinuates that the Lady Anne is something else, and it's the kind of ending that makes you want to watch the episode a few times to grasp the meaning of the ship. It is beautifully shot, appearing much like a romantic film noir, and it has a similar message that throughout all of the cynicism of the modern world, true love can prevail.
12. Shadow Play (Season 2, 1961)
Adam Grant is sentenced to death in the electric chair due to first degree murder, but he is not concerned with that, he is more concerned about waking up and breaking the established chain of events...
Whilst The Twilight Zone is a postmodern show, I feel that this episode pushes the concept the most as it is left ambiguous, at least until the ending, whether the events are happening in reality or in Grant's dream as there is ample evidence for both cases. Just the thought that you know you're going to die, even if it is just in your mind, is a terrifying concept and I like to think that Metallica and Dave Mustaine wrote the song 'Ride the Lightning' with this episode in mind. Although Grant is sentenced for first-degree murder in the dream, in reality he could just be an innocent man and it is this analysis that gives the episode new dimensions.
We know that a dream can be real, but who ever thought that reality could be a dream? We exist, of course, but how, in what way? As we believe, as flesh-and-blood human beings, or are we simply parts of someone's feverish, complicated nightmare? Think about it and then ask yourself, do you live here, in this country, in this world, or do you live instead in the Twilight Zone?
11. The Silence (Season 2, 1961)
Jamie Tennyson, a vain and garrulous man, is challenged by Archie Taylor, a cynical and cold colonel, to keep silent for a year whilst being confined in a glass room, all for half a million dollars.
This is one of the few episodes that doesn't have any science-fiction elements; it would be more at home in Alfred Hitchcock Presents, but it is absolutely riveting nonetheless. I'm not going to spoil the ending, but these men would stop at nothing to win their wager. This is what makes Taylor one of the most horrible characters to grace The Twilight Zone. He tears apart Tennyson's reputation in one speech and, even worse, begins to make assumptions to Tennyson that his wife is out cheating on him. Unlike Othello in a similar situation, Tennyson does not believe him and this spurs him on further to finish the bet. The ending is great: it's deliciously ironic and shows how futile this wager, and gambling in general, is.
10. The Four of Us Are Dying (Season 1, 1960)
A conman, Arch Hammer, has the ability to change his face to whomever he chooses; therefore, he feels obliged to cause as much misery as possible to acquaintances of the imitated people.
This episode is unfortunately very underrated. People often overlook this one and dismiss the central concept as 'gimmicky.' Sure, it's a Twilight Zone that does not rely on a moral message, but it provides a magnificent character study of the victims. First Hammer imitates a deceased trumpet player, Johnny Foster, and seduces his sorrowful widow, which, straight away, cements Hammer's reputation as a 'cheap man.' Afterward, Hammer takes the guise of killed gangster Virgil Sterig, which provides nice comic relief to serve as a breather for his final form as Andy Marshack who has a very vitriolic relationship with his father. That's where the strength of 'The Four of Us Are Dying' lies, in its characterisation. It presents a wide variety of character and manages to paint a lot of detail about them through insinuation: you can tell that Foster was loved due to his widow's passion; you can tell that Sterig was a moniker of fear due to his victim's cowering and you can tell that Marshack is more than what he seems due to his father claiming he 'did dirt' to a girl. Ironically, it is Hammer, the episode's main hero (or anti-hero in this case) that is shrouded in mystery; most of the things you learn about him are taken from Serling's opening narration.
Another thing I enjoy about this episode is the soundtrack composed by Jerry Goldsmith. It's moody jazz, and it perfectly suits the seedy ghetto in which Hammer conducts his 'business.' My only criticism of the music is that it's not used in any other Twilight Zone and it wasn't included on the official soundtrack, which further supplements the obscurity of this episode.
9. The Little People (Season 3, 1962)
Fletcher and Craig are two astronauts that are marooned on a deserted planet. Craig discovers, however, that it's not quite deserted as there's a civilisation of 'people no bigger than ants.' While Fletcher is more concerned with fixing the ship, Craig becomes power- hungry and sees himself as the 'god' of the little people, which eventually leads to an ironic downfall.
This is an episode that relies mainly on the interplay between Fletcher and Craig; they are complete opposites and the tension between them further makes Craig a snivelling rat and Fletcher much more reasonable. While Craig represents fascism and the idea of a vengeful God, Fletcher is more to do with freedom and forgiveness and it is this friction that makes this episode one of my favourites. It also helps that the little people aren't directly seen, leaving it up to the viewer to decide whether they exist, or are merely a symptom of Craig's madness (Fletcher sees them too but he may be humouring a mad Craig). As like any good Twilight Zone it presents a message, and here it says that there's always much bigger predators, and this is ratified by the twist ending.
8. The Lonely (Season 1, 1959)
In the future, criminals are placed in 'solitary confinement' on a distant planet. James Corry is a convicted criminal and has been on his planet for four years and is dying from loneliness. Eventually, a sympathetic official, Allenby, takes pity on him and provides him with a female, humanoid robot. The two fall in love but Allenby delivers some news that leads to a bittersweet ending.
