This article was first published in Andersonic Issue 5 - Spring 2008
To most people, the name of Gerry Anderson is
synonymous with Thunderbirds - the technical innovation, the exciting
rescues, the superb soundtrack and strong moral compass made it his
most popular series, and its opening episode encapsulated this
perfectly. Vincent Law goes back to the end of Runway 29...
A pilot episode not only has to tell a story but also introduce the
format and characters to viewers, which is quite a tall order, even in
50 minutes. The Andersons wrote most of their series’ pilot episodes
over the years - when the plot and exposition mesh well, you get
something slick like Breakaway, but if not you end up with something
like Identified where the exposition takes over. Trapped in the Sky is
more the former than the latter, weaving the larger cast and fleet of
vehicles into a good story.
With more pocket money than Bill Gates, former astronaut Jeff Tracy
has created International Rescue, an organization committed to saving
life and employs his five young sons to do the dangerous bits. They
live together on an idyllic island in the middle of nowhere but are not
quite the idle rich they seem to be. All the boys are obviously trained
as pilots/ astronauts/ etc, capable of flying almost anything and also
fearless enough to risk their necks to save lives. The series has a
much bigger scope than Anderson’s previous series - not only does it
have a bigger cast, but also features more regular vehicles and many
more different locations - which goes a long way to explaining its
longevity.
The episode starts by introducing the series’ recurring villain,
unnamed on-screen but known to us as the Hood, who lurks in his temple
drooling over International Rescue’s secrets. His link with IR is that
his brother Kyrano is Jeff Tracy’s man-servant on their island base,
and his only motivation greed (however if you recount all the vehicles
and resources he employs over the course of the series, he’s not
exactly short of a few quid himself). From there we are introduced to
Jeff and his sons along with their resident boffin Brains. The plot
features a theme commonly used in the series, that of advanced
technology, upon which the characters are reliant, going awry. The
villain of the piece plants a bomb in a new aeroplane in order to
create a crisis which will bring International Rescue to the scene - a
long-winded, not to say callous, way of getting a few photos of them!
To add some human interest, Tin Tin, Kyrano’s daughter, is on board the
plane (in retrospect you should know something’s up when she reassures
someone, ’Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe’; cue the ‘minor technical
fault’ which turns out in fact to be a very major bomb). Just as
conventional rescue methods appear to have failed, International Rescue
turn up, out of nowhere. By the time Scott (our ersatz Sean Connery)
convinces the stiff upper lips at London Airport that IR mean business,
they’ll only have 10 minutes to rescue the ‘plane - that’s what you
call racking up the tension!
The sub-plot of the Hood’s little photographic excursion into TB1 and
his subsequent escape from the airport is a convenient lead-in to
introduce Lady Penelope and Mr Aitchless himself, her butler Parker.
They calmly blow his car off the motorway before ‘eading ‘ome, but of
course The Hood only gets a bit charred, so he can return to fight
another day. Meanwhile, using their elevator cars, Scott and Virgil
bring the plane down safe and sound just in the nick of time. Having
earlier established that Tin Tin is aboard Fireflash, we do not see her
or her fellow travellers during the rescue (probably because showing
600 passengers screaming uncontrollably while wearing their last meal
would be too much for a young audience - there are enough reasons to be
permanently put off flying in Anderson’s many series as it is, without
showing such abject terror). It is an oversight that she only reappears
again at the epilogue, apparently without a care in the world and
suggests the episode’s plotting is not quite matched by its attention
to characterisation.
The designs of the regular and guest vehicles such as Fireflash are
based on contemporary developments and are always visually appealing;
also, the scale of the models is convincing - check out that shot of
Fireflash’s engines bursting into life (although those target fighters
are clearly built from small scale model kits). The technical
innovation required to cope with the demands of the script is streets
ahead of previous series, with the innovation of the rolling road/
runway opening up the scale of the story. In fact the rescue couldn’t
have been realised half as well without Derek Meddings’s new invention.
The Thunderbird launches are elaborately built up, particularly in this
opening episode, with Barry Gray’s storming themes the icing on the
cake. At times, the camera seems to be having a love affair with the
vehicles, lingering on the drawn-out launches. Having said that, they
are the real stars of the show. Cynics would say repeated inclusion of
the launches was blatant padding but for me they’re an essential
ingredient to the build-up. The general standard of the effects suits
the caricatured puppets though is not yet quite up to the seamless
standard of UFO.
Barry Gray’s strident Thunderbirds march is almost a soundtrack to
Wilson’s ‘white heat of technology’ hitting 60s Britain at the time.
Every time a new vehicle is introduced in the episode, Barry’s there
with a big fanfare. Just try watching the launches or the climactic
rescue of Fireflash with the sound off and you’ll realise what an
essential part of Thunderbirds’ long-term appeal the music was - it’s
the heartbeat of the whole series and it also papers over the odd
crack. If only the music of New Captain Scarlet was half as memorable.
