“Warehouse 13″ is a SyFy Channel original series chronicling the adventures of a secret organization cataloging “artifacts” — everyday items imbued with extraordinary powers. They’ve found Neptune’s trident (causes devastating earthquakes), Harriet Tubman’s thimble (shapeshifting), and Ferdinand Magellan’s astrolabe (turn back time for one day). It’s a fun show that does a good job balancing the silly with the serious, and if you haven’t checked it out, do so.

With news that the series will end with a six-episode fifth season next year, Mike and I thought we’d dust off our spec script for the show written last year. Titled “QED,” the script sends Myka and Pete off in pursuit of the dimension-hopping van once owned by Richard Feynman.

Why Richard Feynman?

Because he’s awesome. Seriously, take a look at his van – it’s pure mid-80s Pasadena California madness. Who else but the most laid back quantum physics genius would buy a 1975 Dodge Maxivan and festoon it with a number of illustrated quantum equations? Cal Tech didn’t know what it had — so Mike and I filled in the blanks, with a trip to Doc Brown’s mansion as part of the journey.

The script is available for download here. Read it, share it, and if you’re an agent, we’re available for assignments. What does this have to do with Sliders? Well, it features parallel worlds, which is more than you can say about The Dream Masters.

Enjoy!

Download the Script

• Warehouse 13 – QED [PDF]

I don’t think this turned out the way they planned.

I mean, look around it. The episodes surrounding this are dour, existential, relentless nightmares, and any forays into something like ‘humor’ are seemingly completely accidental, or at the least just an out-of-place joke in the middle of all the sadness. The exception in recent airing history was “Lipschitz Live,” and I’m still holding firm that I would be hard pressed to find any genuine humor in that. Before that you had, what, “Just Say Yes?” Same deal. Really, “The Alternateville Horror” is maybe the only successful comedic episode of Sliders. It nails it in a way that even “The King is Back” had trouble doing, and that’s only because it came too early in the show’s run.

But this? This is different.

THEY’RE TRASHING OUR RIGHTS! HACK THE PLANET!

Here’s where I pull the rug out from under you.

I loved this episode.

Like, adored it. I had such a blast watching this. Why, though? This is one of the turkeys, right? Why do I love it so? Probably a mixture of a few things. First, I love the movie Hackers. Like, a lot. Like, if you sat down and watched Hackers with me, you’d be upset because I’d be reciting every single line of the whole movie. “Seattle, 1988.” Etc.

In any case, 1999 was a fun time for the internet. We’d not yet entered the domain of ‘social media,’ which is about as eschatological as you can get when you’re talking about culture. But in 1999, AOL also had a bit of the apocalypse to it. Keyword: APOCALYPSE. Our paranoia, as it always seemed to do in the 90s, got the best of us. Look at William Gibson’s X-Files episode “Kill Switch.” Actually, don’t. Just look at “cyberpunk” in general.

Which isn’t exactly to say that this episode is “Sliders Goes Cyberpunk.” More accurately, it’s “Sliders Does Cyberpunk As Seen Through The Eyes Of Someone Who Had It Described To Them At A Party One Time When They Were Drunk.” It’s your Dad’s Cyberpunk. So, yes. It’s bad. It’s cheesy. Everyone is ridiculously dressed— even the regulars. Maggie’s shirt I can understand— we’ve seen her in much worse. What I can’t forgive is her beret:

I know, Colin. I know.

It’s just like how the sliders seem to conveniently enter a world with appropriate clothing. In any case, I can forgive that outfit.

What I can’t forgive is Rembrandt’s beret:

It is so bad I’m not even looking at the giant Dildo he’s pointing to.

It is so bad he can’t even believe it himself.

It is so bad that despite his protests, Quinn will still call him out on it.

Man, that’s bad. But then, at least he’s not forced to wear a lamé jumpsuit, like poor Joanne.

GOTCHA.

Wait, I don’t want to talk about her yet. Let’s talk about MARK FUCKING SHEPPARD.

Never fear. I is here.

Or, rather, Mark “A.” Sheppard. Because he’s not quite “Mark Sheppard” yet, is he? He’s not the golden secret of modern science fiction television. Here, he’s just “that guy in the episode of The X-Files with all the fire.” He’s not yet Badger on Firefly, or Romo Lampkin on BSG, or Canton Delaware on Doctor Who. Seriously, look at this dude’s IMDB page. He’s a fucking institution.

But like I said, he’s not quite there yet. Oh, he’s close. He’s certainly energetic, in his way. He fills the screen with energy, lending menace to scenes that deserve it, but have no right to actually have it. This is Sliders— its villans are cartoons. And so is this one here— he’s a total cartoon. But him and his ridiculous facepaint and his ridiculous “sharpened thimble” finger-armor works, somehow. It doesn’t work as well as Maurice Fish’s straight-razor in “The King is Back,” but it’s enough of a departure from everything around it to lend some alternate emotion.

Beware the Thimble Threat.

Remember my post on “Slide Like An Egyptian?” There I posited that the episode was one of deep Camp. There I cast Susan Sontag as a wizard, a psychic who preemptively wrote the Bible for Sliders.

Camp proposes a comic vision of the world. But not a bitter or polemical comedy. If tragedy is an experience of hyperinvolvement, comedy is an experience of underinvolvement, of detachment.

What else is Sliders in this Fourth Season than an “experience of underinvolvement?” In Quinn’s case, “Detachment” is uncomfortably on the nose. But most episodes are at such a disconnect from reality (1998 or 2013) that they come off as unintentionally hilarious. There’s no doubt that it was unintentional. I don’t really believe that anyone could realistically approach a show (read: a paycheck) so cynically that they’d use it as an extended piece of performance art. Sometimes it seems like that’s really what Sliders is all about. But it can’t be. Not really. Instead we’re forced, at times, to read it as a camp masterpiece.

It circles back to Sontag. The last few weeks have been the apogee of “hyperinvolvement.” Tragedy at its most ridiculous. But here, we are back to the things that made parts of the tail end of Season Three, despite their tenuous status as “episodes of Sliders,” nonetheless enjoyable. “Stoker” is a steaming pile of horseshit, but fuck if it isn’t hilarious. In that episode, Duff McKagan shoots Rembrandt with a Lightning Bolt out of his guitar. Here, a cyber-goon shoots the Chandler with a BAZOOKA.

My God, it’s full of Stars!

Camp is art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is “too much.”

Again, show me a quote that’s more applicable.

You can’t, so I’m going to double back to an earlier point I dropped.

GOTCHA, pt. ii.

Remember that this is 1999. I mentioned eschatology before, but this is something new. We’re now nearing the millenium— something wildly important to culture, both ‘pop’ and ‘serious.’ COMING SOON: The end of the world. And the internet is growing faster than we thought. Changing us in ways we’d never dreamed. It’s a time for wonder, no doubt about it. But it’s also a time for fear, for worry. How will this change us? What will our future hold?

And, truth be told, a future where “Net Worth” proves prescient isn’t that unbelievable. Really, what “Net Worth” does is paper our future with glam spectacle. It’s a glittered fortune. There aren’t many episodes of Sliders where you can say “oh man, that’s so close to us.” The very nature of the show usually denies us this. That may actually be the greatest failing of the show— that it shows us things perhaps too removed from our own familiarity.

When was the last time we could say that Sliders guessed right? “California Reich,” I guess. But then, of course, it tempered its futurism with sci-fi schlock. What, then? “The Weaker Sex?” Probably, in its own bizarrely sexist way. I understand that the point of the show is to show what could be, but there’s no point in showing that if you don’t relate it to now. Right?

Which brings us, of course, to “World Killer.” The episode that shows us a barmy science fiction tragedy but plays it for the emotion. But the secret triumph of “World Killer” is that the science fiction tragedy is completely recognizable to us. Overpopulation has been a threat to our world for as long as any of us can remember. “World Killer” shows us what it would be like.

Which is to say, horrible.

Surely that’s the way to approach this show.

The show disagrees with me, of course.. But still, I’m dithering.

The point is that “Net Worth” is, by complete accident— 1999 (and 1998, when this was written) was not the ‘end of the world at the hands of the internet.’ Sure, 20/20/Dateline/60 Minutes/Etc. would run the occasional ‘special report’ about Hacking, and Cyberpunk as a credible source of science fiction had come and gone. But eschatology is as integral to the public’s feelings about “the internet” as abject fear is. Look, this is a show that’s taken on Magic (on numerous occasions— say what you want, but “The Dream Masters” and “Stoker” are just as magical as “Dragonslide.”) Here, the internet is just as magical. But it’s a faded magic. The spark’s gone out.

What I mean to say is, “Net Worth” is an episode the show had no choice but to tackle at this point. It’s in the air. The show is breathing. On one hand, this is unfortunate— the show is grasping for straws, and grabbing them from the headlines. But on the other, it marks an actual interaction with the public psyche— something doing a rehash of “Anaconda” surely wasn’t.

Stride of Pride.

But, of course, “Net Worth” is rubbish. It’s not a good episode of television. It’s barely a good episode of Sliders. But compared to what’s around it, it’s ‘worth’ is paramount. The last month of the show has been a gut wrenching slog through increasingly nihilistic thunderings. The show is almost unwatchable in this form. Pathos is always acceptable. Unrelenting exercises of depression are not. Remember when this show was funny? Me neither.

Which is why I love “Net Worth.” It’s a breath of fresh air. Sorely needed. It’s not the ‘way forward.’ It’s not the ‘way it should be.’ It’s not even ‘good.’ But it’s fun.

And for once, most everyone is in on it. Sure, Charlie O’Connell’s not. But he never would be anyways. Jerry tries more than he has in weeks. But it’s really Joanne who takes the day. Because despite her lamé jumper and stupid headgear, Hayley DuMond takes literally nothing and spins it into gold.

Because there’s “plucky,” and then there’s plucky. It’s not intended as a swipe. It’s a specific (sort of specific to the late 90s) kind of acting choice. It’s familiar to Sliders fans. It’s “Wade in the Pilot” all over again. I mean, don’t forget that Wade worked in a computer store. For that matter, so did Quinn. This episode is coded with things we understand. Quinn’s more at home when he’s trying to hack the planet than he’s been in years. And bounding around him is Joanne, more of a Happy Wanderer (at least in her own world) than any of the regulars we’ve ostensibly been tuning in to see. (Apparently DuMond was cast as a recurring character in the pilot of Alias, but the network cut her part out. Now her career looks just like any other guest star on Sliders. Which is to say, tragically devoid of work.)

DuMond has almost nothing to work with here. Or rather, she’s got tons of shit to work with. But she throws herself wholeheartedly into it. And, for what it’s worth, if we’re actually going to treat this episode with a respect it doesn’t really deserve, I’d say she’s completely believable as an “Onliner” who’s never really experienced the ‘real world’ and like, making out, and like, talking to people about their problems. It might seem like a dull lull in the middle of the episode, but the scene where Rick and Joanne (I’m surprised they didn’t go for the easy “Jack & Diane” gag) meet for the first time and can’t actually get along is actually pretty surprising for the show to include. It’s actually pretty realistic, as much as any episode with this much facepaint can be realistic. Because why would these two people actually get along? They wouldn’t, not really. Rick is an idiot. Joanne just acts like one. Or rather, it’s not fair to judge her on the basis of the ‘real world,’ since she’s never interacted with it before.

The Chandler (and as ridiculous as it is, my long-standing loathing of the Chandler makes the whole ‘bazooka’ situation oddly thrilling) scene, with Joanne & Rick temporarily breaking up, makes it unclear that they’ll actually stay together. Which is exactly as it should be. What is more, the main cast plays up that instability with an appropriate detachment. It’s an adventure that isn’t (bazookas aside) actually that life threatening— they can finally lean back, and take it easy. It’s annoying that these two cyber-teenagers are bugging them and that they got blown up by a bazooka and everyone is talking nonsense and Colin runs funny and running and blah blah.

DUUUURRRRRRRR

The characters, in this episode, are aware that the episode is rubbish. They go through the motions, just as we do, because they’re aware of the camp inherent to the hours that they’re here. If they seem like they’re on autopilot, well, I’d probably phone it in too if I had to stop worrying about all my friends being dead just because a couple of brats just had to fall in love.

Camp taste is, above all, a mode of enjoyment, of appreciation – not judgment. Camp is generous. It wants to enjoy. It only seems like malice, cynicism. (Or, if it is cynicism, it’s not a ruthless but a sweet cynicism.) Camp taste doesn’t propose that it is in bad taste to be serious; it doesn’t sneer at someone who succeeds in being seriously dramatic. What it does is to find the success in certain passionate failures.

So, in the end, because of the return to high Camp, I can’t hate “Net Worth.” I can truly love it. Of course it isn’t a “desert island” episode of Sliders. It’s not supposed to be. An episode decrying “the internet” was bound to happen, and so it did. And it just happened to be a lark— as well it should have been! “Net Worth,” with all its camp and crap CG glory, predicts Tumblr Art eerily well. If you can’t just sit back and enjoy a lark, then you might be doing it wrong.

Of course, that requires pulling Sliders out of its original context. It’s reading the show as it exists today— as something to be discovered by accident on Netflix. In 1999, its another step in a bewildering direction. The early shock of the promise this season offerred is almost completely faded now. It’s unclear where the show is headed. But it isn’t promising. We’ve seen this kind of quality-death before. And then, it molded with actual death. Is Sliders dead already? The question remains unanswered.

But still, amongst the ruins of taste, there remains at least a simple charm.

I refer, of course, to the scene where Mark Sheppard, dressed as a cyberdandy, is assaulted in the face by a giant metal dildo.

PUT IT IN MY MOUTH.

Because, in the end, there is only one thing to take away from this:

If you can touch it, you can catch it.

Whatever that means.

Next Week: they pull a “Darren” on Steven Jensen (Slide by Wire).

At this point in this project, you can all probably imagine exactly what I’m going to take issue with this week. And while you are completely right, I’m going to table that for a second, and tackle a much lesser gripe that I still see thrown around the conventional fan arguments.

So Rembrandt, upon hearing that Wade is maybe still alive, excitedly demands of Quinn that they go looking for her. He replies “I’m not sure we have the time.” Which, yeah, isn’t the best way he could have phrased that. But I’d argue that he really meant to. And plus, they do try to find her. But they don’t have her serial number.

That little hiccup, though, is actually one of the only believably convenient bit of plotting in the entire episode. Because why would the Kromaggs keep human names? They don’t care about humans.

But can I just go through what else is wrong with this?

No, you can’t just use the masks you were using for extras on guest stars. It doesn’t work like that.

I’m sorry, but I’m very much sick of a Kromagg-Centric episode that involves a subcommander being insulted by another ranking officer. Literally every time we’ve seen a Kromagg, that’s what their side of the episode has hinged on. Why? Obviously the Kromaggs can’t be too powerful, or it will strain believability. But the show, for too long, has been going out of its way to defang the ‘Maggs. That, mixed with the limited amount of Magg-Masks, has ended up making the Kromagg Dynasty look like a parody of itself. A sitcom, a soap opera. Red Dwarf that isn’t trying to be funny.

So, before I dig at what (by this point) you all know to be inevitable, let me lay out some weird things that rankle at me—

SO SO FUNKY

Does everyone call interdimensional travel “sliding?” Somehow, I doubt it.

If they’re really trying to lay low, why don’t they actually just lay low, instead of saying “let’s lay low— and also split up and go look for some fucking Kromaggs.”

Oh hey, Maggie mentioned Steven! Finally, we can— oh. Scene’s over.

Contractual Obligations.

Anyways, I know that you really want me to lay into the part where they drive a Hummer through the Vortex. But I won’t lay into that. What I’ll actually lay into is the fact that they drive into the vortex with a Hummer, and then act like it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t you be screaming, laughing? Mentioning it? They just drive out from behind a building. Like it ain’t no thing.

Why does there need to be a Hummer? Why can’t they just run? Wouldn’t that have been cheaper?

Look, once again, I’m having to ignore the majority of what I watched in favor of looking at what almost was. The bare bones of this episode’s plot is genius— it’s absolutely the episode that needed to be made. By accident, they opened an  entire awful can of worms the show wasn’t ready for. I understand the need to make Wade’s departure both believable and shocking. But “forced rape,” obviously, was too much. It was too much not only because of the horror it subjected to the character who deserved it least. But also because “rape” isn’t an issue that Sliders can tackle. Not because it shouldn’t tackle it, or that it isn’t worth tackling. But Sliders, being written by a bunch of tonedeaf bros, can’t handle it. That’s why it’s there in the first place.

In a way, Wade’s “rape” is the blow which cripples the show. It can’t really recover from that wound. But “Mother & Child,” at least in the first ten minutes, seems like it will be a salve. “The Dying Fields” was also an episode that attempted to tie up the loose end of the “breeding camp” idea, but it answered the wrong question. We, as human beings, don’t really care about “what would come out of a human and Kromagg if they had sex.” We care about the implications of the act, and what that act does to people.

“Girl, do not touch me with your perfect nails.” BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY HAVE TIME FOR HAIR AND MAKEUP IN A FUCKING “BREEDING CAMP.”

Granted, “Mother & Child” barely deals with “the act.” It focuses more on the “Child” half of the equation, dealing with the consequences of the life sprung from awful circumstance. But even then, that’s barely true. The Child doesn’t even have a name until the last five minutes of the episode, and even then it is named in relation to what’s actually the glaring problem of this episode.

Which is, of course, that the “Mother” is completely tossed to the wayside in order to deal with how the “Fathers” deal with the “Child.” And yes, it’s certainly more complex because lo and behold there are two Fathers and now we have to watch them pull out rulers. The episode is effectively stolen from Christina, as her choices are pulled out from under her by all of the men in her life. Her Father, Jonathan, pulls back from her emotionally as soon as he sees a Humagg baby in her arms. Sure, he’s guilty of creating the virus that will effectively murder his grandson, but he’s also the man who created the antidote. He’s forced to reveal that information— and not even because his own daughter asks him to— it’s because of a direct threat to his life.

How many different babies do you think played that baby? So many different babies, I bet.

Couple that with the Subcommander, the Kromagg who “risks it all” and “violates his orders” to “save his child.” And while he’s at first an antagonist, the episode spends a significant chunk of its runtime trying to subvert our expectations of him. He’s set up as, as I mentioned earlier, as yet another in a long line of idiotic subcommanders. But as soon as he “commandeers a sliding device” he becomes a different character. I word it that way because there is literally no part of the episode telegraphing this ‘revelation.’

That’s all well and good (not). But there are two things wrong with it. First, a sizable chunk of the episode is devoted to a THRILLING sequence where the Kromagg impersonates Jonathan and shows off how good a psychic he is by fooling everyone in the CIA (which is in Los Angeles now of course). It’s a fine sequence, with some interesting ideas of switching between our characters in disguise or not (and good ammunition for the people who disagreed with my assessment that the show is devoid of memorable direction). But in the end, it’s fundamentally skewered by the fact that it’s a Kromagg who is spearheading this operation. We don’t care about Kromaggs.

And we especially don’t care about this one. Because, at the end of the day, he’s there because of rape. He screams and pleads that Christine’s child is “his,” and she, somehow, denies this, saying that just because he supplied his genetic makeup doesn’t make him the father. But also we’re talking about a child born in a Breeding Camp. “Breeding” isn’t just something that happens. We’re given every indication that she carried this child to term. It wasn’t just grown. Otherwise why would they even need the humans at all?

So we’re asked— for just a second, and its eventually upturned, but still— we’re asked to consider the side of the Kromagg. Does he also have a claim towards this child? After all, it’s his idea to get the antidote. He’s trying to save “his” child. Of course, he betrays everyone in order to get the antidote back to his own world (Why, though? What does it matter— he’ll clearly just be executed anyways), but he’s still trying to steal the child. And he’s trying to steal it because he thinks it’s his.

And through this, Christine does nothing. No decision is made by her. She simpers and cries and wishes that her Daddy understood her. Then her Daddy marches right into a lazer gun and dies. And she names her child after her Daddy. Because Daddys are the most important thing in the world.

So here we had a good idea for an episode— to put back the female perspective onto a show that is so genderblind it exists in its own black hole. But it can’t do so, again because of the “boy’s club” of writers the show has. Of course it couldn’t write an episode that treated a woman with respect. Who would have written it? There isn’t anyone who could anymore. The perspective is gone.

OMG BESTIES for about an hour until they Slide again.

“Wait,” you say. “You never talked about Wade, your favorite character, the soul of the show so callously tossed aside!” To which I say “yeah, but the episode didn’t really talk about her either.”

Look, I watched this episode. I wasn’t annoyed, like last time. I got through it just fine. But I misremembered the ending. It’s literally been over a decade since I’ve seen this (and most of the episodes from here on out). In my mind, I’m confused at the death of Jonathan.

I realize that “wow, how cruel is it of the sliders to leave Christine on a world where no one knows her or trusts her, all alone with an infant freak-child?”

Then I think that actually no— that’s the right choice. It’s the first moment of autonomy that Christine is granted in the entire episode. It’s the first moment that isn’t completely defined by the men surrounding her (Maggie spends the most time with Christine, but no action or meaningful discussion comes from it).

But then I am flabbergasted and appalled by what happens. Because they throw the baby in an extra padded snuggy and take her with them.

Look, I’ll forgive the Hummer through the Vortex. But remember how many times the joke of “Rembrandt always hits Arturo really hard coming out of the Vortex” was made? So many times. Because the vortex is actually sort of dangerous. And I’m sorry, but that baby would fucking die. If they threw an infant in the Vortex, it would not come out.

Also, c’mon— they give Christine a ten second warning about “the people over there might not respect you,” and she’s like “cool, no biggie guys.”

…right.

And of course, we’ll never see her again. We don’t even see her in a new world. Episode over, move on. Forget all you’ve seen. Now that we’ve finally dealt with all that messy rape business, we can move on and never mention that “Wade” girl ever again. The Sliders saved the day! They left two corpses on the front lawn, and abandoned yet another person in their ridiculous and selfish trip through the multiverse.

Look, I’m sorry, you can’t spend 40 minutes attempting to make me care about a character and then not even give me the actual emotional payoff of her character arc— for this to work, we need to see Christine on that new world, at peace with her child.

For this to work, we need Christine to be an actually realized character, with emotions outside of “SAVE MY POOR BABY.”

For this to work, we need to realize that you can’t just throw people in rape camps and have them act like it’s no biggie.

For this to work, we—

—no, you know what? There’s no way this could have worked. Not on this show. Which isn’t even true— the show’s already airing concurrently with Buffy, a show that deals with actual issues of real people and women in respectful and thoughtful ways, while not ‘sacrificing’ any of its core tenets of being a ‘genre’ show. But at this point, comparing the two seems like a joke. Mainly because Sliders is a joke. It’s just not a funny one.

“Oh, whoops.”

And this is an episode that I actually got all the way through. I still made my way through it. I don’t know why, exactly. Maybe it’s because the like, ten minutes that Rembrandt is in this (though also, why the hell is he, of all people, sidelined in this episode?), he steals the show with an attempt at acting. Or maybe it’s Quinn’s surprised and regretful face when he accidentally rips the Kromagg’s oxygen tube out and effectively murders him. But then, why would we be regretful? It’s a Kromagg. You just watched him murder a man. His daughter is weeping openly at his corpse. Why do you look so sad?

It’s a two-second shot, but it really floored me. It was a glimpse back to the Quinn of “The Good, The Bad, & The Wealthy.” The Quinn who was destroyed by guilt when he believed he’d killed a man. We haven’t seen that Quinn since, instead coming to accept that the gun-toting, lady-killing machine with the schoolboy’s haircut and leather sweater vest is the same person. For just one moment, I saw the character I fell in love with so long ago.

But then, is that enough to keep me watching a show? If I wasn’t who I was, if I wasn’t so invested in seeing this through, then no. If I was a viewer of this in 1998, then no. I doubt it. At this point, you’re still better off watching The X-Files.

humminahumminahummina

And this is an episode I got all the way through.

Next Week: hack the planet (Net Worth).

Last week, I dug deep, and found gold.

However fetid said gold was, it was still there. There was still some sort of kernel of worth, something that made the hour interesting. And sure, I might have been straining. Last week’s ‘thesis’ is mostly based on where I am as a human being. You could read that entry and wonder “Man, is he doing okay?” And I’d answer, “No, not really.”

But that’s alright. That’s not why you’re here.

Yet this week, what you’re here for… well, isn’t here.

I don’t know where it went. Sucked into the aether. Lost to time and space. Gone.

What I mean is, this isn’t an episode of Sliders.

And I don’t mean that in the “oh, this is soo bad” kind of way. Yes, it is, in fact, soo bad. But there’s a difference between this sort of ‘bad’ and the kind of ‘bad’ that defines “Time Again & World” as perhaps the absolute worst episode of the series. “Time Again & World,” at least, has the main cast acting as themselves. I don’t mean this in the “first cast best cast” sense. I mean it in the way that they are at least still readable as themselves. Arturo doesn’t, for example, start geeking out about tacos, or hiring a prostitute, or doing something that seems wholly out of the ordinary for him to do.

You may remember way back in my “Gillian of the Spirits” entry my distaste for the scene where Wade lights a prayer candle for Quinn. My dislike of that scene doesn’t stem from any sort of anti-religion or other sort of blasphemy. Instead it comes from the fact that it’s absolutely unbelievable to me that Wade would even think to light a prayer candle. Remember “Summer of Love?” or “Into The Mystic?” Or hell, any other episode with her in it. If the episode had added just one line to the effect of “I know this sounds strange, but…” then her lighting of the prayer candle would have been fine. Wade isn’t religious— she’s spiritual, but ascribes to a more free-spirit sort of spirituality. Rembrandt is the one who should have lit a candle. Wade should have reluctantly joined him.

The point I’m getting at is that none of the characters (except maybe Quinn, as ironic as that is) acts like themselves. Instead, they’re bent and broken into whatever shells of humans the script needs them to be. Charlie O’Connell isn’t a good enough actor for this to be a big deal. Rembrandt and Maggie, though, cause the episode real problems.

There comes a point when you maybe shouldn’t bother anymore…

For Rembrandt, it’s easy to miss the problem, because it’s a problem rooted deep in the character. “Lipschitz Live” would have you believe that no time has passed between “The King is Back” and now— Rembrandt has reverted to extreme comic relief. I’m pretty sure that hanging off of the edge of a building isn’t as bad as watching your best friend being dragged off by beings of pure hatred. But here we are, watching him scream and whine like he’s pining for his Cadillac again. It’s embarrassing to watch. And sure, Cleavant Derricks has the chops for it. But he also has the chops for so much more, and we’ve seen all of that ‘more’ throughout this whole season. I’m not saying the show can’t be funny (actually, maybe I am). But the show has to make it’s humor work with what we know about the characters. Remember “The Alternateville Horror?” That worked. This doesn’t. Mainly because it isn’t funny. (And do you really think that they’d be so fooled by the Colin double?)

Also not funny is Maggie. This is obvious, the “humor” section of “Just Say Yes” wasn’t so much embarrassing as it was offensive. This episode is no different. Here we have the last vestiges of n”Tough Fighter Pilot” drain away, leaving nothing more than a sniveling peril-monkey— something the show hasn’t really done to one of its main characters before. The real crux of how problematic this is is when Maggie hands Rembrandt the controls for the window washing platform, saying “you’re a man, you do it!”

“You’re a man, you do it!”

Because of course a woman couldn’t do it. A girl is supposed to be terrified. Rembrandt, are you terrified? That’s not very manly of you. You should feel ashamed that you have these girly feelings like “fear.” And again, here I am saying “Fuck You, Sliders.” AGAIN.

This show is a boy’s club. If you’re going to make a show about the human condition and what our actions mean about us, then you can’t leave out the majority of the population. Especially if you’re going to be actively sexist about it. Lest we forget that David Peckinpah made Wade go to a fucking Rape Camp because he thought it was a “funny” way to get rid of the character. Keith Damron wrote this shit heap of an episode— and oh did I shudder when I saw he wrote it— it’s more infuriating that the sexist under/overtones of this episode are so casually thrown around.

It’s funny that this would be the episode where Quinn acts even remotely like the person he used to be.

Take for example, the ‘iconic’ line of the episode, where Quinn tells the crowd of Lipschitz Live about Logan St. Clair. “Did you have sex with her?” they ask. Quinn, thankfully, is disgusted. We as fans are supposed to take this as humorous. Which, no, not really, sorry.

But we’re also supposed to be pleased at the fact that a past adventure is being referenced. Which is fine in theory. But by framing it in such blatantly sexist tones, it accidentally opens us the hideous underbelly of the show. If you’ve forgotten, Logan St. Clair was supposed to be a recurring character until FOX straight-up told the show that Zoe McClellan wasn’t ‘hot’ enough to be on the show. Which is so blindingly infuriating. And by “Lipschitz Live” referencing Logan in terms of sexuality, the episode is adding to the barrage of sexism.

The thing is, though, that Logan St. Clair was a brilliant character not because she was a female double of Quinn. That was a good idea, sure. But she was also interesting because she was an extreme version of Quinn’s quest for knowledge. It’s not hard to believe that Quinn would turn into Logan eventually— just look at “World Killer.” Our Quinn had the ‘fortune’ of the sliding accident to check his hubris. Logan did not. Plus, Logan actually did try to seduce Quinn. That’s a complex situation for the show to take, and it’s one that I applauded. “Lipschitz Live,” though, ignores that complexity in order to make another joke about ‘sex.’ Another step on its path to fully put women in their ‘place.’ That kind of ‘humor’ has no place on any show I admire. It’s embarrassing, it’s infuriating.

I’d like to say that it isn’t Sliders. But that’s wishful thinking. This show’s emotional core is as rotten as its ideological one. So now we can add “sexism” to the list of things this show secretly is about, along with the “cynicism” we added last week.

STAY OUT OF MY TELEVISION.

You know what? I turned off this episode. I couldn’t watch it. It was boring, it was sexist, it wasn’t funny, Colin’s double is fucking stupid, the whole idea is lazy. The thing is, though, there’s a certain amount of inevitability to this episode that makes it even more unnecessary. It’s 1998, the whole Springer/Maury/Etc. ‘talk show’ craze is building up to full steam. It’s just as obvious for Sliders to ‘do’ Jerry Springer than it was for the show to do Twister in Season Three. But does it have anything to say about the daytime talk show reality television phenomenon?

No— it’s just fuel for Keith Damron’s idea of humor.

An evil kind of humor that goes unnoticed every day. A kind of humor that’s allowed to infest our society, and insult the majority of our own kind. Out of fear, out of jealousy, out of ignorance. That’s the thing— Sliders should do an episode that takes on the Patriarchy. But it doesn’t— it never could. It’s too caught up in the thing itself. If a mirror was held to this show, it would show nothing.

The demon’s gaze looks out triumphantly over his vast domain.

With very few exceptions, this show is made by Vampires.

Here, you know what? Just watch this Peter Gabriel video. It does in 5 minutes what “Lipschitz Live” couldn’t do in 40—

Next Week: please please please let me get what I want (Mother & Child).

Tucked away at the bottom of the list is a small story called “Sleepless in San Francisco.” It’s not small in length but in scope, as it deals almost exclusively with Maggie agonizing over whether to stay on a world where she’s found true love. A nice character moment floating above a sea of sci-fi nonsense and low-budget pastiche, fans definitely wished they could have watched it over Mallory hitting the Bone Zone.

But what if we told you the stories were one in the same, that what we now know as “Easy Slider” almost definitely started as a Maggie romance? That the same episode  birthed when David Peckinpah saw “Kari in tight leathers with motorcycles” is the one fans pine over when reading the fifth season what-if list?

Below, courtesy of writer Janét Saunders, you can read the original pitch and decide for yourself. For those of you wondering how “Easy Slider” started with Kari in leather but never featured her in anything but the dowdy dungarees you see to the right, Saunders’ pitch about a Maggie romance – complete with polygamy! – might fill in some of the blanks. Who knows? You might even make the same leap that we did.

“We fashioned our pitches around places on the studio lot that we hadn’t shot or with subjects that I felt would appeal to David Peckinpah,” says Saunders. “He had just gotten into motorcycles so I knew he would want to do ‘Easy Slider’ and I was right. He was on the phone with the network for 45 minutes talking them into approving it, and of course the story was changed around.”

Thanks again to Janét Saunders for providing this peek into the production process!

The Pitch

Teaser

EXT CITY STREET/CHANDLER HOTEL – DAY – On their walk over to the Chandler after vortexing in, the Sliders quickly deduce that there must be some sort of oil shortage because of the sea of motorcycles of all sizes, shapes, and colors.  Lots of bikes, lots of leather.  There is still some public transportation and the occasional automobile drives by.

INT. CHANDLER HOTEL – BAR/LOBBY – DAY – They arrive at the Chandler Hotel thirsty and head straight for the bar.  Amidst the other patrons there, Maggie is immediately attracted to a tall, charismatic, blond biker, KYLE MASSINGTON.  They are immediately drawn to one another.  Mallory and the others are a little put off by her flirtatious behavior.  They’ve never seen her take to someone so quickly.  Soon they are left out of the conversation completely.  They decide to go get a room and Mallory grabs a newspaper in the lobby on their way.  As they are about to go upstairs, Kyle asks Maggie if she wants to go for a ride on his Harley and they decide to leave.  Maggie tells the Sliders where she’s going.

INT CHANDLER HOTEL ROOM – DAY – Up in their room, Mallory opens the local newspaper and reads aloud how Governor Jerry Garcia (“He didn’t die on this world?”) appointed the Commissioner of Gas and Oil, Kyle Massington, to another term of office for doing an outstanding job in regulating and rationing gasoline.  Mallory shows the photo of Governor Garcia and Kyle to the Sliders.  “Hey, this is the guy Maggie just took off with!”

Act One

EXT. BEACH – DAY – MONTAGE· Kyle and Maggie riding on his Harley, strolling and laughing on the beach, sitting on a rock talking seriously, that first romantic kiss, and the ride back with her hugging him tight and smiling.  This is that rare, exciting, love at first sight that if you’re lucky, you’ll experience once in your life.

EXT. CHANDLER HOTEL – NIGHT – Kyle and Maggie return to the Chandler, share a passionate kiss good night.  He can’t let her go.  She doesn’t want to leave him either.  Another tender embrace.  Finally, they part.  She watches him drive off in the night.

INT CHANDLER HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT – Maggie bursts through the door all aglow.  The other Sliders are sickened, probably jealous.  Diana and Mallory are practically asleep, but Remmy is all ears.  As Maggie’s getting ready for bed, she has heart-to-heart talk with him.  She’s struggling with her deep feelings for this man.  Could she really fall in love so fast? Should she stay on this world with him? Remmy tells her she has to go with her heart.  Hearing this advice, Mallory pipes up now, trying to talk her out of it.  This is so impulsive.  Diana agrees.  They want her to take some time to think it over.  Perhaps Mallory realizes how much he feels for her and is especially upset. He tries to reason with her.  After all, she doesn’t know this Kyle guy at all.  Maggie remarks how tired she is, but after the lights go out, we see her thinking and smiling in the moonlight.

EXT CHANDLER HOTEL – DAY – The Sliders bid Maggie a tearful good-bye for now as she rides off with Kyle.  They will still be on this world for a few more days so she will see them again.

INT. CHANDLER BAR – DAY – After Maggie leaves they head on into the bar where they get info a conversation with the local bikers.  While talking with TIM and DREW, we realize Mallory is a motorcycle affectionado as he reminisces with them about a rare 1929 Cleveland Indian 4-cylinder bike he once saw.  The bikers tell him there’s one in town! It’s owned by a connoisseur collector, AXEL, who’s having a big barbeque cookout and they’re heading over there if the Sliders want to join them.  Why not? Diana is not really thrilled with these biker types, but she agrees to go along.  ROXY, the bartender, remarks to them it’s too bad she’s working.  The guys say they’ll miss her at the festivities.

EXT. CHANDLER HOTEL – DAY – As they all go out front to leave with the bikers, Diana has second thoughts about actually getting on a motorcycle with one of these guys with their leather and tattoos.  But Remmy talks her into it.  She bravely hops on the back of one, and four or five bikes take off for Axel’s.

EXT. KYLE’S HOUSE – DAY – Maggie and Kyle arrive at his little, country house, and go inside arm-in-arm.

INT. KYLE’S LIVING ROOM – DAY – They are laughing and start kissing as he pulls her down on the sofa.  They are so contented with each other.  They kiss tenderly.  Kyle says he was thinking he’d like to be with her forever.  Maggie shares with him that she’s never felt so comfortable with anyone before.  Kyle suggests maybe they should make it a permanent arrangement.  Maggie is so taken by this proposal, she’s amazed, almost high.  They are really enjoying each other, when suddenly, a beautiful girl, SYLVIA, enters, asking if she can get them anything.  Maggie is startled.  Who is this and why is she just walking into his living room? Sylvia reminds Kyle that he has an appointment with SONNY, who will be arriving momentarily, then she leaves.  Maggie is upset, but Kyle sloughs it off saying she is one of the women who takes care of him. He tells her he has to get ready for his appointment and suggests that she go to the guest house next door and get acquainted with everybody.  They’ll take good care of her.

EXT. AXEL’S HOUSE AND YARD – DAY – Meanwhile, Axel’s barbeque is quite a gathering.  Bikers and their chicks, musicians, food.  They meet Axel, messy hair, wire glasses, and discover not only does he have an extensive bike collection, but he’s a quirky, inventor type who’s working on an electric, solar, synthetic fuel, or soybean-powered motorcycle – some alternative to gas – in his garage/lab.  He shows them his amazing motorcycle collection.  Mallory is impressed! They like him a lot and Diana is especially interested in his fuel-saving formulas.

EXT. KYLE’S GUEST HOUSE – DAY – Maggie walks over to the guest house with Sylvia and asks her about this Sonny guy.  Sylvia tells her he’s the leader of a millenium madness group.  “A what?” Maggie asks, “Crazy survivalists who believe when the world’s computers can’t read the year 2000, chaos will prevail.  So they’re up there on Sonny’s land hoarding canned goods, weapons, water, and deisel fuel for their generators”, Sylvia explains.

INT. KYLE’S GUEST HOUSE – DAY – They enter the guest house and Sylvia introduces Maggie to a friendly group of women.  They’re so nice.  They fix her up with sexy biker leathers (vest and tight pants), and she looks great.  But now she realizes what she’s gotten herself into.  Some of the women have children. Kyle is some sort of polygamist! She’s shown around and given a room of her very own.  After they close her door, she sits on the bed stewing with anger at how stupid she’s been!

Act Two

EXT. AXEL’S HOUSE – NIGHT – At the barbeque, Diana and Axel are so into their scientific fuel conversation, Mallory and Remmy say they want to go back to the Chandler.  Axel loans them one of his experimental bikes and tells them to leave the keys with Roxy at the bar.  He’ll get them later when he brings Diana back.  They ride off into the night.

EXT. WOODED ROAD – NIGHT – Down a desolate, wooded road, the bike runs out of power and Mallory and Remmy have to start walking.  “So much for Axel’s solar alternative…”  They leave the bike there and start walking down the road, but Mallory tells Rernmy it would be shorter to cut across the land because town is just over that hill.  Remrny reluctantly agrees and they head off.

INT. KYLE’S GUEST HOUSE – MAGGIE’S ROOM – NIGHT – Still fuming and tired of waiting, Maggie decides to leave.  She cautiously peeks out the door because she doesn’t want to deal with the others.  The coast is clear, so she leaves the room.

EXT. KYLE’S GUEST HOUSE/YARD – NIGHT – It is dark now as she sneaks out of the guest house.  She hears the roar of Harleys as Sonny and two men arrive.  She crosses the yard to the house.  She goes closer to observe.

EXT KYLE’S HOUSE – NIGHT – She listens at an open window, but can’t quite hear everything.  Sonny is loudly demanding more diesel fuel for his group.  “These drops you’re making aren’t big enough”.  Kyle says that’s all he can do right now without looking suspicious.  Sonny tells him he’s gonna look more than suspicious if the press finds out about a certain murder.  This alarms Maggie.

Kyle protests, the death was an accident. Sonny assures him the press will have a field day with that kind of news and Kyle will lose his precious public office.  Maggie can’t hear any more, then a door slams and the bikes start up.

INT. KYLE’S HOUSE – NIGHT – Maggie goes into the house and confronts Kyle.  She’s disgusted at his activities and her own bad judgment.  She would never do the polygamy thing and why is he involved with these millennium freaks? After all, he’s a state commissioner! Kyle is sorry, he truly loves her, and begs her to stay.  No way, she’s going back to her friends.  She storms outside.

EXT. KYLE’S HOUSE – NIGHT Now what does she do? In her anger, she realizes she’s stranded, considers the vehicles there, and starts up one of the smaller motorcycles.  Kyle comes outside as she’s off to a wobbly start.  But she makes it, and drives away.

EXT. WOODED ROAD – NIGHT – Tim, Drew, and Diana are on the way back to town when they come upon Axel’s bike on the side of the road.  They realize the experimental bike must’ve conked out, leaving Mallory and Remmy stranded.  They assume Mallory and Remmy probably walked or hitched a ride back to the hotel.

INT. CHANDLER HOTEL BAR – NIGHT – But when Diana gets back to the Chandler and Roxy says she hasn’t seen them.  Panic sets in.

EXT. SONNY’S OLD MANSION – NIGHT – Remmy and Mallory, now lost, see the mansion’s house lights ahead and enter the property seeking help.  But before they realize it, men from Sonny’s group are closing in on them, calling them government spies.  Remmy and Mallory see they’re in trouble and make a run for it, but they’re outnumbered and are soon captured by these armed men.

Act Three

INT. CHANDLER HOTEL ROOM – DAY – Diana and Maggie are still asleep when they hear knocking at the door.  As they rouse, a quick survey tells them Remmy and Mallory aren’t there.  Maggie answers the door and isn’t thrilled to see Kyle standing there.  Kyle pleads with Maggie to trust him.  There’s a lot he can’t tell her right now, but in time he’ll be able to and then she’ll understand.  She doesn’t want to hear it.  The priority now is finding Remmy and Mallory.  Diana interrupts, says she has a feeling they’re in trouble.  They may have wandered into Sonny’s millennium camp.  Kyle suggests that they could go flirt and play pool at Woody’s Roadhouse, a place they all hang out.  He has an inside man there.  Chances are they’ll get invited up to the camp where they can look for Remmy and Mallory.

Maggie walks him to the door and regretfully tells him she doesn’t know what to think about him.  He could’ve been “it” for her.  She was “this” close.  Kyle asks her to reconsider, but she tells him he has more baggage than a bus stop.  He leaves and she closes the door, saddened by the moment

EXT./INT. WOODY’S ROADHOUSE – NIGHT – Diana and Maggie, all decked out in black leather, play pool, try to fit in, and gain the survivalists’ trust.  These guys are leery of newcomers, but practically stumble over one another to flirt with sexy girls. During this, Diana sees Axel walk in and greet everyone like old buds, including her. She introduces Axel to Maggie and he tells her she’s just as beautiful as Kyle said. Now they’ve got the connection, but still unsure of whether they can trust these guys.

When the others see that Diana and Maggie know Axel, they invite the girls up to the camp for some war games.  They just nabbed a couple spies for the “hunt” in the morning.  This alarms Diana and Maggie.  Could the spies be our guys? Maggie and Diana readily agree to visit the camp.

EXT./INT. SONNY’S OLD MANSION HOUSE – NIGHT – Ever gracious, Maggie and Diana are ushered into the old mansion by a couple of love-starved geeks and introduced to Sonny who tells the guys to give them a room upstairs for the night.  The girls say they’re looking forward to the war games and thank him for his hospitality. Once inside their room, they finally relax their act.  But there’s still no sign of Remmy and Mallory, Where could they be?

EXT. SONNY’S MANSION – DOG KENNELS – NIGHT – Outside there are a few chainlink dog kennels.  In one of them we see Remmy and Mallory, cold and angry, “Shall we toy it again?” Remmy asks Mallory.  They start climbing the chainlink fence, but the dogs start barking and someone yells out of the darkness that they’d better stay put.  They climb back down the fence, chagrined.

INT. SONNY’S MANSION – DAY – The next morning at a group breakfast, the war game is explained that they have two fed spies who will have five minutes head start before they hunt them down and shoot them.  This makes Maggie and Diana nervous, but Axel sidles up to them with comforting assurance.  They are still reluctant to trust him.

EXT SONNY’S MANSION – DAY – Outside, in the light of day, Diana and Maggie see that Remmy and Mallory, still in the kennel, are to be the hunted! They exchange terrified looks with them.

Act Four

EXT SONNY’S MANSION – DAY – The guns are handed out and explained.  Most of the guns are ordinary paint guns, except for two, which contain a deadly poison that kills its victim within 12 hours – or lazer guns which temporarily immobilize the victim –or tranquilizer guns, This really alarms Maggie and Diana and they now regard their guns with fear.  They don’t want to play this game.  They don’t want their friends to be the targets.  Near them, they hear Axel call someone on his cellular phone.  ‘We’re heading northwest through the woods.’ The girls exchange a curious look.

EXT. WOODS – DAY – The games begin.  A horn is blown and Remmy and Mallory take off running into the woods.  They are panicked, racing through the woods for their lives, picking up sticks and rocks as their only ammunition.

After five minutes Sonny’s group member are off chasing them down.  Diana and Maggie run as fast as they can, hoping somehow to protect their friends.  Lots of action.  Near misses.  Rocks thrown.  Maggie and Diana turn their guns on the survivalists.  Axel is on their side.  With paint in their eyes, it’s hard to run.  Sonny gets it right in the face.  This gives Remmy and Mallory the opportunity to hit the hunters’ shins with
sticks.  But then Mallory is hit with the poison and immediately feels it.  Struggling, Remmy and Axel help him as they continue on, with Maggie and Diana covering their backs.

EXT. CLEARING – DAY· They reach a clearing and think they’re doomed when they see a dunebuggy approaching them.  But Axel tells them it’s okay, it’s Kyle.  Kyle tells them to jump on.  They look back for Maggie and Diana, who are coming out of the woods.  They all jump on Kyle’s dunebuggy and Kyle goes racing off away from the pack, talking on a cell phone.

EXT. WOODS – DAY – Meanwhile the remaining survivalists are trying like hell to catch them.

EXT. CLEARING – DAY – When they reach the same clearing, they wonder what happened to their prey.  Before they know it, they are surrounded by police officers in off-road vehicles.  An officer on a bullhorn tells them they’re surrounded, to remain where they are, that they’re under arrest for illegal possession of dangerous weapons and ammunition.  Officers move in to apprehend them.

INT. CHANDLER HOTEL BAR – DAY – Safely back at the Chandler Hotel bar, the Sliders relax and have a drink.  Mallory is feeling better now, although a little woozy, Maggie is picking paint out of Remmy’s hair.  Axel walks in and joins them, Diana apologizes for misjudging him and Axel says he would’ve felt the same way because he has to be discreet when he’s helping Kyle get information,

EXT. CHANDLER HOTEL – DAY – When the Sliders come outside the Chandler to vortex out of this world, Kyle drives up on his Harley to say good-bye, Axel comes outside now and he and Kyle exchange a sincere “brother” handshake, The Sliders thank them again and Maggie playfully asks Kyle if he’s ever been in a vortex before… “because you could come with us you know…”  Kyle is so tempted, and their eyes follow each other, as she walks off down the street with her friends.

The End

Download the pitch

Want to save this for posterity? “Easy Slider” is also available to download as a PDF:

• Easy Slider pitch – December 16, 1998

I kind of like “Easy Slider.”

Sure, it’s a dumb hour of television and one of the weaker Sliders episodes produced. It won’t win a Hugo award, redefine the genre, or make Robert Floyd a household name. But “Easy Slider” is an enjoyable, stupid romp, and I feel the rush to judgment by fans oversimplified and unwarranted.

“Easy Slider” is guilty of one thing – being brain-farted into existence by executive consultant David Peckinpah. “I see Kari in tight leathers with motorcycles,” he pitched. “Now go with it.”

So they did. God bless ‘em, Bill Dial and his motley crew took that edict and transformed it into an escapade where Mallory joins a biker gang and gets laid, an episode stripped of subtlety, subtext, and idiosyncrasy.

They built a society where outlaws settle their differences with bike jousts. They wrote a scene where a Smoker – someone continuing to use banned internal combustion engines – has a leisurely public conversation about their renegade status while standing next to a contraband motorcycle. This created a world where the Air Quality Management District – a regional Southern California office – burns American citizens to death and strings them up as a warning to gasoline thieves.

Not enough for you? We’re also treated to numerous scenes of nameless bikers driving around the Universal backlot and some oddly disquieting polygamous sex scenes. It’s like, for one week, Sliders production went off their meds and crammed every weird trope or bad idea a writer could have into 44 minutes of screen time. Just to see what would happen.

This is the end result. It is pure madness. And it is way more entertaining than it has any right to be. It’s certainly a better way to spend your afternoon than watching Time Again and World.

Look, I’m at a point as a fan where I’m no longer expecting Shakespeare. I have been to the mountain, I have pulled the rose-colored glasses off, and I can see things for what they really are. This is the fifth season of Sliders; I just want to be entertained. “Easy Slider” delivers.

Many “classic” episodes are remembered fondly despite being as bad – or worse – than what’s delivered today. But because they were produced in the first two seasons, involve the original cast, or have one truly memorable scene amidst a script filled with inconsistencies, they get a pass. That doesn’t change the fact that Time Again and World was a piece of shit, even if it looked terrific and had some cool music. It is an unwatchable mess, and I hate it.

There are so many episodes that tried to do something gimmicky or high-concept, only to fall flat. We watched a living flame slide with our people, saw a crazy British colonel shapeshift with the help of brain fluid, and scratched our head over magnetic tornadoes. In the canon of this series, there’s a world out there where a man can turn into a dragon and another where one thousand humanoid robots killed every human being on the planet.

“Easy Slider” drops all that nonsense and embraces a reality where people who want to stretch their legs and hit the road cannot. So they fight for that right. (And party!) The Sliders get caught up in the middle of it for a couple days, and when their time’s up, they leave. There’s nothing earth-shattering at stake, just a few rounds of beer at the local watering hole and a quick fling with a local. It, like the amazing middle story of As Time Goes By, is what you’d expect happens between episodes.

The success of this episode rests heavily on Floyd’s and Lisa Akey’s shoulders. As Sam, the leader of the Smokers, Akey brings a believable dose of grungy sexuality to the part. You can see why Mallory’s so attracted to her; Sam exudes a charisma and confidence we haven’t seen in a female on this show in a long time. Given the amount of screen time Sam has, a lesser actor would have been in much bigger trouble.

I also buy Mallory’s horndog approach to sliding. The guy meets a girl who’s as big a flirt as him and works his angles; what’s wrong with that? Rembrandt did the same thing on countless worlds; even Maggie tried to seduce whats-his-name in “Slither.” It’s a bit much for Mallory to quit sliding to stay here, but considering he really has nothing personally invested in continuing to slide (Quinn’s gone as far as he’s concerned), he might as well stick with a world he can identify with.

Yes, there is a ton of forced plotting to make this story work. Yes, there are gaps in logic. But so help me, there’s an aloofness at play here that I can’t dismiss. Maybe it’s Peckinpah’s direction, the little visual cues (“1 Day Since Last Accident”), or the familiar bit roles. Maybe it’s Mallory’s mortified reaction to Sam’s gaggle of husbands that does it for me. I can’t quite pin it down. I just know I like it.

You might think this is another gag review on par with The Breeder or Mother and Child. It isn’t. I really do like this episode, certainly more than others. Unlike the self-important character examination in Strangers and Comrades or by-the-numbers adventuring in The Java Jive, “Easy Slider” got me worked up. It made me feel something, even if that feeling is in the pit of my stomach.

Someone tuning in to the pilot on March 22, 1995 might get the bends if they were to immediately skip ahead to “Easy Slider.” I totally understand that, and I understand why fans were outraged the resources of a production like Sliders were pissed away on such a superfluous outing. But take a look back at the past five years. With bullets like El Sid, Dragonslide, and The Chasm chambered, haven’t we been doing that all along?

There comes a point where we have to throw what’s actually on screen out the window.

The flaws in this episode are obvious, glaring, myriad, distracting. This episode is terrible. “California Reich” was deeply flawed, but it was at least interesting. You couldn’t fault it at such a deep level as this. This episode barely deserves the title. It’s such a jarring drop in quality between weeks. You can lay it on whatever you’d like— there’s a gap in airdates, maybe this was the last episode produced before a holiday. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. It’s jaw-droppingly inept. So let’s lay out the easy critiques and then move on to something else.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

The acting is perhaps the absolute worst the show’s ever put forth. The guest stars are all incredibly lacking in talent, or effort, or …anything, really. You can tell why everyone was hired— they look pretty alright, for late-90s bit actors. I’m sure production was pissed when they finally put Jenny in a tanktop and saw that she looked like a real human being and not the melted Barbie Doll they’re so enamored with. I’m also glad she still has time to do her hair and makeup before strutting out into a fucking Warzone. Same goes for perfect hair and beard Smarmy Man. I was just so bummed when they both got fried.

On the other side, we’ve got the Freakin’ Kro-maggots. The Kromaggs have always been hindered (Kromanus and Kolitar aside) by poor acting. I’ve made the case before that this is most likely down to the fact that the Kromagg prosthetics look completely stupid and make it hard for actors to take themselves, or their roles, seriously. This episode is no exception.

Having Kromaggs be a recurring enemy this season was a gamble that until this week was looking like it was on its way to paying off. But there’s a downside to the ‘Maggs, and it dovetails with the other withering problem with this episode— it’s cheap. Really cheap.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope. (But also, if you can clearly see that it looks terrible, why would you bother with a close up like that?)