As the title suggests, this episode probes the theme of loneliness and how it shapes character. Even though Corry is a criminal, he's still a sympathetic character and you believe his claims that he killed in 'self-defence' and you also see how loneliness is starting to change his character and becomes cynical and defeatist. After initial friction, Corry and Alicia, the robot, fall in love and here you see companionship take effect, Corry becomes poetical and, obviously, much happier and accepting. Alicia is played by veteran British actress Jean Marsh who is, I believe, the only actor to ever appear in both The Twilight Zone (the original at least) and Doctor Who (she was married to Third Doctor actor Jon Pertwee for a time as well) and here she plays the innocent robot who claims that she 'can feel loneliness too' and is a wonderful foil for Corry. At its heart though, 'The Lonely' is a love story and also explores how one can subjectively determine 'love'; at one point, Corry notes in monologue that he's not sure whether his love is between man and woman or man and machine. In closing, 'The Lonely' manages to examine two paradoxical themes (love and loneliness) and ties them up together in an ending where Corry has neither. If that sounds weird, just watch the episode.
7. Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up? (Season 2, 1961)
Two state troopers field reports of a UFO and find mysterious tracks that lead to a diner. Inside, they find the cafe full of bus passengers whose driver tells them that a bridge has collapsed in the snow and they have to stay there until it's fixed. The troopers tell everyone that they're trying to locate an alien, and the fact that the bus had six people and there's seven people in the diner makes everyone suspicious as to whom is the alien...
This is the funniest Twilight Zone episode out of the 156 and the old man, played hilariously by Western actor Jack Elam, contributes most of the humour by being incredibly genre savvy and conspicuous. A good 95% of the episode takes place in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the diner and it is here that we see several character archetypes; the glamorous dancer, the jaded business executive, the newly-weds, the eccentric old man, the old couple and the naive bus driver; topped off by the snarky diner cook and the authoritative troopers. It's great fun watching this on your first viewing as you're continuously guessing who the Martian might be, as everyone provides clues that both implicate and clears themselves. The funniest part of the episode is the ending and Serling's closing narration, but I'm not spoiling it, so find a copy of this episode and watch it. Although the ending is humorous, it has a dark twist to it too if you think about it, and if it's looked at like this, it's also one of the most depressing episodes at the same time.
6. Five Characters in Search of an Exit (Season 3, 1961)
I'm not going to explain this one, I feel that Serling's opening narration conveys things better:
Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an army major - a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment we'll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we'll only explain it - because this is the Twilight Zone.
I deliberately kept the synopsis short because there's not really much that happens in the episode in terms of 'events,' it's more about the characters probing existential issues amongst themselves that eventually become allegorical and force us to ask 'who are we?' Because of this, the episode is rather postmodern; probably the most postmodern Twilight Zone has ever been, due to the questions it raises on the character's existence and its blurring of what can be seen as 'reality.' In terms of story, however, it is essentially similar to 'Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?' but while that was played for laughs, this episode is much more dramatic and it presents a rather sad ending. I don't know if it's just me but the major here reminds me of Brigadier-Lethbridge Stewart from Doctor Who.
5. On Thursday we Leave for Home (Season 4, 1963)
A shipwrecked crew of voyagers, led by Captain Bentine, have been stranded on a hot, desolate, desert-like planet for thirty years until a rescue ship finally comes to save them. Everyone is delighted... except Bentine who realises that his reign as leader will be over and makes numerous attempts to sabotage their attempts to escape.
Serling hated the fourth season and thought that all episodes were too long and padded; however, he did mention his own 'On Thursday we Leave for Home' as the best of the season as it makes proficient use of the time. Whilst I disagree with his assessment of the fourth season (I prefer it to the more revered fifth season), I do agree that 'Thursday' stands out. The added time allows expanded characterisation and makes Bentine one of the most interesting characters of The Twilight Zone. Despite his actions, he's certainly not evil and you can tell that he has the intentions of his people at heart. A modern interpretation of Bentine would be a personification of communism. His quarrels with the rescue ship's captain Sloane (Serling loved that name) are a joy to behold as Sloane represents the more capitalist way that Americans live.
4. A Game of Pool (Season 3, 1961)
Jesse Cardiff is a pool player who is convinced that he is the best, but is living in the shadow of the long-deceased champion 'Fats' Brown. Annoyed, Cardiff says he would give anything to play against Brown until he sees a familiar figure in the doorway. Brown challenges Cardiff to a game of pool to determine who is indeed the best; but this game has a twist: it's one of live or death.
At face value, this is one of the simplest episodes of The Twilight Zone as it's just two men playing pool but, like 'Five Characters,' it has a huge philosophical bent and makes it one of the deepest episodes in terms of meaning and morals. Cardiff is the naive and arrogant young challenger who wants to win at any costs; however, Brown is the tired and jaded master that pities people like Cardiff who literally devote their entire lives to one trivial thing rather than live (rather like me!)