If there’s one aspect of the episode and the series as a whole that
is below par, it’s the characterisation. Although we get to see most of
the cast, there isn’t enough time to learn about them all this time
round. This is understandable in one episode but notably is not
addressed over the series. Stingray had a similar family-based cast and
featured some fleshed out characters where the humour developed
naturally from their interaction, but Thunderbirds doesn’t manage to
repeat this quite as well. Alan and Gordon hardly feature in the
episode, but over the series it is John and Gordon who are usually kept
in the background. The dialogue can be limp and routine at times - lots
of ‘left left, two degrees’ - and overall much less witty than
Stingray. The approach to the British class system is tailored for an
American audience so everyone speaks in Received Pronunciation (e.g.
‘Jolly good show, old boy’) except for the rough diamonds like Parker
and his ex-con chums. If the inclusion of ‘There’ll Always Be An
England’ to represent Lady Penelope could be seen as parody, then the
use of the teapot symbol on Scott’s console strikes me as going a
little too far towards self mockery.
This was the mid 60s, so it’s no real surprise that the characters
are predominantly male. Looking at the cast 40 years later, one has to
ask where all the girls are; maybe if the series was made today, Jeff
would have managed to marry some of his sons off (and get the services
of his daughters-in-law for IR gratis). The absent mother is another
mystery, and although Tin Tin gets to assist on a few missions, she is
more often consigned to the kitchen. This just reflects a different
time when many women stayed at home to keep house and/or bring up
children; gender roles were more defined back then (staggeringly, at
one time some American states had a law forbidding married women to
work). The introduction of an independent female character like Lady
Penelope is a bold move for the time and in her brief appearance here
she is self-assured and no stranger to understatement. She is shown to
be an essential part of International Rescue as she deals with the main
villain and preserves their secrecy in one fell swoop. The writers were
quick to see the potential of this unlikely double act and Penelope and
Parker were to play bigger parts in subsequent episodes, adding a James
Bond edge to some of the stories.
Something that dates the episode is the ethnic make-up of the cast. The
only non-caucasian characters are Jeff’s manservant and the main
villain, although perhaps too much is made of this topic nowadays,
mainly by people desperately wanting to take offence where none was
meant. The cast of characters just reflected British society at the
time; no-one can expect the producers to have had 20/20 foresight.
Perhaps if the series was remade, Anderson would alter the gender of
some of the characters to reflect modern society, as in New Captain
Scarlet; Alan could be Alana, for example (it might make him more
likeable). The series’ vintage is reaffirmed by the tannoy voice aboard
Fireflash inviting the passengers to ‘smoke if you wish’ - after the
stress of that rescue, they could all have expired from emphysema
before the radiation exposure got them.
The episode introduces a view of the future where technology has
advanced to near full automation, but where it can still fail when
least expected - even one of IR’s own elevator cars throws a wobbler -
perhaps a warning against total reliance on machinery. The technology
is emphasized by Virgil carrying out the rescue with two remote
vehicles, rather than having Alan and Gordon drive them, which would
have racked up the tension and created more involvement for the
characters. So Virgil saves six hundred lives while his two brothers
stay on the sofa! It’s worth pointing out that IR always use this
advanced technology in a positive way, to save life and offer help,
rather than for personal gain (as the Hood would like to do, given half
the chance) or military purposes. The extended hand on IR’s ingenious
logo sums up their purpose perfectly.
The exposition necessary to introduce the series is woven into the
plot fairly well, although the bit where Jeff sits at his typewriter
talking to himself about IR’s raison d’être is badly shoe-horned in and
would have been better explained in a conversation with, say, Brains,
who has little to do in this episode apart from showing the doctor in.
Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness anyway, Jeff. Ditto
the opening scene of the Hood in his temple; the episode breaking the
cardinal storytelling rule several times by telling rather than
showing.
Incidentally, has anyone ever wondered whether there is a
connection between the Hood’s glowing eyes and the eyes on the Tracy
brothers’ portraits which illuminate when one of them contacts the
base? Science versus magic perhaps? Damned if I can work it out. You
may ask yourself where an ex-astronaut got the kind of funds needed to
excavate an island and build a fleet of rescue vehicles to cover all
eventualities. You may also ponder how an automatic camera detector
operates, or you may simply just get swept up with the excitement, and
not worry about such trivialities. It’s difficult to imagine in 2008
what it was like seeing something so innovative hit the screens back in
the mid 60s. From the explosive opening credits to the unforgettable
closing theme, the pace never lets up, simultaneously introducing the
characters and the real stars of the series, the Thunderbird fleet, and
building up to its tense finale. You’d never guess that this was
originally filmed as a 25 minute episode then filled out to double its
running time. All of Anderson’s 1960s series had a unique appeal as
everything seen on screen had been specifically designed and created,
always looking that little bit more interesting than their real-life
equivalents. The innovation and sheer excitement more than compensate
for any perceived shortcomings with the dialogue or stereotyping.
At the end of the episode, Jeff congratulates his sons, ’Boys, I
think we’re in business’ - which is true of the series as a whole.
Watching Thunderbirds, it often feels like their previous series could
have been dry runs for what became the Andersons’ most well-known and
enduring series. Trapped In The Sky is a great opener, arguably the
best episode of the series, as it demonstrates all of its best
features. Many consider it to be the Andersons’ finest hour and they’re
probably right.
Vincent Law