That downside is the fact that we’ve seen the Kromaggs enough on the show to realize that they’ve run out of prosthetics. You can actually recognize the masks from earlier episodes. I understand the need for this, but it’s distracting. And it isn’t as if the actors are doing anything to make it seem like there’s a difference from ‘Magg to ‘Magg. Most of the time they’re extras anyway, they don’t even have lines. But production continues to put the most pig-looking of the Kromagg masks on the most inept of sub-commanders, time after time. Am I supposed to assume that there’s a great family of Kromagg Brothers who all have shitty sub-commander jobs? I doubt it. The show’s too lazy.

So lazy that it somehow manages to shoehorn the set of the Chandler in a place it has absolutely no right to be in. Again, I understand the need to reuse sets. But you are straining credibility if using Season 3′s fucking cave set would have made more sense than whatever you used. Throwing dirt on a hotel doesn’t look edgy. It looks stupid.

Finally, if we’re going to ream the episode for its cheapness, let’s look at that bag of fake eyeballs in, what, spaghetti? Is that how Kromaggs like eyeballs? Like meatballs? Or is that what we’re actually supposed to think is what is inside of the human head? Spaghetti? Like, thick spaghetti. Like, play-doh spaghetti. Like, the Kromaggs love to eat human eyeballs… and play-doh.

TERRIFYING.

But not as terrifying as the hideous fake arm we’re tormented with in the teaser. Now, let’s think about this. We just saw some semi-Kromaggs murder a dude and cut his arm off. That should, in any other universe, be terrifying. It should be the return of the Kromaggs as a true threat to the universe, and to the show. Now they’re back, and they’ve got parts of us inside them, and men are no more than meat to them.

But instead, this arm looks like shit.

And Rembrandt still takes the time to make a joke about the toothpick.

Okay.

That’s done and dusted.

This episode is a failure.

But what was it failing at?

What was it trying to do? What was the goal of this? There are bits that shine through, worms poking at the surface of the graveyard. This isn’t a complete wreck— but it actively takes digging to see what’s right. That’s not a defense, of course. Too much digging is necessary for this to ever be a successful anything. 

But, since me tearing this apart is too obvious and lazy to suffice for an entry, I dig the digging. And I’ll leave you with a radical viewpoint— “The Dying Fields” is the show’s thesis episode. It’s the episode that tells us what kind of show it wants to be, what it’s trying to do, what it’s trying to say. Since it’s increasingly clear that “World Killer” was an outlier in the show’s ouvre, it’s still a little hard to define what the show is anymore.

So now we know what this show is.

Apparently the only way Kryoptus knows to show his love is the overly dramatic side-hand-sweep.

First, though, let’s talk about War.

So the plotline that isn’t will-Rembrandt-die-of-course-he-won’t-idiots plotline is that of Kyra and Kryoptus. They’re two “hu-maggs,” or Human-Kromagg hybrids. They’re the result of the horrific ‘breeding camps’ that Wade is now a member of. The magic weapon that defeated the Kromaggs on their Homeworld leaves Kromagg women unable to procreate.

Which smears something on the whole ‘wonderful utopia’ that Quinn’s homeworld is supposed to be. I understand that living with the Kromaggs would be difficult— a constant war. But then, is that really what it’s like? We only know there was a war, and that while the humans won their world, the Kromaggs still won the multiverse.

Again, this smears Quinn’s world. Engaging in biological warfare is bad enough. Targeting at women (instead of just, I don’t know killing them all outright) is needlessly cruel. But doing these things in order to liberate just one world out of the infinite is selfish. And it clearly doesn’t even help. It makes the Kromaggs into bigger monsters than they already were. It makes them desperate.

Taken with the idea of the Slidecage as something that needs to exist, this paints Quinn’s people as intensely xenophobic— monstrous mirrors of the ‘Maggs. There is evolutionary deviation— but not by much, really.

Hey, but c’mon guys— coed barracks! How’s that for gender equality, amirite?

We are, of course, supposed to blindly believe that Quinn’s Parents are Good, and that the Kromaggs are bad. The truth is, though, that it’s far more complex than that. Both sides have problems. But this episode poses a light of hope for the Kromaggs and, by proxy, for us.

We’re introduced the the Hybrids as inferior (which is ironic considering that eventually they’ll be the only Kromaggs left), as looked down upon. Basically, they’re the children bullied at the schoolyard. But they’re the children on the schoolyard given a deadly Nobelium Laser Gun and told to murder the people who made them inferior. They’re a terrifying weapon because they’re just human enough to be able to tap into their intense rage and feelings of inadequacy, but Kromagg enough to not even consider the idea that they have a choice.

So what we have here is something pretty interesting. This is an episode where the correct course of action really is “overthrow the government.” I’ve been pretty harsh on the show when it goes down this path. And I’m not going to go back on that, either— the “overthrow the government” plots are always one-sided and xenophobic.

But here there is the chance of real change. Change in the name of Humanity, and also int the name of Wade— who, again shockingly, is mentioned. After all, even if Kyra isn’t actually Wade’s child, she could be the child Wade will one day have (what an absolutely cruel call back to her desires of motherhood “The Fire Within”). It means everything in the world to the memory of Wade if her legacy contains her deeply rooted Humanity. Wade was, through everything, a good person. If it’s impossible for that goodness to persevere, then her life is nothing but a tragedy.

It’s absolutely an imperative, then, that the goal of this episode is to ‘convert’ Kyra, to make her see her inner Humanity. And sure, that’s an age-old trope, done to death. But it’s really only the course of action this episode can take. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Yep.

The point is, it turns out, to show us that nothing we can ever do on this or any other world matters at all.

The sliders do, in fact, succeed. They open Kyra’s eyes and show her that it’s more important and worthwhile to pay attention to her Human side. And she runs to Kryoptus, her almost-lover, and tells him this revelation. She is moved with the import of her words. Rembrandt, Maggie, and Colin slide, content in the knowledge that they’ve done their duty. They’ve changed the Kromaggs. Maybe it’s an infinitesimal bit. But it’s a start. It’s more than they’ve ever done to turn the tide of this “war,” wherever it is truly fought.

Which is when Kryoptus stabs Kyra in the gut, killing her almost instantly.

Not quite instantly, of course. There’s just enough time for the camera to linger on Kyra’s shocked face, enough time for us to think about all the torture in her eyes. And then she falls, dead. Quinn watches, emotionless, as all they tried to do slips away with her lifeblood. Then he slides.

Don’t go there, Kryoptus.

They tried. And they failed. And it was the last failure in a long, long string of failures reaching all the way back to the moment Quinn took two friends and a stranger on a trip around the universe. He should never have slid, never had started this journey. We didn’t even think of this until Quinn had a bullet in his back. But once he had destroyed an entire Multiverse with a deeply selfish action,  it’s been extremely downhill. The third season’s shadow-plot was showing how science is somehow evil, how exploration through technology can only lead to death. Then Arturo died— the voice of elder science, silenced. Then he succeeded in the most important thing in the world to him— getting his friends home. But then his home was destroyed by Kromaggs. One friend tortured. One friend gone, the only clue he had to her existence the threat of constant rape at the hands of her slavers. And here, a quiet, gentle way to inflict change.

And it fails. Brutally.

The show doesn’t even hang on the moment. There’s barely a minute between Kyra’s death and the end credits. The show treats it as just another line of action on the page. No more importance than the stage directions.

Because what’s the use? You can see the finality on Quinn’s face— change is worthless. It doesn’t exist. Life is cruel, and unusual, and completely unfair. So why bother? Why bother feeling? Why bother trying— why bother with anything?

You shouldn’t.

And this is what Sliders is really about.

It’s the personification of cynicism.

Of nihilism.

Of existential horror taken to such a complete extreme as to become completely meaningless.

God, I hate you.

Or, it’s nothing more than yet another inane episode of a shitty television show no one watches anymore.

Next Week: Another inane episode of a shitty television show no one watches anymore (Lipschitz Live).

Sliders doesn’t have the benefit of history.

It exists as a time capsule, made in a time of peace and stability. The 90s were great! But if you look at our culture, you’d think we lived in a post-apocalypse. The X-Files is probably the apogee of cultural darkness— paranoia, the feeling that evil is seeping in between the cracks of reality. But it wasn’t true, not then. We put that evil on a pedestal and revered it because it seemed impossible. We couldn’t trust what we had— hence the paranoia— but we still had it great.

But then the bubble burst, the camel’s back cracked, the tub was emptied. Our perfect little soufflé of a country fell flat. The Great Disappointment. Death. Destruction. Recession. Comparing 1998 to 2008 to 2013 is an act of depression. Not only in the sense of economical downturn‚ but one of emotional depression. This country, in its cowboy hubris, took itself down the tubes. You could argue that we’ve pulled ourselves out of the worst of it, but have we?

“Hey Mom, is it cool if I place this chair on your head?”

I’d argue no.

And the simple fact of that makes “California Reich” at times both infuriating and terrifying. The evils that “Reich” posits aren’t really science fiction— in 2013, they’re fact with fiction glaze. That’s not to say that the lead singer for The Germs and some immaculately coiffed thugs march around rounding up black people and throwing them in concentration camps. But we live in a country where a majority of the population doesn’t believe in evolution. A country where a very vocal portion of the population refused to believe that our President was actually a citizen— something that most certainly wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t black. A country where, in so many of our cities, “poor” neighborhoods are just a nicer way to say “non-white.” We don’t live in a fair country.

But it isn’t as if things weren’t like that in 1998. It’s not like immigration wasn’t still a concern. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t racial tension. It wasn’t as if poverty didn’t exist. Today, though, all of our mild concerns of 1998 are magnified to tremendous levels— the tension is all around, not just seeping into the racks, but simply all we know. It’s worse now, because things haven’t gotten better.

So now, in 2013, it’s impossible to watch this episode and not recoil. Because a lot of things that happen in the episode are truly terrifying. But they’re cut with inanity and sci-fi bollocks and bad ideas and over-proselytizing— basically, it’s just an episode of Sliders. 

Which is frustrating— but it’s understandable. I understand why the episode keeps throwing around the name of Hitler like the name is water and there’s a brush fire. It’s because we couldn’t believe, in 1998, that something so terrible as Federal Racism could exist, so we need to frame it in the eye of history. So, yeah, bring up Hitler. It makes the entire episode an uncomfortable joke.

The episode posits that maybe, if this world was fortunate enough to have a Hitler, then it would have realized that violent prejudice is bad, and the Eddie Program (where minorities/mudbloods are converted into Cybermen-Janitors) wouldn’t exist. But wouldn’t the episode be more chilling if they had a Hitler on the world, and still didn’t learn the lesson? Removing Hitler form the equation gives the parallel world too much of a free pass for its bad behavior. “Oh, well of course the racism that is still a constant problem everywhere ever because white people are the worst is taken to a ridiculous degree on this world— they didn’t have a Hitler!”

Seriously—stop blaming Hitler for everyone who has ever committed an atrocity. It’s not all on his shoulders. Yes, Hitler committed some atrocities. I’m not saying “I love Hitler.” But, hey, what about the indigenous population of America? Y’know, the ones that we raped and murdered and pillaged and tortured and burned off their land and stole their land and their lives and all that was rightfully theirs— all because God told us to? What about that? That clearly happened before Hitler.

Racism and Slaughter is a fact of human beings— it makes us despicable. We still haven’t overcome this awful truth. We’ve made progress— but it’s baby steps. Sliders, in 1998, 2008, or 2013, or 2036, or in the next Universe after the Collapse, is embarrassing to watch. I know this is a piddling comparison, but the reason “Eggheads” is one of the best episodes of the show isn’t because they made up “Mindgame.” It’s because it showed us a world that seemed tangibly intellectually better than our own, and humanity was just as corrupt and evil and foul-minded as our world.

“California Reich” tries to have its cake and eat it to, pointing the finger at the easiest target imaginable. It’s so blind to the reality of the situation that it slops on more sci-fi bullshit, trying to make this idea of “America for Americans” a joke, a story, a fiction. But when it’s not, in any way, a fiction, it comes across as insulting.

Phantom of the Broom Closet.

I like the idea of the Eddies. I like the idea that they’re humans. That’s scary. It’s like the interesting parts of “The Breeder” taken to an asexual extreme. It fits in with the ‘sci-fi enchilada’ vibe that this season is going for. But, I don’t know. Make them prisoners. Try to make an episode that fixes “El Sid.” Don’t take on racism and pass off some half-baked warmed-over vaguely sci-fi bullshit as ‘activism’ and sprinkle a little ‘shit explanation of Naziism’ on the top to cover your ass. That’s lazy. That’s offensive.

I almost want to say that I can’t even appreciate the attempt, especially since the writer’s room on this show is a bunch of affluent white dudes. But I can’t, really, and it’s because of the show’s not-secret-anymore weapon.

Cleavant Derricks tore a muscle in his face from all this PASSION.

Again, Cleavant Derricks steals the episode, bend it to his will, and makes it more compelling than it has any right to be whatsoever. When it’s just Harold and Rembrandt together, fighting, talking, arguing— that’s when there’s fire. For some reason it seems ridiculous that Harold would still have been at Selma ON A WORLD WITH NO HITLER, but whatever. It’s interesting that Rembrandt has all this fire in him. And it’s funny to bring it up again, but the only time we’ve seen it before is in “The Breeder.” There is was out-of-place and inane. Here, it’s neither.

But as much as Cleavant Derricks puts honest emotion into his performance, there’s still a disconnect. Because they come off as that thing that’s haunted Sliders for so long, something that only recently has been on the downswing— tone mashup. The Eddies, and Shane West, and Governor Shick— this is all firmly in the ‘camp’ sense of sliding. It’s “Season Three Science Fiction.”

The thing is, though, that this is coming directly from the Sci-Fi Channel’s “Make It Smarter, Make it Sci-Fi” edict. This episode is taking a concept that isn’t really science fiction at all, and mashing it up with a concept that purely is. And while the two ideas are not mutually exclusive, you do have to work to make the two concepts connect. This episode, though, just doesn’t do that work. And that lack of work ruins both concepts. The Eddies seem slapped onto a vastly more interesting story about Racism. But the Racism part of the story amounts to nothing more than “Racism is Bad, Don’t Do It.” Which is obvious. We know that already. What else?

Y’know what, though? If Rembrandt does this at a Schick rally, wouldn’t everyone be like “ugh what is this black person DOING?” Like, doesn’t the fact that it’s Rembrandt deflate the entire situation? Shouldn’t have been Shane West? DO THESE QUESTIONS MATTER?

If you’re going to do a story about Racism, you can’t just settle for the what. You’ve got to make it about the why. What causes it? Where does it come from? Why is it so ingrained in our minds? Why does it keep rearing its head? Those are interesting questions— ones well worth asking. Sliding, as it sometimes was shown to be in the early days of this show, is about asking these questions. Windows into the Human Condition. Do things change? What changes them? Should they change?

Racism, of course, is something that should change— but you can’t just say that, over and over again, close your eyes and pat yourself on the back. Good job. Now get off your soapbox and let someone who actually has something to say have the megaphone. So bring up good points, say nothing about them, and then just blame it on Hitler is insulting. Because you can’t just blame it on Hitler. You have to ask the deeper question— why was Hitler Hitler? Why was he so ‘evil,’ if that’s what you’re choosing to posit as ‘evil.’ What is it in people that  lead to such atrocity?

Also, we understand that this world is alright with race just because this man is african american. YOU DONT NEED TO PUT THAT HAT AND OUTFIT ON HIM. WE GET IT.

“California Reich,” and Sliders in general by this point, have no interest in these questions. It contents itself with trifles. With ideas that go no further than “that was cool.” And was it cool? If that’s the only thing you’re going for, is this cool? No— it’s not. It’s lazy. It’s lame. The end of the episode rushes by in less than five minutes. They slide, taking two people with them, see a bunch of black people in positions of authority, and dump them there. Sliding away in front of strangers. Abandoning all responsibility. The story ends, neatly wrapped, tied with a bow.

But inside that shiny packaging, there is nothing.

Next week: A love story between the children of coercion (The Dying Fields).

The Sliders land on a world where Maggie’s double led a manned mission to Mars thanks to technology upgrades from aliens. (That’s not the error, by the way.) When the return trip from the Red Planet goes awry and kills her and her crew, Maggie’s double becomes a celebrated American icon representing humanity’s spirit of exploration. The gang is astonished to discover a statue commemorating their journey in a nearby park – although the astonishment may be equal parts infodump and prop disaster.

What’s wrong with the statue? When the camera shows us the plaque, it reads Maggie Becket. With one “t.” Moments before and after the title card declares this is “The Return of Maggie Beckett.”

How sloppy and amateur are the crew and prop designers? How hard is it to get a character’s name right when it’s the title of the story and it must be on every page of the script? And even if the prop department made a mistake and there wasn’t money to redo the plaque, couldn’t they have avoided showing it onscreen? Had the characters read it out? Photoshop another “T” on there?

Did they have to show the title instantly after showing the botched plaque? Don’t the creators care at all about visual coherence?

Of course not, it’s the fifth season of Sliders.

That said, if you can move past this testament to obnoxious carelessness, “Beckett” is a very good episode. It features a lovely script from Chris Black, a very talented writer who makes terrific use of the available resources and actors to make the old Sliders magic come alive again. When the Sliders emerge from the vortex and terrify a homeowner (and her cat), the laughing, cheerful interplay between the cast is instantly appealing.

Robert Floyd, Tembi Locke, Kari Wuhrer, and Cleavant Derricks really seem to have a great time together and Black’s script makes it come alive well for the characters. Everyone gets something significant and worthwhile to do; Maggie and Mallory have some fantastic interplay over his sale of her toothbrush to Maggie-collectors, Diana shows her inquisitive nature through a fascinating investigation into this alt-world (Roswell aliens lead to the technology exchange catapulting their space program well past ours) and its embrace of all things Reticulan, and Rembrandt holds the team together by coordinating the effort to find Maggie after she goes missing. It’s nice to see this group of Sliders can click; all they need is to be given meaningful dialogue and worthwhile roles. Who knew?

On one level, this space-program-driven alternate world is very sketchily defined, with the advanced technology from the Reticulans shown as an anti-gravity mail cart and little else. Yet Black’s script accommodates the tight budget by introducing Maggie and Mallory to the Leader (Steve O’Connor), a seemingly-alien looking being who turns out to be more human than he appears. The Leader is a marvelous creation thanks to inspired scripting and a lovely performance from O’Connor; you believe his take on the conspiracy obsessive who suffers from the “problem” of living on an Earth where there are no conspiracies. (Thank you, Adlai Stevenson.)

The Leader is a comical yet strangely tragic figure. He’s an awkwardly self-important man desperate to assert his significance by proving a conspiracy exists involving the death of Maggie Beckett – even if he has to fake the evidence proving it. And it’s through this character Black’s script breathes life into this alternate history, showing how the culture of this world left the Leader and most other conspiracy theorists struggling for a cause. Even Mr. Xybo (Rob LaBelle), curator of the Maggie Beckett museum, gets to show he’s more than a face to deliver exposition.

World-building and characterization aside, much of this episode rests on Kari Wuhrer’s shoulders, and she delivers. Maggie is stunned to discover she’s a national hero, and while the others are delighted, it’s clear this discovery wounds her in some way – although it’s not immediately clear how. Kari excels at showing Maggie putting on a cheery face to hide her discomfort: she throws on sunglasses, smiles too broadly, dashes about with an enthusiasm that’s clearly forced. But when Mallory tries to steal her hair for resale on the collector’s market, Maggie snaps. She tries to strangle him and then gobbles down fried chicken in an attempt to cope.

Maggie’s confrontations with the double of her estranged father, General Thomas Beckett (Winston Rekert), are somewhat generic. The difficulties between them are predictable and don’t connect well to Maggie’s identity as a Slider; we learn the General largely ignored Maggie as a child, she joined the military to win his approval, never received it, and grew bitter. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, except it doesn’t add to our understanding of Maggie’s character.

How did the lack of a father figure result in what she became? In the third season, she was an antagonistic, abrasive bully. With the fourth and fifth seasons, she’s become a milquetoast with a few flares of aggression or brilliance, but ultimately, she’s a generic female heroine defined purely in terms of Kari Wuhrer being appealing and affable. This episode had a chance, through Maggie’s father, to address these disparate, confusing and contradictory portrayals and find some way to unite and deepen them. Instead, Maggie’s father-issues are disappointingly lacking in personal specificity, but that’s not really Chris Black’s fault. It’s because Maggie isn’t really a character, just an excuse to justify Kari’s (admittedly enjoyable) presence on the show.

Nevertheless, Chris Black’s well-considered writing finds a solution to this problem by giving these shop-worn dramas a neat angle. He introduces an identity conflict for Maggie: she’s estranged from her father and angry at him, yet when faced with his double, she relates to him from the position of being his daughter, even if it’s just to demand why he raised her so poorly. She can’t stop seeing the General as her dad even though he’s not and she doesn’t want him to be. Kari’s performance hits every single note in this conflict. This shouldn’t work, but Black’s ability to make the most of very little triumphs in the end and Kari does a very good job.

This is a lovely episode and a wonderful piece of television. Shame about that memorial plaque and it’s a shame Chris Black wasn’t working on Sliders during a production regime that actually cared about quality control.

Let’s first say that the smash-cut from Rembrandt’s face as he recoils in horror at the thought of Miguel-San to a shot of Miguel-San’s door is an absolute slam-dunk of comedic timing. It might be my favorite joke since the toilet-seat in “Love Gods.” Miguel-San as a whole is exactly what Sliders always thought it had been doing the entire time— mixing weird humor with alternate history. This world isn’t perfectly fleshed out, but it doesn’t have to be— it was ravaged by the Kromaggs (in a ‘resource raid,’ something we haven’t heard of before, and something that somehow both deflates their threat and makes them more terrifying at the same time), and now it’s recovering very, very slowly. But something like Miguel-San shows without telling— and of course, Hackett tells Maggie all about the cross-cultural establishments, but that’s just dressing. Miguel-San is already the perfect joke. It’s the kind of joke that allows the show to get away with “war-torn worlds,” which is already sort of becoming a go-to.

But who cares about Miguel-San, right? This is Rembrandt’s hour.

Still, though, there’s more to get out of this before we truly deal with the absolute triumph of characterization (oh, did you really think I was going to slam that?) this episode holds. There’s an awful lot of characterization going about, and a lot of clever bits of cross-cutting and reveals and feints that make this a smarter bit of television than we usually expect from Sliders. It also photoshops Margaret Thatcher with a Kromagg.

What is this, Doctor Who fanfic from 1987?

I guess we can start there. Sure, it’s easy to make fun of Colin’s impossible trip through the library. But cutting that with Maggie learning about Hackett and the War and Rembrandt bearing his soul to Grace and us, the audience, learning about “Thatchers” (Kromagg sympathizers) at the same time as the sliders, leading us very beautifully to Rembrandt’s heart shattering into a thousand pieces on the floor of the multiverse.

This is the show growing up.

It’s finally making a television show for adults. Not that it was for children before— and not that there’s anything wrong with that— but it was certainly childish. And I’m not expecting this to stick around for longer than the 40 minutes of “Asylum.” But it’s refreshing to get a glimpse of the parallel world where Sliders doesn’t assume we’re stupid.

YOUR MOVES ARE SO RAW, I JUST GOT TO LET YOU KNOW

Look, this guy’s awesome. The first time we see him, we’re primed to think that he was cast because he looks like Michael Hutchence and soon he’ll romance Maggie and this episode will be about sex. But it’s not, and this episode plays with that. It plays him as a bad guy who’s spying on the sliders, taking creepy pictures of Maggie. It plays with him as an evil spy, full of guns and passports. It plays with that and it plays with most of the things that are usually wrong with this show. It plays with what we expect of Dr. Grace Venable, as we’d usually expect her to be a bit player before Rembrandt makes a move. Later on, Rembrandt calls out the stupidest worlds we saw in Season 3 and still manages to make them sound more dignified.

I understand that this effect was probably a little tricky, but wasn’t there a way to make it look like his head was actually on that pillow?

If there’s one truly damaging thing in this episode it’s Quinn. He’s gone— ill through the entire hour. Which is fine— it sparks the plot, which is about more than just Quinn maybe dying (we know he won’t, of course). The problem is that Quinn isn’t really absent in the hour— he’s not even missed. His absence in every way improves the episode. As soon as he opens his smarmy asshole eyes, something deflates from the episode. Colin (and the script, for what it’s worth) thankfully gets Quinn out of the scene quickly, before he can continue his stupid “I was napping for SO LONG” joke. This is who we’re supposed to believe is the lead of this show. And we’re actively disappointed in his survival.

Maggie discovers The Smiths, who did not exist on her world.

An episode about worrying about a slider in peril is something that’s happened before on this show (and often). But there’s something more moving about Maggie & Colin’s soft freak outs, first about Quinn, and then about Rembrandt. It’s really only Maggie who worries more about Rembrandt— she knows him better than Colin, after all, so it makes sense. Colin wasn’t around during “Common Ground.” He doesn’t know what the Kromaggs really mean to Rembrandt. He doesn’t have any conception of their evil. Which is kind of interesting, actually. In “Slidecage” the worst evil he encountered wasn’t even from a Kromagg— it was from a human. He doesn’t know what it means to learn that “Dr. Grace Venable” was not only a Kromagg Sympathizer, she was also a Kromagg’s Lover.

Cross dissolve to a fireplace: televisual shorthand for “intercourse.”

It’s interesting how the episode glosses over the fact that she also took the Kommandant as her lover. It’s probably the thing that smarts the most to Rembrandt. I mean, to him, the Kromaggs are the embodiment of pure evil. Pure hatred. Everything Bad. You honestly can’t even describe the fires burning inside of Rembrandt. Jules & Kolitar gave him a little taste of the Human side of the ‘Maggs, but it’s obviously not going to be enough— the team telling him about his ‘betrayal’ ruined any of that goodwill. I can’t even begin to imagine how he would feel about a human willingly bedding a Kromagg. It’s implied they made love. Rembrandt realizes he just entered the most nightmarish of vagina dentata— he’s been where a Kromagg has been. I’m shivering at the thought. He’s exploding.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

BIGGAH AND BETTAH THAN EVAH

So this episode is about war, and what it does to a planet, and how everyday people have to cope with the fallout. But that idea is presented through the lens of Rembrandt and Grace. And to be honest, it’s a marvel. A revelation. It’s simply impossible that we’re watching this. Because this is romance. On Sliders.  Presented in a non-insulting manner. With two adults. Valarie Pettiford is without a doubt the best actress to be on the show since Deanna Milligan in “Gillian of the Spirits.” Maybe even the best ever.

Part of that is due to the insane chemistry between her and Cleavant Derricks. It’s just so easy and natural. Which is absolutely essential if you’re going to sell me a relationship forming in like, 10 minutes. Especially if that relationship starts with Rembrandt kind of making a joke about his erection? I mean, Cleavant sells the shit out of that erection joke (gross). But the other reason it works is that Pettiford reacts as if it is a little silly and desperate— which it is. 

But what’s different is that usually on this show, that kind of scene would be played so much different. Rembrandt would say the dick joke and the woman would instantly fall on her knees in awe of his wit. Well, maybe not Rembrandt. If Quinn was involved in the scene, that’s exactly how it would have played out. But this isn’t Quinn. It’s our man Remmy.

Aww, but really— even just scrubbing through for screencaps I still grinned like a maniac here.

These people have been through war. Not in the same way, as we learn. But Rembrandt opens up to Grace in a way we haven’t seen in a little while. Not even really to his friends. Part of that is because as much as his friends understand the idea of how dangerous the Kromaggs are, they’ll never understand what it was really like for him. The only person who could was Wade. And she’s gone.

So Rembrandt needs this. He’s not really talking about what his time in the camp was like, not specifically. But as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t have to with Grace, because she understands him anyways. All the other times we’ve seen Rembrandt romance somebody, he’s never on equal footing. He’s always working his way up to someone— usually, they’re a ghost from his past that he’s trying to make amends with.

But here, he’s Grace’s equal. They’re both adults. They’re both mature. They both respect each other. They’re comfortable with each other— just take the “why, you sick of me already?” joke, which is both a great jibe on Remmy’s “smooth moves” and also a really touching line. And so Rembrandt can finally truly open up to someone about his real life in a way that’s not bizarre. He tells her about sliding in what is probably the first time in the history of this show that isn’t totally inappropriate. And he opens up to her about his Faith, which is a part of Rembrandt we haven’t seen in a long while.

It’s truly a beautiful speech—

I know it’s nighttime, but could they have put like, one more light on Remmy’s face?

“No matter what world we land on— the heavens and the stars are always the same.”

“And nature— it’s always working the same way.”

“Two and Two always turn out to be Four.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot … I think it means that the same God is in all these worlds.”

Look, I know I made fun of the discrepancies in his speech. But it’s a completely honest and moving moment. It’s the kind of moment that this show hasn’t had in ages. It almost doesn’t even deserve this kind of moment. But it’s here, and we have to contend with it. And it doesn’t matter if technically Rembrandt is ‘wrong.’ He believes it. That’s enough for me. It tells us more about Rembrandt than any kind of “no wait, didn’t I mention I was in the NAVY” ever did. That was flailing. This is centering.

Rembrandt’s journey on this show has been the most drastic of all the characters. He started at a personal nadir, really. He was vapid and empty— desperately clinging to a career that didn’t exist. Snapping at Quinn about his car. Shrill. Angry. Dressed in bizarre clothes. I mean, he was a joke. And sure, he was written to be that way. He was a stereotype. “Funny Black Dude” was where he began and ended.

And part of his journey into “believable human being” is due to a willingness of the writing staff to allow for more than a one-note character (too bad the same wasn’t allowed for Sabrina Lloyd). But part of it, too, is because Cleavant Derricks is a truly amazing actor who can take the worst material ever and elevate it to the sublime.

Season Four may not be perfect, but the decision to make Rembrandt a Wounded Survivor was the absolute best one it could have taken. No one else could have handled it. Kari could have tried— she’d have failed, but she’d have tried. Jerry’s past caring enough to work with that. Charlie doesn’t count. But Cleavant cares. And so Rembrandt grows. Rembrandt grows, and he does so naturally. It’s why Rembrandt awkwardly hitting on Grace isn’t creepy— because it’s a shade of the Remmy we first met.

All of this is to say that Rembrandt is a broken man. And if his shaky belief in God is what gets him through the day, then who am I to judge him in that?

It’s interesting that his belief isn’t something he’s really discussed with his friends. It makes sense, in a way. Quinn’s a scientist: he’d listen, but he wouldn’t really respect or understand him. Colin he doesn’t know. Which leaves Maggie.

Can you imagine how tense it would be if your friend just bust in with all those guns? SO TENSE!

It all comes down to a choice. Does she do the ‘morally right’ thing, and tell Hackett where Grace is? Or does she allow Rembrandt the moment of emotional respite. She chooses the former, but the amount of difficulty involved in the decision shows us more about how these two people care for each other than any moment of dialogue they’ve shared together. But in the end, she knows that truth and honesty are more important to Rembrandt than a false respite, and she consigns Grace to her fate.

Tread lightly, guys— HE JUST BROUGHT IN A BAG FULL OF GUNS FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

And the fire when he busts into their hotel room with a bag full of assault rifles and demanding they go on a shootout to ‘save’ Grace is another breathtaking Rembrandt moment. Because for the first time, Rembrandt’s offered the olive branch of sliding, and he truly meant it. He could finally have someone on the team he could have a normal conversation with, someone he could have some sexual tension with (instead of letting Maggie make doe-eyes at Quinn all the time), and that person is ripped away from him by masked thugs.

But the wound isn’t through being rent, and not just because it was Maggie who made the call that puts Grace in jail. It’s the fact that the final feint of the episode is the fact that Grace isn’t innocent. She committed every crime, she did everything they said she did. She begs—begs— a woman with so much dignity and maturity, begging— for Rembrandt to take her with them. And so we get the most brutal piece of writing ever to come out of this show. “Tell me that they tortured you. Tell me that they killed your family. Tell me that you had no choice but to help them.” And Grace, weeping, broken, tells him she can’t.

Rembrandt, though, has made a peace with this. Kromaggs, as much as he’d love to believe it, aren’t really the purest form of Evil. Human beings are just as capable of it. More, even. Kromaggs just allow the opportunity. Rembrandt, now, knows this. Before he could rage and scream and beat at the heavens because of the evil of the Kromaggs— how wrong, how awful, how could they, it’s not fair! Life, of course, isn’t. But one of the ways it isn’t is that eventually, the lies you tell yourself won’t hold up anymore. The universe will spin the roulette wheel, and it’ll come up truth.

Grace was the key to Rembrandt’s heart. It opened, the rage came out. There instead was grief. Which, despite its reputation, isn’t bad. Rembrandt deserves his grief. The rage was in the way of momentum towards healing. Grace’s betrayal points him in the right direction.

And so Rembrandt kisses her forehead, and silently moves away. He’s hurt, betrayed, raw. But as he blankly stares out the window, Maggie approaches him. The journey since his time in the Camp has been hard for him. Seeing these people around him are a reminder of all he’s lost. But now, with a cleaner slate, he can see what he’s gained. And he sees Maggie— someone who, against all odds, has become a true friend. Maggie, who began as the enemy, now his most trusted friend.

And so they embrace, their bond stronger than ever. Doing the right thing sometimes is the most difficult choice to have to make. They both share that bond now. They share each other.

Together, but alone.

Alone with the same God in all these Worlds, watching. Doing nothing.

Next Week: What Was Not Now Is (California Reich).

A question:

what is this about?

Oh, sure. It’s easy to answer that question:

the sliders are trapped in an interdimensional prison occupied by warring factions of Kromaggs and Humans, with the sliders trapped in the middle.

But what is it really about? Is it about the ongoing “Kromagg Arc”? Is it more like this:

Quinn and Colin find out they can travel home only to find that their super-human parents invented a Slidecage that keeps Interdimensional Travelers out of it— preventing the Kromaggs from getting back to the Home World, but also preventing any Humans as well. 

You’d be basically right in saying that. There were times when I thought it was simply this:

Family. Coping.

WOW I REALLY LEARNED SOMETHING TODAY

But there’s friction in that, too. As much as Rembrandt is visibly moved by Kolitar’s fatherly embrace of Jules, we still have to deal with the tone-deaf dynamic between Quinn & Colin.There’s moving things at work with Rembrandt’s subplot, but still, I can’t shake the question from rattling around my dead-eyed stare:

What is this about?

JUST KIDDING I DIDN’T LEARN SHIIIIIT

The fact is, I don’t know. I can’t tell. For some reason, there’s something missing from this episode that makes the pieces not quite stick together. Which is a shame, because (as you know) I’m all about watching scripts by Marc Scott Zicree.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmdGe8e6ZnI

“O Brother, Where Art Thou” might not have been perfect, but it had work to do, and it did that work just fine. It held together with the glue of Colin, who gave the episode the benefit of “we don’t know who this guy is.”

I guess one of the problems is that we still kind of don’t know who that guy is. And, y’know, kudos to this episode for giving him a couple of scenes that at least gesture to something as vague as what kind of person he is. Because really, so far we know he’s a ‘bumpkin,’ and he’s got a desire to learn, and he is easily convinced that people really say the word ‘bro’ every other word.

“Don’t Touch Me… Bro.”

So here we’re granted a couple of scenes where Colin lays down some of his experiences, and his feelings about humanity. All that good stuff. By which I mean, all that good stuff that we definitely should know already and know without an episode having to ham-fist scenes solely devoted to Colin telling a story that has nothing to do with what’s going on around him. 

I guess that’s not exactly true. One of the definite plusses of the episode is the scene where Quinn sits dejectedly, whining about Maggie’s “death.” The scene looks like it’s set to fall completely flat— after all, the last time someone died on his watch, it was devastating. Here he just looks tired. It looks, for all intents and purposes, that Jerry O’Connell forgot that one of the things about acting is that your character,unlike yourself, hasn’t seen the rest of the script. Jerry here (and you’ll notice I’m not even calling him Quinn) just looks bored, like he’s tapping his foot, waiting for Maggie (who is in character still) to get back.

But Colin interrupts his brother’s whinefest. He recounts his childhood, which, it turns out, wasn’t easy. His foster parents died of Influenza. So much death. So much sickness. It’s a bit of a shock, because Charlie O’Connell actually sells this scene. Because his inability to get a rise out of himself reads as Colin’s total acceptance of his life— and his life has been difficult. We know it was tough— “O, Brother” establishes (and does almost nothing with) the fact that Colin’s an outcast on his world. He’s ostracized because of his intellect. But now we also are reminded that living on an “Amish” world has more trouble to it than just being a nerd (which, honestly, should be exactly the reason Quinn & Colin have any ability to bond). There’s truly hardship in his world.

Colin isn’t a weakling. That’s what we’re learning in this scene. Which is actually a super-important thing to learn about him. Because up until this point, all we’ve seen is weakness. Or not even weakness— we haven’t really seen a character. So this scene is gold. But this scene’s gold is almost a weakness, because it reminds us that we should have gotten a scene like this the first time we met Colin. 

And that’s kind of the thing that lets this episode down. Because a good scene is taken down by the dreck around it. To be fair to this episode, the dreck is more spaced out. But there’s enough of it that it undermines any goodwill.

I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A STORM (are Stevie Nicks jokes too weird to make here? No? Good.)

Take, for instance, this total monster. I understand that we’re not supposed to like her. But it’s hard to care about such a one-note character. Sure, her monstrosity gives us a chance to see that Colin has a strong moral compass. But if she’s just a monster, it’s not really that surprising for Colin/anyone to watch her casually throw Maggie into an airlock for giving her lip and be upset by it.

And it’s not only that— I’m willing to accept that life in the Slidecage would lead to people being very hard. And there’s a story to be told in showing how someone could balance having to be so hard and actually leading a shrinking group of people. And that’s where the whole “Maggie Airlock” thing runs into trouble. Because if you’re losing people every day, and three people are thrown into your lap, I’m sorry, but doesn’t it really not matter if they’re a little snippy? Wouldn’t anyone who gets thrown into the Slidecage be a little ornery at first? Would you really just murder them instantly? No, you wouldn’t. You’d smack them around. You’d work them hard, and you’d break them.

Which, frankly, is what a ‘tough’ character needs. There needs to be a soft side. Or if not a soft side, then at least you need a moment where you’re not sure who really to believe. Because really— even Colonel Rickman had a moment where you weren’t exactly sure if he was the cartoonish villan he seemed to be. Of course we know that he was, but that’s besides the point. This character in Slidecage, whose name I’m not even going to bother to look up, is so hideously wrong-headed that she makes the Kromaggs look soft.

All I’m saying is, Rembrandt has every right to be scared by this dude screaming “OPEN YOURSELF TO ME” in his face.

So just in case you think I hate this episode (which I don’t), let me talk about what works. And basically, that’s just Kolitar. The time the episode spends with the Kromaggs is far, far more interesting than any ‘human drama.’ Most of it hangs on Kolitar’s terrifying declaration that “a Kromagg brain is a knife,” right before he brainmolests Rembrandt. The silent triumph of “Slidecage” is that is successfully makes the Kromaggs scary again— something that hasn’t been true since “Invasion,” which is a troubling fact when you remember that this entire season is based on the idea that the Kromaggs are terrifying.

What’s weirder— Kolitar smiling? Or Kolitar’s head looking like a giant penis?

And sure, you can argue that it just undermines the terror to see Kolitar so clearly in love with his son. But I would argue that it makes the Kromaggs even scarier. One of the built-in tenets of the Kromagg Terror is that they aren’t aliens, they’re humans. Humans gone bad. So there’s something to be said about Kolitar’s familial emotion. Especially when you compact it with the vast majority of the human characters showing no discernable emotion other than pure rage.

SEE? HE IS KOLITAR THE CARE BEAR!

The Slidecage changes you. But it’s changed the Kromaggs for the better. The humans— the people we’re supposed to root for— they’ve devolved. Which would be fine, but I’m not sure that’s really what we’re supposed to take away from this episode.

Still, there’s the quiet moment where Rembrandt watched Jules and Kolitar embrace, and he is clearly moved, but also equally ashamed and confused by that swell of emotion. Which sets us up for actual progress in the ‘arc’ of Rembrandt getting over his captivity. Which, frankly, should be the entire arc of the season. Instead, we’re ‘treated’ with another tag in Leisure World, where Rembrandt is sad that he tried to kill Quinn.

Which is a pointless, irritating scene. After all, Rembrandt was brainwashed when he tried to kill Quinn. When the spell wore off, he clearly had no memory of it. So what the tag implies is that the other sliders told him about his ‘betrayal,’ in a way that still allowed him to feel guilty about it. Which is A) cruel. And B) it denies us the opportunity for a killer scene down the road— imagine if Rembrandt’s revelation about Kromagg Love inspired an about face of feeling in him, only to have it undermined by the revelation that he had been brainwashed into murdering his friend?

Plus, the Leisure World tag is bizarre because it seems like it’s written by someone who didn’t watch the episode. Sure, the line about Rembrandt’s heart being too strong for Kromagg Influence is cute, but it had nothing to do with Rembrandt’s heart. Jules broke the spell. Jules and Jules alone. Rembrandt was powerless. Which is wayyyyy more interesting than a shitty “power of love” message that the episode tries to force down our throats. This episode isn’t really about love. It’s kind of about hate.

That’s what this entire show has become.

“No Kari, thrust your hip out a little bit.” “What’s my character’s motivation for that?” “Um… shut up, Kari.”

Speaking of Leisure World and Hate, there’s something else I need to grind some gears about. I’m willing to grant the show a pass for the teaser, where Maggie is in a bathing suit. They’re in a “Leisure World.” I can understand why she’d be in a bathing suit. It’s almost nice— it shows that these people are friends, because Maggie’s almost naked and they don’t really notice it. But I am less enamored of the outfit they decide to throw her in for the rest of the episode. It’s a sports bra. Just a sports bra.

Look, you guys remember “Just Say Yes.” And you certainly remember my EXTREME ire at the stupidity and casual sexism that surrounds Kari Wuhrer. The problem is that it’s built into the character, and it has been from the get-go. Season 4 has my undying gratitude for diminishing that problem. But it’s not enough, and every step forward leads to twenty steps back. So this week we have to look at Kari in a sports bra for 45 minutes. Which is just so infuriatingly unnecessary. Why would she wear that? Let’s lay it out: she wouldn’t. In no way would she wear that. She’s only wearing it so we can eyefuck her. Which is the reason she was cast in the first place. It’s the reason she replaced Sabrina Lloyd. This show is a sexist boy’s club, and it ‘knows’ what its audience wants.

And it’s to my undying surprise that Kari Wuhrer has proved herself to be capable of rising above the material/role she’s given. But my praise of her can only go so far. If Kari wants to try to rise above the role she’s given, then the show will try to throw her back in her place. “No honey. Don’t act. Just try to touch your elbows behind your back.”

Which makes the end of the episode’s “To Absent Friends” toast even more irritating. Yes, I’ll toast to Absent Friends with you. But not Jules and Thomas. Who gives a fuck about them? I’m toasting to Arturo, who wouldn’t put up with Maggie’s tramping around. I’m toasting to Wade, who wouldn’t have been forced to wear such insulting clothing. As much as the show is trying to turn Maggie into Wade— Maggie being the first person to freak out about being stuck in the Slidecage forever is very Wade-esque— it’ll never work. Because Wade had an innocence about her that would never include running around in a sports bra.

The producers of this show were clearly upset that they could never pull off Wade running around naked. Which is why she got fired. And the more that I’m forced to look at Kari Wuhrer half-naked, the more I’m going to be reminded of that. And the more I’m going to be disgusted with the ridiculous sexual politics that have plagued this show from almost the beginning.

Look I know it’s television in the 90s. But you never saw Gillian Anderson run around in a bikini for an hour. You saw her in a fucking pantsuit. And she looked awesome. 

Yet as I can never seem to remember, such sexual equality is far too much to ask of this show.

REMBRANDT GET BACK YOU’RE ALMOST TOUCHING THE CGI!

So, to make this a semi-compliment sandwich, let’s talk about the other interesting part of the episode. Which is the fact that it’s about being trapped in a prison that was designed by Quinn & Colin’s “parents” to keep invaders out. I’m not going to say it makes complete sense. After all, if they could just slide out the Kromaggs, you’d think they had the ability to discern who was who. I don’t know.

Still, though,  watching the episode, one kind of gets the feeling that “Kromagg Prime” doesn’t quite exist. It seems like some pillowed utopia we’ll never see. And to be honest, the more we hear about Kromagg Prime, the less I want to see it. Because how could you depict such a futuristic world on this show’s budget? The more we find out about the technology the Mallorys have, the more it seems too good to be true. Microdots? A mastery of Sliding? The ability to shunt people from their dimension? The ability to build a giant fucking prison that’s a billion miles long on a desolate wasteland poison planet? 

The fact of the matter is that the more we hear about this world and the people who live in it, the less I believe it’s true. I refuse to believe in this fairyland.

But— and this is important— I don’t think that’s to the show’s detriment. I’m going to pull a “fresh eyes” here and pretend I don’t know the plan for the season. Because the whole “Kromagg Prime is fake” thing is completely backed up by what we’ve seen on television. Quinn’s mom? Pulling a dot out of her arm? The odds of that? The odds of Colin? The fact that Colin acts like he’s not quite human? Man, maybe he isn’t. Maybe the reason Quinn’s dad doesn’t look anything like Tom Butler is because the Kromaggs never met Tom Butler. I DON’T KNOW I’M JUST GUESSING BUT WOULDN’T THAT BE AWESOME? Wouldn’t it be a really huge step on the path to maturity for this stupid show?

Is it possible that Sliders is working on a Long Con here?

Just the simple fact that it’s even possible is exciting. For once, the future is uncertain, and I’m becoming excited again to see what comes next.

And, of course, in all the sound & fury above, I’ve neglected to say what ultimately is the one thing that keeps this episode together: it’s called Slidecage, and has an actual Slidecage in it, and involves a hell of a lot of people saying the word Slidecage over and over.

Man, that’s just cool.

Next Week: Rembrandt’s Big Adventure (Asylum).

Writing for “Sliders”

“Yes, Java Jive was originally called Black and Bluesy because it was in a 1920′s nightclub that had mostly black patrons,” recalls writer Janét Saunders. “I guess some people were offended by the title, but I do remember it was the network’s favorite show and everybody loved the song and dance routines.  Everybody (office and studio people) went down to the set to watch; that rarely happens.”

But who is Saunders and how was she able to pitch two separate episodes of Sliders to production? Simple – she worked for the show for three years as David Peckinpah’s assistant.

“At the end of season 4 I told David ‘next year I’m writing a show,’ and he didn’t argue with me,” she says. “Knowing budget restraints I drove around the lot one night looking for locations they hadn’t used thus far. But first I wanted to write a musical story to feature Cleavant’s talent.  That was the main pitch. I naturally saw it in the 20′s in a black speakeasy world.

“It was originally a kidnapping story but the staff wanted us to change it. David’s friend, Pete Andrews, wrote the song and it was supposedly the network’s favorite show.  The day they filmed the dance scene the stage was so crowded.  Everyone loved it.”

If everyone loved it, what kind of changes were pushed through by production to get it to what we saw on screen? Well, now you can read for yourself; Janét and Jennifer’s original pitch, dated September 16, 1998, is now available below. Many thanks to Janét Saunders for providing this… and other tidbits to come!

The Pitch

We wanted to write one for Cleavant’s singing and playing talent, so we decided on the colorful setting of the speakeasy.

The Sliders land on a downtown street that looks like the 1920s. (On this world, Eli Whitney didn’t invent the cotton gin, which caused industrialization to begin much later.) Diana tells them they’ll be there for two days. No sooner do they comprehend the time period when they hear the unmistakable sound of machine guns firing.

From around the corner an attractive, young, black woman named ANGIE comes running straight at them, begging for their help. Remmy acts swiftly, shoving everyone into an open store. He turns the lock, turns the open sign around to read “Closed”, and they all duck down below the glass windows. Next we see some black gangsters, Dropper Daddy’s Gang, and their car, slowly searching the area for Angie. One of them peers into the store window, but can’t see them stooped down below the windows.

After a few minutes the gangsters leave and Angle can’t thank Remmy enough. She is hysterically crying now. Between breaths, she tells the Sliders Dropper Daddy’s Gang just shot her boyfriend, Harrell, who was an undercover federal agent working as a bass player in her father’s club, the Velvet Slipper. Harrell had been gathering information on the local gangs and kept all the information in a secret file. She thinks Harrell was just about to tell the feds the name of a crooked special agent when he was gunned down.

Angle tells the Sliders she’s a singer at the Velvet Slipper where Harrell was working undercover. The Sliders tell her they’re from out of town and need work and a place to stay for a few days. Angie takes them home with her and later to the Velvet Slipper. Remmy offers that he’s a bass player and Angie sees no problem getting him the gig.  When Maggie tells her she can sing, Angie tells her “Not in this club, honey.” Later when the club is open, we see Maggie is a cigarette girl, Michael is bussing tables, and Diana posing as a customer watching the show — The Sweet Thunder Revue. Remmy loves this club! It is full of beautiful, black women in dance hall costumes. Here we feature one really great, old, blues song, soulfully sung by Angie and Remmy.

Later, on a break, they all pour out the side alley entrance where they are overtaken and Angie is grabbed by a group of gun toting mobsters. The Sliders can’t help her. They can only watch as the mobsters drag her off to their car, blindfold her, and take her to their illegal booze warehouse where she is tied to a chair. They want to know where Harrell’s file is. She won’t tell them. They slap her around.

After the Sliders regroup, they search backstage at the Velvet Slipper and find Harrell’s secret file hidden in his bass case. Now that they know where Dropper Daddy’s Gang’s warehouse is, they decide Remmy has to go try to rescue her.

Unbeknownst to him, his double on this world is the crooked federal agent on the take. At the warehouse, when the gang sees him, they let him in and wonder why he appears a little strange. After a beat, they realize this isn’t their Joe Pearson – ‘Just who in the hell are you?!” Now the real Joe Pearson shows up, so they throw Remmy in the room with Angie and tie him to a chair too. Prisoners together, Angie and Remmy bond and he tells her where they’re from, not that she believes him for a minute. They sing a poignant, acapella song.

It’s getting late. Maggie, Michael, and Diana have been outside waiting nearby in Angie’s Dad’s Model A Ford. When Remmy doesn’t come out, they go to plan B: The next night at the Velvet Slipper Diana approaches the gangsters flirtatiously as an attractive, but brainy scientist. She hints around at all the recent deaths from bad liquor, “I hear you’ve got a problem with purification …. You know, I could help you out with that. .. ” At first they laugh her off, but she quickly rattles off her credentials and they are impressed by her knowledge. They wonder about her interest, she says like everyone else, she enjoys a stiff drink now and then. They agree to take her to their warehouse, but she insists on meeting Mr. Big and also wants to get paid. They like her spunk, so they arrange this, and take her there, blindfolded. Michael and Maggie follow in the Model A.

Meanwhile at the local federal office, the Chief and his agents are talking about their problem. They suspect Joe Pearson is on the take because of subtle, but expensive, recent purchases he’s made and how last week’s bust at the Ruby Club was a failure. But mainly, the Chief thinks that Joe turned the gang on to Harrell, who, the night he was killed, was supposed to meet with the Chief to give him the secret file. Because of Pearson, Harrell is dead, the secret file is hidden they know not where, and now Angie Morgan has been kidnapped because she probably knows where it is. The feds decide to visit Thomas Morgan at the Velvet Slipper.

At the warehouse, Diana and the guys are waiting for Mr. Big. Diana purposely asks to go to the bathroom and one of them takes her down the hall where she accidentally sees Angie and Remmy in a room with a high window. It’s a quick look, but the information she came for. When she returns to the main office, she meets with Mr. Big, who is impressed. She flirts with him and gives him the formula he needs for purification. They go back to the Velvet Slipper arm-in-arm. Chagrined, Michael and Maggie follow.

Later that night, after Diana has slipped away from Mr. Big, Maggie, Michael, and Diana go racing to the warehouse. Through the high window they manage to get Angie and Remmy out. About this time, Mr. Big and the gang show up. There’s running and shooting involved, and Angie is fatally wounded. They barely escape in Angie’s Dad’s car, racing back to the Velvet Slipper, all the while Remmy is cradling Angie in his arms. She dies in the car and he carries her into the club to the shock and dismay of her father. Michael calls the cops, while Maggie gets Harrell’s bass case and brings it out to show to everyone.

Suddenly, Dropper Daddy’s Gang shows up demanding Harrell’s file. Guns aimed at Sliders, who nervously ask each other how many minutes until they slide – Two! Just then, the feds come in up behind them. The gangsters try to shoot it out, but the feds clearly outnumber them.

Remmy, so sad about Angie, hands the secret file over to the Chief, “Everything you need is in here.” The Chief tries to question and detain them, but Diana says they have to go and she opens the vortex. The feds are dumbfounded and amazed. The Sliders say good-bye and jump out.

Download the pitch

Want to save this for posterity? “Black and Bluesy” is also available to download as a PDF:

• Black and Bluesy pitch – September 16, 1998

Low on funds, the Sliders find themselves working at the Hippo Club, a speakeasy doubling as a redressed Chandler Hotel. With Rembrandt on the piano, Mallory behind the bar, and Maggie and Diana as wait staff, the majority of this episode’s running length is so spent focusing on music, it’s the only thing keeping the audience awake during the lifeless action sequences.

Danny Lux’s score is predominantly jazz-based this week, but even his stabs at inventiveness don’t change the fact that the Sliders simply have nothing to do. They stand around the club or an apartment waiting for the plot – gangsters (and a Rembrandt double!) on the hunt for synthetic caffeine – to develop. It never does; these faceless and anonymous goons engage in tedious intrigue by kidnapping Angie (Jennifer Leigh Warren), the jazz club owner who employs our heroes. After a few act breaks and an underwhelming gunfight, the Sliders get her back and the bad guys get what they deserve. The End.