SPOILERS: This is the only Twilight Zone, I think, that had two endings in which Cardiff or Brown won the game. The broadcast ending shows Cardiff winning and then becoming the reigning champion; whilst the original, scrapped ending shows Brown winning and declaring that Cardiff will 'die', not in a physical sense, but because no one will remember him, like all failed challengers. If the original one was used, the episode would also probe issues on 'death' and in what sense we can define the word (as far as I know, in the 1980s remake of this episode, they used the original ending). The broadcast ending is also commendable as it delivers another trademark ironical twist, I honestly can't decide which ending I do prefer. All this from a simple game of pool!
3. The After Hours (Season 1, 1960)
Marsha White is browsing a department store in search of a gold thimble for her mother but encounters a variety of strange events: she's sent to the ninth floor, even though the store manager insists that the store has no ninth floor; and the odd woman who serves her looks suspiciously like a mannequin...
This is one of the most famous Twilight Zones and it's easy to see why as it combines horror with questions on identity. White discovers a lot about herself during the course of the episode and it's ironic that her epiphany is caused by bizarre happenings. On first viewing, the episode is terrifying and unnerving; the disembodied calls of 'Marsha' are still nightmare fuel to me, even though I've seen this episode over fifty times. The idea of living mannequins was revolutionary for its time and this episode may have inspired the Autons from Doctor Who. Marsha is played wonderfully by Anne Francis, who back then, was an actress of all-trades and had accepted a wide variety of roles, most notably as 'Alta' in The Forbidden Planet (1953), a re-telling of Shakespeare's The Tempest. Marsha is shown to be a strong woman at first but eventually becomes more reflective and accepting as she realises what she is. Francis' role of Marsha is my favourite female performance in the entire Twilight Zone canon. If you want an episode that provides you with paranoia, check this one out.
2. A Passage for Trumpet (Season 1, 1960)
Joey Crown is an alcoholic jazz musician who is tired of 'hanging around' and decides to committ suicide; however, this is just the start of what he'll discover.
If there's one episode that prove Serling's credentials as an excellent writer then this is it; the entire episode is like one big poem; there's not one word wasted as each character provides beautifully constructed speeches on life. My favourite monologue in the entire Twilight Zone run is said by Crown as he describes how his trumpet gives him meaning to his life:
'Because I'm sad. Because I'm nothing. Because I'll live and die in a crummy one-roomer with dirty walls and cracked pipes. I'll never even have a girl. I'll never be anybody. Half of me is this horn. I can't even talk to people, Baron, cause this horn, that's half my language. But when I'm drunk, Baron … Oh when I'm drunk, boy, I don't see the dirty walls or the cracked pipes. I don't know the clock's going, that the hours are going by, cause then I'm Gabriel. Oh, I'm Gabriel with a golden horn, and when I put it to my lips it comes out jewels, comes out a symphony, comes out the smell of fresh flowers in summer, comes out beautiful. Beauty. When I'm drunk, Baron. Only when I'm drunk.'
This is complemented by an amazing performance by Jack Klugman who gets every inflection of the dialogue, every stage direction and every aspect of characterisation and makes Joey Crown his own. This is my favourite performance in the whole of The Twilight Zone and it's unforgettable. Klugman has a perfect foil in the Angel Gabriel played wonderfully by John Anderson, who is the cool and laid-back angel you'd expect Gabriel to be. Complementing the dialogue and powerhouse performances by Klugman and Anderson, is the music score by Lyn Murray which is another beautiful jazz score which unfortunately wasn't on the official soundtrack either. Whilst I admit the story of 'Passage for Trumpet' isn't the greatest, as it is arguably cliched; it's the dialogue, performances, music and setting that makes the episode poetical and a joy to behold; I can't recommend it enough.
1. A Stop at Willoughby (Season 1, 1960)
Gart Williams is a stressed advertising executive who just wants a quiet life. On the train from work he falls asleep and dreams of a idyllic town called Willoughby. He sees it as a real entity and attempts to seek refuge there.
This is without a doubt my favourite Twilight Zone (it's in fact a favourite of a lot of TZ fans, but most notably, it was the favourite of Rod Serling's) because I think a lot of us can empathise with Williams; at some point, we've all wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of life and 'slow down to a walk and live life full measure' as the conductor describes Willoughby in Williams' dream. 'A Stop at Willoughby' is a companion piece to 'Walking Distance' as it probes the same themes, but I always more of a fan of 'Willoughby' as I felt it more conclusive and satisfying than the previous episode.
Gart Williams is probably the most sympathetic character out of all the episodes: he's a nice man caught in commercial competitiveness, is born in the wrong time and has a bitch of a wife. Oh boy, is she a bitch. Mrs Williams is one of the most horrible characters in the series. It's obvious that she does not care one jolt about her husband, caring only for his money (like any woman! Jokes!). Her loathsome nature is amplified towards the end when Gart calls her for help and she hangs up on him. In contrast, the train conductor, played by Jason Wingreen who'd later voice Boba Fett, is concerned about Williams and is aware that he is stressed and does whatever he can, within the confines of his job, to help Williams, such as researching Willoughby for Williams and being the first to find Williams at the end of the episode.
SPOILERS: This brings us onto Willoughby itself; described by Serling as 'wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind' or maybe 'the last stop in the vast design of things.' This gives way to the saddest ending in the entire series as Williams' plea for help is denied and it is insinuated that he wanted to get away from his nightmare world and escape to Willoughby- suicide. The ultimate fate of Willoughby is one of the neatest twists employed by Serling and it makes it just as more sad.
So that's it. After watching all 156 episodes again to determine my favourite twenty I've finished. I urge you strongly to watch all of the episodes and decide your own favourites as these themes resonate within me. Episodes that are established classics include 'Monsters are Due on Maple Street,' 'Time Enough at Last,' 'Eye of the Beholder,' 'It's a Good Life,' 'To Serve Man,' 'Nightmare at 20000 Feet' and a plethora of other episodes.
20. Death Ship (Season 4, 1963)
This episode tells the story of an intergalactic exploration crew whose job it is to survey planets for colonisation. They eventually land on an uncharted planet but, to their horror, they find an exact replica of their ship; crashed and showing no signs of life. When the crew examine the ship they find the worst horror of all: their own dead bodies. The crew, including their stubborn captain, try to make sense of the situation, but things only continue to get weirder.
Contrary to my introduction, this episode shows no clear morals, except may be not to discredit the obvious, which the captain does all of the time. That doesn't matter though because this episode spouts great performances from Jack Klugman and Ross Martin, and although the premise is fun in itself, I find the friction between Klugman and Martin's characters the most riveting thing about the whole affair; the two hate each other, yet have to rely on their initiatives to solve the problem. As with all fourth season episodes, Death Ship is an hour long, but it doesn't feel padded in any sense; in fact, I think it would have suffered at half an hour because it would not cultivate enough tension, and this is what drives this episode. There are a number of classic scenes: the slow-panning shot of the crew's dead bodies as the crew discover them, the scene where Martin's character returns home to see his long-dead wife and daughter and the penultimate scene in which all characters struggle to control their own fate.
19. Number 12 Looks Just Like You (Season 5, 1963)
In a dystopic future, people at the age of 17 undergo 'the Transformation' which changes their 'ugly' natural faces into 'beautiful' faces seen on models in order to prolong their lives. Whilst this looks good on paper, eventually everyone looks the same. The protagonist, Marylin, realises this and resists the Transformation; however, by doing this, she reveals the darker side of the state...
There is a lot to discuss for this episode. The main theme of course is to make a statement on individuality; Marylin resists the change because she wishes to be herself, rather than be a facsimile of everyone else and she respects her father's teachings of not being afraid to speak your own mind. The episode is also an indictment of fascism, the officials met in this episode are cowards but they are stubborn; they insist that Marylin's change is for her own good, when, of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The ending is one of the creepiest presented in the entire Twilight Zone canon as it shows that the Transformation changes not only appearance but personality and it proves that the Transformation is not for the good of mankind; it is a tool for oppression.
18. Living Doll (Season 5, 1963)
A girl comes home one day with a talking doll. Her stepfather, Erich Streator hates her and her doll because he is sterile and the doll is expensive. It is implied that he has psychologically abused her and her mother, so the doll, 'Talky Tina' declares that she hates Streator and threatens to kill him.
One of the classics of the entire Twilight Zone canon, 'Living Doll' is certainly one of the most grotesque and creepy episodes written for the show. Just the idea that an inanimate object can threaten you is creepy in itself, but when the object happens to be a Baby Born, you're in deep shit. Telly Savalas plays the miserly stepfather masterfully, and although you should hate him for abusing his family, you do end up feeling pity for him, especially when he gives the doll back to his stepdaughter after almost safely disposing of it. In my eyes the mother is the evil character because it is implied in the dialogue that she never told him she had a child, so when they married, he was trapped. The episode is an exercise in tension, and the scenes where Streator tries to destroy the doll in a vice are nail-biting. One of the very few noticeable episodes of the fifth season.
17. The Masks (Season 5, 1964)
A dying old man is ready to bequeath his entire fortune to his loathsome family that consists of a hypochondriac, a greedy business man, a narcissistic girl and a sadist schoolboy. He decides to meat out justice; at midnight, they are to wear grotesque masks that are visual representations of their character flaws if they are to inherit the fortune. Whilst this doesn't sound too bad, remember we're in the Twilight Zone and they receive one of the best punishments ever conceived.
One of my favourite speeches of The Twilight Zone is delivered by the old man who claims that his family are 'caricatures' and this couldn't be truer; the characters are so mechanically obsessed with the money that they seem too distant to be human and their fate at the end of the episode is deliciously ironic. Directed beautifully by Ida Lupino (whom appeared herself in The Twilight Zone much earlier), and written, as always, wonderfully by Rod Serling, this episode is my personal favourite out of the final, fifth season and is the final classic episode presented by the show in my opinion. Season 5 is below average, but when there's diamonds in the rough like this, then I suppose I can somewhat recommend the final season.
16. Deaths-Head Revisited (Season 3, 1961)
Grunter Lutzer is an ex-SS commander who visits the concentration camp at Dachau out of nostalgia. While there, he bumps into a familiar face...