There’s simply nothing at stake here: the characters aren’t emotionally involved, the villains are too generic to be threatening and there is nothing at risk of being lost. What am I supposed to worry about, that the Hippo Club might go out of business? That Dropper Daddy (Dwayne Adway) corners the market on a cup of joe? If it makes no difference to the Sliders, why should it to me?

Angie is a preposterous character. She loses her boyfriend Harrell (Shane Stevens) in the opening scene but openly flirts with Rembrandt minutes later, randomly hiring him and the Sliders to take part in illegal coffee distribution without knowing she can trust them. And despite running into a Rembrandt double (the first since The Alternateville Horror), she never questions why Rembrandt has an identical twin out to kill her.

Not that the regulars are any better; Maggie and Rembrandt’s disdain for Angie’s exploits is downright bizarre. Considering they’ve looted dead worlds, broken into research labs, robbed ATMs, and left a string of unpaid hotel bills across the multiverse, what right do they have to judge Angie when they know next to nothing about her or her world?

Mallory is equally appalling. Despite Angie offering the Sliders on-the-spot employment and an apartment to stay in, Mallory is shockingly callous about Harrell’s death. Angie claims everyone loved him, he replies that someone didn’t. Angie lets them stay in Harrell’s apartment, Mallory complains about the mess. Do the creators want Mallory to be a hateful, unpleasant little creep? What happened to the sensitive, clever, and devious fellow we just saw in “A Current Affair”?

But who cares, right? I mean, this is the episode where Rembrandt engages with music again! He gets to be a performer and put on a show! This should be massively important. But it isn’t.

Aside from giving Rembrandt a chance to sit at a piano and mention his past, the musical numbers have no bearing on the overall direction of “Jive” and don’t further The Cryin’ Man’s character one inch. Couldn’t there have been some drama here? Maybe tempt Rembrandt to give up sliding and return to his roots as a musician? Oh, right, this is the fifth season of Sliders, where the producers carefully vet scripts to make sure no characterization slips through.

With a heavy focus on the Hippo Club and its machinations, you’d think we’d get some insight into the parallel culture of this world, where healthy living is the law. Instead, we get incredibly generic and uninspiring jazz numbers with the dullest of lyrics and a total absence of artistry. The dance choreography is clumsy and poor and the overall energy of the musical performances is rock bottom. It is utterly baffling; everything in this episode is focused on the music, and yet the music is so unbearable to listen to. Keith Damron’s Year 5 Journal for this episode talks about the struggle to stage a musical production on a low budget. They shouldn’t have bothered; the result was always going to be amateurish for this kind of money.

The money should have gone to a better script that would actually explore and confront the nature of this world from a cultural and moral point of view. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: talk is cheap. It’s cheap to write, it’s cheap to film, and talking would have done far more for “The Java Jive” than bargain basement jazz.

Imagine the Sliders landing on a world where healthy living is required by law: all candy, soft drinks, meats, liquors, and sugars are illegal, and Rembrandt is arrested for having a cholesterol level twelve times the legal limit. Imagine the Sliders forced to subsist on a vegetarian diet, and Maggie is approached as a fitness model while Mallory gets involved in a pork smuggling business.

What would happen if Diana remembered the formula for cola from a high school science project and considered the moral quandary of sharing it with this world? What kinds of attitudes to health and safety would people in such a world have? What would be at the cultural forefront of this kind of civilization?

Jazz numbers, tommy guns, top hats, 30′s costuming and a near-total lack of plot or character, according to “The Java Jive.” All style and no substance. What a waste of time. They had a great idea and proceeded to avoid exploring it entirely.

You would imagine that I would bristle at the fact that all of the action in this episode takes place in the Chandler Hotel. Which, at first blush, would seem like it’s the laziest bit of anything ever. But really, though, this episode (and certainly the next) are just examples of the show getting awesomely creative at penny-pinching.

It’s not the lazy kind of budgeting, it’s the kind that underlies an actual care going in to the show. “Okay, how do we make the best show we can?” The same thing went into “In Dino Veritas,” too— that was a bottle show to both save money and give a reason for Jerry O’Connell to be missing from the action. In both that episode and this, humble beginnings begat noble conclusions.

Well, maybe “Humble” isn’t the right word… nor is “Noble,” for that matter.

Plus, it’s a meta-wink on the ever-present Chandler Hotel. It’s the kind of wink that Season 3′s god-damned Cave Set really needed— an episode that uses the Cave as a Character, instead of a constant presence that made less and less sense the more we saw it. Here, the Chandler is a Character, and it’s one you’d actually want to spend some time with. That’s kind of amazing, when you think about it. If anything, it makes me wish this episode came earlier (though I understand that’s an impossibility, as Colin is central to this episode [even more central to it than he was in his own introduction]). After this, having spent this much time with the Chandler, we’ll be more willing to accept it. That’s impressive.

I know what you’re thinking— that I would now call this shot “Not Impressive.” But y’know what? No— this shot is awesome. It looks terrible. I know that. We all know that. THAT’S THE POINT. FOR ONCE, THAT IS THE GOD DAMNED POINT.

So there’s a pretty obvious antecedent to this episode. That would be, of course, “The Dream Masters,” Season 3′s foray into horror. Sure, you could make the argument that “The Breeder,” “Stoker,” “Sole Survivors,” and “Slither” are also forays into horror, but you’d be wrong. You’d be wrong because while they each have one or two elements of horror in them— be it Vampires, Snakes, Dick Monsters, Etc.— they aren’t really dedicated to ‘horror’ as a genre. They were indebted more to Monster Movie Tradition than Horror Movie Tradition, and while there’s certainly some overlap there, it’s plainly not the same.

“The Dream Masters” threw itself whole-hog into the tropes of Horror. At the time of viewing, I slagged it pretty harshly. Considering “Desert Storm” was the next episode, I spoke too soon. But I also spoke too soon in the greater scheme of Sliders. “The Dream Masters” isn’t the worst episode by a far margin, and it’s more just a case of a show stretching it’s boundaries and going a little bit too far than it is a case of “DANGER! DANGER! COURSE CORRECT IMMEDIATELY!” That episode was marred by budget constraints/restraints and the larger issue of the titular Dream Masters being completely ridiculous and devoid of tension.

But here, we have a return to “Horror.” But, we also have the show being smart enough to realize that horror doesn’t have anything to do with “sliding.” The episode makes the incredibly wise choice to play the horror elements, the tropes and clichés as funny. It’s not asking us to be scared (though the “Rembrandt is Shaving” scene is a little on the creepy side), it’s asking us to laugh. It’s asking us to chuckle and wonder what’s really going on. Because after the first act gets rolling, it seems less and less like there are actually ghosts running around. So it becomes a mystery— to the characters, who need to de-haunt a hotel and get their Timer out of the “Astral Plane” (where’s Gillian when you need her!), and for us the audience, to figure out who’s at the center of this genre-mashup.

Also clever— not spending too much time on this shot. Sorry my screencap revealed the fact that it’s really some body doubles in the background!

But before we get there, we blessedly spend time filling in the spaces of this world. But it’s done in a totally non-invasive way. I mean, I understand that the idea of “Acid Rain World” is slightly on the goofy side, but we’re not really asked to spend much time thinking about it— the episode deflects us from thinking too much about it, other than the Concierge off-handedly mentioning Off-Shore Drilling and Oil Pipelines (and flaming bodies of water). Which is the perfect way to world-build. People don’t just march up to you in the day-to-day and say “hello, you don’t look like you’re from around here— our first President was named George Washington. There’s an apocryphal story about a Cherry Tree, and also about wooden teeth. Got it? Great, let me explain the entire history of our Government, starting with the Articles of Confederation.” They’ll just mention something that ‘everyone’ remembers, like Santa Monica Bay lighting on fire.

What bad parenting! That kid’s so skinny you can see right through him!

Or, mentioning that your husband died of cancer, and insinuating that it was the fault of his job. You could call this a flaw, saying that “well why didn’t you sue for …y’know, that?” Me, though, I think it’s just a telling bit of the way this world works. That’s what happens. You die in Acid Rain. You die because Oil will kill you. You die.

But on the other hand, that doesn’t matter. This episode’s really about Holly, the Lonely Concierge, who lost everything to open this fucking stupid hotel. Her husband is dead. Her son is a ghost, one of many. She’s got no choice but to stay in the hotel, and wearily catch the bottles of booze that occasionally fly around. So the episode isn’t only about “what are these ghosts, really?” It’s about “what are these ghosts, and how can we help Holly pick up the pieces of her life?” Which is the way you have to do this kind of comedy episode without it turning into fluff.

Can we all agree, though, that Alt-Rembrandt here is the best idea that’s been on the show since they left the toilet seat up in “Love Gods”?

And so for the episode to pull the rug out and say “actually it’s ghost-sliding” is amazing. It’s the only decision this episode could have made that wouldn’t have fallen absolutely flat. Because it then ties Holly’s conflict sufficiently with the Sliders. It connects everyone in a way that before was only tangentially earned. Plus, it’s an example of “opening up the world of sliding” that I’ve always been a fan of. It’s also something that the show hasn’t really done, Slidewaves notwithstanding  since, well “Gillian of the Spirits,” which is also a clear antecedent to this episode. Also helping (just like in “Gillian”) is the fact that the guest stars this week are really good. Holly steals every scene she’s in. John Smith might be 90s-dated in appearance, but he serves his duty well as an adequate, if rote, adversary to the main action. Even the little kid— he comes off as precocious, but I’d argue that he’s supposed to. After all, when he gets Colin into his Ghost-Vortex, he’s super stoked that someone will ‘play with him’ now. He’s a kid. That’s what kids do.

Okay, but that guy died, though, right?

And of course, there’s the fact that they go whole-hog for ‘comedy,’ and nail it. All of you certainly remember my endless complaining about Sliders never managing to do genre-mashup before due to everyone having a different opinion on what the tone they were going for was. But here, everyone’s on the same page. It works. The humor works. The cheesy ghost-effects work. Maggie’s head in an icebox works. Quinn “Howlin’ Man” Mallory works. Hell, even Colin works! His “Frankenstein” clue is genius, and funny, and leads to a really great “Igor” joke.

So we do what we’re supposed to. But it’s a little deeper than that. This week, the chemistry that so long was lacking from the team is back. “Just Say Yes” tried ‘bickering’ as a replacement for ‘chemistry,’ but ‘bickering’ is what brought the whole tent down in Season 3. Here we have warmth. And even if there is bickering, which there certainly is, it’s done with care and humor. Rembrandt’s repeated “put some clothes on.” Colin’s face to Quinn when the others say they too have been haunted. Little moments— they’re back. And really, that’s what you have to hang this show on.

All together now: “DURRRRRRRRR”

Sliders was a story about four tenuously connected people thrown out of the world. It was a story about those four people becoming a family. But that family’s gone now. And for a long while, the show’s been suffering because of that. But here, in a bottle episode about a haunted hotel— of all things!— a new sense of family’s starting to poke it’s head through. And that’s amazing, and it speaks wonders to the cast, to production, to the show itself. You need to welcome me in, Sliders.

Don’t shut me out.

Next Week: Despite all their rage, they’re still just rats in a trans-dimensional cage (Slidecage).

Oh, come on.

Seriously?

I mean, let’s look at the first act of this. Quinn & Maggie argue. Sure, Fine, Whatever. They slide into a broom closet. Sure, Fine, Whatever. The Chandler set has never looked so cheap. Sure, Fine, Whatever.

FUCK THIS HOTEL

So this is “drug world,” also known as “Narcotica,” also known as “Mandatory Drug Use World.” More about that particular decision (accidental or otherwise) later. First, let’s talk about Maggie, and why we’re supposed to watch this show. Because the first act has Maggie & Colin getting drugged because of their ‘aggressive behavior.’ Which is when the episode devolves into the bizarre ‘humor’ of Maggie making O-Faces and doing cartwheels into the path of a bus. Why is this here? Is it funny?

No, I’m pretty sure it’s so we can see Maggie’s underwear:

Even if this is a body double— fuck you.

Fuck you, Sliders. I’ve often said the show isn’t smart enough to do actual humor. I don’t know why it’s always such a dud. Jokes within episodes of a different tone can work. But not so here. Maggie making Orgasm Noises while dancing is fucking stupid. So is her cartwheel. I really fucking hate her cartwheel. This isn’t why we have characters on this show, so they can be treated like walking sex-bags. Moments like this—that reveal how much of a ridiculous “Boys Club” Sliders is— make me ridiculously infuriated.

The Greatest and Best Fart of All Time.

So. As I said, this episode is basically a re-tread of “Narcotica,” the comic that Jerry O’Connell wrote for Acclaim. At the time I reviewed the comic, I praised it for it’s grey-area emotional tone, and the fact that it’s clearly meant to be ambiguous whether or not the sliders ‘succeeded’ in ‘overthrowing the government.’ All of that is missing from “Just Say Yes,” which, in case you didn’t get it, is a joke about the whole “Just Say No” anti-drug message, which is about as preposterous as this episode.

But there are parallels here. In “Narcotica,” Wade’s arc details her descent into drug addiction. It’s slow, and scary, and the toll it takes on her is obvious and horrifying. “Narcotica” uses real drugs as a means of Body Horror, where in “Just Say Yes” it’s used for dopey stoner jokes. If there was anything bad to say about “Narcotica,” it was that the idea that ‘everyone can use cocaine in the streets’ took it out of the realm of reality— that plainly wouldn’t be allowed in society. Also you can’t really operate your life normally whilst on Cocaine.

But “Just Say Yes,” at least on paper (if you black out the rest of the episode), is more believable. No, you wouldn’t be shooting up before you go to work— this world is about regulation, not stimulation. Which is a small but crucial difference. Which is why the joke of Alt-Quinn in “Just Say Yes” talking about not doing drugs doesn’t work— because these people aren’t “dropping out.” They’re just living.

Yet at the end of the day, “Narcotica” was smart because it showed an undercurrent to the ‘blissed-out’ nature of the world. There was evil, and it was worth fighting. But having Quinn & Rembrandt break in to an office with ease because the doors weren’t locked leaves a sour taste. Especially when Rembrandt highlights it by saying “with everyone so blissed out maybe they don’t have a huge crime problem.” Which, excuse me for pointing it out, I guess, but isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that a huge and awesome example of this world improving upon our own? I write this from Chicago, where the homicide rate is so ridiculous that it almost is impossible to look at. There are so many gun-deaths in the poor, non-white parts of this town that the headlines become numbing. So when I hear Rembrandt (of all people) say that this ‘drug world’ has basically no crime— no crime to the point that no door would be locked— my first reaction is “right on.”

This guy knows what I’m talking about.

So then we have Alt-Quinn, who is an “anti-drug agitator.” But the little video we see of him shows him to be …well, high. Which makes no sense, really. As a joke about Quinn in a shitty wig, Sure, Fine. Whatever. Quinn & Rembrandt vow to find him, so they can …I don’t know, preach together and be happy. But then we never find him. We never see Alt-Quinn in real life. They don’t even try. Sure, they’re only on that world for like, what, three hours? But still— if you’re going to introduce something like an Alt-Quinn that for ONCE supports your cockamamy theories on “How this World should Really Be,” then fucking use him. If you need me to believe that this world is wrong, show me someone who lives there who already believes that.

Which marquees in the brightest of lights the overarching problem of this episode, which is that we’re supposed to believe this world is wrong.

But again, this world isn’t wrong. The Drug Empowerment Agency officer (good joke, btw) is painted as an EVIL EVIL MAN. And yes, giving that poor young man a drug that could kill him without telling him is wrong. And yes, he pushes for ‘justice’ in the wrong ways. And yes, he forces the nice ol’ Doctor to do more drugs. And yes, that story with the baby seal is ridiculous (the poor seals! the poor hippies!) But his arc is ridiculous. He’s the moustache-twirling villan that Sliders loves wayy too much. It removes any sense of conflict because moustache-twirlers always get their due.

The saddest part is you can just watch the actor give up over the course of the hour.

But the episode still asks us to believe that it’s the world that’s wrong, not just one man in that world. This is a macrocosm of the problem I have with “Prince of Wails,” where it wasn’t clear why exactly that world needed Democracy. Here, without even really saying it, we as an audience are asked to hate this world.

HE WORE BLUUUEEE VELLLLVEEET

And then there’s Damon. Damon, and the entire Decimide saga, should be our gateway into the episode. We should deal much more profoundly with the body horror of what’s been done to him. We’re treated to a lengthy (seriously lengthy— and having Quinn shout “are you kidding me?” in the middle of a scene that’s going on too long is not a productive bit of meta-commentary) sequence of Damon trying to tear Quinn & Rembrandt apart. He’s hit by a car, he’s hit by barrels, he’s hit by chains, he falls off a building. And he doesn’t die, because Decimide apparently makes you totally invulnerable.

But then when he comes down, he’s treated to the horrors of ‘real feelings.’ It should be a chilling scene, mixed with not a little bit of triumph. But it falls flat, because I still can’t shake the feeling that the rest of the world is better than this. Damon feels horror at, well, feeling horror, but I still feel like he was better off before hand. When we meet him at the beginning of the episode, he’s totally fine— he’s an upstanding citizen.

And then we get to the end, where Quinn and Rembrandt harshly upbraid the Doctor, saying “you need to take a hard look at yourselves.” To which I said aloud “fuck you, Quinn.” But seriously, what an asshole. She says that Drug Therapy isn’t Perfect, which, fine— clearly if Decimide is allowed to exist, that’s true. But for once, it’s the narrowing of the story that does it a disservice. This is only the second time Decimide has been used. So it’s a blip on this World’s radar. It’s not the norm. We don’t see everyone on the street convulsing from overdosing and withdrawal. We only see our sliders— who’ve never been dosed before, and Damon— who’s given a lethal dose out of desperation.

Plus, Quinn is seeing this ugly side of things because of his own actions— this world is reacting to him, because he is introducing an unstable element. A smarter story choice would have been to have the DEA use Decimide out of bewildered desperation, not out of the simple need to give the episode a clear villan plot-device.

So for Quinn to be actively cruel to an actually innocent person (and as much as the episode tries to use the lazily offensive trope of “I was just following orders,” I still find the Doctor to be wildly sympathetic) effectively serves to undermine him as a character.

AND he chastises the poor woman while making a “Quinn-Face?” Is there any more they could do to make me hate this man?

And to be honest, this is the moment where I stop treating Quinn as a character with an arc. That’s non Jerry O’Connell’s fault. It’s production’s fault. It’s the fault of the writing in this episode. It’s the fault of a bunch of sexist brain-dead men who don’t care about how the world works. With this, they aim for the lowest common denominator.

And man, they barely hit that.

Never go full ‘tard, Charlie.

Because I am very, very, very pointedly not paying attention to Colin and Maggie’s time in the Beaver’s House. Because it is very, very, very stupid. The humor is very, very, very insulting (another fucking Canada joke?). Are we punishing Maggie for showing her underwear by making her live in a male fantasy? Where she makes shitty cookies and tries to knit? While Colin puffs a pipe and tells her that her cookies are shit? What is this fucking nonsense? Is it funny?

No, it’s not funny. It’s insulting. It’s garbage. It has no place in my life. “The Breeder” was offensive, but it was at least obviously so. This is more sly, and that makes it a piece of evil.

The worst thing that can happen to a show like this is when you can boil the entire hour into the title of a Friends episode. “The One With The Drugs” is literally all you need to know about this one. If that entices you, sure, go ahead. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of Kari’s Fran Drescher impersonation.

Never go full ‘ta—oh what the fuck is this shit

Maybe you won’t.

Next Week: There isn’t enough Acid Rain in the world (The Alternateville Horror).

I understand it was going to be hard, no matter what, to follow something like “World Killer.” I stand by my wild assessment of last week— it’s simply the best. Here’s the good news: this episode isn’t the worst. The bad news is, it’s not… I don’t know, good? 

I mean, we’re not even really playing to the cheap seats here. I’m not even sure we’re bothering to play at all. It’s just so easy. The thing is, I’ve always enjoyed when the show goes down the path of “New Slider Learns The Ropes.” And sure, the good ol’ comedy trope of Country Bumpkin Hits The Big City can sometimes work (read: sometimes).

But the problem is that this isn’t just any old New Slider. This is Quinn’s Brother. This is one of the big hinges of the new season. This should be the defining episodes of the show. But instead we’re treated to a parody of a parody of a rube bumbling his way through city life. It just seems like a waste of a new character.

Actually, that’s not even the big problem with the episode. The problem is that this stupid way to introduce a character is grafted (all puns intended) onto an already decent idea about bone grafts and DNA banking and a pretty clever idea for criminal behavior. Both of these ideas are totally decent— they’re good enough for their own episodes, even! But it’s just… off here.

Bluuuuuuuue Meanies!

As we know, this show is in total love with elephants. It loves to just throw them in the room. And yet again, here we are— elephant time. Because look, guys— we need to talk about Canada. One thing I don’t think I mentioned in “World Killer” is the subtle joke where Maggie keeps getting her gun taken away. This is a joke that we’ve been having since the character was introduced. It doesn’t impact the stories, it doesn’t draw attention to itself. It’s just a semi-meta joke about how Maggie really loves guns.

But Canada jokes? Holy shit, guys. This is bad. It’s kind of offensive— and not really just to Canada (though I can’t imagine any self-respecting Canadian would appreciate this shit). It’s lazy. It’s boring. It was barely funny the first time they make the joke, let alone the SIX BILLION times it’s made over the course of the episode. Seriously, a drinking game to this shit would fucking kill you.

Also likely to kill you: this scene. Seriously, is Quinn so dearly in need of a quickie?

And it’s not enough for it just to be told over and over. They have to hinge the plot on it. Like, characters take it at face value. “I’m from Canada.” “Oh, that explains it.” What? No it doesn’t. That doesn’t explain anything! And that exchange is probably repeated at least three (thousand) times in the episode. It’s a pain. And the fact that the Detective at the end calls out how ridiculous it is that he’s just going to let them go without requiring a deposition or testimony or anything that would make the episode fit into reality as we understand it is not funny. It’s meta, but it’s calling out an egregious plot hole and then not doing anything about it. The episode just ends.

HOW ABOUT THEM MAPLE LEAFS?!

I really like the two parts of this episode. But I also feel that at the end of the day, both the stories being told, and by extension Colin, are done a disservice by their plotting. You know what would make it more impressive? Have them miss the slide. Or have them leave and come back again and try again to convince Colin.

Since the timer has had the ability to return to past worlds, they’ve used it exactly once (“Dinoslide” doesn’t count— they followed Rickman backwards through the interdimension to the New World). I know I’m stretching into fanfiction here, but I’m just so concerned (already!) for the show. Colin is almost an afterthought in his own debut, even if he plays a ‘key’ role in the bonegraft-y theft-y proceedings.

Also, the show has never been so horridly dated to the 90s as it is here. There was only one time that women wore shit like that, and it was on Ally McBeal.

It’s one thing to pull of the “bumpkin” route in a story like this. But I’m pretty sure this episode goes a little too far with it. Even Rembrandt descends into plain cruelty by the end (unless we’re supposed to believe he thinks the ridiculous get-up he dresses Colin in at the end of the episode actually looks super cool). And despite one redeeming moment, and I do think the ‘butterball reveal’ is honestly very funny, we’re introduced to a new main character— basically the biggest deal a show can pull— and he’s an idiot. Such an idiot that I’m not actually offended by Maggie’s under-her-breath sass. Part of this is built into the character. But the greater problem is something that we can’t really tip toe around, and that we’re going to have to keep dealing with—

Charlie O’Connell is kind of bad, you guys.

He’s wooden, and clearly new to ‘acting.’ Say what you want about Mel Tormé in “Greatfellas,” but you can’t deny he was absolutely electric. Charlie is as dead-eyed as lead, and it’s clearly not an acting choice. It’s troubling, for certain. But I’m going to wait and see what happens— after all, this is pretty much day one for his career (nope, sorry “As Time Goes By” and “Dragonslide.” Seriously, bro did a better job face-down in “The Young & The Relentless).

The thing is, though, that Charlie’s deficiencies make Jerry O’Connell try harder. There’s no “Quinn-Face” in this episode, and that’s largely due to Jerry’s excitement to hang out with his bro. Jerry’s good when he tries. We can only hope that Charlie gets the picture, and picks up on his bro’s skill. Which he does, for the most part, when they have scenes together. It’s when Colin’s solo that problems present themselves.

As much as this is truly comedy gold, it is a little disheartening that the only decently funny part of an entire episode is a coffin stuffed with turkeys. Also, where the hell did he put the real dead guy?!

But look, as much as the faults of this are glaring, I can’t really condemn it. Like I said earlier, the ‘butterball’ joke is really funny. And there’s honest thought being put into the worlds here. The DNA Dollaz world is compelling enough that it really could have had it’s own hour.

“O Brother” is a better episode than “Genesis,” which sort of shows a lack of trust in the show on the production end of things. “Genesis” shows us Earth Prime, ostensibly still our world, but it’s not fleshed out at all— it’s nothing more than the backlot. DNA world is filled with people who convincingly sell the world they live in— they erase the backlot. It’s a subtle, but effective difference.

On Philip Sandifer’s masterful TARDIS Eruditorum, which this blog is wholly indebted to, there’s an idea that he posits in his review of the classic serial “The Ark In Space.” In the serial, a man is overtaken by a beast growing on him that looks like nothing more than the green-painted bubble wrap it is. But the actor sells the horror of his transformation so convincingly that the scene is absolutely horrifying. This idea of “believing your bubble wrap” applies just the same to Sliders— it’s best when the actors believe the backlot. If we must be stuck with it, then so be it— as long as we aren’t constantly reminded that we’re there.

QUICK EVERYONE TOUCH.

So, now we’re four again. I’m not sure how exactly to feel about that. Sliders hasn’t really proved itself able to handle four characters over the years. The trio we’ve spent this bit of the season with not only made it easier on the stories, it also solidified a bond between these characters that hand’t been present since the original group’s heyday.

Colin disrupts this, and while I’m not wholly in favor of hating the show for trying something new, it does give me some pause. But hey, if the show scales back the bumpkin jokes, and forgets aboot Canada, I bet we can handle it. I mean, we all hated Maggie when we first met her, and now look— she’s the most sympathetic character in the episode.

I would also be remiss if I did not point out the fact that that kid’s broom does not, in fact, touch the ground. I think of this every time I hold a broom.

So, onward towards the future. Let’s see if this momentum of new ideas persists.

Next Week: Narcotica 2: the druggening.

In fact, it’s comforting to see a script ripped straight from the first season playbook (and “Wag the Dog,” appropriately): when Maggie has a chance encounter with President Jefferson Williams (Eric Pierpoint), his staff seizes on the opportunity to create an affair between them as misdirection from an unpopular war in Europe. When Maggie refuses to participate in the farce, she’s kidnapped and forced to take part in the cover-up, leaving the rest of the Sliders try to rescue her.

Despite action that’s largely confined to studio sets, there’s a strong sense of world-building in Steve Stoliar’s script: the geopolitical, economical, and cultural landscape of this world is communicated effectively with props, dialogue, and snippets of news reports. As a viewer, you feel like this is a world where sensationalistic tabloid fare rules the media and where a massive, illegal war between the United States and Switzerland is considered irrelevant. (And that’s exactly how the administration likes it.)

As a result, this Earth feels lived-in, realistic. You’d think that would be the norm on a show about people traveling to parallel earths, but recent episodes like “Please Press One,” “The Great Work,” and “The Unstuck Man” beg to differ. So it’s encouraging when the Sliders production team looks back on its roots, takes them to heart, and manages to have some fun. I’m even impressed with the added teases of a media culture eager to rewrite and exploit the public narrative for their own amusement. It’s a reality shift that doesn’t need a timer, and I commend it.

The social satire and the humor throughout this episode really bolster the first season vibe. Everyone’s relaxed and enjoying themselves and that comes across on screen. The news reports are well produced (far better than the ones we saw in season three, at least) and the on-the-scene expose between the GNN reporter and Maggie’s pregnant hillbilly double is outstanding. Even the lighting, costuming, and direction work in “A Current Affair’s” favor – it shows that the Sci-Fi Channel budget doesn’t mean the staff can’t craft network-level television.

Despite these efforts, however, the episode still misses out when it comes to doing something deeper and more meaningful with the core cast. While Mallory (who is still inexplicably introducing himself to others with his last name) shows he possesses a cunning mind and is more than up to the challenge of using news media to help Maggie, Diana and Rembrandt fade into the background once their amusement of Maggie’s predicament wears off. As a result, this is a primarily Maggie-driven outing; we watch her engage with the tabloid culture of this Earth, grudgingly tolerate her captivity, and proactively escape from Secret Service lockdown while Diana argues overs pixel resolution with our guest stars.

And the downside of following the first season playbook? You’re also captive to its tropes. This time around, the Sliders stumble into Bobby Hawks (Michael Manasseri playing Matt Drudge), the one person in this universe who’s not only qualified to help but who also has the flexible moral compass that lets him balk at violating his ethics while faking crime scene photos for complete strangers. There’s a strange dichotomy at play since Hawks comes across as fully-defined – you believe his character and his motivations – but he’s still ultimately a tool of the plot. All the guest-characters, from the President’s unscrupulous Chief of Staff (John Vargas) to the manipulative First Lady (Robin Riker), feel like real individuals. They have concerns, values, and intentions beyond the immediate requirements of the drama. But they never act on them in a believable fashion.

And because the other three characters don’t engage much with this media-soaked parallel culture, the story seems more myopic and narrow than it should. It could have been much more interesting, but I got the sense the writers saw their story mirrored President Bill Clinton’s scandal, patted themselves on the back for being topical, and settled for having Rembrandt, Diana, and Mallory walk back and forth between sets until the final scene arrived.

But what a final scene! Instead of a tidy wrap-up where all the villains receive their just desserts, “A Current Affair” chooses a more layered conclusion. Hawks gets his moment to expose the government corruption and war crimes ignored by the media, only to get overshadowed by the Sliders’ requisite exit strategy.

It’s just right for Sliders, as is the overall plot and situation. This is a good episode, but with more detail, stronger characterization and more satirical humor, it would have been great.

Maybe even first season great.

For so long, there’s been a lack.

A lack of clear definition. What is this show we’re watching? What kind of show is this? What is it trying to tell us— about people, about the world, about the universe, life itself, itself. Sliders has never known what it really wanted to be. It had all these ideas, all these things it thought it wanted to say, and this great mix of social satire, black comedy, and compelling drama.

But then it could never decide what exactly the mix was going to be? How much black comedy? How much drama? Who are we supposed to care about, laugh at, cry with? The show couldn’t decide. There were too many people with different interests all working to make the show they wanted— but all those different visions didn’t add up.

So we get “The Comrade Rap” and “The People’s Court” in the same episode as Soviet Thugs gunning down people in the streets. A meta-joke about Devo in the same episode as a man threatening to slit Rembrandt’s throat. Season One being the same show as Season Three. “Time Again & World” airing in the same season as “As Time Goes By.”

So what is this show? It’s whatever it wants to be in whatever given minute you’re watching it. And that’s fine— our memories probably do this show a better service in memory than our eyes do in viewing. As long as we remember the best moments of the show, we can forget that “The Weaker Sex” is the episode that has the “Yellow Plastic” line.

But behind all this, there’s always the question of “what should it be.” What should Sliders really be? What is this show about? What should this show say about The Human Condition? When someone asks you what Sliders is, what do you tell them? What is this?

Put simply, it’s this.

This is it. This is what Sliders should be, should always be, should always have been. Whatever show we’ve been watching is flawed, and I love it, and sometimes it brushes the stars with the tips of its fingers. But this is the moment when all those flaws are smoothed and gelled  into something that I’m not afraid to call a perfect hour of television.

This is the best episode of Sliders. If someone asks you what they should watch, tell them to watch this. “World Killer” is the high water mark that should have been the goal in the first place.

Missed you, Golden Gargoyle Azure Gate Bridge.

You can tell from the start that this is somehow different from everything else. There’s more care attended to it. The teaser is swaddled like an infant. There’s a consideration to the shots that’s been decidedly lacking from the last two years of the show. I don’t even know what the reason for that is— Reza Badiyi, while actually being basically an institution of American Television, as IMDB would have you know, has already directed “Genesis” and “Common Ground” this season— fine episodes, but hardly worth mentioning for the direction.

But there’s things that haven’t really been done on this show before, except almost in “Fever.” There’s a shot of them running out of sight into an alley, and then the World shifts. It’s a tiny moment— but effective to imply sliding without actually showing it. And the little shifts in the new world, the dust, the tumbleweed, are small, but add up to the real money shot— the extended crane-pan through an empty backlot.

Rembrandt Brown, Master of Not Knowing what to Do with your Arms.

We’ve seen the backlot a lot on this show. Far too much, really. Part of the reason that it sticks out so much like a sore thumb is the lack of care that goes into it. It’s just a location. It could be anywhere. “Oh, hey, look— it’s Los Angeles, except no part of Los Angeles and/or any city on Earth looks like this.” I don’t know, it’s lazy.

But there’s something different about the approach to it “World Killer” takes. Part of it is that crane shot— it’s ambitious for the show, and the care that’s placed in the extensive dust that’s coated this new world. But another part of it is the actors— they’re looking around like they’re really in an environment that they want to learn about. So often they’ve been cast into some new world and then not even bother to look around. You can’t even read it as “seen one cave seen ‘em all” because they just look bored.

Here they aren’t bored. And it’s funny, too, in light of what’s really going on, that when the cast at first starts making assumptions about what happened, they call out everything we’re worried the episode is about to be about: War, Kromaggs, Etc. It’s easy to guess at this point in the show’s run that it will be one of those threats: the War Torn World, the Ravaged Kromagg Earth. And frankly, even though it’s still new to the show, who cares? The end of the teaser is literally the only false note in the episode— Quinn is attacked by a Dog.

Shades of Island Polar Bears.

But from there, it’s perfection all the way. Most of the boring plotting we’d usually get is stripped away— no discussion of what’s next, no more “I hope it’s not the ‘Maggs.” We go right to just about the last place on any Earth you’d expect us to go to: Quinn’s house. I missed Quinn’s house. It feels like since “The Guardian” we’ve actively tried to avoid Quinn’s house. Out of embarrassment, or a lack of things to say, I don’t know. It makes sense that we’d visit it now, even if it isn’t discussed on screen. But it’s a straight fact that we haven’t been to San Francisco in a good long while.

C’mon guys, he probably just looked up “Mallory” in the phone book!

But inside is no comfort. Quinn finds inside a host of awards his double won but he himself had not. I don’t know if Quinn was looking for comfort anyways— after all, this isn’t even a copy of his actual Home anymore. No matter what he tells himself, no matter how calming it must be to walk down the steps to the basement for the first time in so, so long, it can’t possibly be the same, because it was always a lie.

Maybe not a lie, per se, but it’s probably hard for him to reconcile the warm memories of his Mother with the fact that the Linda Henning he knows isn’t the Linda Henning he should have known. So to see this double of his as ‘more successful’ than he is hurts. But nothing really compares to the hurt Quinn can feel at meeting this lout:

I think the technology that has changed the most since 1998 is the technology that makes scenes like this NOT SUPER AWKWARD LOOKING.

His first appearance is played for laughs. And why shouldn’t it be? This season so far has been pretty devoid of humor, and its one attempt (“Cheese Nukes”) was a total disaster. So when we see Alt-Quinn, we laugh— he’s got a funny beanie, and he hasn’t seen anyone in years, and he’s so goofy and he hugs Maggie soo hard!

But he’s not funny, is he? He’s a monster. He doesn’t know he’s a monster, not really. It’s not like he’s had anything to base it on. But there’s a simple truth to his monstrosity, and it’s apathy.

To think this is our “team,” now.

And it’s here that we have to sit down, because something’s going on here— we need to talk about Quinn. And I don’t mean Alt-Quinn. Our Quinn Mallory. Over the weeks Jerry O’Connell’s been replacing Quinn’s sense of facial expression with a nothing-face that will come to define his last year on the show. It’s easy to read that as apathy— and it probably is, to a certain extent.

But how do we reconcile that with Jerry’s performance as Alt-Quinn? Because his performance as Alt-Quinn is nothing short of a masterwork. Playing a double is a lot more complex of a task than it would seem on the surface. You have to play a new character, sure. But you still have to play that new character under the umbrella of your old one, in such a way that the double is still recognizable as the old one. It’s a tough sell (it’s also something that the actors on Fringe have done chillingly well). But Jerry O’Connell fucking nails it, and he nails it so completely that it calls into question his portrayal of Our-Quinn.

Because if Jerry’s clearly got the chops still (and there was never a reason to believe he lost them), then it’s entirely possible there’s more going on than just boredom. The “Quinn-Face” that we’re becoming so used to might be a conscious acting choice.

I’ve postulated this before— all the upheaval in his life has led to extreme numbness, a forcing down of all that’s assaulting him. But here, in this episode, we see Quinn rage, we see him suffer, we see him fight for the things that are obvious and right.

But all this is almost sidelined to the story being told in this episode. Because alt-Quinn is alone for a reason— he too, invented Sliding. But instead of just sliding himself, he created a Slidewave (which is a term I absolutely adore), and instead shifted the entire population of a planet one dimension over.

These Nuns can really throw a party!

So look, I could walk you through every single plot point of this episode and talk about why it’s the best. I really could. But I don’t have the rest of time and space and everything that’s ever been. And besides, I’d be denying you the ability to watch this episode as I did: cautious, but hopeful. And amazingly proved right. It’s amazing to watch a show correct itself.

So look, I’ll give you three reasons, instead of a thousand, why this is the best. Moments, bits, pieces, whatever.

There’s a porno in here somewhere…

The Two Nuns

Rose Portillo is the best guest star the show’s ever had. Part of this isn’t really her fault— it’s the first time the show has bothered to write a believable, non-ridiculously one-note character in years. Though, to be honest, that’s not even what’s going on here. The show’s using one of its oldest concepts— doubles— and using it for more than just easy antagonism. It’s using doubles to underline one of the deepest explorations the show originally (almost) engaged in: what makes us us.

This is a part of what this episode is about, though I’ll soon argue it’s about much much more than that. These two Nuns are different people, through and through, as much as they might look at each other. But they’re similar enough to at least both be Nuns, which is significant. More significant is the clear understanding they share, even if they’re constantly saying the things the other would never dare to. That’s their connection— they’re the mirror of the person they could be, and they understand and respect this.

Besides, even without the philosophical triumph of the idea of these characters, they’re still astounding. The nuns split into “Sassy” and “Moody,” more or less, and they both get a few lines that speak to each side that are contenders for best moments on the show. One of those is a joke about a quiet bath, which is delivered with perfect timing.

I’ll take Weeping Nun over a Boxing Nun any day.

But the other speech is a total shock. One Nun explains how someone of Faith could explain the intensely scientific happenings: it’s a cruel inverse of Noah’s Ark— Two by Two, but now on Earth, as punishment for our sins. Rembrandt’s “Oh, Lord” reaction is basically my own. That speech comes out of nowhere, but it’s the smartest bit the show’s ever done.

We never really see people try to process Sliding in any meaningful sense on this show. Most of the time, the guest stars stare at the Vortex as if they’re seeing what’s actually there in real life— a light behind a swishing bucket of water, and a fan blowing in their eyes. If there’s any actual reaction, it’s a “wow, okay, that’s crazy,” and the plot moves on. Religion has never entered into it. Which, sure, fine, maybe stay away from that, it might get ugly (especially for a show that produced “Prophets & Loss”). But it’s not mocked here. The tone is reverent, and it should be. Because that speech is delivered not only to us as an audience to fully understand the spiritual plight of this World, but also to hammer home the point to Alt-Quinn.

About which…

Well, he does fit into the mold of “All of Quinn’s doubles are kind of total assholes.”

The Conscience of the Universe

In earlier seasons, the idea of “non-involvement” was used as a plot-mover. There were discussions, sure, but there isn’t really any chance that they won’t get involved— the plot demands it of them. But as time went on (even as the show got worse), it seemed like there was more of a pull towards being a force of change.

“As Time Goes By” took that idea and crumpled it into meaninglessness. It took the basic core of the show— insert these people in a place where they can afflict their political and ideological leanings— and showed the consequence. Sliders has the ability to veer perilously towards xenophobia at times. The sliders unquestioningly view what they perceive as ‘wrongs’ and work tirelessly to ‘right’ them. But like I said way back in Season One, there’s nothing in “Prince of Wails” that actually shows suffering. Sure, we see Skid Row, and that scene is very important for the Prince to understand the plight of the common man. But despite Sheriff Arturo saying taxes are over 70%, we don’t see the populace actively suffering. People go about their business, living.

What I mean is, the sliders never stopped to think about their actions until “As Time Goes By” (I’m ignoring “Luck of the Draw,” mainly because the show itself was forced to ignore it). There, Quinn tried to act as a force of selfish change, and destroyed an entire universe. That’s the most brutal of costs.

But it’s a little vague, isn’t it? As great as “As Time Goes By” is, it’s almost too poetic to get the point across. It’s telling Quinn to be careful. But it’s probably difficult to understand that when the heavens are wigging out.

This is actually a behind the scenes photo of Jerry O’Connell arguing to himself about whether or not he should actually try to ‘act’ this episode.

It’s much easier to understand when it’s you who blew it. I mean, sure, it’s a double of Quinn, but we know Our Quinn Mallory far too well. What better way to needle him for his endless guilt that throwing a heartless husk of a man with his face at him?

But guilt’s not really what the episode is about— this is about responsibility. This is about what it means to be a good human. And it’s not cynical. You’d think that at this point in the show, we’d be so consumed in pessimism that Quinn would take one look at Alt-Quinn and throw him under the bus. We would only get half of the line that could very well define the show: “you blew it.” Show over, move on.

But that’s not what we get. Alt-Quinn is so blind to his responsibility that he feels nothing, despite the intense amounts of suffering he’s caused. So Quinn drops a bomb of a line, one to get tattooed on the arm of eternity:

The universe doesn’t have a conscience, so we have to.

Quinn Mallory is the only person who understands the universe enough to say this. And the thing is that he’s obviously right. The universe, as understood as fate, makes no sense to him— otherwise, there would be no Kromaggs, no Wrong, no Death. Naturally, this view of the universe doesn’t gel with reality. But Quinn doesn’t live in reality. He lives a life outside of it. If sliding does anything to a person’s psyche, it reveals the patterns of the universe as zoomed out to show how little can happen: death, or not. But Quinn’s only been paying attention to the Death, the Darkness of the Multiverse.

But in the face of all this Death and Darkness can (/should) come with responsibility. If you give your life up to the universe, how are you supposed to cope? We’ve seen that if you use the Multiverse selfishly, dire consequences occur. But if you use it as an honest force of good, there is reward. “Fever,” as mildly disliked as it is, should really be the template of the show. “Sliding made a difference.” Yeah, it did, on a wonderfully small scale. “Last Days” was on a huge scale, but the result is the same: humanity lives on.

There’s a difference between the ‘help’ they give in “Last Days” and the help they ‘give’ in “Prince of Wails” or “The Weaker Sex,” and it’s the human element. They aren’t saving lives in “The Weaker Sex,” they’re righting some perceived wrong that’s based entirely on personal belief. This is the wrong way to define ‘conscience.’ Death is a moral wrong, if you have the chance to prevent it. If you can save a life, then do so (so basically, fuck you, “City on the Edge of Forever.”)

This is the discussion we should have been having, and Quinn has it with his double, who can’t see past his own nose. He’s violated the tenets of the moral universe, and it’s his responsibility to fix what he’s done. At the end, it’s no surprise that he ‘learns a lesson’ and is a better person for it. But the path the episode gives him— driven by the humanity of our characters, no less— it so completely earned.

Worst. Date. Ever.

We Will Make New Stars

There’s a scene, late in the episode, where Alt-Quinn and Maggie are sitting in the dark outside of the Mallory house. They have a conversation, and in it Alt-Quinn relates something that his Father once told him.

We’re all made of star stuff, and it’s up to us to blaze across the sky and burn ourselves into the world. So we’d never be forgotten.

We’ve had cases of Sliders occasionally remembering that it has a past. Most of the time it’s haphazard, and only serves to piss us off. The show’s selective memory produced one of the show’s most frustrating hours, “The Other Slide of Darkness,” which apparently decided it was high time that we dealt with all the ‘loose ends’ that had been dangling for three years. You could even argue that the entire plot of Season Four is a case of the show’s selective memory.

But here, in “World Killer,” we have an example of continuity done right. The above quote is, of course, a reference to the “star dust” speech in “The Guardian.” But it’s more than just a simple reference. The scene is filmed to mimic the earlier episode. If you’re a diehard fan who’s been paying attention, it’s a sweet little nod, a wink of a gift.

But it’s better than that. It’s one thing when a show puts in a bunch of nods to its past just because it can, and they don’t hinder the actual plot of anything. It’s fine when you freeze frame the latest Star Trek movie and see that there’s a Tribble in Scotty’s laboratory, or that R2-D2 is floating in the wreckage of the fleet, or when the Colonial Anthem in the Re-Imagined Battlestar Galactica is the theme to the Original Series, or that Tricia Helfer’s Number Six is a nod to The Prisoner, or   whatever. Those are small, and don’t change anything.

But it’s another when you make something like Doctor Who’s “Attack of the Cybermen,” which tries to tie in loads and loads of continuity bits— a former Dalek henchman here, the Cybermen’s original homeworld there, Trotters lane here, all of the UK falling asleep there. Then, it’s fanservice that serves as a detriment to storytelling. That was “The Other Slide of Darkness.” That was “Genesis.”

But that isn’t this scene. If you haven’t seen “The Guardian,” you’re fine. The scene still works. If you do know what’s being referenced, then great— you might enjoy it a little more. But the scene isn’t just working to keep the fans sated, it’s working to enrich Alt-Quinn as a character, and it does so. It’s why this episode is called “World Killer” instead of “Slidewave.” It defines his scientific blindness, his hubris. The “Star Dust” story can be told to the same person, but in different contexts, it can change the foundation of who that person is.

“Aw, Perkins took a shit on my weathervane!”

That’s what “World Killer” is really trying to get at. That question of “what makes us us” is at the forefront, and it proves to be an enduring concept for the show. The best hours of the show have dealt with this question, and if “World Killer” doesn’t answer it, it at least tries to answer the question of why we should be.

The episode shows Quinn an ugliness, and he tries to right it. And he does right it. And that righting is more important to him, and to us, than any society that needed rebuilding, than any plague in need of curing, than any asteroid or pulsar in need of destroying. It’s the human element, returned and triumphant. The show has pretended that it never left— as much as an hour like “Common Ground” comes close to humanity, it clouds its message in interdimensional war drama too heavily.

I’m not kidding when I say that this is what was missing from the show. For too long the show has been mired in an ugly cynicism that, however realistic to life it may have been, was ultimately deadly to the show. But in “World Killer” we have a character who embodies that cynicism, and he is made to see the light.

Also, Quinn makes this face.

I’m tentatively hopeful that this is the future of the show. But even if it isn’t, and no episode is this good ever again, “World Killer” is good enough for me to maintain my faith in the Heart of Sliders.

This was a show worth making, and this episode is why.

Next Week: Bachelor Who? (O Brother, Where Art Thou?)

Can you imagine Jerry Lewis running around sucking the brain fluid from air force pilots at the Mission Inn? Sliders production did, thank to John A. Aiello Casting. Below you’ll find the one-sheet idea list for what the show had bravely named “Colonel Bad Guy.” Click on it to enlarge the image.

Below you’ll find the idea list John A. Aiello and Dino Ladki submitted to Sliders executive producers David Peckinpah and Alan Barnette for the part. It’s a literal who’s who of mid-90s television twentysomethings — with a few names like Jennifer Grey and Heather Graham thrown in for the “WTF” factor.

Kind of weird, isn’t it. What is it about Rollergirl Paul Thomas Anderson could see that Peckinpah couldn’t?

Click on the image to enlarge it:

Yes, yes, I know.

For all my griping about how fucking stupid the theoretical end of “Heat Of The Moment” would be, here we are in an episode that more or less has the same ‘cop-out’ in there. The always-dreaded “it was all a dream.” The end-all negator of plot twists. The mid-episode reset-button. The worst crime you can commit to any piece of storytelling. “Virtual Slide,” then, has to be the stupidest episode ever, right? The most frustrating viewing ever of all time. Worse than “Time Again & World.”

Well, no. It’s good. Really good. It’s smart, and it’s telling a different story than we think it is.

Maggie tries in vain to hide her Butthole Face.

This season, so far, has been pretty stellar at giving us episodes that at first glance seem to be about one character, but thematically end up being all about another. Last week, a seemingly Maggie/Kromagg-Centric episode was actually all about Rembrandt’s darkness. This week, we have what seems like an episode that delves into the group dynamic, giving us each a little bit of insight into all of our leads.

Dig if you will, a picture…

But it’s not. This is Maggie’s hour, whether we like it or not. Everything we learn here, we are learning about Maggie. And sure, it’s jarring when suddenly the episode pulls the rug out from under you. It probably could have been handled better. The episode would be served better if the moment wasn’t framed as a ‘twist.’ But “Virtual Slide,” more than it doesn’t, is playing with our expectations for a Sliders episode in a wonderfully deft manner. It gives us what we expect, then what we want, then takes that away, leaves us with a refreshing throwback to those heady days when it was up to our team to save the world.

But, again, this is all about Maggie. We should realize this from the start— we’re seeing everything through her eyes. We might hate this episode at first glace (or at least just be frustrated with it), but we’re left really with no choice but to watch again, this time watching thru the Maggie Lens. VR, we’re told (and this is one part of the episode I’m willing to believe), feeds from the user’s mind to create its fantasies, with guidance from the outside (the nefarious Simmons). Maggie is making some educated guesses about Quinn & Rembrandt’s personality, and while she’s pretty accurate (as far as we know— it’s amazing how little we still know about this people after so long), she’s pulling all this from herself. So while it’s pretty accurate to assume that Quinn never had the time to get busy and live a real adolescence, this is really just Maggie injecting her life into things.

MAXIMUM BUTTHOLE FACE

Maggie wasn’t a scientist— she was a fighter pilot. But the expectations were the same between Quinn & Maggie. Maggie’s General Father is a known quantity— she’s spoken of the difficulties he’s posed throughout her life. Life wasn’t easy for Maggie— it probably wasn’t easy for anyone on Pulsar Prime. Maggie’s story about World War III last week is almost glossed over, but it explains a lot about how weird the people of her world all acted. It’s a fact I’m sure our characters never learned in “The Exodus,” and it’s a fact that might have helped them live through that world.

But the fact is that Maggie comes from a world that has to live with the ramifications— political, cultural, personal— of nuking their home soil.

Maggie probably didn’t have a childhood. But now she’s around people who did. So she’s getting an insight to this whole type of life she never knew existed, let alone had. So when we see Quinn bemoan his lack of youth, it’s really Maggie bemoaning hers. Likewise to Rembrandt and his quest for respect. I don’t think we’ve ever heard about Maggie’s mother (have we?). Here, I think, it’s fair to guess that maybe her and the General didn’t see eye to eye. Maggie’s just using what she knows of Rembrandt’s past life (seriously, would Rembrandt really still be having dreams of stardom at this point?) to inject her own failings.

The Apogee of Sexuality.

There’s also a tangent to go on here, which is the overt over-sexualization of Maggie’s VR world. It’s a little funny to think of this in the eyes of Maggie— if she’s feeding this, really, then damn girlfriend gotta get laid quiiick.

Seriously, there hasn’t been this much hanky-panky going on in Sliders, like, ever. Sure, the first two seasons were chock-full of making out and oodles of shots of Rembrandt making his Roger Moore “Oh, you mean with me?” face. But there’s very little deal-sealing. Here, we watch the most bizarre sexual fantasy ever depicted on an all-ages show: Maggie imagines catching Quinn fucking Maggie. So what’s the attraction here? What’s the fetish? Is it the chastising that follows? Maggie is really so clueless as to how ‘relationships’ work that she has to create this complicated net of sneaky-sexy-time to play a cosmic game of Chess to get Quinn to admit the feelings that Maggie actually has for him?

Maggie’s got some stiff competition in the “Butthole Face” department.

That’s the crux of the weirdness, and why I think Maggie’s little fantasy is worth it to stick with— Quinn clearly doesn’t feel the same way. It’s awkward when Maggie finds out he was watching the whole thing (I also would really have liked to see Quinn and Rembrandt’s faces when they watched the screen as Maggie caught Quinn boffing herself. My God would that have been priceless).

But still— this is a pretty bizarre way to admit that Maggie really does have feelings for Quinn. And yes, I remember that they did make out in “This Slide of Paradise.” But the sort of slow-boiling sexual tension that was ‘built up’ in the tail end of Season Three clearly resolved itself in that kiss. As soon as they’re on future world, Quinn is all business. And the three months they spent alone, while being a secret reference to the “eyes of love” show that FOX sort of wanted, clearly was spent with Quinn trying desperately to fix the timer and get home. There’s not sexual tension in the teaser for “Genesis.” And once they get to Earth Prime, of course there’s no tension. Quinn doesn’t have time for romance when his Earth is gone.

Clearly talking about Quinn’s reaction to the Kromaggs is a dangerous subject to broach here, but it’s increasingly apparent that one of the reactions Quinn is having is to shut himself down emotionally— this includes Maggie. And for Maggie, that’s painful. And, to the endless credit of the writers, it’s a complicated thing for Maggie to admit she ‘loves’ Quinn— she’s raw over Steven, but she can’t deny what she’s come to feel about Quinn.