This episode, as you can probably guess, is an indictment of Nazism and the atrocities they committed to Jews in those godforsaken places. This episode is almost Shakespearean in its delivery (Lutzer is put on trial by spirits) which gives it even more permanence. The speeches given by the spirits are wonderfully poignant and continue to teach the audience the true horror of Nazi Germany. Like The Masks, Lutzer's comeuppance is well-deserved and satisfying. I think Serling conveys the message best in his closing narration:
All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buchenwalds, the Auschwitzes-all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worst of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by this remembrance, then we become gravediggers. Something to dwell on and remember, not only in the Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth.
15. Walking Distance (Season 1, 1959)
Martin Sloane, a tired and stressed businessman, decides to take a walk to his hometown, Homewood which is in 'walking distance.' When he arrives, he finds that things are JUST as he remembered them; there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts. He eventually comes to the conclusion that he has gone back in time to his youth. Initially delighted, Sloane eventually realises that the world he has longed for doesn't embrace him back and he must face the cold, harsh reality of his own time.
This episode is one of the most popular amongst Twilight Zone fans and I, for one, agree with their opinions of this episode: it's beautifully written, wonderfully acted and well directed. To top it all, it boasts a score from the legendary Bernard Hermann, who was most probably most famous for scoring such films as Citizen Kane and a handful of Hitchcock films, including Vertigo, North By Northwest and, most famously, Psycho; which highlights the nostalgic longing of Sloane and undercurrents the sentimentality. In short, this episode is more than 25 minutes of television, it's a statement on nostalgia and how unhealthy it is to wallow in it as it may scar people. Serling's closing narration for this episode is one of my favourites out of the entire series and is the icing on the cake to such a great episode and summarise it perfectly:
Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives - trying to go home again. And also like all men perhaps there'll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he'll look up from what he's doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind there'll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he'll smile then too because he'll know it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory not too important really, some laughing ghosts that cross a man's mind, that are a part of the Twilight Zone.
You may wonder why I didn't put 'Walking Distance' higher, well it's the obvious choice as the greatest Twilight Zone, but for the purposes of this blog, we'll be looking at my personal favourites and I happen to like fourteen more episodes over this one.
14. The Obsolete Man (Season 2, 1961)
Romney Wordsworth is an outcast in an oppressive society of the future where books, religion and similar practices are banned and declared 'obsolete.' After being found guilty of obsolesce, Wordsworth is determined to go out with a bang and undermine the government which sentences him to an early grave.
Whilst 'Number 12 Looks Just Like You' presents an implied threat of a tyrannical government, 'The Obsolete Man' is centred around one. Wordsworth is played by Burgess Meredith, best known as Rocky's trainer in the first two films or The Penguin in the 1960s Batman TV series, playing the idealistic, cunning and insightful outcast. With his knowledge, it is obvious to see why the government want him dead. Fritz Weaver plays the government chancellor, (who ironically looks like Arnold Rimmer in the first two series of Red Dwarf), the cowardly, cynical and officious character that provides the tension between the characters and that's the joy of the episode, seeing the two character's ideologies clash and this culminates in the spectacular ending, complemented by Serling's closing narration:
The chancellor, the late chancellor, was only partly correct. He *was* obsolete, but so is the State, the entity he worshipped. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man, that state is obsolete. A case to be filed under "M" for Mankind... in the Twilight Zone.
13. Passage on the Lady Anne (Season 4, 1963)
The Ransomes are on the verge of divorce decide to take a second honeymoon in order to save their marriage. The wife wants a nice, long cruise to London; however, the only cruiser available is the Lady Anne. Ignoring warnings from the travel agent and other, elderly passengers, the Ransomes prepare for the voyage.
Although the synopsis makes this episode sound forbidding, it is actually the most touching, romantic story told on The Twilight Zone and it showcases wonderful acting from British actors from yesteryear such as Gladys Cooper and Cecil Kellaway and, most notably, Wilfrid Hyde-White, who played Crabbin in The Third Man, as the elderly passangers that, at first, try to dissuade the Ransomes, but later make the Ransomes realise their love for each other. If it wasn't for the ending, this would be one of the few episodes that doesn't have supernatural elements; however, the ending only insinuates that the Lady Anne is something else, and it's the kind of ending that makes you want to watch the episode a few times to grasp the meaning of the ship. It is beautifully shot, appearing much like a romantic film noir, and it has a similar message that throughout all of the cynicism of the modern world, true love can prevail.
12. Shadow Play (Season 2, 1961)
Adam Grant is sentenced to death in the electric chair due to first degree murder, but he is not concerned with that, he is more concerned about waking up and breaking the established chain of events...
Whilst The Twilight Zone is a postmodern show, I feel that this episode pushes the concept the most as it is left ambiguous, at least until the ending, whether the events are happening in reality or in Grant's dream as there is ample evidence for both cases. Just the thought that you know you're going to die, even if it is just in your mind, is a terrifying concept and I like to think that Metallica and Dave Mustaine wrote the song 'Ride the Lightning' with this episode in mind. Although Grant is sentenced for first-degree murder in the dream, in reality he could just be an innocent man and it is this analysis that gives the episode new dimensions.