Of course, I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention one of the greatest dick jokes of all time. We’re told that VR is used for construction work, so workers can imagine that their tedious jobs are actually something more exciting. Rembrandt sees this:

What? He’s just imagining himself filling a Twinkie!

And immediately turns to Quinn and says “I don’t even wanna know what he thinks he’s doing.” Which is honestly hilarious, if you’re 7. But even funnier is the fact that it’s Maggie’s VR World— that dick joke is coming from her, not Rembrandt. Damn girl, you nasty.

Here’s the thing: this episode is a missed opportunity. It hinges itself on the wrong moment— it uses the ‘reveal’ of Maggie’s VR world as a twist, the defining moment of the episode. There’s a ton of emotional moments in the script, and on the screen, but we aren’t being led, mentally, to focus on them. We’re led to look at the ‘science fiction’ aspects that think they’re clever. But they aren’t really clever, and they aren’t really compelling (neither is Maggie machine-gunning a chalkboard).

But learning about Maggie is compelling. I don’t know if any of you remember The Prestige, Christopher Nolan’s Magician Movie (and if you do, but haven’t seen it, I’m about to completely spoil the ending). In that movie, there are two twists— one is that Nikola “Bowie” Tesla accidentally invented a device that duplicates a body, and that Hugh “Pissy Pants” Jackman uses it to drown himself and make it look like he escaped a trap. The other is that Christian “Grumpy” Bale has a twin brother. The movie focuses all of it’s dramatic weight on the latter reveal. But it’s the wrong point to emphasize. It’s much more terrifying that Hugh Jackman would actually drown himself, night after night, just to perform the greatest magic trick on Earth. I don’t care that Christian Bale had a brother— there’s no emotion in that, other than that he had to sacrifice his brother. Hugh Jackman sacrificed himself, night after night, and lives with that knowledge.

Yep. You got it.

That’s an obscure point to make, I guess. But what I mean is that this episode is this close to being a classic. It’s just held back by it’s impulses. It second-guesses itself, trying to please everyone. If it had just tried to please itself, it could have been amazing, and would have a much better standing.

I might be giving it too much credit. But I guess that’s my tack with this season— to find the buried gem. They’re all diamonds in the rough, but I don’t really think this diamond was too far from the surface. Give it another try. You may be surprised.

The most fun they’ve had in …ever.

Next Week: the greatest and best episode of all time ever I hope (World Killer).

My redemptive readings are getting me in trouble.

I’m not going to apologize for this— I have to find something to enjoy in this show. Otherwise how could I continues with this project that’d make Sisyphus blush?

Here’s the crux of the trouble: the fact that the characters don’t react enough to the horrors at hand is diminishing to the show. This isn’t something I necessarily disagree with. (Jerry O’Connell as) Quinn hasn’t shed a tear for his fallen Earth. But, speaking in-universe, he did just get a ‘new’ homeworld. He also just found out he has a brother. That’s a lot to take in. I personally thought that Quinn’s little “I have a brother!” moment in “Prophets & Loss” was super touching. I can understand why a guy would choose to focus on something like that— family— than to embrace the terror of real life.

Plus, Quinn Mallory hasn’t really been too emotive of a guy in years. When was the last time we saw him really freak out at something? When Rembrandt punched him in “The Exodus?” Yeah, I’d probably keep my feelings to myself too if that’s what was going to happen. Look, I know Jerry O’Connell is mentally showing up less and less as the show goes on. But as much as we might prefer his performance in Seasons 1 & 2, we can’t just decide that the character he portrays isn’t Quinn Mallory anymore. That’s not up to us.

Jerry is playing the character with more and more reservation, whether or not be intends to. So it’s up to us to reconcile that with the Q-Ball we used to know. It’s not hard to, really. Quinn’s seen a lot. And it’s not that happy. Half his friends are dead. So many people have died, in his eyes, because of him. He finally fulfilled his promise to his friends, only to have Home burnt to ash. To Quinn Mallory, that’s his fault. The man is nothing but guilt. The guilt of billions. It isn’t hard to imagine him bottling up his every emotion and changin his face to a nothing-grimace of emptiness.

Now, speaking out-of-universe/IRL, we now Jerry O’Connell is just bored. But it’s up to us to forget that. It’s up to us not to even know that. If the internet era has changed anything, it’s changed the idea of “behind the scenes.” The idea is irrelevant. Spoilers are almost impossible to avoid. Characters’ fates are decided by contracts, and we are now unavoidably aware of this.

So I truly believe it’s our job as fans to be gracious to our show. We have to accept what our show’s become. We don’t have to love it by any means. Plus, if we actually spent a lot of time watching Quinn & Rembrandt weeping through the vortex, would that really serve the show?

Remmy gets taken to O-Town.

Plus, the arguments of emotionlessness aren’t exactly true— at least not yet. Rembrandt is showing emotion. And Quinn is worried about him. And I’m sorry, y’all, but Quinn speaks out loud about finding Wade. And saving Earth Prime. (He does suggest that they put off that particular mission, but only because of the dynamics of sliding.) I was stunned when I heard him say all that. The season’s reputation is so overpowering it’s tainting my expectations. This hour is a character hour, and it’s full of the kinds of moments that apparently never happen on this show anymore.

You WILL ignore the lithp theethe falth teeth give me!

I can understand the dilemma. The sliders aren’t superheroes. The Kromagg Dynasty is a deadly military force. Their power is absolute. The best part of “Invasion” was that they don’t, in any way, defeat the Kromaggs. They escape because they were meant to. This season’s overarching goal of locating an anti-Magg weapon makes sense because they really do need more than just themselves to defeat this force of nature.

But the Kromaggs also need to seem at least remotely capable of defeat for our characters not to give in to despair. But it’s also for us to maintain belief in the story. “Invasion” also got a lot of its mileage from the Kromaggs being unknowable. “Common Grond” gets flack for humanizing the Kromaggs, but the fact of the matter is that the ‘Maggs were cratered as soon as we saw them speak in “Genesis.”

HUH HUH IMMA GET A JACKET FULLA RIBBUNZ JUS’ LIKE KROM-ANUS HUH HUH

Of course, Season Four’s slashed budget doesn’t help this ‘race’ either. I’m sure it’s very hard for an actor to take himself seriously when he looks in the mirror and sees a goofy pig-ape dude staring back at him. He looks like a joke— it’s a safe bet he’ll act like a joke. So here we meet the first of oh so many brain dead Subcommanders, chipping away the viability of the Kromagg Dynasty as an enemy, one stilted delivery at a time. But while Krolak is awful, Kromanus, or more accurately, Stephen Macht, is very much not (this dude was almost cast as Captain Picard, so I think y’all better recognize).

HEYYY LADIIIIEEES

The writers want to try something out. They want to see how much of the hour they can hang on the ‘new’ enemy. In order to do this, though, you need to have a clean slate of a character. And so while it might seem like not much time has passed before the Kromaggs got a soul, that’s really only if you’re seeing them through a fresh pair of eyes: in this case, Maggie’s.

Sure, Maggie’s seen the ‘Maggs. She’s seen what they’re capable of. She’s beard what Quinn & Rembrandt have told her. But she’s never met them, not really. Sure, they killed Marta, but they were breaking out of jail at the time, with gunfire coming from human sympathizers as well as Kromaggs. Maggie’s the only character who doesn’t really have any preconceived notions about the Kromaggs.

Plus, it’s not like we’re being asked to forgive the entire Kromagg Dynasty of its sins. We’re being asked to relate to one Kromagg. That’s fine. If there’s any sin the episode really commits, it’s that it comes too early in the run. It can’t come too much later— the ‘Maggs still have to be fresh in Maggie’s thoughts, and still sort of unknowable. Having this episode run 3rd opens up something that could end up being a problem for the show.

The reason Star Trek’s Borg stopped being terrifying wasn’t because the writers gave them a soul— it was because by the time we got to the end of Star Trek: Voyager, we’d seen them so fucking much. Seeing a Cube (or a Sphere, or a Queen, or a Transwarp Network or Whatever) stopped meaning “oh, shit.” It started meaning “not again.” Having the Kromaggs show up so soon collapses the Multiverse in on itself. I understand, from a story perspective, the fact that we have to keep up with our new enemies, in order to give them any sort of power. But only having one episode pass between Magg-Centric Episodes only serves to make it seem like there’s divine interference going on (which y’know, there just might be).

All Eyes & Eyebrows

But let’s step away from that (it’s a problem that hasn’t happened yet, and has no place in this review). There’s something pretty amazing going on that doesn’t really draw attention to itself: the fact that the show uses Maggie as its emotional center. Maggie, who when we met her, was a soulless nearly-evil woman who thought nothing of the emotional torment she caused to those around her. The fact that the word ‘sympathy’ can be used in the same room as this character now is a true testament to the writers, and to Kari Wurher.

Which isn’t exactly to say that she can carry a scene entirely. She’s helped immensely by being in the same room as Stephen Macht— she has no choice but to step it up a notch. But Kari still has trouble with enunciation, with getting her lines out in a natural way. But she’s softened her approach to playing Maggie in a much-needed way, and she does so while still maintaining a consistent character of “Maggie Beckett.” It’s all in the eyes, really. Kari Wurher might not be able to act with her mouth (and I don’t mean that in a “Season Three” kind of way), but she’s actually pretty adept at acting with her eyes. It’s small, and you have to be looking at them (which you know isn’t where the show wants you to look), but it helps invest in a character that before was absolutely un-investible.

I don’t know, Maggie, he looks pretty good to me…

The ostensible ‘theme’ of the hour is ‘the old warriors spar.’ Maggie & Kromanus spend a sizable chunk going back and forth about what it “means” to be a soldier, a true warrior. Despite Kari’s A for Effort this week, I’m never really going to buy Maggie as a credible soldier. But at least we get a mention of her husband? PHHHT. RIP STEVEN.

Anyways, this conversation is a feint. The real juxtaposition the episode wants us to make is between Kromanus and Rembrandt. They’ve both been ravaged by war, and they’re both crippled with regret. Sure, we’re happy of Kromanus’ regret (and we’re still not entirely sure what Rembrandt’s dirty secret is), but there’s still the fact that they’re going through the same emotions. War has hurt them. What we see in this episode is how they both deal with these feelings— how they adapt to the brutal change in their lives.

Kromanus, love it or hate it, is actually the figure of Hope in this episode. He abhors the revenge-fueled turn the War has taken. Sure, the outcome will be the same (decimation of humanity), but the road to that outcome is without honor. He’s seen what desperate people do: it’s what cost the Kromaggs their homeworld. (Which, actually, seems to be a shocking amount of foreshadowing as to the destructive properties of the Voraton Device [SPOILERZ.])

Rembrandt, on the other hand, is flying off the handle, yelling and shooting and making painfully obvious Nazi allegories. Sure, the experiments the ‘Maggs do in “the Pit” are horrifying, and Production made the right call in spending seemingly every cent of their budget on this dude’s horrifying makeup:

YIKES. (Bonus Points for the tortured moans in the background.)

— but — Rembrandt puts the group in needless danger countless times. And even though he’s proved right (semi-unfortunately), he only finds out about the experiments because he snoops around, trying desperately to find a reason not to trust the Kromaggs. So when Kromanus pulls an about face, and shows mercy to the humans, committing suicide to right the wrongs of the Dynasty, Rembrandt is blind to this.

Hey Girl.

He’s blind because he sees Wade in every face he sees. He’s looking for reasons to hate the ‘Maggs when he stalks those corridors, but he’s also looking for Wade. So when he meets Penny, a test subject with pep and strength and youth and a great haircut, all he sees is Wade. So he fights hard to save her, threatening himself, threatening the group, and sure, kind of threatening Penny, too. He’s doing it out of revenge, but also out of shame. He left Wade behind, he says, and there is honest pain in his eyes. But that pain is guiding his mission so fiercely that he can’t see the consequences of his actions. He accuses Quinn of wanting to abandon Rembrandt’s Earth (to which Quinn beautifully replies “it was my Home, too”), and goes on rage-benders trying to avenge every person ever who ever lived.

It’s a complicated thing for the show to throw at us. But Kromanus’ “even a warrior tires of pointless bloodshed” line, while very silly, is actually quite deft in that it underscores a possible future for Rembrandt. But at this point, Rembrandt won’t hear it. He can’t see past his rage. His hatred for the Kromaggs isn’t going to get him anywhere. Or if it does, it will get him, and everyone else, killed.

This episode isn’t about Kromanus. It’s about Rembrandt.

Of course, it’s hard to actually see that without looking very, very hard. There’s subtlety in the script, but once it leaves the page it’s lost in an ugly miasma of overscored and overdirected nonsense. Every shot seems to last too long, like it’s waiting for a voiceover that will never come. It reminds me of that quote from Chapterhouse: Dune that I quoted in my review of “Slide Like an Egyptian”—

Intentional detail in everything although sometimes you had to dig for it. Budget dictated reduced quality in many choices, endurance preferred over luxury or eye appeal. Compromise, and like most compromise, satisfying no one.

In honesty, this is the only way to appreciate Sliders as it’s become. It isn’t a show for everyone. But below all the painfully dated decisions and lack of cohesion, there’s a wonderful show. It’s hours like “Common Ground” that underline this fact so completely. If you want to watch a show that actually has a lot to say about humanity and how we deal with extreme tragedy, then you can find all that in Sliders. But if you want to see emotionless schlock, that’s up to you too.

But I’m choosing the former. And I think you should, too.

Jerry, though, is unconvinced.

Next Week: Rembrandt makes a really funny dick joke (Virtual Slide).

What just happened?

It’s I myself began sliding. It’s as if the last six months worth of blogging didn’t exist, and we’re still in that part of Season Three that had something to say. But if this episode followed, say, “The Prince of Slides,” it would still be a shock. Here’s the thing: I’ve crossed the point where I’ve seen these episodes way less than I’ve seen the ones that came before. It’s not as fresh, and it certainly isn’t ingrained in my mind.

So I come into this expecting inane schlock and instead get campy fun that you can actually discuss. That’s the real thing that amazed me this week— I watched this episode with friends, and we spent a good 15 minutes talking about what we saw.

I don’t know whoever skipped lunch to be able to pay for this set, but I thank you so dearly for letting us look at the Chandler for five less minutes.

The crux of that discussion comes from something Rembrandt says partway through the episode. He’s not sure what side to be on (he doesn’t really want to be on either) in this, and he’s pretty sure he knows what at’s the heart of both sides of the problem. “It’s all about power,” he proclaims, and he’s right to dilute the crises in this episode to such simple terms.

Because as much as the Oracle-side of things is wrong, it’s only wrong because they’re murdering people. And that’s actually kind of the only flaw in the episode. The episode is obviously about the ‘evils’ of organized religion. While it’s certainly creepy and chilling (and thankfully not a mystery) to have the Church’s Sliding Machine actually be an incinerator, isn’t it scary enough just to see how brainwashed the citizens of this Earth have become? How much of the Kool-Aid they chug? Even knowing that the Other World is a Death-Ray, you know they’d still hop in willingly. Even if there wasn’t a Death-Ray, they’d still hop off a bridge.

Woo! I mean, yeah, it was blue for a second instead of orange, but like, whatever!

That’s unsettling enough. But the whole incinerator ends up becoming a mark against the episode— which is a shame, really, because the episode doesn’t really play the initial reveal cheaply; not 10 minutes go by between the revelation of “the rapture is a sliding machine” to “carousel is a lie”— it derails a morality play into a moustache-twirling farce (having someone say “the final solution” doesn’t help either).

There’s a chance it could have been played differently. But the climax of the episode is simultaneously ripe for discussion and a colossal fart. It relies heavily on massive coincidence (the vortex gives not only extremely convenient timeframes, but also plops the team exactly where they need to be for maximum visual impact). I understand the need for a tidy script, but my willing suspension is stretched too thin.

Yes. I, too, remember how tight it was when I discovered Photoshop’s Smear Tool.

Plus, it overplays the common man of Oracle World as fools. They shouldn’t be merely fools— they should be misguided. Yet they treat the reappearance of Samson with the same “oohs” and “ahhs” that they give to Cadmus and Gareth. Samson reveals the truth of the Next World, but the crowd doesn’t really react to it— not with any sort of true emotion.

There’s ways to read this that work in the episode’s favor. You can read it like a comparison between organized religion and television, and a treatise on the dangers of both. The crowds in the episode certainly seem like they’re supposed to echo the Hour of Power-style of Evangelist Television. That sort of boring (read: white) gospel that almost (read: not really) ruined our nation this week (read: Go-bama!). But that sort of tepidly-emotive crowd keeps such a monotonous delivery that it makes it seem like Samson could have come tumbling naked out the vortex with his dick wedged in a Reuben Sandwich and they still would have just nodded their heads in agreement. It removes the power of the Rad-Rats’ victory.

As tight as this bro looks (he could be on Star Trek or something ), when was the Vortex ever NOT landed someone flat on their face/ass?

It also opens up a heady question: what happens after the sliders leave Oracle World? Does Samson become a noble leader? Uprooting society and throwing the Oracle under the proverbial bus? Or would be become just another power-hungry preacher? I’m not trying to be overly cynical here, but it certainly seems like the magic 8-ball is pointing to the latter here. Rembrandt might say “I was wrong about you,” but that doesn’t mean he’s right about being wrong.

SSSSSSSMOKIN’

Yet here I am, sitting at home with friends, discussing this episode and what it means. Talking about the intent of the writers vs. the deeper implications of humanity the episode portrays. Read that again: what it means. Not just “what happened” or “look at that,” even though the shot of the ash-piles in the ‘sliding machine’ is a way more horrifying scene than Sliders has any right to display. But let’s be real: when was the last time I watched an episode that I could have an intelligent discussion about? Probably “The Guardian.” That was almost a year ago. Almost two, if we’re going by transmission dates in 1998.

While it seems like most of what came above seems like I’m knocking this episode, I’m really not— I’m just trying to understand what I saw, because it had me invested in its intentions. Because for all the faults of this episode, Sliders has earned something huge: this is the last time I’m going to throw in a disclaimer paragraph in one of these reviews for a good hot minute. “Prophets & Loss” is good enough to divorce the show from the “despite all that happened” or “but actually it’s…” or “somehow it manages to…” or “I didn’t see that coming.”

The Sassiest Slide.

If the edict for Season Four is “make it smart,” then I will respect that. Especially if the episodes produced actually live up to that claim.

Next Week: Why Can’t We Be Friends? (Common Ground).

This is a new season of Sliders! That’s reason for celebration, no matter what! And it’s a season premiere that actually treats itself as one! We’re on a new network, the Sci-Fi Channel! There’s a new creative team! There will be a new slider, part way through the season! There’s a new edict in the writer’s room: “Make It Smart.”

These are big things! Big, exciting things! Look, it’s called “Genesis.” In the beginning, was the Word.

The Word, however, was Kromagg.

I can forgive shoddy vortexes and poopy Manta Ships, but guys, aren’t the Kromaggs supposed to be Apes, not Pigs?

So there we go. We know Sliders is an intensely nihilistic show. Not even just that, the thing gets downright sadistic. Remember “Into The Mystic”? There we were greeted with the one thing the characters wanted, when it was still a feasible goal. But it’s one thing to have made it Home and not to know it. It’s another thing to get Home, and have it taken away from you before your very eyes.

I’m not sure I really understand the nature of this Invasion (god just typing the word “invasion” makes me miss Season Two).

Quinn & Maggie, who’ve been traveling alone for three months (a pretty good nod to the fact that FOX originally wanted to air Sliders once a month as a sci-fi rom-com), finally make it back to Quinn’s Home. But it’s been overtaken by the Kromaggs, or at least a lower caste of ‘Maggs who look particularly devolved. Quinn & Maggie make it to the Chandler (I know, I know), only to find it destroyed, and Rembrandt & Wade are gone.

FUCK THIS HOTEL

Not only that, but Quinn, while languishing in a Kromagg holding cell, runs into his Mom (played mercifully by Linda Henning instead of that Meltphaced Woman in Season Two). Quinn’s Mom lays some heavy shit on him: he is not from Our World. His parents put him with doubles of themselves (right? They explicitly say that they’re doubles of Quinn’s parents. So the cybervideo Quinn watches has some strangers in it because they’re younger versions of Quinn’s parents, right? That’s why they look different, but sort of similar? Right? Right? Keep this casting in mind for later, when it may or may not blow up in someone’s face), promising to return in the even that they defeated the Kromaggs.

Because it would seem that a large reason for the Kromagg Dynasty’s assault on the Multiverse is because of a deep and horrible civil war on the Tree-Housed Home World, between the regularly evolved human scientists, and the alternately evolved, but no less intelligent Kromaggs. And there’s a weapon, a secret weapon that the Sliders have to go on a journey to find. They’ve got the co-ordinates to find a part of the weapon: Quinn’s secret Brother.

OM NOM NOM (Y’all ever tried to pass an eyeball?)

So.

There’s this show on FOX called Fringe. And if you call yourself a science fiction television fan, you already know that. You already watch it. And if you’ve seen Season Four of Sliders, you know what I’m about to talk about. Because Fringe, bless its heart, has pretty much xeroxed the Sliders playbook. But it’s upped the contrast, made things crystal clear. Made things stand out where before there was all grey.

What I’m talking about, you see, is a show’s willingness to reinvent itself. This has happened now and again in genre television over time. Doctor Who is probably the most obvious example of this, since a re-casting of the main character is written into the show’s framework. But I wouldn’t say it happens very often. Sliders’ contemporaries tried to pull this off. The X-Files killed off most of the characters in its big “mythology” it had been working on, but it never really took off, and the same ol’ coven of scary dudes ended up still running the show anyways. I also could not even count how many times The X-Files were closed and reopened, or Mulder & Scully were forced off the case, or blah blah blah nothing ever changes.

Here, we have change.

YOU’RE NOT TOM BUTLER YOU CAN’T TELL ME TO CLEAN MY ROOM

But do you know what’s going on with Fringe these days? A race of bald, super evolved humans has overtaken the Earth, enslaving the human race, getting humans to do the dirty work, dressing up as pretend Nazis, and doing strange experiments on other humans (and let’s not forget that it turned out one of the main characters was from a parallel universe).

What I’m saying is this: Sliders apparently has more influence than we thought? That’s arguable. Sliders in Season Four was playing with age-old sci-fi tropes just like it always has. But no one really remembers Sliders these days (it’s our job to be really annoying about it), so it’s high time a show tried to make the show again.

A common praise/complaint about Fringe is that it’s basically The X-Files for the 2010s. And while occasionally that’s true, the fact of the matter is that Fringe is really just the Sliders of the present day. That’s great. That’s why I love Fringe, and you should to. Because Fringe takes the vast majority of Sliders’ pratfalls and makes them work.

Like, as bad as that dude that was also a Porcupine looked on Fringe, shitty effects like this would not pass.

But look. For all my postulation that Sliders is in need of a massive overhaul if it ever expected to get off its ass and be a good show again, I never thought that it would actually pull it off. Obviously, it’s not perfect, more than it doesn’t, it sticks the landing it’s aiming for. There’s an awful lot going on in this episode. It’s basically a brand new Pilot for a brand new show. And while I could gripe about things like “budget” and “how bad the Manta Ship looks” and “Marta in general,” and “Jerry O’Connell’s face sometimes,” I’m not going to. (Especially when the token used to prove that it was their Wade who’s been taken is a necklace that we never actually saw a close up of for the entire time she wore it. I honestly didn’t know Wade’s weird little necklace was her name. It’s really very cute.)

Because for the first time in so long, there’s a real sense of momentum to the show. There’s a story arc now that we can truly be invested in. I mean, sure, “Rickman” killed Arturo, but that arc was swallowed completely by Maggie (and a ton of mediocrity). It revolved around her in a way that separated the ‘arc’ from our characters. Since we’re never actually going to root for them to get Home (unless we want the show the end, remember), we’re just waiting for Maggie to finish up her ‘revenge’ arc and leave.

“Finished? You are now!” is A) not a funny joke to make whilst punching a dude. B) Not really a sensical thing anyways? C) Not funny in general.

But Maggie is who we’re stuck with. And it is a truly wonderful thing that the new writing team understands that having a show with Maggie as one of the three (!) leads would be unwatchable. She’s unwatchable. At least the way she was when we last saw her.

So does the new blood succeed in toning down my arch-nemesis? More than they don’t. It certainly helps that her screen time isn’t spent antagonizing Wade. She does antagonize Marta & Otis (and to a certain extent, Rembrandt), but in each of those cases, she has a definable, understandable, and most importantly, believable reason. The so-called ‘rebels’ aren’t trained by the military (I don’t know who Marta is. A cook? A barmaid? Like, where did she come from?). Marta, I guess, has done okay. But judging how little time it takes for Otis to get a hole blown through him, I’m not sure I really trust the team to put up much of a fight.

YOU DEAD

If anything, that weakness just adds more momentum. They’ve got to liberate their Home. They certainly can’t leave it in the hands of these fools! Plus, Marta’s hair was just too perfectly feathered for her to lead a revolution.

YOU ALSO DEAD

Anyways, Maggie. She’s softer, if by softer you mean “almost crying while still being sort of mean.” But she only delivers hard truths when it’s necessary. I mean, which is worse, telling they’ve got to wait an hour before rescuing Quinn? Or Rembrandt clocking Quinn because he wants to go back to save his Maybe Mother?

“Maggie, Q-Ball’s drooling again!”

I don’t want to waste time in this entry talking about the so-called “Jerry Face” that “plagues” Season Four. I know what you’re talking about. I can see it sometimes. But right now, it’s not really the most egregious sin the episode commits. I can believe Quinn can be completely numbed from all the dark revelations he learns in this episode.

But what I can’t really ignore is what they ‘do’ with Wade. You know what, though? Putting Wade in a “breeding camp” isn’t offensive. It’s horrible, and I deplore it (and if we’re aware of the behind the scenes shenanigans of David Peckinpah saying “I thought it was a funny place to put her,” then yes, it’s offensive), and I miss Wade, forever and ever amen. But it isn’t the most offensive part of the episode. It isn’t the most oddly tone deaf. Even though we’re told about the “breeding camps” from a social retard named Trevor Blue who is a “hacker” who eats melted cheez-whiz. Even though the words “be my Love Monkey” pass his non-existant lips.

(No, the most tone-deaf and offensive part of the episode is when two African American Kromagg Sympathizer Civilian Goons tell Quinn that the “Masters at the Slave Colony will get your mind right, boi.” That’s awkward. That takes you out of the episode.)

Like, so awkward. What is the dude on the left looking at?

Because for all the griping the fans give the show for committing Wade to such an awful fate (and I am not trying to say that her fate isn’t terrible, or that “forced Ape-Rape” is no big deal. Because that shit is always a big deal, and the fact that there are only dudes in charge of this show only makes that decision more suspect), it’s serving to give our remaining characters more to care about. It’s a fire lit under their asses. It’s impetus for War.

It may seem like a huge about face for me to say I’m excited (or at the very least allowing) for Wade to be gone (really, though, the fact that an all-male production team forces even off-screen rape on a character is very, very troubling to me the more I think about it— having to use that word every time you talk about Sliders is awful).

All of this is used as another reason to get ready for the oncoming season. It’s here where the “Seeing it for the 1st time” routine is very important. Put yourself in the shoes of 1998. You don’t know what’s coming next. How could you? All the pieces are in place for a true renewal. Is this episode great? No, it’s not great. But I do want to know what comes next. Just that simple fact is so much better than anything we saw in Season Three.

Even the fact that “Genesis”‘ actual plot is paper thin isn’t a deterrent. Other than the long winded infodump sequences, the plot is still firmly in “capture/escape/recapture/reescape” territory. But at least there’s more reason to care this time. And plus, we don’t ever see the fucking cave set. Ever. Bring me dingy, poorly lit tunnels any day.

YEAH BRING ON THE TUNNEL FUCK THE CAVE

Yet even though Sliders’ track record for following up on promised ideas is pretty dismal, we’ve got to keep out eye on the 1998 vibe. What we’ve got here is impetus for the journey. But in terms of a season to television at this point in history, what we’ve got is just a framework on which to hang the rest of the season. That’s the difference between then and now in terms of TV. If Fringe was being made in 1998, it would look exactly like this (actually, Fringe was being made in 1998, it was just called The X-Files then). Likewise with Sliders in the year 2012.

But there’s no real reason to hang the show for this. The show’s done the same thing before. “Double Cross”  gave us a viable excuse for LA sunshine. That was framework. It’s the same with the Pilot, or “Summer of Love,” or hell, every show ever of all time. But we can’t be angry at the show because we are pretty sure we won’t be fighting Kromaggs next week. That just wasn’t how it was done then. We wouldn’t have expected that. Plus, if the show became “Battle for Earth Prime” every week, could we really still call it Sliders?

Cry like a (Grown-Ass) Man.

Here’s the real reason we love this show, why it manages to stick with us for so long. It’s not really the sci-fi trappings. It’s the scene where Quinn & Maggie rescue Rembrandt. Cleavant Derricks eradicates the last shreds of his roots as the “token black guy” and proves himself to be up for a true challenge. Rembrandt is a survivor now. He’s finally managed to do what Wade never could: become defined as a character.

That’s the triumph of the hour.

Now let’s see what comes next.

Next week: Oh Lord, I am so baked (Prophets & Loss).

So there are Holy Grails, and there are Holy Grails.

In the world of Sliders, we’ve got the ideas that never made it to screen. Things like “Twisted Cross,” the bandied-about “Nazi” episode that never was made in Season 2. Now, I’m sure, in that first pitch meeting, when everyone is talking about the easiest ideas ever of all time to turn into episodes of Sliders, “Nazi World” was right at the top next to “Dudes Get Pregnant,” “There’s no Democracy,” “Women Are Presidents,” and “Chicks Have Beards.” Which is to say that it’s not the most original of ideas. Which isn’t to say that Sliders was ever really a show with the most original of ideas. But it is a show that took some unoriginal ideas and grafted them to a very unique skeleton.

All of which is to say that “Twisted Cross” probably would have been a truly terrible episode. Nazis, while being the bread and butter of real-life dystopia, would be wayyy to loaded a symbol for Sliders to use with it’s goofy tone-mixing. Nazis are only funny if you can direct the audience’s minds away from the historical significance of Nazis. Which is hard. And it is definitely not something I could ever imagine Sliders doing well.

Same goes for “Beauty World,” or whatever you want to call it. “Eye of the Beholder,” I think. In this idea, people we think are beautiful on our world are the uglies there. So it’s like The Hottie and the Nottie, only REVERSED. But oh good CHRIST could you imagine that? Can you imagine how long it would take before that episode degenerated into the most lazy and awful of fat jokes? NO TIME AT ALL. There’s two panels at the end of “Armada” that use this idea. And the idea is completely spent of all its worth in less. Rembrandt makes an Alka Seltzer joke. Good on him.

Anyways, if you’re not familiar with it, the be-all end-all of Sliders ‘lost episodes’ is “Heat of the Moment,” the last script Tracy Tormé bothered to write for the episode. This is in Season Three. He’s already been nudged out of any sort of position of power in the show. But I imagine if he’d turned in the script, they’d still have to make it, right? Can you reject the creators own script?

You can, I guess, because that’s exactly what happened. Tracy’s script still had the Professor in it, and he turned it in Post Mortem. So Production, obviously, said “Yo, Tray, can you shoehorn the new Babe into yr phat teleplay?” And Tray-Tray Tor-May was like “nah.” So that was the end of that.

Obviously, the last will and testament that the creator leaves to his show is going to be some hot stuff to the fans. Especially if we never got to see it. But let’s not forget Tracy’s track record with Sliders. I mean, yeah, he created it, came up with the idea. He’s responsible for this weird thing we watch all the time and write billions and billions of words about. But he was never the best writer the show had. I’ve talked about this before in my post on “The Guardian,” which is the last televised say Tracy ever had on the show.

“The Guardian” has a reputation of endless greatness, the “last time the show was Season One good,” or something to that effect. As I’m sure I said, I disagree. “The Guardian” is a good episode, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not great. It’s bogged down by some really contrived excuses to create tension in the group. I understand that Quinn would be embarrassed by the actions of his past self, but there still is no reason he should have kept his plan from the others. “Quinn, don’t interfere with your double’s life,” they’d say. To which Quinn could easily have said, “yeah, but if I don’t, he’s going to destroy a kid’s knee with a baseball bat and give him a lifelong limp.” To which the others would have said, “Oh. Well, then yeah, you should probably stop him from doing that.” Also Quinn telling his old teacher to fuck his young self is gross.

So when I hear about “Heat of the Moment,” I don’t exactly wet myself with excitement. And that’s before I even talk about what would have happened in the episode.

A pretty thorough synopsis is hosted here on Earth Prime, so go ahead and read it. But if you’re one of the people who read this blog casually, let me go through it with you.

Actually, just re-read my post about “Last Days.” No, seriously. Because that’s basically what “Heat of the Moment” is. They slide into a world that’s about to be destroyed, and are due to slide after said apocalypse. Oh sure, it’s different. This time, the Earth is moving towards the sun. Not an asteroid moving towards Earth. Yeah, totally different. I guess we can have a lot of jokes about how hot it is all of the time.

Then we run into Conrad Bennish, jr.

Then Quinn & Arturo team up with him to save the world. Right.

Quinn accidentally made his anti-gravity device, but no one thought it would work because Newton, on this world, is deemed a failure. Hmm.

Rembrandt tries to reconnect with a lost part of himself (here, it’s his brother Cezanne, someone not mentioned since… huh, “Summer of Love.”)

Quinn & Wade try to emotionally reconnect with each other.

I mean, come on, dude. This is every story beat from “Last Days” in a very, very slightly altered context. I’m sure that the general audience member of Season Three wouldn’t remember that episode. But us Sliders fans would never have let that pass. We’d be furious. Or we should be. I guess we don’t give “Prince of Wails” enough shit for being a rehash of the Pilot. But we should! Especially if this episode was actually the Season Finale like Tray-Tray wanted it to be.

But!

“Heat of the Moment” isn’t just “Last Days, part Two.” There’s a framework for this episode that theoretically sets it apart from the rest of the show. See, throughout the episode, crazy shit happens. Quinn & Wade admit their true love for each other, and get married. Rembrandt gets shot to death. The episode ends at Quinn & Wade’s ‘hilarious’ wedding.

Which is where our sliders show up, with ‘two minutes to slide.’

This would be prefigured by what I’m sure would have been a thrilling scene in the teaser, where Wade asks Rembrandt if she should wear a pink or a yellow shirt. Which, as Tracy points out, would have been caught (if it was caught at all) by viewers as a continuity error when Wade comes out of the Vortex with the wrong shirt on. The episode is basically a huge variation on the “it was all a dream” excuse for doing crazy shit to your characters.

Now, if this had aired as the Season Finale, it probably would have played out pretty well. Rembrandt’s death would have been shocking, since there’d be no way to know that he would really be coming back for the theoretical Season Four. Quinn & Wade’s marriage would have seemed like a bold new possibility for that next season to take off in.

But then, that’s the problem with the “it was all a dream” type of story. Any character progress made is negated. It’s the most irritating of “Reset Buttons” a story can use, and Sliders has always been bad at over-using its Reset Button. I want to like the idea of this episode. I want to like the notion that we could spend 40 minutes with a group of sliding doubles. But there are three things in the way of my enjoyment.

First, it opens up too many questions. It undermines the stability of the show a little too much. If we can be ‘fooled’ into thinking these are our sliders once, why should we care about anyone we see on the show? It removes the uniqueness of the journey. I understand that there are probably infinite copies of our team around the Multiverse. But we only watch one set of them. One. To allow for a story like this to be told muddies the waters too much (though I must say that an episode where our team meets a full set of doubles would be awesome, probably).

Second, let’s pretend that the actors all really nailed their performances, and we were all really invested in the emotional beats. How fucking angry would we have been at the end when our sliders busted in? So angry! We just watched Rembrandt die, for fuck’s sake! You’re asking us to wipe away our tears that easily. Plus, in Tracy’s synopsis, it seems like the whole reveal would happen about two minutes before the closing credits. We wouldn’t even be done freaking out about this ‘reveal’ before the fade out. Too quick, and no room for discussion about why we wasted our time with these people. And that’s what it would have seemed like. A waste of time.

Third, do you really think Season Three could have pulled this off? Especially in the backend of the season, where budget mismanagement would have made the episode already unfilmable. But tone wise, acting wise, production wise, do we have faith in the show to pull this off? Not really.

But here’s the thing. In 1997, television was taking big leaps in terms of storytelling. The Sopranos is still a few years off, but TV’s on the right rack to get there. The X-Files had some crazy episodes that bucked against truth (“Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man” comes to mind in this regard), and even something like Star Trek: The Next Generation, with an episode like “Yesterday’s Enterprise,” managed a similar trick. But the difference with “Yesterday’s Enterprise” is that we know from the teaser that something is different, and that we aren’t watching our usual crew. When we get the old crew back, we’re happy to see them again. In “Heat,” we’d probably been angry. Angry. To see the cast again.

Plus, Sliders had yet to do an episode that was so ‘revolutionary.’ It just isn’t the right show for that kind of story-bending. I’m not saying it shouldn’t have tried. But by the end of Season Three, it certainly was too late.

Next Week: you can’t go home again (Genesis).

Which is a shame, since the premise is sound. Maggie gets stuck in the customer service experience from hell on a world where one monolithic company controls almost every level of human interaction. Data Universal dominates the world’s food, shelter, and clothing, making such items available only through mandatory credit plans. Maggie’s locked up in a cell and faced with a cheerfully unhelpful (and bipolar) customer service representative… all for attempting to use cash.

Maggie’s confrontation with relentless bureaucracy is terrific, but the episode quickly abandons any further world building in favor of filming cheap action sequences and portraying Data Universal as just another generic evil corporation that does evil things because it can. Instead of seeing Maggie exploring how a faceless retail culture has overwhelmed this world, she runs down corridors and blows up doors while the other Sliders try to rescue her. Isolated to these dull hallways, the action’s small-scale at best; Maggie looks particularly ridiculous running from the deadly menace of a remote controlled toy car that shoots lasers. The classic Sliders formula is here but no content has been added. The episode has no interest in defining Data Universal beyond the vaguest terms and these sequences have all the excitement of a jogging video played at half-speed.

The best episodes of Sliders feature guest characters who add depth and insight to parallel worlds. Here we’re treated to roles that actually drain plausibility from the surroundings with every scene they’re in. 5579-A (Maury Ginsburg) is an intriguing artificial intelligence: the face of Maggie’s customer service experience, who demands precise information and identification, but with pleasantries and voiced concern to soften the intrusiveness of Data Universal. But little about 5579-A withstands scrutiny: in some scenes, he’s played as a computer program executing his function and becoming sinister when Maggie’s lack of credit history is discovered. Then it turns out he has a personality and feels friendship towards Maggie — in which case, it’s not clear whether his more antagonistic behavior is part of that personality or programming he can’t override. The script raises these questions but never addresses them. 5579-A behaves as each scene requires him to: alternatively friendly or malicious, until it’s impossible to ignore that 5579-A is simply the function of a formulaic plot.

And then there’s Arlo (J.D. Cullum), the homeless man Rembrandt, Diana and Mallory stumble across. Fortunately, this chance encounter used to have a high position in Data Universal, has codes to get into any Data Universal facility, and has all the access needed to defeat and control the corporation. It’s a good thing Arlo prefers wandering the streets in rags and looking to become a plot device instead of using any of the resources at his disposal!

With so little story, the regular characters find themselves tugged back and forth to stretch things out. Maggie, held captive by 5579-A, is at first openly resistant. She rants about how she’s constantly being captured and threatened by parallel cultures and she’s fed up with it. Then she submits to the customer service process anyway. There’s no greater purpose to her defiance, it just fills a scene with dialogue. Then there’s Rembrandt. After Mallory has successfully hijacked and hot-wired a van to use for rescuing Maggie, Rembrandt proceeds to show his appreciation by chastising Mallory for having a criminal past. Coming from a guy who routinely raids his doubles’ bank accounts, that means a lot.

This scene is as close to characterization as “Please Press One” gets, and all it can offer is an interpersonal exchange that doesn’t affect the story and isn’t remotely relevant to the themes and issues raised by the plot. Eventually, the episode lumbers to a ludicrous ending where Maggie is rescued and declares that the Sliders have accomplished a great deal. At the very least, some general contractors will have some work patching and painting the low-budget halls of Data Universal.

By the end, “Please Press One” has completely reduced the Sliders formula to the most basic elements. It has taken every almost every element of the traditional Sliders plot — dystopian regimes, the Sliders randomly encountering well-connected people, victory over establishment agencies
— and it has presented them without substance, without ideas, without insight, without any purpose or deeper meaning beyond fulfilling the basic requirements of the plot.

“Please Press One” lays Sliders bare, and for that, it can have one-star.

With tears [?rage] in my eyes.

I watch the last vestige of innocence [?the old days] thrown off a cliff.

There’s an idea floating at the bottom of these that the biggest failing of this adventure is the fact that it imbues such pessimism upon a journey which should be so full of wonder.

But into the ether goes the wonder.

I’ve thrown the idea that I’m watching this show with fresh eyes out the window [?off a cliff]. Because I know better. I know that this 45 span is the last time I’ll ever get to spend time with Wade. And for some reason, it colors the whole episode. It colors it in grey.

Not that there’s much color [?interest] to begin with. Wade barely figures into the hour. Of course, that’s because no one knew [?cared] at the time that she wasn’t coming back. At the time this episode aired, no one really knew if the show was going to come back at all.

And it didn’t, not really. Every season of this show is effectively the end [?murder] of what came before it. And it’s never easy. It’s never pleasant. We had a death [?expulsion] in the middle of this season. It wasn’t easy then. It isn’t easy now.

Sabrina & Kari didn’t get along on set.

Wade & Maggie don’t get along on the show.

Kari teased Sabrina to the point of tears.

Maggie teases Wade to the point of tears.

Sabrina tells David Peckinpah “It’s Me or Her.”

Quinn throws her into the vortex.

Peckinpah looks Sabrina in the eyes and says “it’s her.”

Quinn doesn’t even bother to look back as he throws her away.

Like garbage.

Every week since Arturo’s death the show has cast off more and more of what it used to be. Quinn becomes an action hero. Wade is marginalized in favor of the new girl. The new girl takes off what little clothes she wears. The show crosses the line from “acceptably corny” to “insulting schlock.” The show, which always had a dark side, veers into the darkness.

I’m not sure when the show stopped being fun. Oh, sure there were bits here and there. But most of them revolved around Wade. And here we are, in the season finale, and we barely see her at all. She’s been replaced. Arturo’s been replaced.

Wade is relegated to the background, forced to stare as Quinn finally seals the deal and shares a super-awkward kiss with Maggie.

Wade’s in the background. Not in our view, of course. Who would want to have their “hurrah” moment ruined by that shrew? But like all kisses, a kiss must end, and we pull back to see our Wade smiling simply. I wouldn’t say she smiles sadly. She’s obviously long past caring about Quinn in that way. You could probably say and be correct that she’s past caring about Quinn in any way.

Why should she? Sure, he showed the tiniest amount of care for her in “Stoker,” [?of all places] but since then he’s gone right back to the new normal: act like Wade’s not even in the room [?can't look her in the eye], and try to warm up the sexual tension between him and Maggie [?guess I'll go eat worms]. 

But she’s not really thinking of Quinn & Maggie anyways, and that’s why she’s smiling. She’s about to go home.

Home.

Remember all the times I’ve capitalized that word here? It always came with a caution. If they make it Home, then that’s it.

It’s the end.

But I’m not prepared for it.

Wade is prepared. She sees Rembrandt and beams with love [?relief]. No doubt because he’s the only person left on the team who even treats her like a human being. He’ll pay attention to her, treat her like a friend. Arturo was like a father, but Rembrandt is more of a brother. Her last moment as a character in this episode [?as an actress on this show] is beaming at her newfound brother.

It’s a strange fact that she’ll finally get home, but that it won’t be like she imagined it. Let’s say they got home at the end of the Pilot. Her and Quinn would probably go out. It wouldn’t last very long. Quinn would probably ruin it by being so awkward. But they’d still be friends. Not great friends. They’d see each other occasionally (Quinn being still fired and all). Maybe at mutual friends’ parties, get-togethers. I don’t know. It’d be cordial. They’d have the subtlest of sexual tension. Never acted on.

But it’s hard to see Quinn and Wade maintaining any kind of relationship at this point [?he's an asshole]. His priorities have shifted. And sure, that’s a fact of life. People change.

And that’s basically been the theme of this entire season. Friends drift apart. People shift their ideologies, their personalities. They grow up. They grow older. And they die. But you can’t slow it down. Life continues, unrelenting. You can’t just press pause, rewind, and say “I want just one more day like this.” It’s impossible.

Part of living is learning to deal with this. And that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be so sad.

Unless you don’t have something anchoring your life. If you don’t have a Home. Maybe that’s what all this unpleasantness [?moroseness][?depression][?despair] has all been about? Is this show just postulating that if you don’t have a place to call Home, then you’ll spend your life lost?

But these people are already lost. They’ve already been Home, and they cast it aside. Like so many other worlds. Cast aside, just like Quinn casts Arturo’s memory away with finality. Just like Quinn pushes Wade & Remmy through a foreign vortex. It’s supposed to be a valiant effort on his part. But it’s so rushed. Everything is so rushed.

It takes seconds to reduce this group to splinters.

I can’t watch this happen [?but Quinn doesn't, so you have to]

This isn’t the end [?for Quinn, it truly is]

I don’t want this entry to be the last time I talk about Wade in the present tense.

—

And that’s the thing. I know this isn’t the last time Wade is ever mentioned on the show. But it’s the last time we see Sabrina Lloyd. And it pains me to have this be the post where I talk about all that she’s given to the show, and all that will be lost in her absence.

Not only because Wade is truly my favorite character on the show. Not only because I really love Sabrina Lloyd and think she’s terrific at what she does. But because we’ve actually hit the lowest we can go [?the absolute rock bottom]. Forget “Paradise Lost.”

This is truly the most inane, insulting, infuriating, indescribably insanely irritating hour of television I’ve ever seen.

This is the worst episode of the series thus far. And it’s here that I say goodbye to Wade?

No— I’ll save that. I will drag all of you through this river of shit so you know how bad this dungheap is.

Hey all right, we’re going to a sweet island! What happened to LA? A nice island must mean some beach babes, right?

Since when was the Vortex such an asshole? It just decides to throw them into the ocean? It’s as if even the Timer is so sick of these jerks whining to each other all the time  that it’s started to enter the fray and teach these bitch-faces who’s the boss. But you know there could have been a way to describe this, in-show. After all, the World we’re stuck on for a day (or is it two days? three? I tell you, I pay so little attention to things like that that if I notice timing errors, you know you’re really blowing it) is supposed to be wracked by Earthquakes.

Right? That’s the one-line explanation we get in the form of a question. “Maybe it was the Big One.” Yeah, so maybe the Timer threw the sliders out where it expected land to be? Is that how the Geographic Stabilizer works?

Who knows, because the real reason the timer spat them out in the sea is this:

Oh, whoops. I meant this:

Every week I’ve been claiming that this is the definitive moment where the “classic” Sliders style dies an ugly death. But I’m pretty sure that a slow-motion sex romp through the ocean is the true moment where anyone who was a fan of “Luck of the Draw” will never tune in again.  Remember, way back at the beginning of this season? I said something to the effect of “by the end of the season, shitty episodes like this will be the new normal.” Season One and Two will be the outliers. Schlock is “the usual.”

And this is the moment. We’ve achieved the majority.

Which reminds me of my plan for this entry. Because I am truly masochistic, I re-watched “Double Cross” right before watching this episode. It’s the first time I’ve gone out of order since starting this project. I’ve never re-watched, I’ve never skipped ahead. I’m pretending that it’s 1997 and I haven’t recorded any of these episodes for posterity.

So I’m not lying when I say that I’ve forgotten how far the show has come on its journey to ruination. It’s incredible. It’s night and day. And I know some of you don’t think “Double Cross” is a hot episode, but I’m pretty convinced of its brilliance. Especially if the last episode you’d seen was “Dinoslide.” And I was totally all about “Dinoslide.” But it still can’t hold a candle to “Double Cross.”

“Double Cross” had interesting characters. Actual action. Drama. Tension. Mystery. Things to say.

Things to say other than “DURRRRR.”

What is “This Slide of Paradise” saying? That power corrupts? That racism is bad? That science is evil? Let’s take any of these ideas and rip them apart.

Power Corrupts:

Let’s just call it— best screencap ever.

So in this episode we’ve got the Fabulous Michael York as Dr. Vargas [?Moreau], who has spent his time in a jungle plantation creating human-animal hybrids in order to create the perfect being. Said perfect being will also somehow be genomed into curing cancer. Or something.

So first off, his plan is weird. Making deformed Circus Folk is the perfect way to cure disease? How does that work? Also, where does he get all these humans? It’s not really stated that he grows these people from test-tubes. But maybe he does, I don’t know. The episode doesn’t tell us.

But it isn’t Vargas’ power that corrupted him. He was clearly crazy to begin with.

Racism is Bad:

You’d usually say “it’s too bad she never did anything else,” but in this case, damn girl. You did good.

So Rembrandt, the undefeated Casanova of the group, inexplicably falls in love with a Cat Woman. And I don’t mean like, a sexy burglar in a catsuit. I mean he falls in love with a Cat-Woman hybrid. She’s probably five years old, and is ready to lick him all over. Rembrandt is oddly not disgusted by her, even when she licks up water from a bowl with her mouth.

Rembrandt is only shocked because he’s waiting for her to start cleaning her butthole.

YES I WILL AGREE WITH YOU ON HOW SEXY THAT IS. I don’t understand this at all. I mean, we have an easy reason bludgeoned in our faces: Vargas is a parallel of the White Master, and Allessandra is a parellel of the Black Slave.

Which makes me cringe with embarrassment just to type that. I mean, you’ve got to avoid a heavy hand with something as huge as Racism and Slavery if you want to have any hope of actually saying something about it. But here, it’s so glaring as to be forgettable. Until Remmy’s Cat Woman more or less just says “I’ve never seen a Black Man before.” Which I guess is all the reason Rembrandt needs to try to rescue [?make out] with her.

Science is Evil:

HAM HAM HAM HAM

So we get an easy “mad scientist” trope here. Vargas true plan for the Manimals/Huminals/Cirque de Soleil Understudies is to make the perfect slave. Which, yeah man, that’s evil. But making it such an easily eeevvviiilll motive removes any sense of tension from the story. It boils the character down to less than a sentence. Wouldn’t it have been more interesting if Vargas really was trying to cure cancer, but was driven insane by his failures? There would  be a chance for redemption, then. But here, “redemption” is too big a word for the show. Too many syllables.

“nom nom nom,” etc. etc. etc.

Then he gets eaten. Great.

But all of this is so one-note that it ends up with a mantra of Science is Evil. Which, in its lazy way, is sort of the perfect byline for Season Three. In almost every episode, we’ve had an instance of someone using Science as a means of pure Evil.

“Double Cross”— Sliding used to raid dimensions of resources.

“Rules of the Game”— cyborgs and robot dogs and laser guns used to kill people in sport.

“Electric Twister Acid Test”—Tornadoes made into killing machines.

“State of the Art”— Robots destroy Humanity.

“Seasons Greedings”— Subliminal Advertising.

“Murder Most Foul”— brainwashing to hide a murder.

“The Last of Eden”— lazy inventors make a shoddy universe.

“Sole Survivors”— a diet pill destroys Humanity.

“The Breeder”— forced organ donation.

That’s basically half the season. And let’s not forget “Dinoslide,” in which sliding brought about a plague-induced genocide.

With plots like these, we’re basically positing that Humanity shouldn’t bother with inventing anything. The dangers are too high. It’s like the show wants us to believe that the 50s world of “Gillian of the Spirits” is actually the ideal, perfect world. Which is just so far from true.

But here we are, and the body count amassed due to Quinn’s little “spin around the universe” is mind-blowing. Sure, he’s saved lives. Sliding has saved lives. “Last Days.” “Fever.” “The Exodus.” Sure, the Pulsarites ended up committing genocide, but they honestly didn’t mean to, and they tried to help the only way they could. But the deaths keep on coming. Pretty much every episode has one. Not to mention the entire universe that ceased to be in “As Time Goes By.”

But who cares about the whole universe? They lost Arturo.

…wait…

…who? Quinn, in the last five minutes of the episode, begins what looks like it’s going to be a truly emotional farewell. Maggie says “you got your crew home.” To which Quinn replies, “Not the whole crew…”

And in that one split second of a hesitation, a single tear forms in all of our eyes. And then—

“…you’re one of us now, Maggie.”

The afore-mentioned single tear slides back into our eyes.

Lest we forget that this season actually ended up with an actual, not-just-implied, honest to goodness story arc. For all Wade (complicatedly, blessedly, rightfully) complained about killing him, they are still chasing the man that murdered Arturo [?who?].

Man, the amount of “not even bothering” at this point is… well, not worth bothering about.

And even in all my fire when I described Rickman as a meteor, a comet of brutal change, a chameleon of evil— there’s still no comparison for this. This man, who once was Roger Daltrey, for christ’s sake, is now a feral loony foaming at the mouth. He can’t even spit out a line without imbuing it with an anti-Shakespearean false gravitas. I’ll lay it all out here:

“Haven’t you heard? I change my mind everyday.”

“Mmm, tastes like wine coolers and frito pie!”

Which brings me to the most egregious sin this episode commits. Never, and I mean never— not even including “Paradise Lost,” “State of the Art,” “Slither,” “Stoker,” “The Fire Within,” and the Crown Prince of Shit, “Time Again and World,” have I seen a script so foul [?nigh-unfilmable].

Seriously. This thing is beyond turkey. It manages to destroy all meaning. It corrupts language. A word like “pacing” can’t be leveled to it. A word like “dialogue” is inaccurate.  And don’t even mention “satisfying,” or even more dreaded, “conclusion.”

None of these words apply to this Horse’s Ass.

Roughly two thirds of the dialogue is spent on Zingers. Wade, in particular, seems not to speak unless she has some sort of snappy comeback. “Trust us, we’re not even registered to vote.” Maggie, too, has a pretty rough time of it. Her dialogue isn’t even written for a human being with normal cadence. Not to say that Kari Wurher’s cadence was ever something she nailed. “As nice as this place seems to be with your electric fences, warm hospitality and interesting array of wildlife, we don’t want to stay” is a line that no human would ever say aloud.

You see, there’s a difference between the written word and the spoken word. This is the crucial aspect of our language that the script forgets. Maggie’s quip looks great on paper [?no it doesn't], but actually have it come out of a human’s mouth, and it turns to ash. Kari loses breath. And who wouldn’t?

More gems:

“I created you, I can destroy you too… tut-tut.”

“Go to hell.” “Can’t you see? I’m already there.”

“Get your stinkin’ paw off me.”

“Looks like something out of a science fiction movie.”

The most conflicted erection of his life.

No it doesn’t, Rembrandt. Unless you mean the science fiction movie you filmed in 3rd grade gifted class. A fourth-wall grazing line like that can only work if you then point out the fact that you’re doing so in the context of what you’re grazing. If Wade had said, “Rembrandt, you use a dope-ass universal remote to travel through alternate dimensions,” then fine.

Never ever in a billion years.

OH, AND SPEAKING OF THE DOPE-ASS UNIVERSAL REMOTE. This episode includes the two most brain-dead acts of stupidity any character on this show has ever committed. First, when Allessandra trips and sprains her ankle (ON A GODDAMN TWIG), Quinn somehow drops the Timer. The team is running for maybe five minutes when Quinn realizes it. The rest of the team convinces him that he can go back and get it. This is the most important item in their lives. As Wade says [?needlessly], “if you miss the Slide, you’re never getting home.” Well, you can’t slide without a timer. And they leave it on the fucking ground. Naturally, Rickman grabs it. Because this jungle is only has a diameter of twelve feet.

THE FINAL RIDE OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING CAVE (FUCK THIS CAVE)

Likewise, Rickman gets distracted by throwing a midget on an electric fence (which is actually how you turn off an electric fence, btw), and leaves both his and Quinn’s timer on a rock. Perfectly. Right next to each other. Lit beautifully, in case they didn’t see it. On a pedestal.

It’s things like this that just go too far. They tug on our consciousness and ask too much of us. The show thus far has assumed too little of its audience. That’s bad enough, and doesn’t make me want to watch the show. But “This Slide of Paradise” assumes too little of itself. Is this what the supposed “budget mismanagement” that went on behind-the-scenes entails (and seriously guys— to any who know— I’ve read about Peckinpah making bad money decisions, but are there any concrete examples)? Does it mean that there’s literally no money to pay anyone for a rewrite? But isn’t that included under the title of “showrunner?” Isn’t the person in charge of the show supposed to look over the scripts? Did anyone read this? Did Nan Hagan?

Nan Hagan— not Josef Anderson, who for years I had assumed wrote this episode. But no— it’s the person who wrote “Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome,” not the person who wrote “The Last of Eden.” And in so many ways this episode is a sequel-of-stupidity to “Eden.”

No joke Ceres’ nose is the only redeemable part of this episode.

And can we now have this moment to talk about how stupid it is to title episodes with shitty Sliding puns? “This Slide of Paradise” isn’t actually the worst of these— that honor probably goes to “The Other Slide of Darkness.” This episode’s title actually makes sense as a sentence. It even applies to the episode, as ostensibly the next slide will be the slide home. “Other Slide” is ridiculous because it’s just throwing the word ‘slide’ into it. “Dinoslide” is another good example of this.

But look, you can’t argue that these titles aren’t indicative of what’s inside. They’re as stupid as the hour they name.

COME AT ME, BRO!

Okay, so let’s just throw around some extra stupid parts of the episode:

-Vargas’ guns only have three darts. Why? Why not just a full clip? There are obviously a billion manimals (I’m just going to assume that every person on Earth is a manimal, because why not?), wouldn’t you want a little more protection?

-Daniel is retarded. What? Allessandra said it first!

-Ceres’ little “talking dance.” Dude is like, contractually obligated to bob his head before finishing a sentence.

Can you imagine how long it took to get the shot juuuust right in order to maximize the “boobs in the shirt” look Maggie’s got?

I suppose we should discuss the ‘revelation’ that is ‘revelated’ [?bludgeoned] in this episode. That being the fact that Rickman and Maggie once had an affair. This news doesn’t surprise me. Nothing surprises me at this point. And it’s not like the ‘revelation’ is played for any sort of gravitas. It happens in the last act (I guess, it’s not like there’s any sense of momentum in this story), and the information isn’t really used.

But since I’m here, and I’m me, and I hate Maggie, and I’ve decided to be cruel to you and write a billion words about this crock of shit, LET’S DISCUSS THIS SHOCKING TURN OF EVENTS.

I suppose we can read this as reasoning behind Maggie’s instantaneous attraction to all men everywhere all the time. I mean, here we are, completely ignoring the fact that Maggie was married. STEVEN JENSEN, I MISS YOU. Maggie doesn’t miss him. Arturo probably would miss him. But he’s dead. Steven’s dead, too. The team is having a contest to see who can mention Steven/Arturo the least.

When would this affair have taken place? How long was Maggie stationed in a Military Base [?swank hotel] with Rickman? And why did she do it? We don’t know. We’ll never know. I mean, she grounded herself. That probably doesn’t look good to most military commanders, cripple hubby or no (also, taken with Maggie’s “I’ve never been a team player” comment, which sounds pretty weird for a Air Force Pilot to say, she probably wasn’t very respected anyways). Did Maggie sleep with Rickman in order to make sure she’d still have a decent, respectable position in the Military?

Remember when Sliders was the kind of show that could actually ask that kind of question about a character?

Me neither.

And so the third season of Sliders careens off a cliff. Or, it careens near a cliff, then stops. Having killed the majority of the guest stars, the team, having picked Rickman’s timer off of its pedestal, walk casually towards a cliff. They’re going home [?Home], but there’s no reason to get excited. Rembrandt casually informs everyone that he’s going to go save Allessandra. Not even Wade can muster any sort of “don’t go” enthusiasm. Quinn says “yeah, dude. No biggie. Bring a mutant cat woman home with you.”

Actually, he doesn’t say anything.

These people [?ghosts], as they wait on this cliff for Rembrandt to completely fail at his complex mission of “convince a Catwoman to bone me,” aren’t friends anymore. They are strangers to each other. One of them is dead. Another’s grown distant in his guilt. One was never welcome.

And then there’s Wade.

Rembrandt strolls casually up to the group again. Wade is overjoyed to see him. There’s not much ceremony to the slide this time. There’s no real doubt, either, that it will take them home. There’s no “Damn You.” There’s no “All the Things We’ve Seen.” There’s… nothing.

Silence.

There’s one last stab at tension. Rickman and some nameless mutants stroll up and growl. They posture. Quinn postures, too. He refuses to leave Maggie’s side. Despite the fact that the journey home [?Home] will kill her. So blind is he in his ‘love’ that he’ll casually murder a woman in his quest for absolution.

Wade & Rembrandt, the people who deserve the most respect from Quinn. The people who deserve to get Home. They are casually tossed into the Vortex, in an act of ‘valor’ on Quinn’s part.

The last we see of them— their last words here, are “whoa!”

We don’t see them make it Home. We are left to assume they did, but it’s clear where the priorities are. The show has finally succeeded in getting rid of the chaff— the excess— the unnecessary bits.

Rickman, in a final act of destruction, throws himself off a cliff, screaming the scream of the tortured. His silence is deafening. We are allowed one second of Maggie’s face, as her mission, her revenge, her life, is popped hideously on the rocks below.

Easily, Quinn & Maggie make the slide.

But the Multiverse wakes up from its slumber, and twists the knife in Quinn one last time. He doesn’t deserve his Home. If he’s decided that Maggie, of all people, is what he will call ‘home,’ then so be it. They can live together, in their imagined future, alone. Without the chaff— the excess— the unnecessary bits.

My heart, for what it’s worth, is left to the Ether.

—

It’s now that I have no choice but to commit to what I don’t want to do. Like I said earlier, in the interim between this awful, destructive season, and the next, those who know best decide that it’s Kari Wurher who should be on the show, not Sabrina Lloyd. I don’t need to tell you that I disagree with this notion.

But here I am, about to tell you, remind you —not convince you— that Wade was the heart of this show. Oh, sure. That heart will be replaced. The Crown of Humanity will hang wonderfully atop the head of the Crying Man.

But with this casual toss off a cliff into the Ether, the last of the Happy Wanderers is gone.

And so.

Goodbye, Wade.

I’ll miss you.

—

Next week: nothingness (a holiday.)

 I have zero faith that the show can reorient itself to something remotely resembling ‘good television’ before the end of the season.

I’ve lost the luxury of believing in miracles.

I have never been so excited about being wrong.

Now, generally, I’d throw in a disclaimer like “well, I mean, this isn’t good, but…” or something similar. Not so here. But I will say that I never thought I’d look back on something like “Electric Twister Acid Test” with fond affection for the ‘good old days.’ Because back then, I meant it when I said I was enjoying the hell out of Season Three.

We basically got a new show. One that wasn’t afraid to kick ass and show a little skin while at the same time making an attempt to infuse a little bit of thought in between the popcorn. It wasn’t always a success, but it looked good, it felt good. There was some real sunshine to it.

But like any day, the sun had to set, and we’ve been mired in the dreary night for months now.

So when I say that I was wrong about my lack of faith in the show to re-orient, I’m not saying that “Dinoslide” is as good as “Eggheads.” Hell, it’s not as good as “In Dino Veritas.” But my god it has a sense of respect for the audience, the characters, the show, sliding, just about everything that’s been missing.

Remember how tight it was when Nanosaur came pre-loaded on those first iMacs? Me neither.

Because that’s the real aggravation of the last episodes. It’s hard to feel entertained after watching them, sure. But more and more I come out of the hour feeling so thoroughly insulted that it’s hard for me to get excited about queueing up the next episode. Then all of the sudden, an about face into taste. And from the hands of Peckinpah himself, no less! It begs the question of who we really have to blame for the show-ruining shenanigans, if the best episode of the post-Arturo run comes from the guy we’re supposed to blame for all that’s wrong with the show.

But even just the fact that it’s more respectful to the audience isn’t the crux of it’s goodness. “Dinoslide,” suddenly, is a full return to the secret plot-arc of Season Three— the destructive nature of sliding.

Rembrandt congratulates Wade on flipping over that Humvee.

The question that ran through the first two seasons was one of responsibility. Do we have the right to change these worlds? Should we act as a force of “good?” Is that why we’re on this journey? The team operated, no matter how often it was discussed, under the assumption that it was their duty to affect change upon the worlds they visited.

Frankly, this approach is irresponsible. It relies on a judgement system that can only apply to them and them alone. Applying the standards of their Home World to the Multiverse is a hugely selfish act. It’s xenophobic approach to a life of infinite possibility. The Multiverse knows this, and repeatedly fed the Sliders with evidence that their approach was wrong. And after “As Time Goes By,” through this bizarre season, there is a shift.

The sliders no longer act as the all-knowing force of good they once were. Now, they’re merely reactive. In “Rules of the Game,” they scoffed at the heavens, bemoaning the cruelties of that world— and then proceeded to do exactly as they were told. Same goes for “The Fire Within”— imagine that story if it was in Season Two: it’d all be about overthrowing the oil barrons and freeing the union.

Certainly, a part of that is a reflection of the FOX Intervention. But it also reflects the shift in personality that we’ve been seeing throughout this season. The sliders are becoming lethargic, apathetic to the journey. They’ve become reactive (if that) instead of active. But it’s still through the mindset of their Home World. So now they make an easy declaration of “this world is bad,” and leave it at that. But sliding has also endowed the team with a gross haughtiness that’s hard to stomach. The whole “you wanna sliiiiide, it’s the only way to surviiiiive” mindset has started to come off as bitchy.

And why couldn’t we have had this location instead of a crap CG ocean for Arturo’s “funeral?”

This is most clear between Malcolm & Rembrandt’s interactions. Undoubtedly Rembrandt means well, but he’s forcing his own values of “safety” and “responsibility” whenever he’s with him. But Malcolm’s grown up a lot on this world. He’s adapted to what turned out to be an exceedingly harsh environment. Rembrandt, while trying to be ‘fatherly,’ ultimately belittles Malcolm with his concern. Rembrandt tries to instill a sense of morality in Malcolm after they watch a man being eaten alive. But Malcolm’s reaction (he chides the eaten man on his stupidity for letting ‘Rex catch him) is completely valid on his World, in his circumstances. (Worth mentioning: Malcolm speaks of a native friend who taught him how to hunt. It’s the unspoken that plays heavy here— if Malcolm had a native friend, he had to watch that friend die from  a disease that came from Malcolm.)

Not to mention that it’s Rembrandt’s dismissal of Malcolm’s independence that gets everyone in trouble. If Remmy kept an open mind to this surrogate son of his, the entire last act would be avoided, and everything would be okay.

“Maybe we could camp here for the night?”

Except it wouldn’t, because the damage to this world has already been done.  The indigenous population  of the New World was completely decimated by the diseases of Pulsar World. Which begs the question of how often this has happened. As Arturo once said, “different worlds, different immunities.” It’s not totally inconceivable that sliding leaves a wake of plagued and dying worlds.

Which again, begs the question of the responsibilities inherent to sliding. If the simple act of sliding causes such death, then one of two things needs to happen. Either they stop sliding and stem the flow of carnage; or they can fight against the Multiverse, and try to offset the balance of terror by changing what they can for the better.

MAYBE IT WAS SOMETHING YOU ATE

But again, who is to say what “better” is? Is the New World better off without the Dinosaurs? I guess it is now, but before a hundred interdimensional conquistadors came in and disrupted the ecological balance, the world operated just fine.

NYYURRP DEM NATIVES DUN UP AN’ DEADED EMSELFS

The Pulsarites take this brutal change with a studied sadness. A regret mixed with apathy— there was nothing we could do! They offered their medicines, but their superstition got in the way. So in a way, one must tip a hat to the Pulsarites for not forcing their morals & miracle cures on the native peoples. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re all dead anyways. Even the Pulsarites don’t seem to be long for the New World. The non-soldier types seem like they’d survive just a little bit longer, what with that one dude pointing a gun at his head and all.

This how you end up like ol’ Rex.

And then, of course, there’s Rickman. There’s only one more episode after this one. And yet the whole “Rickman arc” still is a toothless beast. A steamless train. For such an important ‘mission,’ he doesn’t actually show up on the show much, and every time he does, it ends up with the same result: Maggie makes a stupid mistake, blames it on Quinn, and Rickman escapes. I suppose there’s the slightest bit of momentum with Rickman, in that he’s I guess a little bit more desperate for Brain Fluid? And that also his syringe is magic?

MAGIC BANDANA: THE ANIMATED SERIES

But again, there’s only one more episode after this. And again, it’s pointless to ask for continuity when FOX has mandated the opposite. I can only imagine how infuriated they must be by realizing that after killing Arturo, they can’t air the episodes in any order they please (“Last of Eden” notwithstanding). But here we are, and there’s no momentum into the finale. The episode, like so many others this season, simply ends.

Is that going to be the end of this series? Will this ‘journey’ simply fade away? Snap out of existence when its time is up? How can a show that’s has such little concern for itself hope to satisfyingly end?

The moment Quinn’s BJ fantasies slide helplessly away.

Truth be told, it can’t. Not as it is. I know I’ve said this in basically every entry for the last half year, but the show can’t continue as it is here. As good (or at least better) as “Dinoslide” is, it still isn’t a good direction for the show to go in. There’s no sense of future here. Even Rembrandt acknowledges this. When he says goodbye to Malcolm, they both fully accept the fact that they probably won’t see each other ever again. Even though Rembrandt is fully capable of doing so. The show won’t accept that relationship. And despite the fact that the relationship isn’t exactly thrilling, the fact that it is possible now is something that shouldn’t be ignored. But you know that it’s going to be completely dismissed.

This is the last time Rembrandt will ever mention the name “Malcolm.” It makes you wonder how long it will be until they never mention the name “Arturo.” It makes you wonder what will happen if any more of the group is lost.

Will they, too, cease?

Next Week: the thrilling (read: not thrilling) conclusion (read: whatever) to Season Three. Quick, let’s take our clothes off before we freeze! (This Slide of Paradise).

The action gets rolling straight away when Mallory is struck by a phaser-like weapon while escaping an unruly mob Rembrandt managed to tick off. The hit fuses his spine and paralyzes him from the waist down. Mallory, having already escaped a wheelchair once before, is unwilling to resume that life. He will do anything to walk again, no matter what the cost. Fortunately for him, there’s a group of overly friendly cult members who have just the thing – nanotech, aka The Glow.

Ah, but there’s a catch. The little mechanical buggers have a Borg-like tendency to network with their brethren in other bodies, forming one collective mind. Unlike the Borg, the network has no grand plan other than to meditate and recreate San Francisco circa 1968. Mallory takes the cure and for the first time in his life, he’s at peace. Obviously, this will not stand. When he refuses to leave voluntarily, the others trick him into making the slide.

Things take a nasty turn on the next world when a betrayed Mallory decides to convert the heathen through stealth. The nanotech inside him remains active, and he attempts to recreate the network he lost. After failing to trick his fellow Sliders, Mallory takes his revitalizing tonic to the streets and before the day is out, he has a considerable following. Only a series of signals known as the Dead Man’s Light can deactivate the nanotech and return Mallory to his former, miserable self.

Major philosophical questions are raised in this hour. The cult of the Glow stands in for organized religion, but here the cure truly works. The lame can walk, the blind may see, and had the technology been put to the test, it is conceivable it could bring the recently dead back to life. Moreover, it puts the believer at peace and one with his fellow man. It is everything a religion can sell short of the afterlife, and even that may be achieved as it’s possible one can always live on through the collective.

And yet, it is treated as villainous. Krislov (Gabriel Macht), a crippled doctor, refuses the Glow because it would subsume his individuality. That is the terrible cost of peace – conformity. The rest of the Sliders resist as it would compromise their mission (and possibly two of them have bad memories of a certain Chasm). No matter how much they’d like to give up, they cannot abandon unstuck Colin, inner Quinn, and what’s-her-name, the one they abandoned in the Kromagg rape camp. For all the good the Glow can do, it’s not focused on productivity. Its members can’t even work up the will to rebuild a war-torn city in a battle they somehow managed to passively win.

Which begs the question: is Mallory right? The world where the anti-Glow forces won appeared to be a totalitarian nightmare from the limited glimpse we were given of it. The world of the Glow is calm. We know from experience that religion is the cause of much (if not most) war, so why has the Glow achieved a certain level of peace while other religions fail? Is it because the Glow has achieved what we can not? Or is it just as vicious and volatile when threatened? Mallory gives a hint of this when he resorts to treachery to re-establish the collective. Ultimately, it’s a question that can’t be answered and “New Gods for Old” surrenders. Mallory decides the Glow is a choice – you can take it or leave it. But as we saw on the previous two worlds, that’s a crock. This is a time bomb of violence waiting to go off.

If the world’s about to implode, how is our new team of Sliders holding together? After taking the previous week off from characterization, this episode came back with it in spades. Sadly, I do not like what I’m seeing here. The loss of Arturo, and now Quinn and Colin, has resulted in a dangerous drop in brainpower. Call to mind a previous example of an infected member of the team – when Wade became ill with the Q or Quinn was consumed with the Lipron virus, containment was priority one. The Sliders were willing to die to protect other worlds from an incurable disease. Contrast that with Maggie and Rembrandt here; upon learning that Mallory was a walking Glow factory, they did not track him down and stop him. It didn’t even seem to cross their minds. Diana behaved even more reprehensibly; when catching Mallory attempting to infect someone else, she did nothing. She just stood there and watched it. If she’s the new brains of the operation, they are not long for this multiverse.

And how about some consistency? After going the length of tricking Mallory into sliding, Maggie and Rembrandt then throw their hands up with him in the very next scene. If he doesn’t want to slide anymore, fine. Diana, understandably, is confused by the about face. As are we. It’s easy to grow impatient with Mallory – he is kind of annoying – but he’s also the vessel of Quinn. Lose Mallory, and Quinn is lost too. How can Rembrandt and Maggie forget that?

Perhaps the writers have anticipated this problem and took a step to remedy that in the final scene. As they leave this new world to the nanotech holy war they’ve unleashed, Mallory declares Quinn is gone. The Glow has repaired not only his body, but the conflict of minds within him. Rembrandt doesn’t believe him, so the door is left open to revisit the issue, but it appears the quest to stabilize Mallory and free Quinn is over. On to… whatever it is we’re doing.

It would be inaccurate to say that this is a throwback episode, but watching it did bring back memories of the second season. Perhaps it was the intertwined trio of worlds that hinged on one series of events, much like Time Again and World. Or maybe it was the peaceful brunch in a European outdoor café that called to mind the calm before the storm of Invasion’s New Versailles. But more than anything else, this episode asked me to think about what I was watching, a phenomenon that’s been all too absent in so much of the last two seasons. Like My Brother’s Keeper before it, that alone makes it worth two and a half stars. And blowing the timeline by about a day in so cavalier a fashion makes it classic second season. Keep up the slightly better than average work!

It is now an irrefutable fact that our once-beloved show is in total freefall. I’m not even going to get into the actual reasons for this absolute dud of an episode— they’re so infuriatingly asinine I’d probably just give up this blog right at this moment. Oh no, I’m going to pull this apart at the seams before I even mention the name “J. Lo.”

YES STOCK FOOTAGE OF AIRPLANE=EXCITEMENT

I’ve been thinking recently about all that’s been different with the show (other than the fact that it used to be really pretty good and now it, y’know, isn’t). I think part of it is that the earliest episodes were content to take their time with a plot. You’d never see something like the beginning of “Summer of Love” on the show these days. A sizable chunk of Act I was devoted to following through with the “Spiderwasp” teaser. Same goes for the “Courtroom” teaser in “The King is Back.” Those kinds of episodes expanded the multiverse, and gave us short, but substancial looks into more worlds than just the main-plot-world.

Now we’ve got things like “Angel Baby World” and “Grinch People World” and “Baseball World” and “Toaster Oven World.” Total shit worlds that we see for all of a minute before the episode ends. It’s lazy padding (and funnily enough, doesn’t even show up in episodes that could use a little extra padding). Intelligently plotted episodes is just one more of the casualties of this season. But it’s kind of the one that I mourn the most.

I don’t know why I bring this up before digging into “Slither.” I guess there is a “lot” that happens, plot-beat wise. And there is at least a couple of things that the episode tries that I guess you could argue harks back to the complexities of the earlier seasons. I guess we can blame that on the episode being written by Tony Blake & Paul Jackson, the only real veteran writers left at this point.

“Hola, Amigos! Welcome to Bob Hope International Sunport!”

Let’s start with the framing of this episode. We begin with some inanity about some hussy trying to bribe some snakes onto a plane. Sure, fine, whatever. Then we get to Quinn & Rembrandt, who are stranded in Mexico (or whatever), because their flight got canceled. Wait, whut? Where are Wade & Maggie? Oh, they’re in San Francisco (at least that city gets mentioned anymore), because everyone is taking a vacation. 

They are sliding through the multiverse, and the team decides to not only split up, but split up by an insane distance, relying on a form of travel that isn’t even that reliable on our world. Not to mention that it’s Quinn & Rembrandt who are on this ‘vacation.’ Not, I don’t know. Rembrandt & Wade— the only two Sliders that don’t hate each other profusely. Why not just let Quinn & Maggie go bonk for a week or whatever? I mean, I really don’t want to watch that episode (and, in about a year when I do have to watch that episode, we’ll all see why), but the idea is absolutely preposterous.

“Q-Ball, my name is NOT Daelin, and I think you’ve have too much to drink.”

So when Quinn bemoans that they have to nab a charter flight (or whatever), am I supposed to feel sorry for him? Because I don’t— he’s an idiot. This whole idea is fucking stupid. You know who else is stupid? This bimbo:

One of two Captivating Cockblocks.

Look, I know. “Bimbo” is an offensive word. But give me a more accurate word! I dare you! You can’t! UGH THIS LADY. So she gets her snakes on a plane, and also gets Rembrandt and Quinn on the plane (post shootout, of course). That Lady really wants to have sexual intercourse with Quinn! Rembrandt just REALLY WANTS SOME CRACKERS.

Rembrandt Brown: SNACK MASTER

You’ve noticed I’ve been avoiding an easy joke to make. But I’ll just leave it to the snakes themselves to make that joke. Cue a snake sliding out of its box (can these snakes breathe? is that why they’re so pissed? because they’re suffocating? are there airholes in the snakeboxes? should I bother asking these kinds of questions [no]). Cue a snake choking the pilot to death:

HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Cue also the moment where Rembrandt more or less says this:

Except that he can’t really say it that easily because there’s a bunch of crackers in his mouth. Rembrandt is so serious about his crackers!

AW HELL NAH MAH CRACKAZ

AW YISS STILL GOT MAH CRACKAZ

Anyways, the plane crashes and Quinn & Rembrandt & Bimbo & Snakes all die. The show’s over, go home. Meanwhile, Wade and Maggie are having SUCH A GOOD TIME:

JUST TWO LADIES HAVING A HEAVENLY TIME

Yeah, this vacation is really working out for everyone involved. Also, remember when Maggies dear, dearly departed husband Steven? Remember when he was callously slaughtered by Colonel Rickman in a Church? Remember all of the tears Maggie shed?

APPARENTLY MAGGIE DOES NOT REMEMBER ANY OF THIS. “I think Carlos is very attractive” is something that no human ever would say. Except for Maggie, who is apparently a sex-robot.

Watch out, girls. I think there’s about to be a “Swordfight.”

Yeah, so Maggie’s goal (aside from being a huge bitch to Wade, again) is to ‘learn’ a deep ‘lesson’ about ‘maybe don’t try to have sex with everyone you see,’ or ‘maybe having sex with the first hawt dood that seems into isn’t the best way to get over your dead husband.’ I’m just kidding about the latter. Nowhere in the 45 minutes of this episode does Maggie even whisper the name ‘Steven.’ It’s up to us to remember him. She’s shirked her responsibility to his memory.

And Responsibility is one of the Big Themes that this episode has bewilderingly decided to saddle itself with. Maggie might be running from the grief of her bereavement, but Quinn is running from his entire life.

Oh, and by the way, Quinn, Remmy, Kira, & Sam the Snake didn’t die, the jungle is apparently three meters deep, and this is the last time the show spends any money on set design.

Why is Quinn running from  his responsibilities (as ‘leader,’ as ‘friend,’ as ‘fellow slider’)? The group referred to him anyways— but now it’s an actual mantel of “leader.” When there’s a strong group dynamic,Quinn can effectively hide behind his friends, and pretend he’s not in charge. But the fact of the matter is that Quinn has always been in charge because this whole journey is his fault. Post-Arturo, Quinn can’t choose to forget that anymore.

The way she springs into frame out of nowhere only cements my suspicion that she’s a witch.

Which isn’t to excuse his abhorrent behavior in this episode. Rembrandt comes off like a total jerk (I mean, everyone is kind of a huge dick in this episode), but he’s always right. Why the fuck do they take that snake with them? Why is Quinn so whipped that all it takes is Kira to make some “fuck me” pout and he’s instantly the Number One Snake Fan in America? Again, since the conversation is brought up at least 4,000 times over the course of the episode, why the fuck do they take the snake with them? They’re running through a hot-ass jungle (WITH PINE TREES UGH), people are shooting them, and snakes are literally and impossibly chasing them.

Blah blah, snakes, garden, knowledge, Eve, blah blah. Just kidding! Look at that midriff!

In a way, it’s charming. Rembrandt could (/should) easily just say “fuck you” and refuse to carry the snakebox. If that happened, I would cheer! But no, Remmy’s too loyal to ‘betray’ Quinn like that, even when Quinn effectively betrays Rembrandt himself. And for what? Easy pussy? Jesus, Quinn! Even though we get a shitty apology, it doesn’t excuse the desire. Quinn came close to abandoning it all for nothing. He doesn’t do it this time. But he could again. It isn’t hard to imagine. We don’t see a real lesson being learned here, other than maybe “don’t think with your dick.”

See!? Wade knows what’s up.

Which is a weird thing that pops up in this episode. It isn’t something that’s come up before, but it’s an entirely believable topic. Because these are four adults— they gotta eat, they gotta sleep, and they gotta nut (this is officially the most crass entry ever). But it’s ever-so-slight proof that there’s still a willingness to at least try to mine this show’s concept for something more. With the introduction of Maggie, we’ve begun to get stories about how people adapt to life in the multiverse. Now we’re getting a story that’s touching on the place of sexuality in the multiverse.

These people can’t have relationships— they’ve already decided that an inter-team relationship can’t fly. But other than a fling, they can’t realistically have anything meaningful. This is the first episode to seriously delve into that idea. Sure, Rembrandt has made love to everyone— but the majority of those women were spectres of Home. They’ve been sliding so long, they’re sure to get a little stir-crazy. Cabin Fever’s settling in, and it’s frustrating to the team that they’re so hemmed in by the ‘mission.’

Yeah. I definitely have all of the boners right now.

It’s just a huge shame that it’s Maggie & Quinn who are the foci of this idea. Wade would be the perfect character for it, since ‘sexuality’ would undoubtedly be seen through a more emotional light. Instead, we have Quinn being a callous prick to Rembrandt and Maggie being even more of a delusional bitch to Wade. If the goal for the show is now to make us actively despise every single person we see on screen, then Bravo! We’re almost there.

This scene is bizarre because our ‘heroes’ come off as total jerks! They effectively terrorize the townsfolk! So when this dude spits at them, I kind of threw my hat up and cheered.

But look. I’ve left out the most egregious sin this episode commits. And watching it now, in 2012, casually on Netflix or Hulu or wherever, it’s easy to forget the context this episode was born from.

KNOCK KNOCK

Because the only reason this episode exists is because of this:

FOX decreed that it would be a ‘wonderful opportunity’ to cross-promote Kari Wurher in both Anaconda and Sliders, and forced this schlock into rush-production. We, as an audience, should praise all of the Gods that they gave that task to Tony Blake & Paul Jackson. Because while they freely admit the episode is bad, they at least tried to sneak some kind of thought into it. Otherwise we wouldn’t have even have the ‘alt-history’ with illegal-tobacco, or any of the character moments I mentioned above. Mostly, we dodged the bullet of having Josef Anderson write this episode. Could you imagine the horror of that?

But then again, wouldn’t that maybe have been better? Anaconda, as a movie, is more or less a simple thriller with a simple horror movie concept. Strange adventure into the unknown, frightening force kills off one character at a time, unknown force is (maybe) defeated. And to be honest, it probably would have been a better episode of Sliders! I don’t know if we’ve tried a straight up ‘thriller’ before here. Like, an X-Files “monster-of-the-week” episode. On Sliders. It would have been terrible, sure. But I’d prefer that to the “vacation from hell.” (About that line: yes, it’s an easy one-line review of the episode. But even funnier is the SMASH CUT TO COMMERCIAL that follows it.)

HEY BOYYS!

Look, we’ve only got two more episodes left of this season. This season has been a terrifying whirlwind of brutal change. At the start of it, I decided that I would try to review the season as if I’d never seen it before. I probably gave up in the middle somewhere. But even if I hadn’t, I would still say this: I have zero faith that the show can reorient itself to something remotely resembling ‘good television’ before the end of the season.

I’ve lost the luxury of believing in miracles.

Next Week: Life finds a way …again (Dinoslide).

Last time, I made the semi-argument that we’d hit the moment where the show ceased to be Sliders. I don’t know what it’s become now, but it’s safe to say we’re still firmly in the “not Sliders” realm of storytelling. But there’s a crucial difference between “Stoker” and “The Breeder.” Namely, “Stoker” isn’t a total piece of shit.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. This episode totally blows.

It’s really, really bad. But it’s hilariously bad, and  at this point in the Season/Series, that kind of makes all the difference. Because just imagine trying to explain this episode to someone:

Yeah, there’s like, this vampire rock band— they used to be like, doowop or whatever, but now they’re like, shitty alt-goth or something— and they’re like, putting voodoo spells on chicks and then eating them, or something, and that one guy from That 70s Show that isn’t Fez, Ashton Kutcher, or Topher Grace (or the Dad) works for them, but I don’t think he’s a Vampire… I don’t know, he might be.

Oh yeah, and that Rickman dude dresses like a priest and hides his brain fluid syringe in a coffin-shaped hole he cut in a Bible. Oh, and apparently he dug up a dead dude who I guess just happened to share his name, but one of the pins off of his uniform in the coffin, and then reburied the dude— just in case Maggie decided to look up all the Dead Dudes in the World to check if the weird tattoo that lights up at death, find Rickman’s name, and then also dig up said Dude’s grave. Which, of course, she does. Oh, and Wade sings a tender ballad, puts on whiteface, crimps and teases her hair, and gets shitfaced on blood.

Oh, fuck, and I almost forgot: Tommy Chong plays a Vampire Hunter!

…uh huh.

I almost want to leave it at that, because you kind of have to watch the episode to believe that shit. But you know I can’t just leave you with a bonkers synopsis (and a post under 1500 words ). Especially since, against all odds, there’s actually some scenes that fit into the whole “end of the Sliding Friendship” theme that’s been going on this Season.

What, they couldn’t stunt-cast Scott Weiland in a bid for cross-promotion with “Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop?”

So one of the fabulous things about this bizarre episode is that pretty much all of the action comes out because of Wade. This isn’t a Wade-Centric episode, per se, but it’s her who drives the plot. And it feeds from what’s been going on with her for the last few episodes in a surprisingly human way that hasn’t really had much time on this show. Wade’s really sad. Her life now is a boring ‘mission’ to ‘catch’ the guy who murdered her friend, but they rarely see him, and the only real reminder is a dour bitch yelling at her (the harshest words that will ever grace this blog, but I mean it to be from Wade’s point of view). Wade’s only human. We know this.

So I’m not surprised that her goal in this episode is to get shitfaced and maybe make out with a dude. It’s just her bad luck that she chose a Vampire to get busy with!

Okay, so Season 1 Wade makes out with a Sexy Revolutionary and the King of England. This season she’s had a Dull Robot and a Murderous Vampire. Hmm…

Okay, so lemme spoil this shit and tell you that all the Vampires die (actually not really, I think most of them actually live, so… good job, guys). After the lead singer/sucker dies, Wade expresses her extreme loneliness to Quinn. Honestly, quietly. And somehow, for some reason, Quinn accepts this loneliness with ease— not in the way we’d expect from him now. He doesn’t chew her out. Instead, he expresses shock that she could be so alone: after all, she has them, she has him. “Do I?” She asks, totally understandably.

To which Quinn replies “always.”

They’re crouched in the wreckage of their adventure, surrounded by the ridiculous ashes of a Vampire Farce, and they share a quiet moment, heads pressed together. Friendship somehow renewed. It’s a subtle and quiet maybe-ending to this whole ‘fractured group’ dynamic that’s been plaguing the show for weeks.

Somehow, the moment is tender.

Slam-Dunk Sweetness.

Now, though, let’s talk Writers. In particular, the way that a fan who is paying attention will either become excited when they see a ‘written by’ credit. In the case of The X-Files: “Vince Gilligan: oooh! Chris Carter: ehhhhh.” In the case of Doctor Who: “Robert Holmes: ooooh! Pip and Jane Baker: ehhhhh.” For Sliders, it was a little harder early on. It was more like “Jon Povill: ooooh, probably!” and “Tracy Tormé: yeah, maybe?” Every writer had equal hits and misses. In the 3rd Season, though, there’s a name that starts to pop up that spells a world of DOOM for any savvy fan.

…if there are any savvy fans left…

Here we’re greeted with the name of Josef Anderson. And if we’re checking our alt.news.sliders or what-have-you— we’ll check what episodes this dude has written so far. First— he’s new to Season Three. So he’s one of the guys brought in by FOX. He’s also a Consulting Producer, so he’s got a say in the drive of the show. Now let’s look at what episodes he’s written— “Rules of the Game.” Okay, fine. Wasn’t so bad, but wasn’t the most original of concepts. “The Fire Within.” Bewildering dreck. “The Last of Eden.” Heavily indebted dreck. Then there’s his co-credit on “The Exodus, pt. II,” which leaves us to believe that he’s the guy that went in and ruined it.

Do you think ol’ Joe Anderson woke up and was like “OH SHIT I HAVE A GREAT IDEA,” and then wrote this scene, SPECIFICALLY MENTIONING the fact that his HELMET AND CLOTHES MELT OFF as well as his skin? YES, I THINK HE DID.

Of course, while we’re looking at credits, and going ‘ehhhh,’ let’s not forget that none other than JERRY O’MOTHERFUCKING O’CONNELL directed this romp. And what does ol’ Jerry have to say about his debut?

It is going to be a terrific show. It is sort of a rock and roll vampire type thing. It is going to involve a lot of real techno and industrial music. It will have a very Nine Inch Nails look and feel to it. … It’s going to have a nice German expressionistic look to it — very industrial and very monochromatic. It’s going to be a lot like Fritz Lang movies such as Metropolis.

Okay, that sounds awesome! I love NIN! What a great set of influences to draw from! I’m sure he succeeds in bringing German Expressionism to the small screen. Sliders could use more monochromaticism and influences from more art-house styles!

Motherfuckin’ Fellini up in this bitch.

Oh. Well, hey, I mean, good try though. It’s not like he gets bogged down in any really stupid shots or anything.

Oy vey. Okay, not only is this a Josef Anderson script, but Jerry O’Connell kind of really sucks at directing. Sliders has never really been a show that gives you a lot of well-remembered direction. I’m not sure I answer the question of “defining shot” of the show. Running up the street in silhouette, maybe? I guess so. And Season 3′s been a total mess, visually, but it’s always had a workmanlike charm to it. But man, that penny shot is BAAAD. And the whole thing is really clunky. Like in the Teaser, when the camera slowly zooms in to show Wade having a REALLY GOOD TIME at the Stoker show, Van Helsinger/Chong like, glides out of the way super awkwardly. It’s supposed to be dreamy, or weird, or I don’t know— it looks bad. It looks forced. It looks exactly like a film student had a good idea, tried it out, and kept it in even though it didn’t work the way he thought it would. Which basically is exactly what happened.

But also, who cares? We’ve already gone over Camp on this blog. But this is an entirely different beast. There’s a gleeful spirit to “Stoker” that the show hasn’t had in a while. And sure, it isn’t an intelligent hour of television. But there’s a communal spirit of “why not” to the hour that’s hard to resist. It’s as if the whole production team decided, “hey, why not— let Jerry have some fun,” and didn’t really worry about the outcome.

And of course, you can argue that ‘not worrying about the outcome’ is exactly what the show’s been doing for almost a year now. But the last few weeks have been relentlessly dire in their ‘anything goes’ attitude. “Stoker” is about a Vampire Rock Band that has a member of Guns ‘n Roses in it! It has a scene where Rembrandt gets shot with a lightning bolt out of a guitar!

I mean, that’s so silly. But that’s awesome! When was the last time you watched Face/Off? Y’know, when John Travolta and Nicolas Cage trade …y’know, faces?

That scene is ridiculous! But why else are you watching it?

Look, I know that Sliders used to be intelligent speculative fiction interspersed with subversively dark humor. But the truth is, that’s just not what it is anymore. But we’re still here, we’re still watching whatever this goofy-ass show is. So why not enjoy it for what it is? Especially when it looks like the cast is having more fun than they have in months?

Girlfriend, I would buy your cassingle.

And, yes, that is Sabrina Lloyd singing. She’s got a pretty voice! Quinn says so, and it kind of reads like Jerry O’Connell is saying so, and Wade smiles her winning smile, and it seems like Sabrina Lloyd is actually appreciating the compliment.

WHOA MEDUSA HAIR

The graverobbing scene with Rembrandt and Maggie (who is still a total pain in the ass, but is also barely in the episode) is actually funny. And Maggie actually kind of deserves to be de-loused.

The first time I have not unquestioningly loathed Maggie ever.

It’s easy to take Harker’s word for it and say “that sucked.” Yeah, no shit it sucked. But you know what? I’d rather rewatch this than “The Breeder” or “The Fire Within” or “Desert Storm” or “Time Again & World.” Last week was when I said “this isn’t Sliders anymore.” But this week is when I say “well if you don’t like it, then don’t watch it.”

Man, Van Helsinger really went UP IN SMOKE, didn’t he?

Which is of course, the advice I wish I could follow myself when I watch next week’s episode.

Next Week: Why did it have to be Snakes? (Slither).

It usually takes our crew until mid-season to completely give up, but we’re out to an early start this season with “The Great Work,” a nonsensical and lethargic bottle episode where our team must defend all of the knowledge in all of the world from a handful of bozos in feathers and leather who have managed to conquer the entire planet. How is this possible?

“From the looks of things, the entire world is populated by imbeciles,” you say.

No, no, how is it possible that we’re only at episode four and we’re already in late season surrender mode? This is the kind of effort I’ve come to expect right around episode 17 or so, but we’ve got a short season this year. If we’re going to melt down, we need to get right to it.

We begin with our foursome, fresh from a jaunty safari (as evidenced by their matching khakis), landing on a cold island in the Northern Sea. Our team doesn’t question it, so I won’t either. Maggie’s taken some damage and they seek help at the gates of a monastery that dominates the property. After convincing the monks that they’re not spies from Eddie Bauer, they’re finally let in and Maggie receives medical attention. But something’s not quite right about this place. Despite no real impetus to dig deeper, the Sliders dig deeper.

After a few acts of tedious exposition and meandering about the set, they uncover the monastery’s dark secret; it’s actually a library. The monks have been accumulating as much as they can so that future generations can fight the conquering Volsang hordes. They do not use this knowledge themselves, presumably because they’re cowards/idiots. Diana, ever helpful, teaches them how to store all the data on a giant crystal instead of billions of floppy discs.

The work is interrupted when the Volsang arrive on some stock footage of a destroyer. Ever so slowly, they made landfall and take out the inept defenses. The Sliders hand off the crystal to two kids (Seth and Sara) in a rowboat before blowing up the library and making their escape. And so all the knowledge in all of the world lives to be read another day… assuming someone figures out how to build a machine that can read a giant crystal. As for those crazy kids, I give them about two days before they’re captured or drown. Our crew? Why it’s yet another trip to Giant World, seen in both Revelations and The Exodus, two catastrophes on a par with the Great Work. (Note to self: if ever I find myself pitching a concept to Sliders, do not include a Giant World. It always ends badly.)

Oh, and there’s a subplot where Maggie’s doctor falls in love with her and then betrays the monastery for some stupid reason. The end.

Short on plot and purpose, the episode can’t even fill its allotted screen time. I once accused El Sid of padding in an attempt to stretch the episode over the full hour, but it had nothing on “The Great Work’s” first act. It is a symphony of stalling, an Olympic effort of running in place. There is only one bit of information that is ultimately conveyed in the act, and that is the penalty for spying is death. Yet there’s a lot of time to chew up until we get to that act ending moment. How to fill it? Instead of having our Sliders fumble to explain their appearance on an isolated island once, why not do it twice? That’ll kill a few minutes. Next, let’s have Rembrandt recap the plot of “Prophets and Loss”. Ok, there’s another minute. Rembrandt can then ask for the timer. Yep, it’s a timer all right. I assume it’s still ticking as it’s apparently not necessary to show the audience why Rembrandt needed to see it. Good! Now let’s recap the last five minutes in case the audience nodded off!

Another good way to burn the clock is to explicitly point out all of the production errors you intend to make. You can never be too sure if the viewer is truly paying attention, so it’s best to really hammer your incompetence home. If you’re going to blow the timeline, make sure you check the timer often so there’s no missing your inability to edit an episode. Repeat “no one leaves the island” over and over again, then have everyone leave the island. As an added bonus, have the mean old head monk begrudgingly let them stay one night and then inexplicably do an about face and forbid them from leaving.  Much in the same vein, have one of your extras repeatedly remind Rembrandt that he owes him a favor. That way, when you forget to pay it off in the end, everyone remembers that you can’t proverbially write your way out of a paper bag.

Another clue you may have a dud on your hands is when you’re unable to find any moments of tension to base an act break on. The teaser ends with them standing at the monastery gate. The first act ends with an empty threat that could have been unleashed at any point. Act two ends not with the reveal of the library, but with us wondering what the reveal will be. But my favorite break is definitely that of the third act. Maggie, Rembrandt and Mallory run outside just as the Volsang bombardment begins… only to run right back inside as soon as we come back from commercial.

Can anything salvage this? If you’re looking to the guest actors, that’s a big no. Seth (Austin Nichols) makes Jerry O’Connell’s performance in The Chasm look vibrant. Abraham (Granville von Dusen) is a one note tyrant, and Rob Youngblood brings all the charm to Keeper James as he did during his previous turn on Sliders as Paradise Lost’s Sheriff Burke. The set crew, though not making unforced errors, just doesn’t have the budget to make the Volsang attack remotely plausible. The siege consists of two dozen men at most, and most of them are in such poor shape that they’re breathing heavily coming down the stairs.

Say what you will about the first three episodes, but they had purpose. They were establishing new characters and attacking dormant arcs. But this story lands with a thud. It doesn’t advance the season; it tells us nothing new about Diana or Mallory. Even the adventure is incredibly mundane and ultimately pointless. Thanks to Keith Damron, we know the show had slightly higher ambitions of being an interdimensional library.  That being the case, it may have made sense to just merge this plot with last week’s Strangers and Comrades. You have the same situation — a desperate last stand against an invading force where you’re defending important knowledge (like a Voraton device) — and Rembrandt may not have been quite so callous upon exiting had he been leaving these poor monks to death at the hands of Kromaggs instead of men dressed from beyond Thunderdome. It doesn’t hurt the former episode, and  it eliminates this episode entirely from the schedule. Now that’s what I call a win-win.

A wise idea; after the events of The Unstuck Man and Applied Physics, reconnecting the audience with Rembrandt’s emotional state should be a top priority. More than ever, he’s a man alone in the world, separated piecemeal from everything he knows and everyone he loves. We need to see how our sole original cast member is holding together, and as we’ve watched in Asylum, Cleavant Derricks has the acting chops to make that character study ring true.

Can Rembrandt trust his sliding companions? Not really — Diana essentially murdered Colin, Quinn, and her double’s daughter only a few days ago. Mallory’s little more than an unstable amalgam of vanilla Quinn. And Maggie? She’s drifting along, clinging to the chance for closure after the Combine accident.

None of the Sliders can relate to Rembrandt’s background or ideology. Two are virtual strangers and the other is a loner by nature. Why shouldn’t he step away and forge a new identity, one built around the infinite wonder of a Victorian world trying to reach the stars? Then, after his experiment fails, Rembrandt emerges a stronger leader — one able to embrace his role as mentor of a group of unlikely friends born across three different Earths.

It’s exactly the kind of episode the show needs in its struggle to redefine itself. It’s the perfect end to the ad hoc trilogy begun by “Unstuck Man.” And it was passed over so the Sliders could fight Kromaggs outside Acton, California.

Passed over for an afterthought.

While I tend to keep my reviews focused on the matter at hand, I find it’s impossible to do so for “Strangers and Comrades.” That’s thanks to the Year 5 Journal, an online exclusive Damron now releases right after each new episode airs. The behind-the-scenes information it took fans years to collect is now offered up by the production team in real time. It’s a level of intended immediacy we’ve never seen before, and it makes it difficult to separate what I’ve just seen from what I read. Particularly when the alternative to “Comrades” is so much more compelling.

It’s a shame, too, because I get what Damron was trying to accomplish with his script. And I won’t deny the result is ambitious, fantastic looking, and important to the overall arc of the series. But it’s just so damned dumb.

This is an episode where the elusive anti-Kromagg weapon – one Rembrandt, Quinn, and Maggie spent a year searching for – is dismissed with a laugh as useless garbage. Where we discover Mike Mallory not only had time and resources to build a Slidecage – an expansive labyrinth housed on a toxic earth with two moons – but a military garrison camped on an asteroid in hyperspace as well. (That guy is smart.)

Where Diana’s post-traumatic stress is reduced to a piece of beef jerky.

We’re treated to a number of lazy storytelling tropes as well. There’s the pointless flashback sequence that pads out the tension-free teaser, the voiceover that disappears the moment the episode abandons Diana’s narrative point of view, and foreshadowing that would pull the trigger on Chekhov’s gun. So, since it’s fruitless to analyze the plot – it sucks – and nitpicking all the dopey science flaws is best left to the episode capsule, I’m going to break down each character’s beats and how they succeed or fail:

Rembrandt

Everything good about this episode boils down to one scene between Rembrandt and Sergeant Vernon Larson (an appropriately world-weary Jerry Doyle). Trapped in a trench designed to guard a mysterious bunker, Rembrandt reveals his quest to find the weapon Larson’s people used to rid their world of the Kromaggs.

“You mean a Voraton device?”

The soldiers laugh. A Voraton device – something Rembrandt bet his future on – is a “really bad idea.” It basically kills the ecosphere of the world where it’s detonated. The men of Larson’s platoon prefer life on this dried-up wasteland because, ultimately, they’re better off than being home.

Throughout this scene, Cleavant Derricks perfectly plays, with very few words, the collapse of a man. He sits there, soaks it in, listens to the laughter. Then he just walks away. As I said above, this is the kind of understated character work we need to see.

It’s a shame the emotion of this moment is undercut in the ridiculous teaser, where Maggie confides in Rembrandt she just had a dream the weapon would be a huge bust. Why telegraph that at all, especially after another embarrassing “Rules of Sliding” lecture for Diana and Mallory?

Maggie

What’s to say? She’s military; conscription into a ground war shouldn’t – and doesn’t – faze her. She takes being manhandled and shocked with relative ease, dons the uniform, and jumps straight into battle. At least this is consistent characterization… up until she climbs up a tank, kicks open the top and starts shooting the Kromaggs within. Even at her worst, I don’t think I’ve seen her behave quite so bloodthirsty before today. And why contrast that with a quiet moment where she talks about opening up to Diana, learning the science behind sliding? When did she have time for that?

Mallory

Damron drafted this scenario to create “a baptism of fire for the newbies.” The working title was even “Baptism of Fire.” So where’s the baptism for Mallory? For someone who’s never been involved in warfare, he seems decidedly nonplussed about killing a previously unknown enemy or watching fellow soldiers atomized in front of him. (He “adapts,” we’re told.) The most worked up he gets is when Diana disappears, and that’s more a function of his disbelief that Rembrandt and Maggie are cool and collected about it.

Remember: weeks ago Mallory was a street-wise lab rat. He’s not Patton; hell, he’s not even MacGyver. If he’s going to go through the ultimate nightmare scenario, at least let him freak out. Just a little bit. Please.

Diana

In a better world, this would have been another Diana episode midway through the season. An episode where the self-professed mollycoddled rich girl finds herself in a position that is utterly alien to her. Everything about her reaction for the first few acts is dead on – she shuts down physically from shock. Terrified by the noise and death, she flees and finds herself in a protracted battle with a Kromagg. And when she shoots him? It’s all she can do to keep from drowning herself in a three-inch puddle of water.

And then the final act arrives, and Diana somehow miraculously walks through a live battle zone. And they breach the mysterious bunker. And Diana somehow manages to stuff more technobabble into a redressed Quinn’s basement than I’ve ever heard before she shuts off the stasis field around the asteroid (one that should have prevented them from ever arriving in the first place) and rejiggers the last Voraton device in the multiverse to blow everything and everyone up. But they escape. And Diana’s A-OK.

Give me a break.

If you’re a completist, I’ll grudgingly recommend you give this one a watch. Damron’s previous work for the series was solid and I do give points for effort. Between that and the gorgeous cinematography, something that’s as rare as a Voraton device for this show, you won’t feel like you wasted an hour of your life the way you would catching a re-run of The Chasm.

That said, “Strangers and Comrades” is a deeply-flawed episode masquerading as important character study. It hopes you’ll overlook the inconsistencies and errors (why does an asteroid have a moon?) in favor of the tragedy of war. Don’t be fooled by the propaganda.

Remember the early days of this season? Back in the day when things were easy?

I had this ‘problem’ I kept talking about. It had to do with tone. So many episodes early on were afflicted with a hideous mashup of tones. And it wasn’t just one part of an episode affected by this.  A Camp character would butt against a dramatic role. A serious plot point against mystical nonsense. Which isn’t to say that a mishmash of ideas isn’t what a television show needs. On the contrary— this mishmash is the basis of television, especially science fiction TV.

But it’s rarely worked on Sliders, especially not in Season Three. It’s always belied a deeper trouble with the show. Tracy Tormé was fighting against Peckinpah and FOX for the direction of the show, of what kind of show it we’d get. So we’d have a story about the Union saddled with Living Flame. The Death of the Timer mixed with a mutated scarab. We’d get “Double Cross” replaced with “Rules of the Game.” We’d get “Paradise Lost.”

But Tormé is gone now, followed swiftly by John Rhys-Davies, arguably the two people who were invested in the show for more than just the paychecks.  If that means anything, it means that there’s no one left to fight in the name of taste. So there isn’t as much of a poor mix tones now, because the show is now just plain tacky.

DIGGS, I AM WITH YOU, GIRLFRIEND.