We know that a dream can be real, but who ever thought that reality could be a dream? We exist, of course, but how, in what way? As we believe, as flesh-and-blood human beings, or are we simply parts of someone's feverish, complicated nightmare? Think about it and then ask yourself, do you live here, in this country, in this world, or do you live instead in the Twilight Zone?
11. The Silence (Season 2, 1961)
Jamie Tennyson, a vain and garrulous man, is challenged by Archie Taylor, a cynical and cold colonel, to keep silent for a year whilst being confined in a glass room, all for half a million dollars.
This is one of the few episodes that doesn't have any science-fiction elements; it would be more at home in Alfred Hitchcock Presents, but it is absolutely riveting nonetheless. I'm not going to spoil the ending, but these men would stop at nothing to win their wager. This is what makes Taylor one of the most horrible characters to grace The Twilight Zone. He tears apart Tennyson's reputation in one speech and, even worse, begins to make assumptions to Tennyson that his wife is out cheating on him. Unlike Othello in a similar situation, Tennyson does not believe him and this spurs him on further to finish the bet. The ending is great: it's deliciously ironic and shows how futile this wager, and gambling in general, is.
10. The Four of Us Are Dying (Season 1, 1960)
A conman, Arch Hammer, has the ability to change his face to whomever he chooses; therefore, he feels obliged to cause as much misery as possible to acquaintances of the imitated people.
This episode is unfortunately very underrated. People often overlook this one and dismiss the central concept as 'gimmicky.' Sure, it's a Twilight Zone that does not rely on a moral message, but it provides a magnificent character study of the victims. First Hammer imitates a deceased trumpet player, Johnny Foster, and seduces his sorrowful widow, which, straight away, cements Hammer's reputation as a 'cheap man.' Afterward, Hammer takes the guise of killed gangster Virgil Sterig, which provides nice comic relief to serve as a breather for his final form as Andy Marshack who has a very vitriolic relationship with his father. That's where the strength of 'The Four of Us Are Dying' lies, in its characterisation. It presents a wide variety of character and manages to paint a lot of detail about them through insinuation: you can tell that Foster was loved due to his widow's passion; you can tell that Sterig was a moniker of fear due to his victim's cowering and you can tell that Marshack is more than what he seems due to his father claiming he 'did dirt' to a girl. Ironically, it is Hammer, the episode's main hero (or anti-hero in this case) that is shrouded in mystery; most of the things you learn about him are taken from Serling's opening narration.
Another thing I enjoy about this episode is the soundtrack composed by Jerry Goldsmith. It's moody jazz, and it perfectly suits the seedy ghetto in which Hammer conducts his 'business.' My only criticism of the music is that it's not used in any other Twilight Zone and it wasn't included on the official soundtrack, which further supplements the obscurity of this episode.
9. The Little People (Season 3, 1962)
Fletcher and Craig are two astronauts that are marooned on a deserted planet. Craig discovers, however, that it's not quite deserted as there's a civilisation of 'people no bigger than ants.' While Fletcher is more concerned with fixing the ship, Craig becomes power- hungry and sees himself as the 'god' of the little people, which eventually leads to an ironic downfall.
This is an episode that relies mainly on the interplay between Fletcher and Craig; they are complete opposites and the tension between them further makes Craig a snivelling rat and Fletcher much more reasonable. While Craig represents fascism and the idea of a vengeful God, Fletcher is more to do with freedom and forgiveness and it is this friction that makes this episode one of my favourites. It also helps that the little people aren't directly seen, leaving it up to the viewer to decide whether they exist, or are merely a symptom of Craig's madness (Fletcher sees them too but he may be humouring a mad Craig). As like any good Twilight Zone it presents a message, and here it says that there's always much bigger predators, and this is ratified by the twist ending.
8. The Lonely (Season 1, 1959)
In the future, criminals are placed in 'solitary confinement' on a distant planet. James Corry is a convicted criminal and has been on his planet for four years and is dying from loneliness. Eventually, a sympathetic official, Allenby, takes pity on him and provides him with a female, humanoid robot. The two fall in love but Allenby delivers some news that leads to a bittersweet ending.
As the title suggests, this episode probes the theme of loneliness and how it shapes character. Even though Corry is a criminal, he's still a sympathetic character and you believe his claims that he killed in 'self-defence' and you also see how loneliness is starting to change his character and becomes cynical and defeatist. After initial friction, Corry and Alicia, the robot, fall in love and here you see companionship take effect, Corry becomes poetical and, obviously, much happier and accepting. Alicia is played by veteran British actress Jean Marsh who is, I believe, the only actor to ever appear in both The Twilight Zone (the original at least) and Doctor Who (she was married to Third Doctor actor Jon Pertwee for a time as well) and here she plays the innocent robot who claims that she 'can feel loneliness too' and is a wonderful foil for Corry. At its heart though, 'The Lonely' is a love story and also explores how one can subjectively determine 'love'; at one point, Corry notes in monologue that he's not sure whether his love is between man and woman or man and machine. In closing, 'The Lonely' manages to examine two paradoxical themes (love and loneliness) and ties them up together in an ending where Corry has neither. If that sounds weird, just watch the episode.
7. Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up? (Season 2, 1961)
Two state troopers field reports of a UFO and find mysterious tracks that lead to a diner. Inside, they find the cafe full of bus passengers whose driver tells them that a bridge has collapsed in the snow and they have to stay there until it's fixed. The troopers tell everyone that they're trying to locate an alien, and the fact that the bus had six people and there's seven people in the diner makes everyone suspicious as to whom is the alien...
This is the funniest Twilight Zone episode out of the 156 and the old man, played hilariously by Western actor Jack Elam, contributes most of the humour by being incredibly genre savvy and conspicuous. A good 95% of the episode takes place in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the diner and it is here that we see several character archetypes; the glamorous dancer, the jaded business executive, the newly-weds, the eccentric old man, the old couple and the naive bus driver; topped off by the snarky diner cook and the authoritative troopers. It's great fun watching this on your first viewing as you're continuously guessing who the Martian might be, as everyone provides clues that both implicate and clears themselves. The funniest part of the episode is the ending and Serling's closing narration, but I'm not spoiling it, so find a copy of this episode and watch it. Although the ending is humorous, it has a dark twist to it too if you think about it, and if it's looked at like this, it's also one of the most depressing episodes at the same time.
6. Five Characters in Search of an Exit (Season 3, 1961)
I'm not going to explain this one, I feel that Serling's opening narration conveys things better:
Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an army major - a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment we'll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we'll only explain it - because this is the Twilight Zone.
I deliberately kept the synopsis short because there's not really much that happens in the episode in terms of 'events,' it's more about the characters probing existential issues amongst themselves that eventually become allegorical and force us to ask 'who are we?' Because of this, the episode is rather postmodern; probably the most postmodern Twilight Zone has ever been, due to the questions it raises on the character's existence and its blurring of what can be seen as 'reality.' In terms of story, however, it is essentially similar to 'Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?' but while that was played for laughs, this episode is much more dramatic and it presents a rather sad ending. I don't know if it's just me but the major here reminds me of Brigadier-Lethbridge Stewart from Doctor Who.
5. On Thursday we Leave for Home (Season 4, 1963)
A shipwrecked crew of voyagers, led by Captain Bentine, have been stranded on a hot, desolate, desert-like planet for thirty years until a rescue ship finally comes to save them. Everyone is delighted... except Bentine who realises that his reign as leader will be over and makes numerous attempts to sabotage their attempts to escape.
Serling hated the fourth season and thought that all episodes were too long and padded; however, he did mention his own 'On Thursday we Leave for Home' as the best of the season as it makes proficient use of the time. Whilst I disagree with his assessment of the fourth season (I prefer it to the more revered fifth season), I do agree that 'Thursday' stands out. The added time allows expanded characterisation and makes Bentine one of the most interesting characters of The Twilight Zone. Despite his actions, he's certainly not evil and you can tell that he has the intentions of his people at heart. A modern interpretation of Bentine would be a personification of communism. His quarrels with the rescue ship's captain Sloane (Serling loved that name) are a joy to behold as Sloane represents the more capitalist way that Americans live.
4. A Game of Pool (Season 3, 1961)
Jesse Cardiff is a pool player who is convinced that he is the best, but is living in the shadow of the long-deceased champion 'Fats' Brown. Annoyed, Cardiff says he would give anything to play against Brown until he sees a familiar figure in the doorway. Brown challenges Cardiff to a game of pool to determine who is indeed the best; but this game has a twist: it's one of live or death.
At face value, this is one of the simplest episodes of The Twilight Zone as it's just two men playing pool but, like 'Five Characters,' it has a huge philosophical bent and makes it one of the deepest episodes in terms of meaning and morals. Cardiff is the naive and arrogant young challenger who wants to win at any costs; however, Brown is the tired and jaded master that pities people like Cardiff who literally devote their entire lives to one trivial thing rather than live (rather like me!)
SPOILERS: This is the only Twilight Zone, I think, that had two endings in which Cardiff or Brown won the game. The broadcast ending shows Cardiff winning and then becoming the reigning champion; whilst the original, scrapped ending shows Brown winning and declaring that Cardiff will 'die', not in a physical sense, but because no one will remember him, like all failed challengers. If the original one was used, the episode would also probe issues on 'death' and in what sense we can define the word (as far as I know, in the 1980s remake of this episode, they used the original ending). The broadcast ending is also commendable as it delivers another trademark ironical twist, I honestly can't decide which ending I do prefer. All this from a simple game of pool!
3. The After Hours (Season 1, 1960)
Marsha White is browsing a department store in search of a gold thimble for her mother but encounters a variety of strange events: she's sent to the ninth floor, even though the store manager insists that the store has no ninth floor; and the odd woman who serves her looks suspiciously like a mannequin...