We all know that firing John Rhys-Davies was idiotic. But one of the truly idiotic consequences of this is that a significant number of episodes had to be dramatically rewritten. Now, rewrites are always happening on a show, no doubt about it. But those are a lot of cleanup jobs, or making sure the episode fits in with the show, its themes, its plot-arc, etc.

But generally you don’t have to take a pre-existing script and tear it apart because you fired an actor in the middle of a season just because you could. Every episode we’ve seen since “The Exodus, pt. II” has been tampered with to fit Maggie in. That was ‘fine’ in “Sole Survivors”— as repugnant as Maggie is to Wade, the idea that she was there to shoot Quinn in the face is kind of amazing and radical for the show. That worked less last week, where we had to contend with “Rickman,” and Maggie trussed up in the cave set.

And in both of those episodes, we’ve had the ridiculous shades of one of the main reasons for casting Kari Wuhrer: “Sex Appeal.”

I thought next week was “Twilight” week.

I put “Sex Appeal” in quotes for so many reasons. Not because Kari Wurher isn’t ‘attractive’— that’s not the issue, and also the completely wrong way to judge anyone, ever. It’s the portrayal of that ‘sex appeal,’ the use of it. There’s no character reason for it— it’s merely to titillate. It’s there to draw more of the 18-34 demographic  that is oh so prized, and that John Rhys-Davies certainly wasn’t attracting (it’s probably even more upsetting to note that this episode actually did win that demographic).

But it also belies a disgusting truth about Season 3. Wade’s getting more marginalized, now that it’s clear the experiment of giving her a ‘sexy’ haircut and putting her in a leather mini-skirt didn’t work. It points to the fact that Sliders only wants women for their sex. The multiverse as seen through The Male Gaze. Which is disgusting. This show should be better than that. People should be better than that. Maggie’s ‘sex appeal’ drives me to fury, and not just because it’s wholly offensive. Every lingering shot of her chest (and there are oh, so many) only seems to completely alienate the part of the audience that used to tune in for thoughtful speculative fiction.

And there’s a sickly desperation to all this ‘sex.’ The camera’s lingering eye is like a beggar. The show is trying ever so hard to convince us that we should masturbate to this. It’s sick. It’s gross. And the fact that Kari’s game for this makes it even more bewilderingly sad. Sliders at this point is still a semi-popular show. Millions of people will watch this. “You want to be a TV star, Kari? OK, put this on.” The fact that this is happening at the same time as Sabrina Lloyd gets pushed to the corner and made fun of just makes it even more upsetting. We can tell what the production team’s priorities are, and they don’t include a talented actress who just happens to not look like a melted Barbie Doll.

You all have been reading this for a long time. You all know that I’m willing to accept a lot of the shit that’s made in the name of Sliders. A part of being a Sliders fan is accepting that your show changes and is a diamond with many sides. But you know what? This episode is the moment when I will say this, and mean it:

This isn’t my show. I don’t want to watch this.

And why?

HEY REMMY WANT SOME “SEE”FOOD?

I’ve mentioned before the go-to criticism of Season 3  is that the show becomes parodic schlock “homages” to popular movies. At the time, I debunked that theory. Episodes may be indebted, but only really “Electric Twister Acid Test” could be described as “Sliders does a popular movie.” Even last week, which was bizarrely indebted to “Heart of Darkness,” wasn’t really a ‘rip-off,’ cage scenes non-withstanding. The ‘references’ are getting more brazen, but they’re still just ‘references.’ Until now, of course. What better movie to finally take the plunge into hands-down rip-off territory than “Species.”

Oh, sure, they’ll change a few plot points— instead of an alien, it’s a pancake symbiont, and instead of a shape-shifting alien, it’s a super powerful dick monster that lives in your stomach. But all the important parts are there!

We got a super strong hottie breakin’ hearts and breakin’ arms.

S’cool, though— his arm was clearly made of plastic.

A search for said hottie.

Well, yes, I suppose “Squinting” counts as “Acting…”

And, of course, breasts:

I mean, yeah, I’d want to seek warmth if I had to wear that skimpy lil’ number.

Some other breasts:

I am super surprised they don’t make out.

And did I mention breasts?

Sliders: great at teaching kids what sex ISN’T.

I half-watched “Species” in ‘preparation’ for watching “The Breeder.” I can safely say that the episode gets the gist of the movie, though I really wish Rembrandt had channeled Forest Whitaker’s character more and went full-on Counselor Troi: “Q-Ball, I sense… anger.” I don’t know, it’s hard to discuss. The movie is… fine. It’s completely a product of its time. And this episode is very plainly bad. It’s inarguable. It’s not good TV. It’s nonsensical. It’s not exciting, unless you really get off on watching people walk around the backlot for 45 minutes.

Except wandering around the backlot for 45 minutes wasn’t exciting when they did in in “State of the Art,” so why should it be exciting now? All of the bad things about this episode would be easily dismissible, were it not for the fact that the bits of the episode that remain from the Pre-Maggie drafts of the script seem like they might have made a pretty good episode.

“We’ll get them removed on the next world.” HOW, QUINN? HOW THE FUCK WILL YOU DO THAT?!?

The basic idea is that on this world, a world far advanced in cryogenics (an early name for the episode was “Cold War”), there’s an overbearing organ donor program. Anyone from the ages 18-25 has a Sick Pog grafted on their arm that beeps when you’re chosen to be a donor. Complications to this nifty idea: it’s mandatory. They’ll call you at any time, and despite any protests you may have, the Nylon Burly Gay Dude Patrol will still kidnap you from your seat.

HEYYY BOYYYYYYYYYYYS

The last complication is that only the super rich and influential get these organs. They don’t help the poor or otherwise downtrodden. Now, sure, that’s a heavy concept. And sure, it’s full of holes— namely, there would literally have to be a Monarchy or an Empire or Dictatorship to allow this to happen. No 18-25 year old would keep someone in office who tried to pass a law that involved grafting Pogs on their body. I don’t know, maybe the voting age is over 25 here.

But here, look what I’m doing— I’m asking questions. But I’m asking questions because I’m interested, not because I’m enraged. As mildly flimsy as it is, this episode’s dimension is a true harking back to like, a mid-range 2nd season outing. If we had a generic Sliders plot of ‘let’s overthrow the government,’ I think we could all have a wonderful time.

But there isn’t an ‘overthrow the government’ plot. There’s a rip-off of “Species.” Instead of a thoughtful story, we’ve got tits. And this is where that whole ‘tone’ issue comes in again. Because this episode is SO FRUSTRATING. At one point the Doctor helping the Sliders find Maggie makes a phonecall and activates Wade’s Pog. And I’m thinking, “Man, I wish that was what we were worrying about in this episode.”

Jerry O’Connell’s “I am being nice to you” face will forever haunt my dreams.

Because I don’t really care about Maggie spitting a weird Cock-Beast out of her Mouth. I don’t really care about Rembrandt suddenly deciding that Quinn is a racist and giving him a stern lecture about equality while wearing a Proton Pack. I do care about cryogenics, and the sight gag of Frozen Maggie being carried away by Paramedics without a Stretcher is Golden, but I don’t care if temperature is only going to be used to ‘cure’ Maggie and won’t even make sense then. I guess the fact is that I just don’t really care about Maggie.

TEAM WADE/TEAM DEAD GUY

Which brings us to the only two actual points of interest to the episode. The first is basically proof that I’m right about Quinn Mallory. He isn’t taking his new mantle as ‘leader’ well at all. He can only see the Multiverse through his guilt-tinted glasses, and perceives all around him as directly his fault. He is blindly selfish in his insistence that this is all on him. There’s a heated argument with the group in this episode, but it’s really kind of an argument with himself. It comes out of nowhere, simply because he starts it himself. All that happens is Wade making a simple, grim, and truthful comment:

When I first started sliding, all I saw was adventure. Now all I seem to see is Death.

Yeah, Wade. You’re right. Arturo just died. You’re chasing a man who leaves near-corpses in his wake. Right after that you slid into a world with the living dead. She’s staring at a corpse, which isn’t something that happened very much in the first two years of this adventure. Now it’s gotten to the point where she can look a dead man in the face and not even shed a tear. Could the Free Spirit in “Summer of Love” do the same? Absolutely not. Sliding has made her used to Death. And so she says so.

The moment when Wade realizes Quinn might actually be crazy.

But Quinn being selfish/a total dick, calls her out for insulting him. “Oh, so this is my fault?” He becomes furious with her for blaming the Death of Arturo and countless numbers on him. Which, as she states, wasn’t what she said. All Quinn is doing is letting everyone know that he feels responsible for all of the Death. Rembrandt, bless him, rightly tells him to shut the fuck up and leave Wade alone, and also that “Um, no, this has nothing to do with you.” Wade tries to convince him that Sliding has done good (which, at times, it has), but Quinn can barely even look at Wade. It spells the end of any sort of friendship between them, since Wade is just a brutal reminder of the people he thinks he’s hurt. Sure, Rembrandt’s around too, but he’s stronger— he doesn’t let it show on his face (“I gotta laugh to keep from crying.”) Wade’s emotions make Quinn tie the noose around his own neck even tighter. “…if I hadn’t invented Sliding” is the key phrase. Quinn chastises himself for his youth, for his inner fire, for his thirst for experience. Inside, he is dying as much as Arturo once was.

WHO STOLE QUINN’S NECK!?

The latter point of interest in the episode comes soon after. Quinn remains gung-ho about rescuing Maggie and ripping the dick monster out of her. But Wade and Rembrandt, somewhat shockingly (though totally understandably) are hesitant. The same idea came up in “Fever”— should we risk bringing this plague with us? This time, though, Maggie is the plague. She’s also excess baggage the group is carrying. If they left her there, well… would they really miss her?

It’s a tough thing to bring up. Maggie never ceases to drive wedges between the sliders, whether it’s a sexual one between Quinn and Wade, or an adversarial one between Wade and everyone else. She’s trouble. She is actively ruining their lives. Leaving her behind would be cruel, but it would be a lesser evil to condemn one person if it meant saving countless more. Quinn objects, because that’s abandonment— Maggie doesn’t deserve that, does she?

But the thing about Maggie in this episode (when you ignore all the ‘sex appeal’) is that she actively murders so many people. And for the most part, the Sliders are just like “bummer.” But it’s bizarre. Are they going to tell Maggie about her massacre? Can she remember any of it? Does she still have those goofy-ass reptile eyes? What the hell is the deal with that? Why can she fall off a building and live? How did that pancake put a baby dick monster in her stomach? Is her esophagus totally fucked now?

I HAVE BEEN IN YOU

See that? I’m not asking because I’m interested anymore. Now I’m asking because I’m enraged. The show cannot continues on this trajectory and expect any one other than the basest of humans to remain involved.

Unless that’s exactly who they’re aiming for.

In which case, see you later.

Next Week: I’m going home for a week/vacation thyme! So…

Next next week: TEAM VAN HELSINGER (Stoker).

Why is this episode so essential? Simple: it is the first time the audience is treated to an intelligent, realistic examination of what happens when the Sliders mess with the internal affairs of a parallel world. The size of the intervention is negligible – can Diana help her less-than-successful double? – but the consequences are enormous and far-reaching. By the end of the hour distrust is high, lives are changed, and everyone’s a loser. Even worse, they know it.

As much as I love the early seasons, I’d never describe the original Sliders as cautious. In the first season alone the gang fomented multiple revolutions, saved the world (twice!), blew up gender roles on a global scale, and indiscriminately stepped into the lives of their doubles. Their actions were often brash and myopic but the nature of both the timer and episodic television meant never having to deal with the consequences.

Yes, it’s fun to watch dueling Rembrandts belt out “Tears in My Fro” or see Quinn play MIT in a match of “Mindgame.” It’s even a little heartwarming to watch Arturo make peace with the double of his dead wife or see Wade hug Judge Nassau. But think about the tempest brewing in the teapot. If you spend more than five seconds doing so, congratulations – you’ve put more thought into it than any of our intrepid wanderers.

No one strings together a cogent argument for or against intervention during The Guardian, which also tackles a small story involving a double. Any blowback over Sid and Michelle is brushed aside when more random Sliders accompany them in the next episode. Even the Professor’s murder doesn’t hamper the Sliders’ zest for jumping in head first. Why lay low and consider a course of action when you can bumble in and out of inexplicable situations, right? It’s embarrassing.

So we have two new Sliders with no idea how to parse their situation and two veterans who don’t seem particularly interested in teaching them the ropes. In short, it’s a recipe for disaster – one a long time coming.

Picking up shortly after the events of The Unstuck Man, “Physics” shows the new team still struggling to adjust. Is Doctor Geiger out of the picture? Can Diana separate the Quinns? Can Maggie and Rembrandt cope with losing the Mallory brothers? Can Quinn – now called Mallory for some reason – acclimate to the other consciousness floating around in his head?

The answer to all this is no, and these tenuous relationships start unraveling the moment Mallory flashes back to a particularly violent (and previously unseen) assault vanilla Quinn experienced. Realizing separating the Quinns is less important than stabilizing them, Diana visits the local university hoping to use their state-of-the-art equipment to patch the situation.

It’s here she meets Didi, her single mom college dropout doppelganger. Even though Didi’s energetic, friendly, and positive, Diana only sees this double – and herself by extension – as a failure. The mission to save Mallory is sidetracked as she uses Combine technology to “fix” Didi’s situation.

Meanwhile, Maggie attempts to help Mallory with a nifty technological hiccup – a portable holographic device capable of recreating any environment. In a flash, Mallory’s transported them to his childhood home, complete with porch swing and happy parents.

What’s great is each plot is driven by best (but ultimately selfish) intentions; Diana wants Didi’s daughter to have a responsible father. Maggie wants Quinn to live. What’s could be wrong with that, aside from the fact that help is unwarranted and unsolicited?

Instead of giving Mallory some recovery time, Maggie deliberately floods him with emotionally charged memories hoping to bring Quinn to the surface. It backfires spectacularly, and Maggie admits her motivation was getting Mallory out of the picture. Meanwhile, Diana’s tweaked lab settings allow Doctor Geiger (a returning Peter Jurasik) to stabilize and manipulate her into altering the entire universe.

Is there time to undo the damage done? Diana scrambles to salvage the situation, but Rembrandt eventually cuts their losses and throws her in the wormhole seconds before it closes.

And there it is – an episode of human people looking out for themselves, making bad decisions at the expense of those around them, and realizing their “cover your ass” mentality doesn’t work. The coda alone sells you on Diana’s guilt over her actions. And she should feel guilty – she erased a little girl from existence.

This is, by and large, a treatise on control – how much people exercise over their lives and the lives of others. Diana attempts to control Didi and Doctor Geiger while fully aware she’s spiraling out of control herself. Maggie wants nothing more than to banish Mallory and bring Quinn back, and it ends up almost killing both of them. Only Rembrandt, whose levelheaded approach to interacting with a double is perfectly in character, walks away from this one with his moral compass intact. Maybe it’s because he’s made plenty of similar mistakes in the past.

After watching this episode, I thought back on the times Quinn, Rembrandt, Wade, and Arturo should have had a conversation about intervening. Because impersonating the Sheriff of the Americas should have gotten them all killed. Because they didn’t need to investigate the Manta ship they downed. Because Quinn didn’t need to destroy a universe to save Daelin Richard’s life. I hope the season five gang gains a sober appreciation of caution out of this outing.

Aside from some awkward technobabble and the unclear capabilities of Combine technology, this is as close to a flawless character study as we’re likely to get this season. David Eagle’s direction is crisp, colorful, and vibrant, the locations give the production some much needed breathing room, and Tembi Locke and Jurasik settle into their roles perfectly. Everything missing from “The Unstuck Man” is present and accounted for; it’s a shame this couldn’t have been the premiere.

Few episodes of Sliders pack such an emotional wallop, and when they do the conclusion is usually uplifting. Yet I find myself more affected by Mallory’s heartache over the Professor – a man he’s never met – than almost anything the show has thrown at us over the years. Thanks to Chris Black for putting the newbies through this crucible.

Can we just all agree that this episode has the best teaser ever?

Blue Moon of Alt-Tucky.

So stoked for the Phish Reunion.

If y’all could see my Mantle and know how many Skulls were on there, you’d know how much I dig this.

PLEASE SAY THEY TAKE THIS GOAT WITH THEM THROUGH THE VORTEX.

Hey hey pretty boiiii.

Hey, girl, you lookin’ at me? Oh… Oh. That’s awkward.

WHO IS THAT IS THAT RICKMAN?

Nope. No Rickmans here.

Obviously, we can’t agree on that. We’ll pick every bit of it apart. As Sliders fans, we know that this is “the episode with Shaman Quinn,” and we are already thinking of really funny things to say that’ll make fun of Jerry O’Connell’s wig SO WELL. But you know what? You tell me when Sliders has attempted something like Adra’s Dream Sequence before, and I’ll high five you when you tell me “it hasn’t.” Sure, this episode has an unfortunate foray into “let’s adapt Heart of Darkness for TV,” but here’s the thing— the way the show is going these days, with death and bleakness haunting every one of the characters, doing an ‘adaptation’ of “Heart of Darkness” is actually the most intelligent idea the show’s had in ages. Kurtz is actually a really good parallel to Quinn right now.

So in honor of studying Heart of Darkness in high school and tuning out when we discussed Rivets and Hippo Flesh for an entire hour, I’m going to bring out a style of post we haven’t seen in a very long time: IAN’S EPISODE NOTES SET TO SCREENCAPS (with added annotation).

Because there’s a floating head that comes out of a box of sand. I can’t just write about that, can I?

No sir.

Let’s do this.

LOL LET MAGGIE DIE THAT IS SO FUNNY.

WHOA THEY ARE BOTH SO SERIOUS ABOUT IT

“Would you miss her? Me neither.”

REMBRANDT OF COURSE THAT’S HOW IT IS.

Until Rembrandt stabs Wade in the back and is like JK I LOVE MAGGIE YOU’RE BEING RUDE.

WHY WOULD YOU SIDE WITH THAT STUPID PERSON EVER

OOPS I FORGOT I HATE YOU.

Still Queen of the Butthole Face.

I don’t want you on the team. Fuck the Draft.

BUSTICKET THROUGH THE INTERDIMENSION. wtf

‘You’re one of us”.  finally Quinn FIGHTS BACK. Yeah, eat it, Maggie. (But isn’t it weird how Maggie is trying really hard to make everyone on the team feel inferior to her, and Quinn’s defense is to say “actually it’s YOU who should feel inferior, because you’re actually One of US.” Um, burn, I guess?)

I hate you so much, Maggie.

Quinn’s got my back on this one.

A part of me is kind of glad they don’t get haircuts. It’s more realistic, no?

Sorry guys, but Adra is a total babe.

YES PLEASE READ MY PALM

Tight, the Tarot.

I’LL DO YOUR READ

“A blind seer is the most powerful of all.” THANX WADE.

HAHA  thanks for that shitty post-dubbing so we know what the fuck Rickman’s up to.

Sliders’ Sassiest Screencap.

DEATH IS WAITING ON YOU.

Okay, so it’s a quick callback, but can we talk about when Adra says “you ain’t what I expected. your face is different.”? Because at this point in the episode, we don’t know what’s going on. But it’s foreshadowing in a really smart way. It’s making a mystery. And c’mon— this is an exciting mystery! Why was Quinn in facepaint? I really want to know! And this is different than the normal Season Three kind of goofy mystery. “Dragonslide” was too mystical— the same reason “into the Mystic” was kindof a dud. This is a teensy bit more grounded. I mean, sure, Druidism is a real thing, but Tarot Readers are much more believable.

And now they just let Wade go. NICE TO SEE WHERE YOU STAND.

That boy’s in trouble. Can’t sleep for his fears.

THAT BOY IS NOT THE ONLY ONE IN TROUBLE!

HE BECKONS DEATH.

He is looking for Death. He’ll find it in the fog.

Quinn’s death will be by his own hand.

If “By his own hand” you mean “By his own hairpiece.”

Please let it not be the cave set.

Look, it doesn’t take much for the cave set to show up, that’s all I’m sayin’…

Phew.

LOL WHO IS THIS DOOD. (It’s Bunt, yo.)

Actually that dude is awesome.

I can’t believe Jerry O’Connell would let his hair get like that.

YEAH I SHOT RICKMAN, BIATCH. I kind of love this guy so much. He’s refreshingly matter of fact.

HA HA THAT FOG LINE— Look, I know that fog doesn’t really look like that. But I like the idea. And it does look cool! Cool in a totally acceptable way.

MOTHER SHOULD I BUILD THE WAAAALLLL

“He wasn’t really man enough for you, was he?” Rickman really knows how to TWIST THAT KNIFE.

Or whatever, but Rickman is kind of right? Steven wasn’t enough of a man for her. Also, I miss the 90s and this goofy warping effect they used all the time.

I’m only upset because I can’t make jokes about The Who now.

Once again, the character of Angus Rickman defies the very nature of television. This flaming comet of Camp rips apart the usual conventions and redefines himself as a younger, sassier, and more bombastic avatar of virility and cackling Englishness. Or, he pulls a “Darren” on “Bewitched” and becomes a new actor. By which I mean “Roger Daltrey was busy.”

To which I ask: didn’t you ask if he was going to be busy before you cast him? Didn’t you know this was going to be a ‘defining’ arc of the season? I mean, sure, stunt-casting is awesome (remember Corey Feldman? Phhht), but come on. It strikes of laziness of the highest degree. Cast Roger Daltrey (of all people) to boost ratings, then deal with it later.

And dealing with it means Neil Dickson. Which, at first glance, also strikes of laziness. Because if you thought Maggie had a tough time enunciating correctly, then wait til you get a load of this guy. But here’s where the laziness is… I don’t know, complicated? I certainly wouldn’t say ‘redeemed.’ But the fact is that there’s an actual Plot Reason behind the face change.

Confound that Brain Fluid! Apparently now if you inject yourself with other people’s brain fluid (also UGH I am starting to hate the words “Brain” and “Fluid”), not only does your face briefly change, but if you do it with willy nilly DNA, your face will change permanently. Um, cue a joke about your mother telling you not to make a funny face?

You know what, though? Rickman’s facial situation is a bizarre personification of the episode and season’s theme— the ways a journey can change you completely. Rickman’s plight is a strange mirror of the sliders’ in this way. They’ve both lost so much, have been forced on this strange trip. They are changing as people in ways completely foreign to who they once were. Imagine if the Sliders from the Pilot met the Sliders of this episode. They’d be as unrecognizable as Neil Dickson would be to Roger Daltrey.

Part of this is inevitable, and would have happened regardless of Sliding’s influence. But this episode has a strange and hugely pessimistic thesis. It’s the thesis the show’s been building towards ever since “As Time Goes By”— Sliding will destroy you.

THE OXYGEN COMBINES WITH THE SULFUR. HMM yeah I’m sure that line was originally Rembrandt’s.

Rembrandt: also stoked about getting his braces off.

In order to beat the …what?

I love Wade. I mean, doesn’t make total sense that she would latch so completely onto this world? It speaks of wonder and something else beyond reality. And Wade hates her reality right now. All she wants is answers. Or is it questions? Maybe she really just wants more wonder, less order.

T’aint a game, Wade. This episode has used the word “taint” more than a Fourth Grader.

Also is Adra a Giant? LOOK HOW BIG THAT HAND IS!

“I’m getting home or I’m going to die trying.” Woof.

Rembrandt is a sass-basket! What’s up with him!

HEY HOW ABOUT YOU SHOULD KEEP AN OPEN MIND AND DON’T BE SO JUDGEMENTAL.

The sassiest stance.

“Oh, you fools.”

YEAH CUT HIM DOWN. Bring up Faith to Rembrandt. ”Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean it’s not real. I would have thought that you, of all people, would get that.” YOU GO GIRL.

This is a really weird episode.

Also a really dark episode?

Yep. You lost him, Wade.

Witch’s Butter. AW C’MON REMMY. Dude, don’t be a huge-ass Dick.

Is there any gun she won’t steal? THAT DUDE HAS BETTER AIM THAT YOU, MAGGIE!

Yeah, run into the fog. SMART MOVE.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a show so convinced that “people being captured ad infinitum” was inherently interesting. BTW, IT ISN’T INTERESTING. AT ALL.

HA HA LOOK AT HIM GLIDE AWAY.

NOW IS THE TIME ON SLIDERS WHEN WE DAAAHNCE.

OH HA HA NOW IT’S QUINN’S FAULT? YOU DESERVE THAT BLOWDART, IDIOT.

BUNT LACROIX. This guy made the sparkling water. With his spit.

Without the Tea, can’t go in the Fog.

Fresh batch, needs time to mellow. LOL DRUGZ

Next Time on “Breaking Bunt”: a lowly man starts a Witch’s Butter empire.

AW HELL NO.

ALRIGHT SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK!

Rosenquinn and Gildenbeckett are Dead.

Tight cage.

Ha ha. Let maggie scream. WHO IS THAT PAINTED DUDE! (other painted dude)

Yeah, I’m sure just screaming “let me out of here” will work.

No, but seriously, do they just let any old Dood put on that Goofy-Ass wig?

TIGHT SKULL NECKLACE, BRO.

Um… what did you do? Oh, kill people? Whatever.

And y’all thought the kid in “The Good The Bad and The Wealthy” was bad…

“I wouldn’t get too cozy in all that righteousness.” that’s the only sane thing he’s said.

Who would be the perfect candidate to demonstrate the moral decay inherent to the multiverse than the first person we see having slid— the wise wizard of sliding. A man in charge of the multiverse.

We get Quinn Mallory.

The path to salvation lies in my Goofy-Ass Wig.

As in the Alt-Quinn we met in the Pilot. The one that made fun of Arturo. The one who kissed Wade and told Hurley to shove it. A ghost from the distant past, made into a horrid ghoul of the Now.

YOU A HAINT, GIRL.

You won’t get Quinn back.

TIGHT SACK, YO.

HEY GUYS LOOK IT’S REMMY’S SACK!

DDDDEEEEEAAAATHHHHH

Gee, I wonder if the next scene will be something totally and completely horrifying to behold…

OH ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS.

…yep.

FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT

Hey, look! It’s the moment when my attempt to appreciate Season Three on it’s own terms goes OUT THE GOD DAMN WINDOW.

FUCK THIS CAVE

AND FUCK THIS WONDER BRA

Look, you want to make like, a desktop pattern of this? Go ahead, I don’t care. Gross.

Whoa, Quinn, this is ruff.

OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Since when did the Equation for Sliding involve a drawing of a Fish’s Skeleton?

To die in the hands of a God. That’s what they want.

That’s what we all want.

THIS IS AWESOME.

(I am willfully ignoring Rembrandt’s “Story”)

This has to do with our salvation.

And his hair was… perfect.

“the unimaginably disgusting proof that I’m you without your friends.”

SEE GUYS I WAS RIGHT.

Whoa, Glow-in-the-Dark facepaint!? Tight, bro.

“You kill me.”

Hey guys, look, it’s the best run of dialogue all season:

Our—Quinn: “You’re insane!”

 

Alt-Quinn: “And you are weak. But I’m going to help you with that.”

“I want you to hate me. You have to kill me. IT WILL CHANGE YOU.”

YYYYYY?

“God only knows where it will lead us. What horrors.”

“I need you to stop me, I can’t stop myself.”

“It’s no biggie, dude! You can even borrow my HUGE ASS MACHETE.”

Guys, this episode is the best. Strength— again!— rears its head as a test for the team. Is Quinn “strong” enough to kill his double? Alt-Quinn seeks death as an escape from his guilt. If Our-Quinn gave in and slaughtered his double, he’d be committing to the path that would lead to his own death. Because Our-Quinn is already on the path to losing his friends. He’s already lost one. He can see the others slipping away. Even if they make it ‘home,’ Quinn will still find a way to forget all the good that’s come of Sliding and hang himself on his guilt.  It’s his way.

What no you aren’t.

Alt-Quinn presents us with a bizarre and nonsensical tale. He claims the Evil of the Kromaggs is on him— that he gave an ignorant race of ape-beasts his smiley-faced equation of Sliding, allowing the Dynasty to thrive. Yet that flies in the face of everything we’ve ever heard about the Kromaggs. How does Alt-Quinn’s tale allow for great cities in the trees? Fully functioning Manta Ships? A taste for eyes? Conquered Earths and Penal Worlds and a command over the Human Mind?

It doesn’t really. But Alt-Quinn relates to us that the Kromaggs turned right around and decimated his home world, slaughtering everyone he ever loved. All he sees is Death.

But let’s take a step back— this is a Quinn Mallory, one who isn’t too far removed from our own (which is probably the scariest thing about him). He has become a monster. A living avatar of pure guilt. He sees the deaths of his loved ones as his fault— of course he world, he’s a Mallory. It’s totally acceptable that he would invent an entirely self-centered yarn that makes the Kromaggs spin around him. Both of our Quinn’s guilt makes them selfish. We’re just seeing a Quinn who has nothing left.

But we’re past the point where this living ghoul of the multiverse would be seen as a cautionary tale. Our-Quinn can only see this as inevitability.

However, against all odds, he fights the future.

STOP HITTING YOURSELF

THRILLING CONCLUSION TIME (I actually looked at the clock and was like “Wait, there’s only a minute and a half left? Uhhhh…”)

UGH FUUUCK MAGGIE

The terrifying presence of “Rembrandt’s Sex Face.”

I don’t know, maybe you are a God, Quinn?

WHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

AH HA HA HA AH AHH AHAH

Adra’s HEEEEAAAADDDD.

Yeah I bet you all feel bad now.

I don’t know, I think I like her better with the white eye.

I know I do.  The fog, maaaan.

YEAH REMMY USE YOUR KEY ON HIS HEAD

SHAAAAME

SAVING ALL THE MONEY BY CUTTING OFF THE VORTEX ON THE BOTTOM

Kneel to the vortex.

The first time we’ve ever seen a realistic reaction to The Vortex.

THE FOG VORTEX.

Um… what?

Look, there’s a reason I chose to present this episode in this manner. The underlying themes of this episode are relentless in their bleakness. The discussion between the two Quinns contains the darkest dialogue in the entire run of the show. It’s nuts. Jerry O’Connell always goes whole hog when he portrays a double, and this is no exception. And yes, the episode isn’t perfect. It’s very tenuously connected to the whole “alternate history” thing this show is supposedly about. But it’s the perfect episode to air at this point in the season’s run. We’ve spent plenty of time breaking down Wade (and sure, we spent plenty of time still doing so here). But Quinn is the leader now, and last week he barely spoke— we didn’t quite know his feelings.

We still don’t, exactly. But Alt-Quinn, while portrayed as insane and evil, is crucially driven by the same motivations that drive Our-Quinn. It doesn’t take much to change a Man completely. Just look at Rickman. Just look at yourself.

Next week: I have been in you (The Breeder).

Let’s have a toast to all the extraneous people who have journeyed through the Vortex with the Sliders.

There’s Ryan and Henry, of course. Sid and Michelle, then Michelle again, by herself. There’s Diana and David from “Love Gods.” And there’s the countless people that Quinn has ever so casually begged to come with them. “Yeah, sure, join us. It’ll be a blast,” he’d say, lying through his teeth. There will be countless more, and certainly countless unseen already.

Then let’s pour out our drinks, bitter with the knowledge that we’ll never see or hear about any of these people ever again.

I bring this up because, against all odds, we’re entering entirely new territory.

The buildings were also infected by a virus that left them craving I-Beams SO HARD.

“Sole Survivors” has a secret that it would like to tell you. That secret is the fact that it’s actually one of the best and most radical episodes in the show’s run. It tells a story that we’ve truly never seen before on the show— one that we should have seen countless times already.

This episode shows us sliding from an outsider’s perspective. This episode is the view from the other side, the look at our characters from outside their own tight bubble. We take their relationship for granted (except when it is destroyed, utterly), and so too do we take the way they handle their lives. Because their lives are unique, and that’s a fact that’s totally ignored. They don’t just wake up, go to work, eat lunch, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, go to bed. They live on the run. In a way, they’re on the lam from reality. So now we have someone new to the team that we’ve met before, who is an active participant in the Sliding life.

EXTREME BUTTHOLE FACE ACTIVATE

But’s the episode holds even more than that. There’s multiple angles to the episode, all hidden under the guise of an “Action-Packed Romp” with the easiest, most audience-baiting logline we’ve had since Dinosaurs ruled San Fran: the Sliders travel to a world ravaged by Zombies.

DAY GLO PIGGY BACK PARTY

We’ll start there, because it’s the loudest and most glaring part of the episode. First off, these aren’t “zombies,” not really. They aren’t dark voodoo-summoned plague bearers wearing our loved one’s rotting flesh over an empty, hungry husk. This is the episode’s first secret success, because the episode goes entirely out of its way to explain the cause of the “Zombie Apocalypse.” And it’s not just the same ol’ “some doctor fucked up and released a virus into the air. Oh, sure a doctor still fucked up and released a virus in the air. But it’s the way he fucked up and the reason the virus was released into the air that matters.

Please say someone in the Art Department got a raise for this.

See here on this world, caffeine and other natural additives are illegal. So this company Geni-Trax was like ‘hey y’all want to lose some weight, munch on this tight-ass Lipron shit we servin’.” So erryone like “oh tight I wanna munch on dat shit” and then they all like “dayum I got some killer muncheez, yo.”

So deep are their killer muncheez that they start craving fat. They get all weird and their eyes get all RAVE STYLE ’97 and their skin gets gross because they’ve been eating nothing but Cheetos and LARD. Then, since the Lipron has chewed up all the fat in their bodies, they start to eat the fat that’s available to them. By which I mean HUMAN FLESH.

So, zombies. Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.

OOGIE BOOGIE

The main plot is the obvious one— Quinn gets bitten, starts Zombiing, it’s a race against time to cure him before they lose him forever. That’s fine, we could have seen that one coming. But it’s the placement of this adventure that gives it heft. Because losing Quinn isn’t just a ‘sure fine whatever’ situation anymore. Not after Arturo. Losing one friend, one guide, one anchor is bad enough. To lose another, and not just any other— but the man you’ve decide to lead you ‘home’— that would be too much.

And yet it’s already become too much for Wade. Last time I spent a lot of time talking about her vacant stares of ‘it’s over.’ But because the rest of the season is an exercise in sadism, she isn’t allowed that vacancy. Because what could possibly be more cruelly fitting than throwing someone who’s trying not to see the world through death-tinted glasses onto a world where everyone is a member of the walking dead?

Re-watching these scenes for screencaps is physically difficult.

I’ve made no bones about my love of Wade. Sure, she’s always having a contest with Rembrandt to be the least-defined character. But she still manages to steal the show with her sheer pluck and joy in everything. The show’s tried to break her down bit by bit, but for so long she’s still kept that elfin smile. She refuses to stop being a Happy Wanderer. Last week was the end. Now it’s hell. True Hell. Because not only is one of her best and only friends dead, she’s being mocked for her grief.

I can’t even begin to relate the shock/awe/anger that’s aroused when watching basically the first mid-slide interaction between Wade and Maggie. She’s talking about how much of a sniveling weakling Wade is right in front of her. It’s not like her and Quinn whisper, or walk a few steps away. No— they both talk about her ‘weakness’ when she’s obviously within earshot. Maggie’s grieving, too, lest we forget her dead cripple husband (she certainly tries to). But instead of choosing to bond with Wade over a mutual loss, she goes on a preposterous offensive, admonishing Wade for mourning some ‘old guy she wasn’t even related to.’

I dont think I do it justice in writing, but Sabrina Lloyd really kills it this episode. BB I LUV U

Would anyone—really, anyone—ever, ever say this to someone? Especially to someone who has, in fact, just watched her friend die at her feet? The realistic answer is every so sadly “yes, there are really people like that in the world.” But let’s back up, take ourselves out of the Show. We’re introducing a new character. Someone who’s important enough to get their name in the credits. It’s clear we’re supposed to like Maggie— at least the 18-34 demographic is, if you’re measuring it in the amount of hideous Wurher cleavage we’re “treated” to.  And I know you’re trying to reconfigure the show to have more sex appeal now that there isn’t an old fat man getting in the way. But you can’t expect anyone, tits or no, to give a shit about someone who takes every opportunity to insult a character we truly care about and love just because she’s grieving. 

REMBRANDT COME ON BE NICER TO HER JESUS

Wade bemoans to Rembrandt that she’s worried that she’s losing him and Quinn to Maggie. While at first glace that seems like a case of the ‘maybe too soons’ (and do you enjoy how I’m going to slyly skewer the long-held fan notions about these episodes?), it’s not so much out of nowhere. If we’re to assume that Quinn and Maggie are still sharing a tenth of the awkward sexual ‘tension’ that they had in “The Exodus, pt. II,” then I’m sure it’s really painful to watch. As for Rembrandt, he should take every opportunity to put Maggie in her place. Sure, he gets off a line about how there’s more to sliding than a ‘military mindset,’ but more less, Rembrandt just stands around and lets Wade freak the fuck out.

ALL OF THE TEARS

And I really mean it when I say she freaks the fuck out. Like, it’s uncomfortable. The camera just hangs on Wade as she snaps, convulsing in her revulsion to what her life has become. It’s awful! It’s so far from what we’ve seen from her on the show. And unlike Season Two, where all of her ‘emotions’ and ‘feelings’ towards the group came off as out-of-place and shrewy, here it’s earned and understandable.

But then all this emotion and harrowing grief is coming in the middle of an episode that we supposedly tuned into to see Zombies and fake breasts in a tanktop. But most of the episode’s runtime is devoted to anything but Maggie. Even the Zombies never really turn up that often (which is a good thing, given the budget for that sort of thing/the fact that the Zombies look ridiculous). This episode’s reputation overshadows the show within.

There’s a huge theme underlying this episode, so much so that it’s barely even ‘underlying’— strength and weakness. The ways we define the relationship between the two, and how they figure into our lives. What is strength? What makes someone strong? By what criteria do you judge strength? Is it even important to hold yourself to that criteria? How are the people we meet in the episode defined by their strength? is the defining aspect of the world they visit the fact that these people lacked the intellectual strength to realize their own doom was imminent? What does it mean that the titular sole survivors, Debra the Immune, and Doctor Mole-Face, prove themselves to be very weak of mind and countenance? Is treating the multiverse as a black and white dichotomy between ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ the best way to view the world?

It isn’t, for the sliders. But the obsession with ‘strength’ is our gateway into getting to know our new slider.

I do a really good impression of a butthole and it looks JUST LIKE THAT.

Like I said, or if I didn’t, let me again say that this episode does a terrific job of cratering any sort of ability we have as an audience to like Maggie at all. Even if you hated Wade, she’s still doing a terrible job of oh, so many things. Like, enunciating her sentences correctly. Of reminding us that they actually have, like, a mission now. They’re supposed to find this dude Rickman, right? IS ROGER DALTREY A ZOMBIE? I don’t know. I don’t care. I guess Maggie doesn’t care either? But whatever.

Still— we’re seeing something truly new here. Which is why, in spite of Maggie being the Worst Person Ever, this episode is one of the best and most radical. Because this is her first time on an extended slide with the group. The actions we take for granted, she wants to know why they happen. She’s the outsider, around to finally ask “what’s with the almanac thing?”

But here’s the crucial difference, and one of the reasons why Maggie doesn’t work well with the sliders. For her, Sliding’s always been a job, a profession, a mission. Her first slide was a military scouting mission under extreme duress. Her sliding is still a mission, under no less extreme duress, though that duress is all off-screen. Everything in Maggie’s life now is a threat to her. She has to be strong, or at least to try to convince herself and everyone in the known universe that she is.

“No, it had nothing to do with our sexual frustration, why do you ask?”

But she isn’t strong, is she? She tells Quinn that she hated her husband for being such a weakling in the face of his paralysis. She was disgusted by his ‘weakness.’ But surely his despair was because he knew exactly what Maggie was thinking— that he could no longer be a “strong” person to her. He would never again be her equal, if he ever could before. But her failing to understand that— to understand her husband, in his moment of crisis— is a total act of weakness. As a human being.

And that’s the difference between the way the sliders and Maggie treat the “strength/weakness” dichotomy. Strength and Weakness to the team isn’t defined by “toughness” and other jock-friendly terms. Their lives are based on the bond between them. Their friendship is their strength— not their prowess with weaponry.

All of this brings up a crucial necessity to the sliding life that we haven’t had to think about before. The need for the sliders to be so close to each other, to be each others’ strength, that is the quintessential need of Interdimensional Travel. They’re lost to the multiverse, they have no home outside of each other. You can’t rely on only yourself and expect to survive. If Maggie has any chance of ingratiating herself into this group, this is the lesson she’s going to have to learn.

That, and to put some clothes on, please.

HOW IS THIS MILITARY ATTIRE?

But her ‘strength’ has its uses. Quinn, to the freak-out of Wade and the “Darn It” attitude of Rembrandt, takes Maggie with him when he goes to try to cure himself of Zombiism. Maggie thinks he takes her because of a mix of her “military mindset” and maybe the chance that she’ll get to like, kiss him goodbye or something. But Quinn spells it out when his tongue isn’t as swollen, and tells her (and us) that he took her with him because he knows that Wade or Rembrandt wouldn’t have the heart to shoot him in the fucking face if he goes full Zombie.

Which is some rough stuff! But it’s also super astute of Quinn to (correctly) judge that. It’s the first mark of a ‘leader’ that we’ve ever seen in him. Maggie’s even a little taken aback by it. The revelation adds another layer of depth to an episode that has no right to be deeper than a Puddle in Arizona on a Mid-Summer’s Day.

Extremely graphic shot of an EATEN DUDE up in here and erryone is SO CHILL about it.

So what’s ostensibly the big “Zombie” episode reveals itself to be a strangely emotional journey through a bottomed-out heart. It’s pretty satisfying in that regard. Which isn’t to say that the Zombie Menace isn’t slouching. It’s surprisingly effective (and sure, occasionally jump-worthy), especially coming from a show where the last foray into “horror” was something of a disaster.

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING CAAAAVE

Sure, it’s imperfect. The cave set shows up for absolutely no reason (is there ever a reason at this point?). The actual ‘humans’ in this alt-world are so ridiculously stupid I am surprised they weren’t just straight up eaten in two seconds. Sliders is apparently now contractually obligated to pad out every single episode with at least one extra ‘capture/rescue’ sequence.

Maybe the only televised instance of “blink and you’ll miss it” crucifixion?

Also, I think we can safely say that the bookend world we are all dying to hear about is the one that tied Quinn to a cross. While wearing a leather jacket, no less! I can’t believe we’re denied that image!

Oh well, I guess we’ll have to be satisfied by mentally photoshopping Quinn’s face onto this:

Next week: A bad case of the Haints, and the true beginning of bad Sliding puns (The Other Slide of Darkness).

While Colin and Geiger may be “unstuck” – a term this episode defines as someone unanchored from the multiverse – I contend the Sliders fan base is equally detached and fractured. We are, after all, watching the fifth season of a show that has seen massive cast turnover, endless production nightmares, and scores of unresolved plotlines. Is it even the same series we fell in love with at this point? Many fans say no, and I completely understand that opinion. Sometimes I feel the same way.

But I keep coming back in spite of Sliders’ bizarre runaway train trajectory. I enjoyed the first few seasons for what they were – alternate histories, black humor, and John Rhys-Davies chewing the scenery. I learned to relish the sun-drenched, poorly choreographed pastiche of season three. And season four had some of the most consistent and compelling science fiction storytelling in the series’ run before being bogged down by Nazi allegories and Humaggs.

One show, three distinct realities. When Geiger describes himself – adrift between worlds, never able to cling to anything for long – I wonder: is he a villain or the writing staff’s commentary on the show’s evolution?

Given this context, can Sliders limp into the next phase? Does “The Unstuck Man” hold up? Will it keep you hooked for the further adventures of Rembrandt Brown, Maggie Beckett, and the new guys?

I’ll say this: there are flashes of brilliance, a kick-ass concept, and some great guest stars. It’s also got plenty of continuity errors, lame music, odd directing choices, and bad acting.

In other words, it’s classic Sliders.

“The Unstuck Man” feels like an episode no one wanted to write (ironic given every staff member is credited in some fashion). Would you want the unenviable position of writing Quinn and Colin Mallory out off-screen with a Sci-Fi Channel budget, though? Fortunately, the story has good bones and makes the best of a bad situation with some creative science fiction.

Oberon Geiger, the abovementioned villain, is a physics genius whose experiments left him unstuck in space-time. Sure, he’s the head researcher of a powerful and well-funded think tank known as The Combine, but those accomplishments are negated by a life confined to a magnetic containment field. It’s 80 square feet of pure claustrophobia, and you hear the exhaustion in Geiger’s voice when he talks about the simple freedom of taking a walk outside. Getting Jurasik for the role was a coup; he sells the mad scientist role with understated conviction.

The solution, to quote Keith Damron in his Year Five Journal, is “bringing the mountain to Mohammed.” Instead of trying to “stick” his body to one stable dimension, Geiger plans instead to merge all realities into one hybrid existence. (I don’t know how this conceit is any easier, but at least the problem is based around sliding and parallel universes and not Kromaggs mindlessly killing/raping humanity.)

Helping Geiger are Doctor Diana Davis (Tembi Locke), protégé and assistant director of the facility, and a lab assistant cured of muscular dystrophy through careful application of Combine technology. A lab assistant named Quinn Mallory.

This Quinn, played by Robert Floyd, is a fraternal double of the Quinn we know. Our Sliders intersect with him when a routine slide (routine in that it involves a daring escape through a backlot shoot-out) injects lab assistant Quinn into their incoming wormhole. The resultant energy discharge unsticks Colin and merges Quinn with this interloper, giving Rembrandt and Maggie scant hours to set things right before it’s off to the next world.

(Since Jerry and Charlie are confirmed as not returning for the season, I’ll let you guess how successful they are.)

Now, I like this idea. I think it would have been a fun two-parter starring with the original cast. Merging Quinn with a double creates a unique identity crisis, and the technology behind the Combine serves as the backdrop to an interesting world. A dystopic “Double Cross,” if you will. As it is, I’m encouraged by Floyd’s take on classic Quinn, and hope the multiple personality angle continues as the season progresses.

I also like Geiger. He’s charismatic, manipulative, and nuanced. He healed his Quinn of an incurable disease as a loyalty-building exercise. He educated Diana so well she has no idea she’s working to destroy her own world. Hell, he talks Rembrandt and Maggie into a stasis field hours after he’s essentially murdered their friends. Geiger is so practiced, so sure of himself, you want to see him succeed.

Aside from these things and some good dialog at the end, I can’t recommend much else about this episode. Sure, the stage is set for the coming season, but the execution is so clumsy and awkward the end result is almost unwatchable.

What went wrong, then? For starters, this episode looks cheap. Is it a season premiere or a mid-season budget-saver? Music cues are recycled from the fourth season. Action is relegated to previously established locations and the Combine lab, which looks and feels like a redress of the hospital from “Asylum.” Couldn’t a PA find an exciting establishing shot for the lab? And did Guy Magar invest in Vasoline before going behind the lens? The number of soft-focus extreme close-up shots is staggering. And the zooms!

The lack of visuals dovetails nicely into the lack of action. For an episode where so much needs to happen, nothing happens. The Sliders visit the Chandler bar. They sit in the Combine’s food court. They talk to Diana. Diana talks to Geiger. They talk to Geiger. Geiger talks to Quinn. It’s a relentless attack of dialog, and the only solution for the writers is intercutting scenes. But this leads to continuity errors between Geiger and Quinn and makes Diana alternate between smug and ignorant. By the time you make it to the action-packed denouement where Diana and Quinn slowly turn a laser 90 degrees, you’re wondering how 44 minutes feels so damn long.

There’s also a lot of dumb. How did Geiger know about the Sliders? Moreover, how’d he know there’d be a Quinn Mallory in the mix? How’d he suss out vanilla Quinn was a genius? How’d Hal the Bartender know about the Combine? Why are all the looters and terrified citizens of Combine World carrying suitcases? Why is the female news anchor a befuddled mute, and why are the barflies drinking every time she can’t spit a word out? Why, if the Combine hasn’t been turned up to the macro level, is the world experiencing devastating weather disturbances?

Why did it go from night to day? And why, for the love of God, did Rembrandt and Maggie hang a lampshade on it by bringing it up?!

If you’ve noticed a distinct lack of Maggie and Rembrandt in this review, it’s because they drift in and out of this plot as everything happens around them. In a sense, they’re as unstuck from this adventure as Geiger and Colin are. Maybe they’ll get merged down into a version of Sliders that’s consistently enjoyable? It can’t happen soon enough.

They were so close.

There we were, at the bottom of the pit.

And lo, we were handed a shovel.

Last week’s episode, “The Exodus, Part One,” was just another episode of Sliders. It is, perhaps obviously, this week’s episode that changes everything. What I’m trying to convey is the fact that it’s hard to separate myself from this entry. It’s hard for all of us, as Sliders fans, to separate ourselves from these two episodes. They remain with us. But god damn it, I’m going to try to withhold feelings— those feelings that are so deeply rooted. If you’re a true fan of Sliders, this is the episode that you never forget seeing, and it’s never a pleasant memory. But some of you haven’t ever seen these two episodes before. Good. I’m glad to be here for you.

Let’s get to it.

But it’s hard, isn’t it? Sliders has never done a two-part episode before. It’s never been allowed this much time to spin out a story. Many shows, especially in the 90s when serialization wasn’t yet the norm for television, had difficulty spreading a story well over two episodes. But the remarkable thing here is that “The Exodus, pt. II” is somehow less boring than most of the stand-alone episodes in Season Three. It isn’t really until the last ten minutes that it loses it’s momentum. It’s a pleasant surprise.

All of which is not to say in the least that this episode is perfect. It’s still a pretty huge mess.

SEE ME!

All of this is centered on Colonel Rickman. This character is a flaming pinball of chaos, destroying everything he comes in contact. And I don’t mean just within the confines of the story. This meteor burns outside the box, singeing the edges of all we know and love. His presences demands our attention, leaving us to stare at his horrifying unblinking face. He asks us to ignore such idiotic turns of events as his big reveal as to why he can’t keep his face on straight.

FEEL ME!

So we have last week’s reveal given cause. Rickman, in the Gulf War, was infected by some radical disease that melts your brain tissue, causing you to require injections of suitable brain tissue to stay alive.

About which: sure, fine, whatever.

About which I cry: the fact that he would keep the evidence that operates as an infodump he would never give himself in a location that is entirely easy to locate and rummage through is infuriating.

TOUCH ME!

About which I barf: the fact that we’re asked to believe that this virus is plausible in any way, shape, or form. Not really the virus itself, I suppose. But the ‘cure’ is ridiculous. It would almost be more satisfying if he just killed people because he felt like it. Or, I don’t know, if he was in love with Maggie. Like, seriously.

I would buy this character if the reason he was killing people is because they found out he had a huge crush on Maggie.

…heal me?

But that’s not the case. Instead we have this atomic bomb-drop of a character who demands all attention. He writes a list of ‘things that crazy military commanders do’ and forces us to watch him check off the list, one by one.

He separates Mother & Son!

Yep, the epitome of thrilling drama, right here.

He murders innocent civilians!

NAPTIME!

He makes Maggie cry!

Okay, so he’s not all bad.

He’s religious!

HEY PETER I CAN SEE MY HOUSE FROM HERE

This points the way to one of the more tolerably batshit crazy elements of the episode. The director, Jefery Levy, is apparently a huge fan of the first 10 minutes of The Hunger (R.I.P. Tony Scott), and decided to go full on Gothic. I mean, LOOK AT THIS:

I mean, I really want to stress how ridiculous(ly awesome) the XTREME ZOOM into Rickman shooting up in a church is. SO XTREME.

Angry mobs of civilians shut off the base’s power, but it really seems like an excuse just to light the entire place with blue lights and occasional strobing.

Sliders’ “blue period.”

Look, I have to admit something to you. This is maybe the hardest post I’ve had to do. There’s a lot of reasons for this. The first is similar to why I chose to do a differing-from-the-norm post for “Paradise Lost”— there’s already been so much said about this episode. What more can I add? Yes, we know it’s bad. Yes, the pulsars and Rickman and the lack of blood on everyone and Malcolm in general and just about everything is preposterous. This episode is really hard to discuss because it changes everything about the show, but it just isn’t very good.

But I did notice something this time through I don’t think I picked up on this time through. I’ll get there. First, the first of two moments we’ve been waiting for.

BOOYAH, MALLORY!

So in the first act, we follow up with Quinn’s visit to Home with the most contentious of scenes in Sliders history. The rest of the team runs up to Quinn, more excited than we’ve seen them since the beginning of “Eggheads.” They can go home. They ask the obvious: when are we leaving?

So here, the choice is presented before them, and Quinn decides it’s ‘not the time for it.’ Not the time for the journey to end. He denies the fairyland himself. But how dare he? Rembrandt hits it on the head when he declares Quinn to be ‘playing God,’ and punches him right in the face. Many people deride this scene and declare Rembrandt’s actions out of character.

To be frank, I find that to be bullshit. I understand it. We’re protective of these people, and we don’t want/like to see them suffer. So we put up shields, deflect their suffering  with our knowledge outside their world. but the fact of the matter is that Rembrandt has every reason in the world to punch Quinn right in the face. Wade has every reason to call him a bastard. He is a bastard. Arturo breaks up the fight, more or less, but Quinn just checked out. In a fit of petulance, he declares that he doesn’t care about the others. So here we are: Quinn has a way out of his guilt. It just depends on Arturo being there to dispense his sagely advice.

But the multiverse has a new goal: to punish Quinn for his shirking.

We’ve been building towards this. A break in the group on two fronts, heralded by something terrible happening—the most terrible of happenings. But we’ve still a third of the season left. The story isn’t over. It is truly a feat of sadism to continue the journey.