This is one of the most famous Twilight Zones and it's easy to see why as it combines horror with questions on identity. White discovers a lot about herself during the course of the episode and it's ironic that her epiphany is caused by bizarre happenings. On first viewing, the episode is terrifying and unnerving; the disembodied calls of 'Marsha' are still nightmare fuel to me, even though I've seen this episode over fifty times. The idea of living mannequins was revolutionary for its time and this episode may have inspired the Autons from Doctor Who. Marsha is played wonderfully by Anne Francis, who back then, was an actress of all-trades and had accepted a wide variety of roles, most notably as 'Alta' in The Forbidden Planet (1953), a re-telling of Shakespeare's The Tempest. Marsha is shown to be a strong woman at first but eventually becomes more reflective and accepting as she realises what she is. Francis' role of Marsha is my favourite female performance in the entire Twilight Zone canon. If you want an episode that provides you with paranoia, check this one out.
2. A Passage for Trumpet (Season 1, 1960)
Joey Crown is an alcoholic jazz musician who is tired of 'hanging around' and decides to committ suicide; however, this is just the start of what he'll discover.
If there's one episode that prove Serling's credentials as an excellent writer then this is it; the entire episode is like one big poem; there's not one word wasted as each character provides beautifully constructed speeches on life. My favourite monologue in the entire Twilight Zone run is said by Crown as he describes how his trumpet gives him meaning to his life:
'Because I'm sad. Because I'm nothing. Because I'll live and die in a crummy one-roomer with dirty walls and cracked pipes. I'll never even have a girl. I'll never be anybody. Half of me is this horn. I can't even talk to people, Baron, cause this horn, that's half my language. But when I'm drunk, Baron … Oh when I'm drunk, boy, I don't see the dirty walls or the cracked pipes. I don't know the clock's going, that the hours are going by, cause then I'm Gabriel. Oh, I'm Gabriel with a golden horn, and when I put it to my lips it comes out jewels, comes out a symphony, comes out the smell of fresh flowers in summer, comes out beautiful. Beauty. When I'm drunk, Baron. Only when I'm drunk.'
This is complemented by an amazing performance by Jack Klugman who gets every inflection of the dialogue, every stage direction and every aspect of characterisation and makes Joey Crown his own. This is my favourite performance in the whole of The Twilight Zone and it's unforgettable. Klugman has a perfect foil in the Angel Gabriel played wonderfully by John Anderson, who is the cool and laid-back angel you'd expect Gabriel to be. Complementing the dialogue and powerhouse performances by Klugman and Anderson, is the music score by Lyn Murray which is another beautiful jazz score which unfortunately wasn't on the official soundtrack either. Whilst I admit the story of 'Passage for Trumpet' isn't the greatest, as it is arguably cliched; it's the dialogue, performances, music and setting that makes the episode poetical and a joy to behold; I can't recommend it enough.
1. A Stop at Willoughby (Season 1, 1960)
Gart Williams is a stressed advertising executive who just wants a quiet life. On the train from work he falls asleep and dreams of a idyllic town called Willoughby. He sees it as a real entity and attempts to seek refuge there.
This is without a doubt my favourite Twilight Zone (it's in fact a favourite of a lot of TZ fans, but most notably, it was the favourite of Rod Serling's) because I think a lot of us can empathise with Williams; at some point, we've all wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of life and 'slow down to a walk and live life full measure' as the conductor describes Willoughby in Williams' dream. 'A Stop at Willoughby' is a companion piece to 'Walking Distance' as it probes the same themes, but I always more of a fan of 'Willoughby' as I felt it more conclusive and satisfying than the previous episode.
Gart Williams is probably the most sympathetic character out of all the episodes: he's a nice man caught in commercial competitiveness, is born in the wrong time and has a bitch of a wife. Oh boy, is she a bitch. Mrs Williams is one of the most horrible characters in the series. It's obvious that she does not care one jolt about her husband, caring only for his money (like any woman! Jokes!). Her loathsome nature is amplified towards the end when Gart calls her for help and she hangs up on him. In contrast, the train conductor, played by Jason Wingreen who'd later voice Boba Fett, is concerned about Williams and is aware that he is stressed and does whatever he can, within the confines of his job, to help Williams, such as researching Willoughby for Williams and being the first to find Williams at the end of the episode.
SPOILERS: This brings us onto Willoughby itself; described by Serling as 'wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind' or maybe 'the last stop in the vast design of things.' This gives way to the saddest ending in the entire series as Williams' plea for help is denied and it is insinuated that he wanted to get away from his nightmare world and escape to Willoughby- suicide. The ultimate fate of Willoughby is one of the neatest twists employed by Serling and it makes it just as more sad.
So that's it. After watching all 156 episodes again to determine my favourite twenty I've finished. I urge you strongly to watch all of the episodes and decide your own favourites as these themes resonate within me. Episodes that are established classics include 'Monsters are Due on Maple Street,' 'Time Enough at Last,' 'Eye of the Beholder,' 'It's a Good Life,' 'To Serve Man,' 'Nightmare at 20000 Feet' and a plethora of other episodes.