They were so close. If Quinn wants to hang himself for guilt, he should do so now. What the hell was the “deal” he made? He honestly believes he has a duty to help these people? Rickman forced him to help them by gunpoint, basically. He knows this system is corrupt. So what is it he wants? Maggie? Is it just that someone entirely out of his league is showing him attention?

Quinn has become a warring mixture between someone trying to be the ‘big man’ and a kid who never really got to grow up normal. He was too busy being smart, too busy grieving his father, too busy smacking a kid in the knee with a baseball bat. All this behavior is a window to the team’s understanding of sliding. Arturo saw it as the infinite possibilities of Science. Rembrandt sees it as the permutations of God’s hand.

Quinn, more and more since “As Time Goes By,” sees sliding through a selfish looking glass. But time and time again the multiverse has proved itself immutable to his whims. Not only that, it has actively punished him again and again for trying to force himself upon it. But again—they came so close. Despite the fact that we know this “Earth Prime” to be false, we can at least allow them their fairyland. After all, home coordinates are meaningless to them— home is where they choose it to be.

MY LOVE IS VENGEANCE THAT’S NEVER FREE

But you could argue that the four of them is all the Home they have. And, in the most frustratingly ridiculous scene ever to be committed to tape, Home is stripped away from them. Time slows down to make sure we can relish every hated moment.

Tommy, can you hear me?

Can you feel me near you?

Tommy, can you see me?

Can I help to cheer you?

Whoa-oh-oh, Tommy…

…Tommy…

…Tommy…

…Tommy…

…Tommy.

Tommy, can you hear me?

Can you feel me near you?

Tommy, can you see me?

Can I help to cheer you?

Whoa-oh-oh…

…Tommy…

…Tommy?

Tommy?

We aren’t given even five more words. We get a charge, a mission, a passing of the torch: “Get them home.” Then we get a final term of endearment, an epitaph: “sliders.”

Then we are left with nothing.

We don’t even get to see him die.

I’m leaving out nothing of the actual death. But since this is a death mediated by abject hate and childish cronies playing God with contracts, we aren’t content to have our beloved Professor just lay down in a bloodless, wordless heap. First we have Rickman half-brain-suck him (because that’s apparently something you can do now why not), and have him go half brain dead, murmuring “help me” like he’s the Elephant Man.

Never go Full-Tard.

Obviously it is humiliating for John Rhys-Davies to have to stumble around and stammer out his dialogue while the rest of the cast pretends that it’s SUPER HARD to understand that he’s saying “needle.” He’s an actor blessed with the most Brian Blessed of Voices, it’s a real joy to hear him speak. Here he is denied that speech. It’s ridiculous.

Despite how preposterous this scene is, this shot is BEAUTIFUL.

But it’s also the most humiliating end for The Professor, as well. And that’s the thing. The episode makes such a joke out of this Death that I forget that what my job on this blog for this episode is to eulogize Maximilian P. Arturo, Professor of Cosmology and Ontology.

But I don’t want to do that! After watching “The Exodus, pt. II,” there’s nothing heartwarming to remember Arturo by. Season Three, post-”The Guardian,” has been an exercise in diminishing the character. We’ve been giving him less to say, less to do. Sure, we gave him a disease, but we’ve only heard about it again twice (sort of). He’s had good bits here and there, most notably in “Season’s Greedings” and “Murder Most Foul.” But he’s receded into the background, assuming his role as gentle wizard-caretaker with a silent dignity.

And sure, we can remember “Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome” and say “hey, there’s a chance we’ll see him again.” But at this point, we know better. This is it.

Sliding is often chaos. It is important for the team, and for us as viewers, to have an anchor through the chaos. Arturo was always the voice of reason here. So to remove that dynamic is devastating to the workings of the show—in-universe and out.

Look, we’ll miss him. The show will never be the same again.

The Shroud of Arturo.

But you can see, in a moment that probably is informed by real life way more than usual, that it’s never going to be the same for these characters either. I mean, obviously that’s true. I’ve said a billion times that this show is little more than a tale of friendship. Now that friendship is broken, bruised, tattered, and destroyed. But there’s a moment where you can tell that for one of these people, the journey is truly over.

Without condition.

Oh sure, she musters up a little bit more of her usual energy, but it fades away by the end. It’s brief and due to adrenaline. But it’s over. Maggie joins the team, and she knows—without a doubt, without condition—that she’ll always be 2nd fiddle. Not only because Maggie’s a military commander, who ostensibly will always try to ‘lead the mission’ to ‘kill Rickman.’ But because she’s seen the way Quinn acts around women. And because she knows that Rembrandt won’t take sides. Arturo is dead. That sagely wisdom is gone from the group. Wade feels this keenly— she’s changed over the journey, but she hasn’t quite grown up yet— she’s been holding that off to keep the adventure fresh, to remain a happy wanderer, to keep from losing herself completely.

More and more over this season, she’s been cracking more, becoming more grim than usual. She’s started to see the ugliness of the multiverse, to treat the journey with pessimism. But here, now, her fears are made flesh, and that flesh is a misting, bloodless corpse, deaf to her sobs.

Now all I see is death.

Look at her face. She’s beyond caring. She just wanly eulogized her friend, now she has to tolerate this—well, this blistering idiot— every day of her life. Sure, she can hold on to the hope that they’ll find Rickman and they’ll get his Timer and they’ll go home and Maggie will fuck off. But look at her face. They were so close. Now, when they get “home,” whatever that is, it won’t even be worth it. If they had a mission, they’ve lost it.  They’ve failed.

But there’s still rags to hold together. They’re a trio with baggage now, but that trio at least has something to do. They’re no longer wanderers, in a sense. As they heap themselves at Arturo’s corpse, Quinn bemoans that Arturo shouldn’t have ‘jumped’ in front of the bullet. Wade, hope in her eyes trying not to give way to horror, says that Arturo did it so Quinn could lead them home.

Which is exactly the last thing that Quinn ever wanted to hear.

Dude just because Arturo’s gone doesn’t mean you have to get chunky in his place.

What are we left with? Wade’s checked out. Rembrandt inhabits the same null-space he always has. Quinn is now so wracked with guilt that it looks fit to consume him— but he can’t let it, because now he’s more than just the de facto leader. He has two (fine, three) lives directly on his shoulders. He can’t let them down. The pressure is too much.

Yikes, Quinn. Yikes.

There, I did it. I can say without condition that this was the most frustrating post I’ve ever had to write. It’s probably the most important episode of the series thus far, but it’s not really good enough to warrant extra attention, and I don’t want to spend thousands of words pointing out each and every lame thing that happens, because there are so many.

But I will say this: “The Exodus, pt. II” is pretty remarkable for TV in 1997. Especially on Science Fiction shows on Primetime. Not because it’s good television, but because it serializes itself in a way that wasn’t really allowed that often then. Could you imagine The X-Files, at the height of its popularity, killing off Mulder? That’s basically what this is. Even larger bit roles there like Walter Skinner don’t die ever, and it’s rare to think that they actually could.

And to think that all of this is because John Rhys-Davies was fired. For being too vocal about wanting the show to be better. It makes you wonder where we can go from here.

Professor Maximilian Arturo. Once a wanderer, an adventurer, a Man of Science. A man devoted to the Cosmos.

did you know we’re all made of stardust?

His death lacked dignity, but his passage to the next life was one of wonder.

you, me, your Father, all of us

Separated at the atomic level, to rejoin the galaxy, to rejoin his ancestors in the sky.

our atoms were formed in the stars

If you dedicate your life to the workings of the universe, there must always be a bit of frustration, a feeling that you can’t ever know everything you’d like.

but not the stars you can see now, the older ones

So to join with that which you hold so dear— there could be no greater reward.

The ones that went Nova.

His friends will mourn him, as he will mourn them, eventually. But his journey has only truly begun.

We will make new stars.

He is truly the Greatest Adventurer of All Time.

Next week: I think I’m going to take a break, these two episodes were entirely exhausting. But the week after that: NOM NOM NOM (Sole Survivors).

It begins with the Cosmos.

Of course it does. What other beginning would be so apt? We all began in Space—

did you know we’re all made of stardust?

—some astral collisions ad infinitum joining and rejoining from cosmic dust—

you, me, your Father, all of us

—to astral fragment to stellar globes—

our atoms were formed in the stars

—to us as an Earth, as a Species, as a people—

but not the stars you can see now, the older ones

—as people. Human beings with sentience, with thought, with emotion.—

The ones that went Nova.

We all want our endings to be as grandiose as our beginnings. It’s the most appealing part of our own Creation Myth. Of course, “The Big Bang” is based on facts, on Science, on data, hypothesis, conclusion.

But at the end of the day it’s just another story, a way to base our lives in something wonderful, something beautiful, something truly awesome.

We look to the stars, those remnants of ancient suns, and see ourselves, we see our families, our ancestry, our beginnings.

It is a comfort.

Interstellar Indigestion.

Or, it is our ending.

Sliders is a show that keeps up a façade of optimism. Time and time again it shows immense pessimism in the name of the Human Condition. Nearly every double they’ve met has betrayed them. Humanity as a whole lets them down. Societies and governments need to be overthrown, often unsuccessfully.

Now, here, even Science betrays them. A physically impossible globular cluster is coming to destroy the Earth. Our past lives return to destroy us. The beginning joins with the end. It falls apart as you watch.

We will make new stars.

But here we are, watching a war play out on so many levels. Remember “Dead Man Sliding?” There the show put itself on trial, convicting the show it once was for the crimes of the show it had become. Here it becomes more brutal. It’s no longer a trial, but a rebellion. A civil war. The show has become Janus with his hands at his throat.

This is more than just an episode. We’re greeted with a “part one” in the title. That’s all well and good, but the fact remains: this is the first two-parter since the Pilot, which sort of doesn’t count. This is a big deal. We’ve been working towards this, haven’t we? All the evidence is in place. The stakes have only once been this high. The battle lines are drawn. This is the showdown within Sliders— and, as we’ll see, the showdown with the sliders themselves.

This is what we’ve been waiting for— what we’ve been building towards.

This is it.

It’s the little things that matter— just look at the way the “V” blends with the dot of the “I.” That is Art Department GOLD, y’all.

We have a world in danger— a danger outside the government. A danger, though inaccurately depicted, is at least based in a familiar reality to our own. Then there’s the politics. A magazine showing us, not telling us, pretty much all we need to know about this alternate history without resorting to a huge and ungainly infodump. It’s better than an almanac, but it’s still reminiscent.

This woman’s face apparently can be dialed to ’11,’ if the scale is in MILDLY CONCERNED.

So we are rewarded for paying attention for the first time since Season One. This woman seems to be, if not a Scientist, then at least familiar with Science and in charge of Science Station and calls a Real Scientist on the phone. So the military is in charge of a lot more here, ostensibly. Russia’s at our throats. The Cold War got Hot.

Bam. Sliders is back.

“Hey, I borrowed your fountain pen, I just wanted to give it back…”

But then the other Cold War we’ve been watching comes to the front. This Military Scientist is attack from behind by a mystery man with a needle, draining a fluid from her spine. He then injects himself in the neck with the needle, and takes on her face.

OH NEVER MIND SHE DIALIN’ IT TO “12″

So there’s that. You cannot more accurately portray the differences between the Beginnings of Sliders and Now. But let’s take this at face value: what are we really seeing? As far as we know, we see two injections, a slightly rippled face, and a twin. All we have right now is a mystery. Sure, a slightly silly mystery, maybe. But we have no explanation for this. So let’s leave it for later.

I think I have and have worn often, Wade’s outfit.

Then, after the teaser, the gang slides onto a couch. The ‘couch gag’ here almost seems out of place in what passes for humor in this season. Which actually brings up a good point I haven’t thought of: how humorless the show’s become. I mean, sure, it’s hilarious— Dragonslide was a total laugh riot. But I’m not sold on how much the writers actually meant for the show to be funny. The last time there was an earnestly comical episode was “Dead Man Sliding.” And, despite what I previously wrote about Season One’s comedy episodes, was a real tour-de-force.

But the thing here is that the Couch Landing works within the episode. It’s just a part of the action, rather than jarring up against the tone. The crazy hobo dude is a little more problematic, but he’s in and out of the episode in like, two seconds. Sucks for his apartment, though:

HEY THIS IS SO MUCH FUN TO WATCH

So a bleeding Doctor Jarabek sputters out some Science Nonsense about Trajectories and dies. More mystery! More questions! But here’s the thing: this is really exciting! We’re getting a genre-mashup that I don’t think we’ve seen on Sliders before! It looks like we’re about to get a spy movie episode! We’re getting a James Bond movie! We’re getting a show with Russians in it that relies on a slightly less offensive set of stereotypical “Evil Russian” plots— or at least one that’s slightly more based in a sense of reality. The Pilot’s xenophobia was one of the more troubling parts of the episode— why would a World ruled by the Russians instantly be a dystopia?

Here we just have an extended Cold War. That’s fine! Bring that kind of story on.

NURRRR.I.P.

But there’s some trouble in this scene. Our characters watch a man die. The Professor shows remorse at this: he knew a double of Jarabek. Rembrandt has his Pain Face more or less glued on at this point. They’re the two old dogs, made weary by the death that’s come to surround them. But it’s the two kids that are trouble. Wade, someone who previously would be instantly moved to tears/vomit by seeing a dead man, takes this death in with an alarming lack of emotion. It’s a far cry from earlier in the series, and the awful thing is that it doesn’t even read as a false character moment. I’m not surprised by her reaction.

I am surprised by Quinn’s callous quip: when Arturo says that he attended Jarabek’s lectures, Quinn says “not anymore you won’t.” What?! The Professor into the dead visage of a man he knew! And you’re making jokes? About death? Remember “The Good, The Bad, and The Wealthy?” What kind of man has Quinn become?

It’s not really an “Action Hero” move. Not much of Quinn’s behavior these days ever strikes me as “action hero.” It just strikes me as a man totally unsure of himself who knows that his actions have a frightening lack of consequence. Sure, he broke an entire Universe once, but that was because he was trying to help someone. The lesson should have been that he should stay uninvolved. But the lesson he seemed to take was that he just shouldn’t give a shit about anyone.

Keep that last in mind as we work through this episode. We’re about to meet someone you’d never in a thousand years would be important to the show.

Hey, look! It’s the only tasteful piece of clothing you will EVER see Maggie in EVER!

Even if I didn’t have all this pre-cognitive knowledge, I would think that something’s weird about the episode’s reverence to this Captain Maggie Beckett. As far as we know, she’s just this week’s guest star, the eye-candy that Season 3 has loved to throw at us for no discernable purpose. Here we have a vaguely unlikable over-enunciator, and we devote the majority of screen time to her.

You know that scene in “Out of Sight?” This isn’t anything like that scene.

So who is Captain Maggie Beckett? Surprisingly, we’re given huge swaths of knowledge about who she is. She’s a General’s Daughter, a Former-Fighter Pilot. There’s always been weight on her shoulders, pressure from all sides. Her husband, Scientist Doctor Jensen, was crippled in a skiing accident, “forcing” Maggie to ground herself. I put “forced” in quotes because while choosing to spend more time with her husband is exactly the right decision, it wasn’t exactly up to her, and it’s pretty clear it wasn’t her first choice. There aren’t just cracks in his marriage: it’s barely a marriage. Maggie kind of clearly doesn’t like her husband at all. It’s the General’s Daughter in her seeing weakness, and trying to fight it. But she can’t help but kind of detest her crippled husband, and his connection to her spreads the weakness all over her.

The dude may be in a Wheelchair, but the dude is really rocking that shirt/tie xtreme color combo.

So she’s a problematic character. While all of the above helps us understand her, none of the above actually helps us like her. But think of this: could you write such a detailed description of Wade? Rembrandt? The Professor? Quinn maybe. But we’re spending way more time than we ever have before to give a guest star a personality. It’s kind of a ballsy choice for the show to make. But Maggie Beckett is a pretty wildly unlikable character, so we’ve got to take what we can get with her, especially if the episode is so intent on shoving her in our face.

The Sliders, being pretty inept at breaking and entering and also not really bothering to tie her up or do anything that would prevent it, are snared into the world of Maggie Beckett, Intelligence Officer, and the foibles of her Superior Officer, Colonel Angus Rickman, for some reason that will never be explained and will forever irritate Sliders fans, is a Brit in charge of a Yank Military Base. Also, it’s Roger Daltrey:

I wish this was really what the episode was about.

Remember, though, the Cosmos.

GALACTIC ZIT-POPPIN’

So this episode is basically “Last Days” part II. The world is going to be destroyed in two days, the Sliders leave in three. But Tony Blake & Paul Jackson, some of the last Season Two writers left, are scripting this off of a treatment from John Rhys-Davies himself, so they know better. And they do a good job of making this episode nothing at all like “Last Days.” We’ve got all this Cold War Paranoia to deal with here.

That’s our way into the episode. We’re seeing the Earth prepare for its death from the most paranoid of groups. So paranoid that they make sure no one else finds out about the impending destruction of the World. It’s a perfect excuse for keeping the action limited.

Really, though, at this point anytime they don’t use the backlot I kind of wet myself a little.

But blessedly, we don’t spend our running time in the Backlot. The show takes over a beautiful building for the entire length of the episode. It’s so much more tolerable to watch Roger Daltrey mumble his lines while not blinking when there’s so much good looking architecture behind him. It makes the unseemly actions that go on around him all the more easy to stomach.

QUICK! Let’s have a contest to see who will be the first person to MAKE eye contact!

So the Sliders are given an ultimatum. They must help Jensen perfect his own Sliding device so they can try to save some of the people of this world. But it’s only some. Rickman pretends that he’s alerted the President of the impending disaster, but he truly hasn’t. He’s only going to take certain members of his military base with him. Someone has to choose who gets to slide and who has to stay and die.

Another thing I will never understand: why they decide to swathe Wade in so much WHITEFACE.

Let’s not forget that this two-parter is designed to completely destroy the sliders emotionally. So of course it is Wade who is charged with making the list of people who get to live. It’s already such a small list. Not even 300 people! Sure, it’s people she’s never met, but this is Wade we’re talking about here. She feels each and every name like it was her Mother, her Sister, her Father, Quinn, Rembrandt, Arturo. She might have watched a man die earlier in the day, but that was sudden, shocking, out of place. This list has her name on it. These deaths are on her. To Wade, every time she knocks off a name— even if some part of her still believes it’s for a ‘greater good,’ she’s becoming a murderer.

It’s unfair. Completely unfair. But she has no choice. And this is the one moment where Colonel Rickman doesn’t come off as a cartoon. He reminds her that they have to build a new world. Start from scratch. She’s right when she tells him that they do need to have children there. But he’s right when he insists on taking personnel with Type O-Negative blood. She can’t help but continue the list. She’ll watch Quinn slide with Maggie, and be fully aware of the fact that it represents a divide that can’t really be bridged again. A rubicon in the friendship.

And lo, they knew ’twas the end.

Arturo relegates himself to the sidelines, at last being the scientist he always wanted to be. Finally working on a project that will save lives, and perhaps more importantly, be worth remembering.

Rembrandt spends his time wandering aimlessly around the base. Eventually he makes his way to the sewers (at least it’s not the cave set), and finds a lonely kid named Malcolm.

CHECK OUT MY DOPE PORTRAIT OF MY COMATOSE MOM, REMMY

Look, I’m going to be honest: this would be a totally great and moving plotline where it not for that kid being totally awful in every way. This is the perfect plot for Rembrandt. He’s returning to his roots of being the ‘everyman.’ He finds himself in chaos, and is drawn to the most mundane thing around him. So he finds another outcast, another soul on the edge. But Malcolm doesn’t come off as a lost soul, he comes off as a petulantly dead-eyed ninny. But then I guess he gets that from his Father:

Okay, so I really wanted to go on a tangent about how for 95% of the episode, it accidentally looks like Rickman is only stabbing African-Americans and is on a goal to ethnically cleanse the military base. But I’m already pushing 4000 words on this, and I mean, he’s not REALLY trying to do that, it just happens to be Malcolm’s parents, and the show isn’t smart enough to think of a plot like that anyways and DEEP BREATH/never mind.

These four people can’t help but get involved in this mess. “Sliding is improvising,” Quinn says. These people take what is delivered to them, and get involved if they have to. But the longer they slide, the less they actively try to get involved in things. If someone runs up and yells “hey, let’s overthrow the government,” they’ll oblige. If someone says “hey, you’re sort of a hostage, but also you’re going to help out some innocent people,” then there they are. But it’s not fair. This time it’s a little too much.

Quinn’s always been the ‘leader,’ in a way. But it was never spoken, and he’d never admit it to anyone. Even now, in “action hero” mode, he’s still reluctant to take charge. But in the back of his mind he knows that Arturo is still dying. Someday soon he’s going to have to just go ahead and be the man in charge. That knowledge makes him petulant. But it also gives him the resolve to stick with sliding, to roll with the punches.

Maggie looks like she’s wearing two different wigs, and Quinn’s hair looks like a Penis.

Even if said punches involve sliding within a slide with an irritating Ex-Fighter Pilot who clearly wants to fuck you even though she’s married to a crippled scientist. A huge chunk (actually maybe it only seems huge because it’s dull) of the episode is devoted to Quinn & Maggie ‘scouting’ new worlds for the Exodus. It’s an interesting idea. It’s kind of just shrugged off. But this is the first time since El Sid we’ve taken someone through the Vortex and actually dealt with the consequences. It’s also the first time since Invasion that we’ve slid through a vortex not our own.

But we aren’t really treated to ‘consequences,’ because Maggie is like “NO BIGGIE QUINN LET’S SLIDE ALSO I’M IN CHARGE.” Quinn tries to tell her that “hey Maggie we’re in the cave set nothing ever good happens in the cave set,” but she’s like “I’m not listening Quinn I’m going to feed this huge fucking rabbit with my BODY.”

Guys, just be thankful we didn’t get an ENTIRE EPISODE about this shit.

Yeah sure fine whatever. Thankfully we have Maggie meet a double of Maggie, who, ha ha ha, is actually exactly the same as Maggie-Prime. So we get the ridiculous scene where Maggie tells Quinn basically how to get her naked in order to get the timer back.

Our tax dollars at work for Maggie’s highlights.

It’s the Cold War of the show coming back to stir things up, cause trouble. You can just see Tony Blake & Paul Jackson sending drafts in and getting back all these horrible notes that destroy everything they’re trying to do. So we have Maggie Beckett with a truly interesting backstory with a damaged marriage, and then we have her shamelessly hit on Quinn. We have an interesting idea for a parallel world, and then we have a cartoonish Englishman running the US. We have a woman actively trying to make a cuckold out of her disabled husband.

OOH YEAH SMOOTH MOVE, MALLORY!

It brings us to one of two betrayals that end the episode. We started with the promise of mystery. The night-needler stands in the light, and reveals himself:

Also not helping Daltrey be overly-creepy: the fact that he NEVER EVER ONCE BLINKS EVER IN THE EPISODE.

We had the potential for truth, for accuracy, for something within the realm of possibility. And we are betrayed to our cores, as the other side wins the battle of ridiculousness. Rickman’s injections form him into a shapeshifter— another B-Movie Reject. Taste, at last, is defeated.

Umm, yeah.

And then we have Quinn, who is totally okay with Maggie’s offensive behavior.

Quinn’s arc in all of this mess is one of guilt, and the attempt to shirk responsibility for this guilt. His choice of shirking at this point to just throw his hands in the air and say “it’s a parallel world, who cares?” So fine, he’ll accept Maggie’s advances. This is fun. No one used to do that to him back home.

Back home.

Home.

That four-lettered word. Quinn casually tells Maggie that they’ve been sliding for 3 years. Which is an immense amount of time. It’s easy to forget that it’s been that long. Home, at this point, is nothing more than an ideal. It’s become so beyond a memory it’s a false utopia. A dreamworld. A fairyland.

Or, y’know, the more accurate reason that no one bothered to watch “Into The Mystic.”

We, as an audience, know this vision to be false. We know that wherever Quinn is, it isn’t home. It’s some false vision, perfect for Quinn— it gives him exactly what he wants to see. It gives him a squeaky gate. A gate we know has been oiled. It gives him the sounds, the sights, the smells of “Home.” And it gives him guilt made flesh.

YEAH FUCK THOSE FLOWERS, MRS. MALLORY!

Here we learn the darkest seed of the guilt festering in Quinn. We learn that he chose to Slide— remember, on a whim— on his Mother’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom, for a present I’m going to disappear for the rest of your life, leaving you alone and empty, having already lost your husband, and now your son. Staying here would be sweet. It’s the goal, still, isn’t it? But why, now, after all these years, would the roulette wheel spin him Home, when he’s not ready? Forget the fact that it’s only Quinn, and his companions, his happy wanderers, aren’t even there. He’s busy.

“QUINN YOUR NEIGHBORS CHICKEN SOUP IS TERRIBLE”

But this illusion grants him further pain. Maggie can’t breathe our atmosphere. He can’t even stay— not that he could to begin with. He’s got some ridiculous notion of ‘what’s right,’ and ‘what’s right’ is ‘saving this military base from itself.’ So Quinn bottoms out. He’s home and has to leave. What could possibly be worse than that?

FATALITY

Punching an innocent man in the face— a man who was only trying to help Maggie live, and leaving your mother—again— her face contorted by an unbearable amount of grief.

Next Week on Sliders: Linda Henning crying for 45 minutes.

This is how we end the first part of this episode. Quinn has debased himself to be as unlikable as Maggie. Devastating his mother once wasn’t bad enough, he had to do it twice. The lessons of “As Time Goes By” corrupted him, made him angry. He will buck against the Multiverse to get what he wants. Which, it turns out, is for someone to pay attention to him. So he clings to Maggie, a new and powerful woman who respects his Vortex. Forget his friends, still trapped on a world they don’t want to be on.

But actions have a way of catching up with you. And here is judgement. The world is still going to end, with all of them on it. The cosmos is reaching its arm to grab you by the throat and destroy you. Quinn doesn’t own the universe. He feels guilty and put-upon? Pah.

The Universe will give him something to feel guilty about.

Next Week: we hear you, we just aren’t listening (The Exodus, pt. II).

ADDENDUM:

This post marks the one-year anniversary of Think of a Roulette Wheel! That is an absolutely crazy thing to think of. A whole lot has happened behind the scenes in that year, some good, some bad, some really good, some awful. But I would like to thank all of YOU dear readers/commenters. Special shout outs to ireactions, durkinator, pete5125, for being the longest and most avid commenters— but there’re some new voices that are already making this blog even more of a special thing, so WELCOME! You guys are the reason I can keep up with this crazy thing.

Super also (of course) special thank you to Earth Prime, the premier Sliders fan site, for A) being a great resource, and B) featuring this ol’ blog on the front page! Thanks guys!

Last but not least, all my friends who put up with me talking about Sliders 24/7, 365. It’s been hard on them sometimes (ha ha ha), and I appreciate them continuing to be my friends despite my obessions.

Let’s think on the good times by (re)watching this:

It must be really stressful to write something like this.

Think of it— you’re trying to adapt two differing works of science fiction— classic, nigh-untouchable (sort of) science fiction— for a television show with a shoestring budget. That’s a lot of weight on your shoulders, in theory.

The general one-liner about Sliders Season Three is that the show became a nonstop schlock fest of movie monster rip-offs. This is an over-generalization, because at this point in the season, we’re not quite so obvious with our ‘inspirations’ here yet. “Electric Twister Acid Test” was obviously ripped of from Twister. But it hasn’t been that blatant thus far, really. Sure, there’s bits and pieces here and there. “The Fire Within” took some (many) things from Backdraft, but last I checked, “Backdraft” didn’t have a side plot involving super-flames.

No, so far, Sliders has embraced Movie Pastiche with loving arms, but there’s always just a tiny bit of something extra to it thus far. But somehow over the space of a week, there was a catastrophe. A complete and total annihilation of taste that came so far out of nowhere. Because while yes, there’s a really crap CG Scarab in “Slide Like an Egyptian” the scarab was only a small part of an episode that had a lot of totally interesting things going on in it.

Then BAM— “Paradise Lost.” What happened? While the problems with that episode are paramount, one of the clearest is that it’s pastiche without purpose. It’s a recycling of bored movie tropes with 90s aesthetics (barely) stitched together with no thought to warp woof or weft. We have “Radioactive Godzilla Worm” mixed with “Fountain of Youth” mixed with “Town with a Secret.” ”Paradise Lost” was an attempt, then, to create a super-episode. A mega-zord of Sliders that would take this supposed ‘movie mish-mash’ to the next level, dude.

So the ‘gineers built a huge Hilton, and then started to make some other buildings, but gave up on them, because Whatever?

So here we have another attempt to mix and match some concepts. This time, we’re taking part of H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine,” and mixing it, ostensibly, with elements of Larry Niven’s “Ringworld.” We’re talking really vaguely based. I know there wasn’t a wikipedia in 1997, but I guess there were still cliff notes? All I’m saying is that the script is taking the most basic of concepts from the source material and running in a bizarre direction with it.

The argument that leaving the social satire from “The Time Machine” out of “The Last of Eden” is a fair argument to make, but it’s kind of assuming that the intent of “The Last of Eden” is to include any amount of social satire. Now, this seems like a huge amount of apologizing to make, but let’s be real— why would the show at this point in its run all of the sudden decide to get all preachy and politicized? Even in Season One the politics were screwy— “The Prince of Wails” was more of an excuse to make fun of England, and “The Weaker Sex” was an excuse to make fun of gender. Neither had much meaningful things to say about their respective subjects, and if it did come off as meaningful, it was always seemingly accidental. The show was too focused on its supposedly ‘dark humor’ to focus on politics and causes.

So “The Last of Eden” has a bad reputation, but it’s based on the wrong criteria. This is an action adventure/science fiction show. So it’s about time it tried to handle the ‘greats.’ So let’s tackle the two sources. First, we got Larry Niven and his “Ringworld” up in the house. SYZYGY ENGAGE:

Sure. Fine. Whatever.

Quinn and Arturo love to say “syzygy” over and over again. I hate typing the word out.

So let’s pause for a second and talk about how ridiculously improbably/impossible all this is. I’m already willing to ignore Quinn & Arturo’s “syzygy” gaffe (a syzygy requires alignment, not a bunch of Earths in a triangle), but I can’t ignore the fact that every one of those Earths would be fuuucked. Arturo’s like “only giant tides would happen because of this, and everyone’s like “Derp.”

DERP

But hold on a minute. YEAH RIGHT HIGH TIDES. Dude I’m pretty sure all the energy and magnetism would rip all of these fucking planets apart like, so quick. What is up with this faux-syzygy? Let’s fast forward to the inevitable infodump by way of stunned local, Brock.

Man, this Idiot is Blistering!

So not only are there like, a ton of different Earths up in the Sky, but also some DUDES MADE THEM. What! ‘Gineers my BUTT. Ain’t no dudes made a fucking planet themselves, let alone THREE. I know I’m getting silly, but its preposterous. Much more interesting (and believable) is the happenings of the surface, where a group of ‘primitive’ white dudes (I mean, I’m right, aren’t I? Are the ‘gineers that colorblind?) run around watching the earth open up beneath them, and live in run-down Hilton Hotels and eat Magic Fruits. That some dudes built ‘a while ago.’ How long?

I’m just going to assume that the date is a reference to how stoked the ‘gineers were the day after Ziggy Stardust came out.

In the 1970s. Okay, sure, fine, whatever. Now, I know that since they’re called “Engineers” we’re obviously ripping off of Ringworld. But let’s say you’ve never read or heard of Ringworld. In this episode, there’s no actual evidence that there were real Engineers. The plot of the episode isn’t that we meet a ‘gineer halfway through and he lays out what is up with this joint. We don’t. We only have the word of a dude with a really sketchy goatee:

One of the things that happened a lot in the 90s that I do not miss at all: SUPER EXTREME CLOSE UPS WTF WAS WITH THAT?!

So I’m inclined to read all this bogus Engineer talk as “creation myth,” and that the fact of the matter was that some scientists, botanists, and architects in the 70s were a  little further along than they were on our world, made a bunch of buildings, and fucked off. The same is said of the Old Ones, who went to see what else was in the World. But they probably just wanted to GTFO Goatee-Town. I wouldn’t want to hang with these dudes. THEY EAT CIRCUS FOLK.

A THOUSAND DERPS

Let’s step backwards for a second and recap what happens in the teaser. The team, post-syzygy-derp, finds the locals and is like “hey guys can we mack on your BBQ,” and Mr. Goatee is like “F ALL YALL” and then there’s an earthquake and the ground straight up opens up despite how preposterous that is, and Wade (who, I have to point out is wearing the most 90s shirt ever— a star with a P in the middle, which I am sure is supposed to mean “Porn Star.” Yikes) stands around staring at the sky trying to get a wasp out of her face or something then falls in the chasm. Quinn is concerned:

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYY OOHHHHHHHHHHH” —Quinn Mallory, 1997.

But Wade’s like “PEACE OUT MOFO” and dies:

“INNNN? LOLLLLLLLLLLL” —Wade Welles, 1997.

So that’s shocking. Wade just fell to her death. OR ACTUALLY SHE LANDED ON AN UNDERGROUND I-BEAM THAT I GUESS WAS MADE OF DONUTS. I mean, one of the upper-crusters falls right next to her, lands about three feet further than Wade, and is instantly dead. Also an INFANT BABY falls somewhere and is totally fine. So either that I-Beam is made of Donuts, or Wade has such strong thigh muscles that she waited until the last moment and then super-kegel’d herself to safety.

But— super-kegel digression aside— the fact is that there’s a huge industrialized world underneath the surface. Obviously, we don’t see the whole zone down there, but it’s kind of implied that it stretches out forever, and that the ‘gineers built the entire earth over the industrialized underworld. 

Sliders has yet to master that oh-so-difficult “making a CG window not look stupid” thing…

Which, as a single concept, is totally awesome. But, as we learn, the underworld is inhabited by subhumans. We are told that these dudes are the humans of the overworld that stayed behind when everyone left (in 1970). So in 30 years, they degenerated into strange feral cat people who dance like there’s no tomorrow. And that’s where it’s almost ridiculous to even bother saying this episode is a rip-off of “The Time Machine.” Yes, there are two sets of humans, one evolved, one less so (I’ll leave it to you to decide which is which). One is above ground, one’s below. Sure, fine, whatever.

But in all honesty, that’s as far as the comparisons go. “The Time Machine” takes the time to explain the differences between the two ‘races,’ and sets up the social dynamic between the two, and sugar coats it with social commentary about Class and all that kind of stuff that makes it super smart and a bona-fide classic book.

There’s none of that, here. That’s not what this show is here for, not anymore. If anything, this episode is more trying to make a statement about Cannibalism and Ecology than it is about Class War. I don’t know. I guess my problem with this episode is that it’s almost good, and I don’t think that it’s held back by the source material. It’s something else gumming up the works.

DANCE MAGIC DANCE

It’s actually the fact that every element of the episode is actively colliding against itself. Now, one of the “cool things” about this episode is that the people playing the feral cat people are Cirque de Soleil members. Well, okay. I guess that’s why they swing wildly from I-Beam to I-Beam instead of just, y’know, walking. The effect of their acrobatics just enforces again the problem that’s plagued this entire season: the mismatched tone issue. Once again, we have the ‘serious’ problem of Quinn & Wade trapped below the surface of the Earth trying to rescue a newly-orphaned child from the clutches of Feral Cat Beast-Dancers smashed against the kooky funk of the Circus lighting.

THANK GOD the ‘gineers left the Cat People those Star-Stencil-Gels to light their underground hell-world!

Like, why is there a light that shoots stars on the ground? I don’t get it. Not that anyone thought of it that way— they were probably just trying to spotlight their “guest stars.” I don’t know. Conceptually, the underground portion of the episode is conceptually on fire. But in actual practice, it’s nonsense. It’s also clunky as hell, with half the episode devoted to Quinn and Wade being captured, escaping, losing the baby, saving the baby, getting recaptured, escaping, getting recaptured. There’s nothing said about what it means for these lower-humans to be savages. There’s no point to be made. They just look cool. And while the “rule of cool” is something I certainly believe in, the “rule of cool” does require that something is actually, y’know, cool.

Remember how good “Fever” was? At this point, neither do I.

That’s the real problem with the episode. It’s not that it’s not good, or has nothing happening. It’s that there’s a lot happening and none of it is expounded upon. The sliders don’t even react to the fact that the nerds above ground hunt the undergrounders for food. Not like, to take the food they’re carrying. To eat them. And then Wade finds the undergrounders feeding on a fallen overgrounder (these are terms I made up, which sound “cool,” so I’m sticking with them). So there’s a weird circle of cannibalism that actually touches on a weird relationship between the two societies. Never touched upon in dialogue. And what about the bizarre terramorphic body horror the Professor goes through? That’s hideous, that’s terrifying. His arm is growing spines! And why? I don’t know, because he’s sick. But the dude was ripping his flesh off with his own hands. It’s some horrifying stuff that gets completely ignored by the episode. Rembrandt’s like “no biggie, dude, but I can punch you if you want.”

Rembrandt uses his Key to Book his Own Gig on Arturo’s Face.

The problem is in the promise. It’s fine to say that the episode rips off H.G. Wells and be disappointed, I guess. The trouble with the episode is that we aren’t given enough to assume that “The Time Machine” is what “The Last of Eden” is going for. I know that sounds like a totally ridiculous way of looking at this episode and trying to defend it. But I can’t really make myself fault an episode for not doing something it isn’t even trying to do. Yes, there are similarities, but the similarities are not the point of the episode.

Downtown Brown in: The Sensual World.

That being said, what keeps the episode from rising out of the ashes of its bewildered nature is that we just can’t make ourselves care about the people of the world. We can understand why the sliders would get involved, but we can’t make ourselves care about the fools we see. Goatee Man? Who cares? Brock? What a ninny.

We never learn what else is on these worlds, let alone what’s on the other syzygy-worlds. We are given a thousand tasty kernels of possibility and we don’t ever get to learn any more about them. We learn nothing about the true workings of this Earth, just some theories that Quinn makes that we’re left to assume are totally and completely correct even though he knows absolutely nothing about anything going on. Seriously, there was a simple way to fix this: let us meet a ‘gineer. Let him spend an entire act infodumping. That would be less boring than watching Quinn & Wade run around doing nothing. To be completely honest, I am stunned we never saw the cave set. That’s one of two things this episode has going for it.

“I don’t see any other option— now you owe ME a Bungee-Jumping Session.”

The other thing, of course, is Arturo and Rembrandt’s heart to heart. I’ll be honest with you: upon watching this episode, when Arturo admitted that he was sick, I was stunned. Not because he was bringing it up, but beacuse I had actually forgotten he was sick in the first place. Remember “The Guardian?”

So yes, Arturo is sick. Very sick with his incurably vague illness. He tries to joke about it to Rembrandt— “well, the good news is, I won’t die tomorrow.” But Rembrandt won’t have it. He feels betrayed— and rightly so! Arturo shouldn’t have kept this from any of them. Rembrandt lays it out— they are friends, and they have to stick together. And sticking together means no secrets.

Arturo at first is upset that he’s not allowed privacy. A part of me wants to side with him. He’s an old man, he’s dying. His life is defined by the three people around him. The know each other probably better than any other set of humans ever have. So in his twilight, it would be hard for him not to feel like his life has already reached its peak. Further souring would be the tainting of the relationship that’s been on the slow burn for the entire season (brilliantly brought back to the fore). Not only is the only World he has these people, but they barely even like each other anymore.

Incredible.

The best part of the scene is that it ends so suddenly. It’s awful for us, as an audience, to have the boring A-Plot interject into our much-deserved heart to heart. But it’s also frankly a much more realistic way of showing us this conversation. Rembrandt leaves, Arturo doesn’t have the chance to explain himself adequately. He throws the husk of his magic fruit to the table, but it falls limply to the floor. Like his actions, like his life, like all that this adventure has become: useless, meaningless.

BEST FRIENDS IN THE MULTIVERSE

But of course, by the time they slide, they seem to be on better terms. Rembrandt was hurt, but he understands the Professor. They laugh, stronger in friendship. We, too love them deeply. This wasn’t their breaking point, but it’s not the end— the worst must still be to come.

Perfection.

So we have another episode that bit off more than it could chew. Too much going on, not enough going on. The same problems that persist through the season are in full force here. But still, it’s loads better than “Paradise Lost.” There is soul at work here.

But there’s also the problem of the strange scene at the beginning of the episode. Wade and Rembrandt recall this Episode in Flashback, both confiding that events had terrified them both. But we never return to the present day. We never see Wade and Rembrandt discuss how the events of this episode had changed them. We never see Wade react to the news of The Professor’s illness. I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t disturb her. Why she wouldn’t immediately wake him up to discuss it.

Unless…

Next Week: It’s falling apart as you watch (The Exodus, pt. I).

The story goes like this:

John Rhys-Davies is drunk. He is over-enjoying himself at a FOX sponsored party. He makes rude and embarrassing jokes at a FOX employee. People laugh, the employee is furious. John Rhys-Davies likely doesn’t remember.

Ben Bertin:

Years later, the employee has climbed the ladder, and is now in charge of a huge swath of FOX’s programming. He looks over the list of programs he’s got power over, and who stars on these shows. He smiles, and makes a phone call. The new Executive Producer of a little show called Sliders took the call, and was amenable to the executive’s ideas.

Jenna Caravello:

 He looked through the stack of rejected story ideas, marked with the stamp of “who cares?” He found an idea for a two-parter, written by John-Rhys Davies himself. He remembers overhearing a conversation where John extolled the virtues of his script— the ‘return to form,’ the ‘course correction’ that his story would provide.

The Producer chuckles. “Perfect.”

Krystal DiFronzo:

Mouths agape, the cast reads through the script. They’d thought they’d seen some stretches of disbelief before, but this was something else entirely. John Rhys-Davies, as usual, was quite vocal with his disdain for the material.

Beth Hetland:

John Rhys-Davies’ agent receives a phone call. “John,” he says. “Someone on the show is going to be fired soon. I’m not sure who it is.”

John makes plans. He knows who’s getting the axe.

Lyra Hill & Tyson Torstenson:

“Jerry, I’ve heard a rumor they’re going to replace one of the cast, and I’ve reason to believe it may be you,” John says. “You’re not famous enough for the show, not a big enough draw.”

Alex Lake:

“Cleavant, I’ve heard a rumor they’re going to replace one of the cast, and I’ve reason to believe it may be you,” John says. “The writers just don’t know what to do with your character, and they’re just about ready to give up.”

Ian McDuffie:

“Sabrina, I’ve heard a rumor they’re going to replace one of the cast, and I’ve reason to believe it may be you,” John says. “Pig-headed as it may be, the producers just don’t think you have enough sex appeal to draw enough viewers.”

Sam Sharpe:

All through the shoot the cast had felt tense. John’s rumors, told in private in their trailers, had cast a malaise over the set. Sabrina locked herself in her trailer until they swore she wouldn’t get canned.

Jacob Strick & Zoe Moss:

They sat together, laughing, happy to be done with such an obvious turkey of an episode. A producer came up to the team, chuckling to himself. He butted his way through the group. “Hey, John. You know that two-parter you’re working on?”

“Well, we’re going to kill your character in it.”

________________________________________________________________________

Obviously, a SUPER HUGE THANK YOU to all my amazing cartoonist friends who took the time out of their lives to watch this incredibly awful piece of shit episode. For most of them, it was the first episode they’d ever seen— don’t worry, I told them to go watch “Eggheads.” Thank you thank you thank you. I am so lucky to have friends like these talented goofbags. Love on ya!

But seriously, go check out their work. It’s all very, very good.

Anyways, if you were really hoping I was going to to a ‘traditional’ post about this episode, I did a small write-up here, on my Tumblr. I mention it there, but the reason I decided to do the post this way (other than the fact that it’s awesome) is because I think enough has been said, critically, about this episode. What could I say other than “yeah, they’re right, this blows.” It’s actually literally impossible to give a redemptive reading of this episode— so why not have some fun with it?

Next Week: You remind me of the babe. What babe? The babe with the power. What power? The power of the voodoo. Who do? You do. Do what? Remind me of the whatever (The Last of Eden).

Intentional detail in everything although sometimes you had to dig for it. Budget dictated reduced quality in many choices, endurance preferred over luxury or eye appeal. Compromise, and like most compromise, satisfying no one.

—Reverend Mother Superior Darwi Odrade, in Frank Herbert’s “Chapterhouse: Dune.”

Camp proposes a comic vision of the world. But not a bitter or polemical comedy. If tragedy is an experience of hyperinvolvement, comedy is an experience of underinvolvement, of detachment.

—Susan Sontag, “Notes on Camp.”

And suddenly we’re watching “Pyramids of Mars.”

What is it with this episode?

At this point, we can tell a turkey. We know when an episode looks like it will fulfill our innermost desires for the plateau of “good Sliders,” or descend to the bowels of “what the fuck did I just watch.”

Still gotta be careful, though, or an Anubis will set your Hi-Rise on fire.

We’re in an Egyptian Culture. An Egyptian Culture that speaks American English and builds Los Angeles exactly the same as it is here, except that they called it New Cairo they add huge Pyramids everywhere that can rotate via computer.

The whole point of Camp is to dethrone the serious. Camp is playful, anti-serious. More precisely, Camp involves a new, more complex relation to “the serious.” One can be serious about the frivolous, frivolous about the serious.

The sliders arrive in this cultural miasma on the eve of the burial of the Pharaoh. It is unclear whether this Pharaoh is more of a Mayor of New Cairo or a Governor of California, or a President of the United States of …Something. We never see the Pharaoh’s Sarcophagus, we never see a photograph of the Pharaoh. He is just implied.

Worst. Prom Night. Ever.

But then, the derivation of the word Pharaoh comes from the Egyptian term for “Great House,” and it referred to the Royal Palace. So, the Pharaoh of New Cairo is dead, and there is a procession in his honor.

We would then read this as a funeral for architecture, the death of the pyramid. It is unclear what signifies the death of a pyramid would entail. But we humans are nothing if not obsessed with our creations. Our works of stone and steel define us, we box at the heavens with our steel fists.

Camp is a vision of the world in terms of style — but a particular kind of style. It is the love of the exaggerated, the “off,” of things-being-what-they-are-not.

The Pyramid is closed, its stellar alignment reached, its purpose fulfilled. Perhaps the ‘death’ of the Pyramid is its completion. The rays of the Sun reach their destination. The child returns to the womb.

Just spin it.

And of course, there’s the celestial reading of a Pyramid. The structure/tomb as conductor towards the heavens. The shaft from the burial chamber up towards a new world. So of course we have an episode of Sliders that deals with Egyptian Culture. They share the same goals. Doctor Mubarik, when Quinn admits he’s a slider, straight-face asks him “are you royalty?” Subtle, effective. This culture not only understands travel through worlds, it expects it.

“Help me, Remmy! Make sure my hair swoop is perfect for my headshot up in heaven!”

This episode, thematically, is about transitions. The pyramid is the architectural reference for the theme. The episode is smartest when it deals with Mubarik’s experiments with the Afterlife (it is at its near-dumbest when it ‘reveals’ that the Kheri-Heb sends healthy patients to her as punishment). It seems natural that this world would start experiments to try to understand the mysteries of their ancients. It seems less natural that they’d do so with via exanguination, but then I guess all that stuff they do to mummies is pretty weird, too.

V-8 SPLASH

So Quinn embarks on a brief journey through the Afterlife. His soul hesitates, viewing the world through foggy eyes, seeing an old friend, trying in vain to save him, unable to do so, forced to run away, leaving his shell. His empty shell. Quinn is dead, and now he will meet his Father in Heaven.

 Camp is art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is “too much.”

But his father is different, changed. Glasses where once there were none. Too much hair. A different demeanor. Over time, even in Heaven, people will change. But why? Residual Self-Image fading from memory? A focus on different things? Do we forget ourselves in the mists of the afterlife?

To be completely honest, Quinn’s vision is meaningless. His re-cast father continually spouts nonsense at him. “Remember Quinn, if you can touch it, you can catch it.” Why? What is so important about that? Is the afterlife truly just a banal and listless jungle where vapid and once-meaningful familial interactions are repeated ad infinitum?

So either the afterlife is meaningless, or Quinn was never truly there at all. It makes sense then, for him to deny Mubarik her answer. This culture would be devastated by the revelation that there is nothing after death. And not ‘nothing’ as in Darkness, but ‘nothing’ as in an intellectual black hole. They looked to the stars, found no answers. Quinn quips of his experience in the afterlife: “been there, done that.” Which begs the question: what kind of man will he become? He’s died, and all he found was a football. His father’s ghost sounds sincere, he wants Quinn to remember his old advice. But its meaning is hollow, the lesson unclear.

One is drawn to Camp when one realizes that “sincerity” is not enough. Sincerity can be simple philistinism, intellectual narrowness.

But this forgets the fact that Quinn is not just a man— he is One of Four.

Not even that hideous sweater vest can distract from the ANGUISH.

We aren’t denied this scene. In fact, this scene is probably the greatest scene ever to come out of the show. I’m not exaggerating. When we see Quinn “die,” we are waiting for this scene. I wouldn’t expect the show as it has become to grant us this scene. But it does. And it is glorious in its sadness.

This is your reward for sitting through “Desert Storm.”

This is the moment when all of the pettiness and bickering of the last two months comes crashing down around them. They’ve been at each other’s throats for so long that they’ve forgotten that they’re friends. That they’re in all this shit together. And now one of them is dead.

Camp and tragedy are antitheses. There is seriousness in Camp (seriousness in the degree of the artist’s involvement) and, often, pathos. … But there is never, never tragedy.

So now you see what the strange nature of this bewildering episode is. We slam back and forth between the extreme Campiness of New Cairo and the Dealings of the Kheri-Heb, and the insane amounts of tragedy inherent in the Sliders’ grief over Quinn’s “death.” The two, when separated, are interesting and worthy of their own episode. But when combined, the mish-mash is distracting.

But they still exist. We still have Arturo’s line of “he once told me he had a dream where I was his Father. So often I wished he was my son.” That’s an intense line. A line that defines the relationship (now defined by patience) between Quinn and Arturo. But there’s also his line of “if anyone should have died on this world it should have been me.” Why, Max? Now there’s even guilt in this old man. That deadly emotion rears its head again. Why are these characters so often defined by their guilt? Why is it guilt that seeps through their cracks? What happened to the wonder?

*sigh*

A mutated scarab beetle happened to their wonder.

The whole point of Camp is to dethrone the serious. Camp is playful, anti-serious. More precisely, Camp involves a new, more complex relation to “the serious.” One can be serious about the frivolous, frivolous about the serious.

I seem to remember a growing sense of unease about Cloning and Genetic Engineering in the mid 90s. I feel like the X-Files were all about that shit— Flukeman, Eugene Tooms. Judge Dredd (the movie). Dolly the Sheep. That sheep was born in ’96. Cloning was real. We’d be overtaken by a cloning army in no time flat.

So it makes sense that we’d see something like it on Sliders. We’ll see things like it again. But why in this episode, where’s there’s already way too much going on? It’s like a reflex— “wait, this is getting too good, let’s scale it back, through some naff CG in there.”

So I guess the Scarab …naps people to death? In its Mouth-Hammock?

So the ‘remaining’ sliders are trapped in the pyramid, in a useless attempt to save the life of some nameless woman Quinn ‘died’ for. The tomb of architecture has closed. Now they have to run from a ‘terrifying’ and ‘hungry’ scarab beetle.

It is a feat, of course. A feat goaded on … by the threat of boredom. The relation between boredom and Camp taste cannot be overestimated.

We didn’t need a scarab beetle. But as ridiculous as it is, it is dwarfed by the single most important even to happen on the show since Rembrandt took a detour in the Pilot. The nameless Damsel in Distress alerts the team about the ‘necrology’ ward and Mubarik’s Death Experiments. Quinn may be alive. The team shares a moment of hope. They’ve got seconds before the Vortex opens. There isn’t enough time. But as the Vortex opens, you can see it on their faces:

“But how will I change out of this hideous Sweater Vest if we don’t SLIDE?”

There really isn’t any other choice.

Kinda don’t get why they wouldn’t put that Vortex in the center of the frame, but that’s just me, I guess.

They try to deny it, but they know it’s inevitable.

They immediately got matching “29.7″ tattoos, which they later regretted.

Open & shut. You’re trapped here.

“It’s 2.97 years, right?”

It’s a short scene, but it’s powerful. After so many episodes needlessly drawn out by the ‘threat’ of ‘missing the slide,’ to have an episode occur where they actually miss the slide, and then have the whole sequence take less than a minute is a slap in the face to all the lazy writing that’s come before. The vortex opens as a courtesy, as if it knows they won’t come through. “Just remember what I looked like,” it says.

If you can touch it, you can catch it.

See? Meaningless. You can’t apply that to anything we see in the episode, let alone real life. I’d love to say there’s an overarching plan for the line, and then in the last few moments of the episode they’re revealed, but there isn’t one.

Camp taste is a kind of love, love for human nature. It relishes, rather than judges, the little triumphs and awkward intensities of “character.” . . . Camp taste identifies with what it is enjoying. People who share this sensibility are not laughing at the thing they label as “a camp,” they’re enjoying it. Camp is atender feeling.

But there is one more surprise left to behold. After all, this can’t truly be the end.

YEAH UPDATED FOR THE COMING MILLENIUM SLIDERS 2000

The Egyptians are Sliders. The architect has ‘stolen’ a Timer (though I truly don’t believe he stole it— he built a Pyramid, he himself is Royalty), and Quinn steals it in turn. R.I.P. Dope-ass Cellphone. You’ve been replaced by a Dope-Ass Universal Remote Control.

But there’s a mystery here. The Egyptian Timer is counting down. To what? And where is it going? The team, when reunited (in the fucking cave set, though for once I am willing to accept its existence in the plot), discusses this for all of five seconds. But then Quinn decides that mystery isn’t enough, and corrupts the timer’s programming, beginning the adventure again. Back to random sliding, they say.

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING CAVE

But if this is a new Roulette Wheel, wouldn’t the fractal arm that contains their ‘home coordinates’ be placed back in the bet? Is that even their goal anymore? At this point we have to wonder— what is there for them on Earth Prime? These people are rudderless. They have each other back, they’re all alive. But it was all meaningless. Since they aren’t forced to deal with their choice for more than an hour, the lessons won’t stick. They’ll be stuck with each other again, for a longer eternity. Back to random sliding. Back to each other’s throats. Meaninglessness, nothingness.

Quinn is oddly thankless for the others’ sacrifice. I guess he doesn’t have to be— he’s the one that saved them from being stuck in the cave set for all eternity, hunted by a shitty CG Scarab. So the ‘reset button’ is reset— but not unfairly. It’s very convenient for Quinn to have found a new Timer. But it’s not wholly ridiculous.

This shot is so nice, I bet there will be a way to reuse it somehow. >:(

If you can Touch the Vortex, you can Catch the Multiverse in your fingers. It doesn’t matter what vessel you use to travel between Worlds.

Camp taste is, above all, a mode of enjoyment, of appreciation – not judgment. Camp is generous. It wants to enjoy. It only seems like malice, cynicism. (Or, if it is cynicism, it’s not a ruthless but a sweet cynicism.) Camp taste doesn’t propose that it is in bad taste to be serious; it doesn’t sneer at someone who succeeds in being seriously dramatic. What it does is to find the success in certain passionate failures.

Think of a Peanut Butter and Sardine sandwich. The peanut butter is delicious. The sardines are delicious. But together, they don’t mix right. So we have two half-episodes, brilliant by themselves. The two warring ideologies of this episode don’t mix together— the extreme camp of the Kheri-Heb and his Phallic Staff, or the extreme tragedy of Quinn’s “Death” and the Missed Slide. By themselves, those concepts can both fit into what Sliders has become. But together, the strange disgusting beast is hard to digest.

The ultimate Camp statement: it’s good because it’s awful . . . Of course, one can’t always say that. Only under certain conditions, those which I’ve tried to sketch in these notes.

Next Week: Have you nosense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency (Paradise Lost)?

So, there’s some behind the scenes shenanigans I’ve been completely avoiding a discussion of.

But pretty soon I’m going to have no choice but to avoid this discussion, so why not throw it here? This episode kind of ignores the slow-burn of the end-of-friendship, so why not talk about what’s going on under the hood?

Well, in a word: Peckinpah. That name, to Sliders fans, is synonymous with Pain.

Let me back up before I delve into this. If you recall, the stipulations of Sliders’ third season included the move to Los Angeles and a new team of FOX-Approved Yes Men, who’d be there to stop Tracy Tormé from ignoring network interference. FOX wanted action. They wanted Sex. They wanted Adventure and Intrigue. They wanted 90210 mixed with The X-Files (the ones with the big ratings, not those pesky cerebral ones).

Basically, they wanted Silk Stalkings mixed with Beauty and the Beast (the TV show). So why not call in the Executive Producer of both of those shows? Silk Stalkings… hey, man, I don’t know. I’m too young for that nonsense— but I remember its existence being …prevalent to say the least. I don’t think I ever watched it, but I have distinct memories of its constant presence, that feeling of “this is on again?” Beauty & The Beast, though: there’s some television. I don’t know. It’s better Television to strive for than Silk Stalkings.

But honestly, if you’re a show on FOX in the mid-90s, shouldn’t you be trying as hard as humanly possible to be The X-Files? I mean, in 1996/1997, The X-Files is pretty much at it’s absolute peak of popularity. One year off from a mother fucking feature film? Man, that show is still great. But it’s still in Vancouver. I mean, just saying. Moving to Los Angeles kind of kills The X-Files, too. But that’s neither here nor there.

The fact is, David Peckinpah was brought in as an expert. He had a very specific job to do. And the fact of the matter is, he did that job really fucking well. He made Sliders into an action/adventure show way better than Tracy Tormé did. Look, I know that’s a completely controversial thing to say, especially on a Sliders Fan Blog. But I’ve said before, when Season Three is working right, firing on all cylinders, it is good. It’s not great, but it’s good. It is satisfying television— and that’s all it’s trying to do here.

Sure, that’s less than it used to be trying to do. But there’s no point in knocking something that’s actively enjoyable because there’s something else completely different that may or may not be better. Or let me put it this way: even “The Fire Within” was better than “Time Again & World.” David Peckinpah will, later, make decisions regarding Sliders that are downright lousy. Some of those we can blame him for entirely. Some of those were influenced by his bosses.

But this dude has a seriously bad rap on the message boards, where he is often referred to as “Peckinballs” and most threads dissolve into jokes about his ineptitude. Which was fine in 2001, but in 2006 he died suddenly of a heart attack. And I don’t care what he did to your favorite show, he died young, he left family behind, and that’s tragic. So I’m going to respect this dude when he deserves my respect. When he doesn’t, I’ll let you know.

But, I have to say, if this is the episode where I introduce this dude, I’m going to have a hard time knockin’ him, because this episode is awesome.

Do you guys remember how heavy laptops were in the 90s? Apparently these people also have Super Strength.

I mean, just look at this wild teaser. It’s pure 90s slink. Power suits abound. The Sliders are not going to fit in here, that’s for sure. It isn’t long before Mr. Grumpo himself gets in serious trouble.

Get used to that face, bro.

Here’s the thing: the team would have absolutely zero idea that any of this had happened, or what to do about it. Were it not for a conveniently chatty bartender who they run into in like every world this season named Elston Diggs who tells them exactly enough to get the plot in motion.

Also Digg’s hair— dictated by what, exactly? Why was it Rainbow in “The Dream Masters?” Ugh this guy.

Okay, since this post already tackled the Peckinpah, let’s use it to tackle the other thing I’ve been meaning to tackle: Elston Diggs (which means I’m going to have literally nothing to talk about when I get to “The Breeder.”) Now, as an idea, Diggs is fine. Diggs is great. One of the best parts about the first two seasons was how there was a tiny network of bit parts that kept showing up. Mace Moon, the Electronic Salesman. Pavel the Taxi Driver. Conrad Bennish, jr. And of course, Gomez Calhoun, the innkeeper. I miss you, Gomez.

Diggs, though, is a bartender. That’s fine. I’ve talked (read: joked) at length about how often the team is drinking all the time. So it makes sense that they’d be in bars all the time. It also makes sense that they’d drink at the same bar all the time: these people really need their stability, after all.

So now we have Elston Diggs, who is the very embodiment of the ‘token gay bit player in 90s television shows.’ Even just saying that Diggs is gay seems ridiculous. It’s gay as defined wholly by stereotypes: a fey voice, a limp wrist. It’s mildly offensive, and doesn’t have a place on a show that knows better.

But does this show know better? After all, what amounts to “casting” these days is basically completely reliant on “sex appeal” and …nothing else. So casting based on stereotype is the name of the game at this point. Diggs is problematic. But he’s also a bit player, so it almost doesn’t matter.

Also overshadowing his stereotyping is his function on the show— a living almanac. I don’t understand why the show has pretty much never  figured out a graceful way to give the background for these parallel worlds. The almanac was cute, but it was still ridiculous— you can’t piece together 6 billion years of history from one tiny book in five minutes. The only time the show’s ever been subtle about it was in “Double Cross,” where they just walk around taking in the scenery, figuring out what’s going on with the world as they go along, reading newspapers and pamphlets— using their eyes and ears.

Diggs, though, just spits out exactly what they need to hear at exactly the right moment. He’s the laziest of writing crutches, every time. And the sliders ask him the most brain dead questions. Like in Dragonslide, when Wade point-blank says “is everyone a Druid on this world?” WHAT? That’s the clunkiest most ridiculous question ever. But Diggs, blank as he is, smiles and says “Yes, the bullet points of this alternate history are this: blah blah blah.” That happens every time. It’s alright in “Desert Storm,” since he’s almost his own independent character. But even then he’s underused and that episode is awful anyways and full of missed opportunity and UGH THIS GUY.

ELSTON DIGGS: THE ANIMATED SERIES. ONLY ON THE WB.

So the Sliders in this episode wonder where Arturo is, and Diggs tells them exactly where he is, and thank god now the plot can begin.

THE S—FILES. ONLY ON THE WB.

So let’s dig into this episode. I said it was good, and then I talked about problems. But Diggs is a problem of the whole show, not just this episode. What’s going on in this episode? Why is everyone wearing business suits? Well, on this world, efficiency is King. Everyone works a 100-hour work week, running around wired and working as much as they can all the time. This world seems to be in pretty good shape, financially, and as we’ll see, they’ve got technology pretty well in hand too. Normally, this is where The Professor would hem and haw about unfairness and blah blah blah. But The Professor’s been drugged, and he’s being taken to real meat of this parallel world.

Arturo, if you don’t cooperate, I’m going to take your temperature with this thing.

So obviously, the human body/mind can’t withstand the pressures of 100-hour work weeks forever. People bend, they slag, they break— they fracture. So when someone becomes a “Fracture,” they’re given a Government-Paid/Mandated Holiday. They’re taken to Theme Parks where they’re hypnotized into thinking they’re a player in a living play. A ren-fair where half the people actually think they’re who they’re playing. A living stage.

I will forever admire these folks ability to keep a straight face.

Arturo, apparently not having a double on this World, gets the big treatment, and is hypnotized into thinking he’s Reginald Doyle, a Sherlock Holmes-lite kind of dude. Quinn, Remmy, and Wade all get parts in the play as well (this is a sticking point to fans— how would they get such choice roles around Arturo? I’m going to venture a guess and say that if Remmy could use his threatening “I’m an angry G-Man” shtick at the Lab, he could use it in the park, too.)

Anyways, that’s a super ambitious parallel world idea. And it’s all in the service of throwing the Sliders into a Sherlock Holmes Dickensian Mystery Plot. But you know what? AWESOME! Bring it on! There’s no living flame involved in that idea. It’s more natural than most ideas we’ve had this season.

And, somewhat shockingly, the show goes for it. It’s running on all cylinders, and every part of production is on the same page. The costumes, the lighting— for the first time in ages, I didn’t notice we were on the backlot. Which just goes to show how lazy the show’s got. It doesn’t take much to convince or fool us— I just want you guys to try.

And try they do. Even the casting is back in good form for the first time since Logan St. Clair.

Hey man, I just took the screencap. I didn’t film the episode. Don’t look at me.

Now, at first we’re all thinking: “Ho Boy, how can she breathe in that thing?” But the way the episode runs, this is how we’re supposed to read this. She’s a bubbly home-town innocent, playing the part she’s always wanted to, whether or not it involves wearing slightly degrading costuming. She plays that part really well.

See, that’s the difference with this episode. For once, all the tones line up. It’s a mystery show, and a bit of a lark, a Holmes pastiche— and everyone is on the same page.The actors are all playing this the same way. The semi-cartoonish Evil Doctor fits in fine, because that’s his role: the secret mastermind. The grumpy Sheriff character does a good job too as a false antagonist. He really sells his “let them die these people are too important” speech (a speech with surprised me at its inclusion and subtlety: it’s a line that reveals more about the values of this parallel universe than anything Diggs ever said). Even the comedy works right— Arturo’s “have you lost your marples“ joke, the line about the Scone. Genuinely funny, and intentionally so! 

The rate this is going, you’d be forgiven for thinking this episode was a porno.

So in the episode, Arturo/Doyle is investigating a series of Jack the Ripper Murders, which at first are fake. But halfway through, someone actually starts killing people. The switch from lark to horror is really well handled, and mostly is carried all on Wade’s face. Even smarter is the fact that even when Brainwashed, Arturo is smart enough to get to the bottom of the real mystery. It’s really nice to see him at the top of his game, even if he doesn’t know it for himself. It’s also a pleasantly creepy thing for him to have figured it out because the “smell of blood” was lacking from the earlier crime scenes.

STEP ASIDE ROBERT DOWNEY JR.

So, obviously, everyone who needs to get busted gets busted, everyone is happy, Wade kicks a ton of ass (which is great), Rembrandt overcomes diversity and “uses his key” to open a door, which is the most unintentionally hilarious moment of the show until “Stoker.” But there’s one more thing I want to touch on, which is the bandit fracture kid that steals the timer.

Thanks for finding your key light, Kid.

Because that is how you pull an infodump. That 12 year old fills in every lingering question we had about how this world works, while still adding some new and interesting ideas. He could probably make a timer himself— he all but says so. At the end he says “one day I’ll find you guys.” Which is corny, but kind of exciting. This kid is smart, and a real person, and he’s actually a really good kid-actor. I actually wouldn’t mind seeing the dude again. I haven’t been able to say that about anyone in a really long time.

I mean, I understand the desire to block your shots well, but c’mon…

So sure, Wade throws a Vortex halfway up to Mars. That’s a little silly. But let’s not forget the fact that for once, the people watching the Vortex actually act like they’re watching a HUGE HOLE IN THE FABRIC OF SPACE OPEN UP. The Sheriff’s wide-eyed reaction to the Vortex, so contrasted with the “oh, yeah, sure, that’s normal” reaction that we usually get, is enough to make me forgive the CG Faux-Pas.

Yes, an “O” is the shape of the Vortex.

So here we are. This show can be a Pastiche if it wants to be. You could whittle down Season Three to like, a 13 episode run and it would be, like, the most fun Season of Television ever. That’s not a bad goal to have. Especially when they’re this good at it.

Next Week: The Final Ride of the Dope-Ass Cellphone (Slide Like an Egyptian).

Did we need this? Who was asking for a Christmas episode? Sliders at this point is so much at the whim of its Network that it’ll do whatever they wish it to. So here we are, a miracle of coincidence, we’re airing an episode in December, and it’s so full of the Christmas spirit you could choke a reindeer.

But, once again out of nowhere, and much like “The Prince of Slides,” we have the show pull another semi-gem out of its ass. “Season’s Greedings” is as obvious as you’d expect it to be— the plot basically amounts to nothing more than “slavery is bad/honesty is great/Christmas is even better.” It’s the tried-and-true “message” episode. But it’s what’s in between these easy plot points that make for a much better-than-what-the-average-has-become episode.

And naturally, it’s because Wade takes center stage in this episode. I mean, sure, the episode takes every opportunity to throw her back to the sidelines, but Sabrina Lloyd (as sort of usual) steals back every scene she gets.

I don’t know, if I was in the “Home of the Haut Dog,” I’d be pretty thrilled.

Like I said, there’s a lot going on in between the preaching. Last week I brought up the fact that there are cracks starting to grow between the characters. The journey is starting to lose its wonder. I know I always refer to Wade as the only true “Happy Wanderer” left of the four, but over the course of the season (though really just the last two weeks), the spark’s left her. I mean, just imagine the Wade from “Summer of Love,” and look at Wade now. It’s night and day.

This emotional scene is heightened by the use of Elf Costumes.

Just take this scene. It’s the age-old argument between Quinn and Wade. Wade expresses disbelief that they’ll ever get home. Quinn is offended and declares harsher than his usual chill self that they will get home. Usually the argument/scene is stopped right there. But this time Wade holds her ground— “are we, Quinn? When? Tomorrow? Next week?” It’s harsh, it’s surprising, it almost seems out of character. But this is coming from a character who just last week was expressing her extreme loneliness. It’s not much of a stretch to go from loneliness to despair.

But Wade’s not quite at Despair yet, is she? She’s been in “Denial” for the last two years. The idea that “They’ll Never Get Home” has only been brought up when she’s at her most cynical, and it never really seemed like she meant it. Here, it’s barbed and full of anger. The bile in her voice betrays the wry way she says it: this time, she believes it. She’s admonishing Quinn for his optimism. We’re never getting home, and it’s childish to think so. That’s such a far cry from the old Wade. It’s distressing.

Extra distressing is the fact that she’s saying it to Quinn. These people are around each other all the time. The know each other better than any two people can really know each other. So Wade knows exactly what button to push with Quinn. She’s going to push his Guilt button. She’s going to imply that “we’re never getting home, and it’s your fault.” That’s brutal. But at the end of the day, it’s true.

The thrill of getting her braces off has long since passed.

It would already be rough for that exchange to occur while the happy time of Christmas is shoved in your face. But that’s not enough. Wade has to deal with running face to face with the double of her Father and Sister.

“Hi, we’re two extras.”

Wait. I mean,

“Hi, I’m Overacting.”

Before I get into how kind of fucked up this situation is, I need to pull back and gripe about Wade’s Dad. I don’t know what the director was thinking here. Something like “no no no, let’s step back from familiar, and start treading into more ‘creepy Frankenstein Pedophile’ territory.” Seriously, throughout the episode this dude pontificates so slowly I would have forgiven you if you thought he was a Wizard.

I don’t know. Maybe he’s reacting to the extremely heavy-handed dialogue he’s got to meter out. “The Spirit of Christmas is as Dead as My Wife and Unborn Child,” he drawls every five minutes, just to make Wade even more fucked up. See, here’s the alternate history here:

•Gravity is maybe totally weird.

•Capitalism is like, totally revered, I guess?

•Someone decided that Council Tower Housing could be combined with Strip Malls.

•Wade’s Mom got Pregnant Again, as usual.

•Unusually, she bought the farm before the crib.

It’s a totally distressing scene. The amount of disparate emotions running across Wade’s face are heartbreaking. First, it’s denial— she doesn’t want to deal with this, not here, not now. But then she realizes that it’s a tiny slice of Home— the abstract concept she doesn’t believe in anymore. She decides to embrace this tiny Christmas gift… and they have no idea who she is. She never existed on this world. It crushes her.

And sure, she gets her “actually I’m your daughter from a parallel world” speech, and a touching reunion with her sister, and everyone smiles and it’s great, and won’t you stay for dessert. But come on. You know that as soon as Wade gets through the other side of the Vortex that brief taste of familial love will turn to ashes in her mouth, and she’ll be as sullen as she was at the start. But pyrrhic as it may be, at least they overthrew a government, right?

A) What a great shot. B) I would have loved to see them at least TRY to fit all that through the Vortex.

Now, just because it’s a cliché and I’m choosing to focus on the minor parts of the episode, doesn’t mean that the A-Plot isn’t totally without merit. The idea of the “supermall of slavery” is not a bad one, if not totally original (by which I mean it seems really familiar— if there’s a specific example of one in some classic SF novel, let me know). But obvious as it is, and the episode is really, really trying to beat you over the head with it’s GREED IS EVIL mantras, it doesn’t really come off as patronizing to the audience. Rembrandt’s susceptibility to the SECRET EVIL SUBLIMINAL ADVERTISING OF GREED is well handled, given time over the episode to develop into a problem that starts funny and ends up a little disarming. It’s frustrating to the Sliders to watch Remmy descend into something they don’t understand. This frustration mirrors their anger at the people of the Mall for allowing themselves to get embroiled in the endless debt, but the more they learn about the vagaries that are going on behind the curtain, the more their frustration comes off as frustration at the fact they couldn’t have gotten their earlier.

And he’s STILL dressed with more dignity than usual…

And Arturo’s subtle rebellion, of using his job as Professional Santa Creeper as a soapbox of Good Will, is actually really cute. When that brat kid comes back asking for forgiveness, it’s a more powerful ‘win’ for Arturo and the Team than Quinn’s needless punch-out of Bernsen at the end.

HEY KELLY I REALLY LOVE YOUR HAIR NO REALLY WHY WOULD I BE LYING

Speaking of this Aggressive Male Posturing/Total Horn-Dog (yikes), what is it with Quinn? Wade is hurting. Arturo is dying. Rembrandt is becoming more sullen by the minute. So what does he do? He tries to fuck Wade’s sister. OH YEAH GOOD MOVE DUDE. He switches on the charm like, two seconds after Wade is at the verge of tears. It’s horribly inappropriate, but he never even stops to consider his actions.

The more horrifying part of this is that it doesn’t even read as jarring for Quinn to do this. This post isn’t the place for the discussion, but it’ll come soon: Quinn has changed, and it really isn’t for the better.

But at least he isn’t a living Skull-Beast.

Looking over this post, I keep seeing the word “actually,” as if I’m downright stunned that the show can be good. That may read as a cynical drag, but it’s actually just honest. This episode is pretty good. It’s probably Season Two kind of good. If you changed the haircuts a little bit, toned down the garish colors, it’d probably be Season One good. But at this point in the show, any bit of “goodness” is a surprise. Quality is a shock, and can’t be believed. I’m getting to the point where I can’t trust the show the way I used to.

But still, the undercurrents are intriguing. The threats to this friendship are bubbling up, and each time they pop out, it’s the best part of the episode. So whatever’s coming, I’m still excited for it. It’s about to be 1997— it’s time for a change in this dynamic.

Next Week: Elementary, My Dear Whatever (Murder Most Foul).

Sliders doesn’t have a legacy. It didn’t leave a mark on popular culture the way that The X-Files did. The X-Files has a lot of shitty episodes. Any show does. But the pop-cultural memory of The X-Files forgives it these missteps. Sliders has not experienced this forgiveness. It isn’t even that it’s remembered for its mistakes. it’s that it’s not remembered at all, and therefore can’t possibly be respected in any way. It can’t even be respected enough for its DVDs and Netflix Queues to be listed in the correct order.

Sliders legacy is subtler than that. It lives on as a shadow, a branch against the window in the corner of your eye. It’s only the tiny quirks that become remembered. I remember an evening at a friends house and seeing Mel Torme in “Greatfellas” and not knowing why I should be interested. A friend of mine did a skit in his middle school history class that was called “Slippers.”

When I was first championing Sliders in high school, another friend of mine beamed with delight: “Oh, fuck yeah! I remember that show. Wasn’t there an episode where the sky was purple?”

Here’s where that friend is today:

Okay, that was cruel. But you see my point. It’s the tiny details that the general public (this is discounting most of us, the chosen few of the Sliders Fan Community) may remember. And yes, a World with a Purple Sky is quite a memorable thing.

Does Universal own a cul de sac somewhere in Burbank? Or is this also a part of the backlot?

Not so memorable, however, is the episode that gives us the Lilac Sky. “State of the Art” isn’t the worst episode. We haven’t gotten there, yet. It’s nowhere near as bad as “The Fire Within” or “Time Again & World,” though it shares a lot of the same problems with those two monoliths to crap. Let’s just go through it, I guess it’s worthwhile. First off, there’s the lilac sky. Sure, it’s pretty. It’s an interesting idea. It makes sense— why shouldn’t the light reflect differently from World to World? It gets you to thinking about the nature of, well— nature. But why is it here? Why is it in this episode? That’s a quirk, sure, but it has no bearing on the episode. It has no bearing on the plot, or on the weird emotional undercurrents (more on them later) that anchor the episode. The sky is just …there. And that’s fine, I guess. Things just are, sometimes.

But this is a piece of television, where nothing should ever just be if you’re doing your job correctly. If you write an episode about a desolate yet immaculately kept world devoid of humans but brimming with Androids at War with Nothing, why would you just throw a Lilac Sky onto the heap? You’ve got Androids— you certainly have enough to talk about.

“Yeah, I mean, this is cool and all, but like, DRAGONS are SO much COOLER.”

So there we have it. This is the “Robot Episode.” I’ll try to bullet point the alt-history to this:

• Aldon Robotic Technologies invents emotional androids.
• Those androids kill all humans on Earth, I guess?
• Aldon invents other robots to kill the killer Robots.
• But there still aren’t any humans anywhere?
• The Robots still build Hum-Vees, because Fuck Mother Earth.

I feel like there was a Hummer in “Rules of the Game,” but I also feel like this is the real first example of the Sliders Hummer, a terrible beast that will rear its ugly more than the dreaded Cave-Set. I guess it makes sense for the Robots to drive Hum-Vees. But I think they look stupid. They look like what someone would think a cool military vehicle would look like. Just like how when Doritos redesigned their bags they looked like what someone would have that “cool” was in the year 2012 would be if they were living in the year 1989.

Except Doritos have more personality than these so-called Personality Robots.

MAGIC SHADOW HAT

Let me have a slight tangent here. “Prometheus,” a movie I’m sure all of you were very excited about, was not the cure for cancer that I feel like most of the world thought it was going to be. it was certainly exciting for most of the time, and coughed up some wonderful imagery. But it had little to no soul, and every time it pulled up an amazing idea, or touched on God’s place in the Universe, it reeled in horror from what it had done and instead had someone get crushed to death or whatever.

But undoubtedly the most enduring part of the movie will forever be Michael Fassbender’s “David” Android, a Milk-and-Baubles masterpiece of present-day acting. Fassbender took the general “look intrigued and cock your head” school of Robot-Acting and made it genuinely believable. Robots would be awkward. They are the living embodiment of the Uncanny Valley. But there’s a difference between acting like you’re made of plastic and acting like you actually don’t have a soul. This “DEREK” robot is the worst kind of lazy acting you can find on television. Ostensibly hired because he’s “Cute” in that 1996 sort of way, he’s also dumb and lifeless as a board. Which I guess is fine if he’s supposed to be a robot. But nowhere in his behavior does he actually come off as one. The only time he actually pulls off being a robot is a complete accident— the scene near the end when a PAUL rips out his robo-girlfriend’s spine (which, if it weren’t for the last minute of the episode making it all okay, I would give this episode high marks for the insane body count it amasses). The dude is so unconvincing as an actor (not to mention he is totally marble-mouthed and unable to say any line straight), he doesn’t convey any sense of emotion whatsoever. Which I guess is perfect if you can’t feel anything. But frustrating for us if you can tell he’s actually trying to.

The never-ending quest to out-90s itself.

His robo-girlfriend Erica is certainly more convincing as a robot, in that Blade-Runner-sort-of-”I’m-a-robotic-adolescent-unable-to-control-my-urges” kind of chilling way. But when they’re paired together, the tone is wrong. They’re mashing up in a way that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t read as “differing make of model” or some sort of fanwank-y kind of reasoning. It reads as one actor at least making an attempt at robotics and another either not even bothering because it’s too hard, or (and I’m guessing this is closer to what it really is) he’s being actively directed not to seem too Alien, so we (as an audience/key demographic) can fall in love with him easier.

My lips say no. My heart also says no.

Since I’m going to be going back and forth throughout this episode pointing out all the inanities, I might as well get down and say why this one’s a bewildering dud. “State of the Art” is the most bizarre failure of screenwriting I’ve ever seen allowed to be on a screen. It reads as if someone explained what an action teleplay was, and what a ‘plot point’ was, and then said, well, “go with it!” So we have action sequence after action sequence after action sequence where either nothing or the same thing happens, or just both. A conversation is interrupted by a surprise attack from the PAUL robots— even though we’re told they scan the buildings every 22 minutes, they’re still a surprise. But seriously, every scene seems tacked on to the last. It’s so banal and repetitive that it actually makes it difficult to follow what’s happening. There are two scenes set in the same prison room. When Quinn is re-captured in the last 15 minutes, I blinked at the screen, confused that there was still more to the episode. Ten minutes later, I blinked again.

That guy’s really keeping a LEG UP on things, AMIRITE??!?!

It’s almost impressive how much they actually managed to cram into 45 minutes. But it’s all wasted, as anything that’s worth developing is interrupted by another endless chase-and-capture scene. I mean, let’s sit down with this World’s premise. There are only robots left on earth. Most of these robots are hunted by other robots. There’s a scene where DEREK watches his friend-bot get picked apart by scavenging robots, the door is opened on a more fulfilling avenue of storytelling: this World is cutthroat— ragtag gangs on ‘bots scavenging their dead? Roaming the streets in gangs? Wary of the central compound? That sounds great! The Warriors with Robots. Can you imagine?

Gooby plz

So like I said earlier, the tone in this episode is all mismatched. The beginning of the episode, where there’s what I suppose is a comedic moment of Wade thinking that she’s “got a bad feeling about this,” and the other sliders finishing her thought in unison. Is this supposed to be funny? It kind of just doesn’t make sense, as a joke, or as something real people would say or do. Likewise, in the “touching” scene where Rembrandt all of the sudden feels worthless, and says to Quinn “I see recessed lighting, you see wires and electricity.” Rembrandt, that’s the same fucking thing. All of the emotional beats are tone-deaf to the scenes at hand, and kind of also to humanity in general.

Gotcha.

I mean, this is an episode that gives us Quinn paired with Rembrandt and Wade paired with Arturo. I don’t think that’s ever  happened before. But it’s squandered with a sudden return of Season Two Wade, shrilly defending the civil rights of Robots while Arturo quite rightly tells her to shut the fuck up. There’s actually a ton of genuinely revealing character moments in this episode, if you can prop your eyelids open with toothpicks enough to pay attention. Wade, before DEREK puts the robo-moves on her, is actually opening her heart up a little (why? I don’t know, because he’s a robot and whatever?). The lilac sky’s made her homesick with its alienating difference. She admits that even though she’s surrounded by friends, she feels completely alone. It’s a stunning revelation. This is Wade, and so far we’ve never seen her anything less than plucky. Even when concerned or shrill, she’s still a happy wanderer. So to hear her admit such a deep level of emotional defeat is a little depressing. And sure, we can chalk this off to the fact that its shoehorned into the script and should maybe not even be considered canon.

FOUR ON THE FLOOR

But this sort of gets in to another piece of the midden puzzle. You can tell throughout the majority of the scenes that the cast is actively bored with what they’re doing. This is the moment where they’ve stopped trying. But Sabrina Lloyd noticed that there’s actually the tiniest bit of actual substance to be chewed out of her ‘I’m alone’ scene, and she fucking jumps on it. She sells the shit out of the scene. So we sort of have to believe the scene, or at least Wade’s end of it. It’s one of only two convincingly acted scenes in the entire episode. Same goes for the ‘reconciliation’ scene with Wade and Arturo. The only time the cast enjoys themselves is with each other, that much is certain. At this point, they probably aren’t even talking about their characters anymore— the loneliness they feel is the show’s fault, and these actors are stuck in a job that wasn’t what they thought it was. And just like the in-show Sliders, they’ve only got each other. So why should they bicker? They bicker because the screenwriters want them to bicker. So when they get to patch it up, it’s a relief for them as characters and actors. It’z a bizarre bit of accidentally meta action. It goes back with the complete tonal mismatch of everything going on in the episode.

At the head of this miasma of lack of direction, of course, we’ve got Aldon.

This role was very big on dignity.

Hey, guess what? He’s a robot, too. Wow. Who knew. But let’s focus on his performance throughout the episode (willfully ignoring his strange near-neck-beard). He’s a cartoon, chewing scenery and being such a ham as to make Kirk blush. Which on one hand is fine— if I read this crap heap of a script, I’d treat it with about as much of a lack of respect. But his hamminess is at odds with everything else happening in the episode. Quinn and Rembrandt are too bored to work well with his ridiculous posturing. It’s an age-old story cue: Mad Professor, All Alone, Grasping at the Only Friends He Has Left, Becomes a Jailer of Friendship. But there’s still something to mine out of that plot other than “NOW YOU WILL STAY WITH ME FOREVER btw experiments.”

ROBO-DERP

But there it is again: loneliness. You’d think it an accident, but as much as it pops up, it truly can’t be one. But all the robotics and mad scientisting is all in the service of the real plot: how we deal with being alone. We know how Aldon deals with it: he makes a robot sex slave, and tries to turn real humans into robots, twiddles his thumbs for all eternity. We can freak out like the old ERICA model, or mindlessly put the moves on anyone in front of us, like DEREK.

But there’s a stranger kind of loneliness that inhabits the sliders: the loneliness that occurs even when you’re with your friends. These four people might be closer to each other than anyone else they’ve ever known, but at a certain point, it’s going to stop being enough. They may be each other’s constant, but the anchor is starting to get rusty. Over the course of this season, the show’s started to take a lot of time opening up the cracks between these four people. Quinn’s started to take charge and not really include anyone else in whatever he’s doing. Wade’s lonely in a way the others can’t help. Rembrandt’s starting to think more and more about the life he left behind. And Arturo is going to die.

So amidst all of this Dream/Desert/Dragon/Fire/Robot/Twister nonsense, we have a subtle arc growing through the season. The team is drifting apart. And as much as I don’t have faith in the show to give me a satisfying conclusion, I’m almost excited to see what happens when the drift becomes permanent. Something big is coming soon, and when it finally comes, it’s going to change everything.

Next Week: Merry Christmas, you Bastards (Season’s Greedings).

Television is a strange beast. A different world in a tiny box. A thousand different worlds in a tiny cube. An infinite number of tiny impossible worlds, all trapped in a box. Television, then, is Sliding. It’s just up to us to choose to believe in what we’re seeing, to believe in the space around the screen. In truth, it’s the job of the Television Program to convince us, however briefly, that what we’re seeing is true. Those brief successes are what define the medium. Those moments when we turn away from the screen, eyes full of tears— sublime escapism. And I don’t mean escapism in the pejorative sense. We’re merely becoming our doubles on another Earth, where the people we watch on screen are our friends and enemies. We suffer as they suffer. We delight in their joy. This is, or should be, the point of all works of art. And while it may seem blasphemous for a BFA Recipient to say, when an episode of Television works as it’s supposed to, it’s nothing short of a work of art.

Somewhere along the line, television started to realize its power. It became sentient. And as a result of this sentience, it decided to get cheeky. It started to wink at us. And this winking, this knowing smile, a darted glance out the corner of the eye, became another kind of world for us to visit. Where we were let in on the joke, or got a peek behind the curtain. Or, postmodernism found its way into our homes. “Meta” was the new black. I’m not going to spend the thousand words necessary explaining the ideas behind things being “meta” and Television’s use of “postmodernism” over the decades. What I’m here to do is talk about “Dead Man Sliding,” a Television Episode of the Programme entitled “Sliders.”

Yes, drawing a bunch of dominos falling into the sun will absolutely explain Sliding.

This episode is one of the tried and semi-true plot forms of “someone gets confused for a double, and hijinks ensue.” Here, it’s Quinn who is confused for his double, who is caught on camera murdering an innocent man out of greed. Quinn is put on trial, which would be one thing, were it not for the fact that a ‘trial’ on this Earth consists of a primetime television show entitled “The Judgement Game,” in which ‘contestants’ stand trial in front of a live studio audience, who in turn becomes Judge, Jury, and Executioner via Touchpad. It’s loud, it’s gaudy, it’s a little irritating, it’s oddly thrilling, but somehow familiar, as if it was out of a movie.

I mean, no jokes, I would totally watch this show.

Our-Quinn, as we know, is innocent. But in an interesting turn of events by way of a double case of mistaken identity, it turns out Alt-Quinn is innocent as well— his face was posted onto another man’s. Quinn is on trial for an invented crime.

THE HORRORS OF PHOTOSHOP (also the way Wade is editing that photo makes it looks like she’s trying to frame the Producer, not get Quinn off the hook).

Now, for anyone who watched the first two seasons of Sliders, we’ve been putting the show on trial. It’s become loud and abrasive, full of “crowd-pleasing” gaudiness. Every episode is familiar to us, since we’ve seen the Hollywood blockbuster it was based on not two months before airtime. The show has started to strive for “thrilling,” but the only thrills we receive are the ones we get watching something that had so much potential fall so totally down the tubes.

But then, this isn’t really our show, is it? Our show was sensitive and aware of the world around it. This show, this new, different, other show is mean and apathetic. It has no care for the real world. We aren’t watching Sliders, we’re watching an evil twin. A double.

You eat that shit real good Alt-Quinn.

So do you see what’s going on here? “Dead Man Sliding” is the culmination of this first third of a season that so far has gone completely off the rails. Last week was a first taste of how the ‘new regime’ could tell a story right. Now this week’s episode is the conclusion, brought to screen. We aren’t watching the Trial of Quinn Mallory made false by mistaken identity. We’re watching the the Trial of Our Sliders where it should be the Evil Sliders we’ve been putting up with.

And it isn’t an easy trial, either. The episode begins by setting up the cult of celebrity as it stands on Judgement World. Here, even the no-name D-Listers on our world have a Star on the Walk of Fame here (aggravatingly transplanted to Universal City Walk GEE I WONDER WHY). What else are we doing while watching this show than elevating a bunch of has/could have/never-been Actors onto a pedestal of amusement? John Rhys-Davies’ line in “The Guardian” about Indiana Jones wasn’t just cringe-worthy because it was an unnecessary poke at the fourth wall— it was a little sad. At that point in time, if anyone watching the show even remembered John Rhys-Davies, it was because of that. Same goes for the stupid handshake between Jerry O’Connell and Corey Feldman in “Electric Twister Acid Test.” Jerry O’Connell’s entire career has been spent running from the colossal shadow of “being the fat kid in ‘Stand By Me’.” Bringing it up is irritating and desperate. But we’re watching a show because we enjoy these actors on the screen, and if we want them to keep working, we have to keep watching. The teaser of “Dead Man Sliding” is using us as Exhibit A in the Trial of a Slider.

The most thrilling game of Simon ever played.

Then we have the Professor’s appointing as Quinn’s attorney. The Judgment Game’s Host makes Arturo swear he’s never so much as glanced at a book of Law, making sure that he’s entirely out of his league when it comes to legal defense. Arturo is saddled with a role that has nothing to do with his character. Just like Wade suddenly becoming an adept computer hacker. Just like Quinn knowing how to sword fight. Just like Rembrandt’s sudden Naval Past.

Don’t you be talking about my faux-Naval past when I’m wearing this sharp a suit!

And of course, there’s Quinn— or more precisely, there’s Quinn’s double. We’re presented with a smarmy man of action: a leather jacket wearing, uncaring individual who beds whoever he sees and punches anytime it would make less sense to run away. Or— he’s just the Quinn Mallory as we’ve come to know him over the last few episodes. But the show isn’t putting either Quinn on trial for a crime he committed himself— the crimes he’s accused of are all at the hands of the TV executives that control his very existence.

TO THE GULAG WITH YOU

“Dead Man Sliding” is a mirror to a show we once loved showing it for the ugly beast it has become. The end of the episode has the team jumping off a cliff and into the Vortex. Is this a warning to the show to reverse course before it jumps off its own proverbial cliff and jumps too far over the shark between its legs? Or is this show escaping the clutches of what’s come before, in order to land at its roots?

And people think the slide in “Revelations” is lame…

I’ll tell you: it’s neither. Because while this episode aired after “The Prince of Slides,” it was supposed to air third. Who knows why FOX decided to delay it so. Was it too good for them? That unknowable kind of ‘better than you think’ kind of good? Or did it not have enough explosions for them to be able to promote? Probably a mix of  both, leaning on the latter. Still, it’s hard to shake the feeling that this episode is about more than it pretends to be, precognitive knowledge of “Paradise Lost” or no. Unlike “The Trial of a Time Lord,” the season of Doctor Who that also strove to put itself on trial, it’s a coherent tale that brings up enough points intelligently enough to invite the audience to make their own judgement. Does this show deserve to be on the air as it is? In the case of Doctor Who, the answer was no, and the show quickly realigned itself. In the case of Sliders, it’s “yes,” but only if the show turns out episodes like this one. “Dead Man Sliding” is just too good to be an episode that’s only about making fun of Judge Judy or the Pre-Millennial fear of Photoshop. It’s an indictment not only of Sliders Season Three, but of the very Being of Television, using the medium against itself.

Next Week: A Dismaying Tale of A Man Who Sure Did Love His Acronyms (State of the A.R.T.).

If you’re going to invent the idea for a TV show, you’re going to write your ideas for a parallel world on a napkin. And on said napkin, you’re going to have some gimmes. Some easy, first thing that comes to mind kind of ideas. Like, say, “The Russians Rule America,” or “Women are in Charge,” or “The English Rule America.” Sliders burned through those within two months of being on the air. So it’s a surprise to see an episode that seems so obviously napkin-based this late in the game. It’s no surprise why you’d want to use an idea like this as a lead-in ad for a premiere:

So yeah, “Dudes Get Pregnant.” To quote Sam Beckett, “Ho Boy.” After the last two episodes, and their apparent mission to destroy my faith in not only good television, but also humanity itself, seeing the show revert to its “roots” and have a low-key episode without any sort of B-Movie insanity is somewhat jarring. It’s almost uncomfortable to watch an episode where the only thing separating it from last season is the haircuts and the sun. It’s painful, almost. It’s like a twist of the knife— we’ve been wasting our time with living flames when we could have had this? But hey— I don’t mean to complain. This episode is great, and you can tell it’ll be from the opening minutes.

Gee, Wade’s diary, who knew you were full of NONSENSE? “The Music on this world is coming from the sliders of another world?” YEEESH.

OH HEY WADE’S DIARY LONG TIME NO SEE. Rembrandt remarks on it, cueing in a viewing audience who probably never saw “Luck of the Draw,” and also winking at us fans who are excited to see the diary again. So let’s talk about the diary for a minute. Wade, as a character, has always been defined by her lack of definition. She basically never gets an episode devoted to her. She only exists, at this point, to either give quips because Rembrandt already gave too many in a scene, or to hack a computer because why shouldn’t she hack a computer? It’s clear no one knows what to do with her, and it’s increasingly clear no one cares enough to write an episode that could serves to flesh her out. I know I’ve already answered my own question, but why not just keep her Diary a recurring part of the show? I don’t mean that every week we cut to Wade talking about how she’s got indigestion and is so bummed that she can’t eat a giraffe burger with the dudes or whatever. But every now and then you get a little V.O., and we get to see a little more through Wade’s eyes.

In this episodes teaser, she’s serving as a surrogate almanac— we hear about the alternate history from her instead of Quinn and Arturo, which is sort of unprecedented on this show. And sure, you could argue “yeah but it’s so regressive for her to be like ‘aw it’s so romantic,’” but if that’s your argument for proving that Sliders doesn’t know what to do with its female characters, then JUST YOU WAIT. Honestly, it’s sweet— another moment where we can relax and watch these four characters interact with the familial love they’ve earned. So when a woman busts in on a stretcher and Rembrandt goes to business as instant caretaker, we aren’t really angry at them for neglecting to remind him that “hey, buddy, remember ‘Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome?’” They know Remmy too well to bother intervening. And they know that something’s going to go wrong, that there’ll be some sort of price to be paid, but they know better than to work against that. So when they find out what exactly is the price— that Rembrandt is now fated to give birth to a child who also happens to be next in line for some Royal Action— the look of shock on their faces is maybe the best DUH DUH DUH teaser moment we’ve had in Two Seasons.

Rembrandt’s pregnant? But I haven’t even had time to comb my hair!

You could make up a nitpick on that moment. You could say “gee whiz wouldn’t they have known about that already?” But why bother? You could also say “ugh what a dumb idea a virus destroyed the ability for women to carry a child past the second trimester?” but you’d be wrong. First, it’s extremely more plausible than “Love Gods”‘ magic “ALL DEM DUDES BE DEAD” virus, and second— and this is getting ahead of the game— but this episode is pretty much all dedicated to expanding character. And we should be more than willing to allow for a little bit of plot wishy-washiness to spend more worthwhile time with our characters.

If by “crisis” you mean “Lacking in Photoshop Skills.”

Since this is Season Three, it’s not perfect. But y’know, it’s no more imperfect than any other early episode. There’s a conspiracy in the royal family. Rembrandt falls in love with the double of a past lover. A virus damages a half of the population. The strange thing that’s happening with this show the further I get into Season Three is that my eye is being trained to pick apart every single thing that’s ever bad with an episode. But more and more, there are good points of the episode that don’t escape the critical eye. Something that I would have praised in Season Two I end up pulling apart in Season Three. It’s easy to look at a shitty CG Dragon and tell you what’s wrong with it. But when the formerly exciting adventures through parallel worlds turns sour and drab, it’s hard not to start to question what you’re here in the first place for. And yes, the fact that this episode is sort of a mishmash rehash of a lot of over-used Sliders plot moments is a mark against the episode, but what I’m trying to say is that it sort of calls out how those plot moments were kind of boring to begin with.

It takes a real man to wear a sweater vest whilst dueling.

That’s a really strange direction to take with this episode. It’s a superb episode in a sea of darkness, but it’s flaws, even as few and far between as they may be, are jarring enough to start bringing the whole building down. But let’s stop burning down the house, let’s focus on some really good things this episode chose to do:

“You’re not my husband… and you just farted.”

1. Not have the second half of the episode be about Rembrandt avoiding the guillotine. Which technically, it is, but that action is all on the back burner. Cleavant Derricks gets a scene where he lays down why his Danielle is so important to him, and it’s so incredibly moving, and well acted, and amazing that we’re given these minutes of screen time watching Derricks work. Danielle’s reply could seem like psychic magic, but it doesn’t— because we’ve just discovered that Cleavant Derricks is the best actor on the show.

2. Not have there be a surprise CG Magic Element. We didn’t need one. There could have been a dragon, or a unicorn, or some other kind of bullshit, but the producers (I’m guessing, maybe Tracy Tormé came out of the rock he was hiding under and said “guys, no”) realized there was a strong enough non-CG A-plot to carry an entire episode.

3. No British Jokes. Rembrandt makes a joke about pence (which is vaguely nonsensical), but the episode is nothing like “Prince of Wails,” which was actually written with “making fun of England” in mind. Don’t be mean if you don’t have to, Sliders.

“(I Can’t Believe I) Gotta Go (Again),” follow up single to “Tears in my Fro,” total flop, 1985.

Two things to end this with. One, the idea that we have to forever accept the fact that Arturo either cut Rembrandt’s stomach open and pulled a fucking child out (which is terrifying and also totally awesome), or the British World Doctors put a fake vagina into Rembrandt that maybe he still has because I doubt they had time to run to the hospital and say “hey so like, minor mix up can you remove the fake vagina you put in this dude?”

The other thing is the bookend world. And I don’t mean “bookend” in the way that, say, “lawyer world” from “Greatfellas” or the Spiderwasp world from “Summer of Love” weren’t really integral to the plot but were still satisfying ways to show the ways the sliders’ adventures exist outside of the 45 minute bursts we see it in. The “bookend” world that we end this episode with is wayy too obviously a time-padding device. It’s not like there wasn’t more to wring out from this episode’s plot.

But of course, that argument is kind of pointless when you take into account the fact that the bookend world involves a mother throwing her daughter out of a window. Which, if the episode ended there, I would be amazed and delighted because that’s awesome. I don’t know. I feel like Sliders should have the balls to straight up kill a kid. But they don’t have the balls to do that. They do, however, have the balls for that kid to sprout some fucking ANGEL WINGS AND FLY AWAY.

To be honest, I would have rather had a scene set in the Cave.

So I guess we can’t have our cake and eat it, too. We have to have some bullshit CG Angel Wings on top of a delightful episode. UUUUUGGGHHH THIS SHOWWWW.

ITS A PARALLEL WORLD WHO CARES

Next Week: BUSTADO on NATIONAL TELEVISION (Dead Man Sliding).

In 2012, there’s something romantic about “The Union.” People look back on the 70s and 80s and think, “Arthur Scargill, wasn’t he a nice man?” Nowadays, there’s riots, and London’s on fire. Here in the US, that banding-together against The Man spirit has taken the form of the Occupy movement. But the Occupy movement is toothless, a group of trust-funded aimless children who never bathe and latch on to any sort of micro-movement that appeals to them. That’s a generalization, of course— and I should point out that I firmly and wholly agree with the basic principles of Occupy and of Unionizing in general— I just disagree with the way Occupy’s chosen to make their claims.

But back to The Union. Science Fiction, in the 70s/80s, was often occupied (har har) with the idea of The Union. There are great examples of classic Doctor Who taking the issue head on (What’s up, Green Death?). The idea of “the common man is crushed by the system” is one of the oldest tenets of story-telling, sci-fi or otherwise. Sliders has tackled it from the side— “Prince of Wails” and “Fever” (and yes, I guess you can count “Time Again & World,” but I’m not going to) were both examples of small groups of citizens being tossed around in a torrent of a Government outside of their control.

But those groups/stories were never organized under a Union. Sliders never based a story off of the Coal Miners of England in 1972. So when, in this episode, the team lands on a world where the entire city of Los Angeles is a glorified Oil Foundry, and the Company works the workers into the ground, denying them anything and everything, even Health Insurance, we’ve got ourselves the makings of a real cracker of an episode.

Apparently the only thing The Union does get are dope-ass sunglasses.

Somewhat surprisingly, the team at first doesn’t want anything to do with the Union and the Machinations of the Planet. They’re more concerned with just finding work and laying low until the slide. Naturally, Wade gets involved when she discovers how far the Corporation is actually going in their quest to remove their workers’ rights. And this where the episode takes a slight downturn. The episode didn’t need a subplot where there’s a murder mystery and a secret arsonist working within the Corporation. The threat that the Union faces is greater than any silly murder/revenge story. But really, the episode should get credit for giving The Union a face, not just some faceless mass of humanity that we’re supposed to care about because of course we are. Wade’s journey through the episode is brilliant in this way. She carries almost all of the story revelations by herself— the meat of the character moments in the episode are all on her shoulders.

Or at least they would be, if this episode weren’t actually about A LIVING OMNIPOTENT FLAME THAT CAN TALK AND FORM INTO A SHITTY CGI “HUMAN.”

BBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFF

I semi-apologize for the alternate-dimension entry above. But do you see what I’m getting at? There could have been a wonderful episode here. A call-back to the more human-centric episodes of the first season. Instead, we have a sketchy framework background of a world that just serves as an excuse to shoot in the Universal Studios Backlot again (more on that later). The only thing that this episode does to redeem itself is the fact that they don’t shoot in that fucking cave set that we’ve seen every week for no fucking reason.

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING STOCK FOOTAGE

But even then, this episode commits maybe the laziest of production sins that the show, and maybe any show ever of all time, will commit. As much as it’s a pain and obvious and distracting, I understand the need to continue to shoot on the backlot. It’s a part of the compromise of the show’s move to Los Angeles. It’s a great money saving resource. Fine. Save that money. But get creative with how you choose to shoot the backlot. And I’ll admit, the episode’s choice to make a lot of the cars from the 50s is one step to making the backlot creative. The next step would be having an actual reason for making a lot of the cars from the 50s.

OH MY GOD ARTURO LIKES CARS NOW THEY MUST HAVE TAKEN THE WRONG ONE

But I’m digressing from my point. Let’s watch a scene from the episode, in which Wade and Rembrandt are trapped in a burning building, unable to escape (I guess the door is locked and they were tired).

Oh, wait, I’m sorry. That’s actually just BACKDRAFT THE RIDE. THEY DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO STAGE THEIR OWN FIRE. THEY JUST FILMED FUCKING BACKDRAFT THE FUCKING RIDE AND STITCHED IT TOGETHER, REPEATING THOSE DOORS BLOWING OPEN LIKE TWENTY TIMES, AND THEN CUT IN SOME SHOTS OF WADE LOOKING CONCERNED.

I ATE A BABY

I’m sorry, but that’s unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. I’m willing to forgive the episode for its foray into fantasy with the stupid fire being. I’m willing to forgive the waste of story with The Union. I’m willing to forgive Rembrandt’s weird sunglasses. I’m willing to forgive almost every stupid ridiculous bullshit part of this shitty episode. But to insult me so completely by just filming Backdraft The Ride and not even make any amount of effort to hide that fact? Unacceptable. They might as well just show this the next time they jump through the fucking vortex:

That’s more or less a joke. But look how well that’s aged over time. Then watch “The Fire Within” and tell me how much fun you had. And I’ll ask you to wipe the drool off your face because Yes, I’m Sorry, You Fell Asleep. Arturo, in one of the only charming moments of the episode, geeks out to Quinn about the Fire Beast being basically the coolest thing that has ever happened ever of all time (other than, y’know, SLIDING). But his excitement doesn’t translate to us. We don’t share in it. We’re bored and waiting for him to shut up so we can watch Ally McBeal.

This is the last time these two characters look like they have any sort of affection for each other.

So I guess, before I put this crap to bed, that I should talk about Wade’s little admission that she, like, really wants to squeeze one out. This comes in the middle of Backdraft The Ride, which is a pretty awkward time to tell anyone that fact. I mean, sure, she thinks she’s about to “die.” I don’t know. I’m torn. I don’t think it’s out of character, per se, though we’ve certainly never heard any sort of indication that she’s wanted a baby before. I think what rankles me about it is the fact that it’s impossible to take it seriously when I’m watching fire burst out of a door for the fourth time in as many minutes. It’s a potentially powerful character moment squandered in a lousy excuse for a TV show.

Also WTF was with all the Strip Clubbin’?

That’s the epitaph for this episode. And if we keep on this trajectory, it’s going to be the epitaph for the entire show.

Next Week: I’m going to be taking a holiday week, because I’ll be at CAKE, the Chicago Alternative Comics Expo! If you’re in Chicago, please come out! I’ll be selling some new comics, and some old favorites, and every cartoonist you’ve ever loved/should love will be there!

Next Next Week: Rembrandt One-Ups Wade and Squeezes One Out Himself (The Prince of Slides).

You can hang almost every problem with Dragonslide and Season Three as a whole on the last ten minutes of this episode. Rembrandt and Wade have literally the best interaction between two characters the show has ever had basically ever. Rembrandt lays his love of Wade’s soul out on the table. He tells her he wants to go home. He doesn’t want this life, he wants his friends, his loved ones. He tells her that at least he can have half of his dream. They embrace, and we’re more in love with them then we’ve ever been. The core foundation of the team is laid, as I’ve always said, with friendship at the feet. I’ve read people say that there’s no reason at this point for any of these people to continue sliding. But Rembrandt gives us every reason in the world. It’s love.

But then, as they draw apart, Professor Arturo busts in and tells them that “actually we have ten more minutes to fill, so let’s actually just look at this HUGE FUCKING DUMBASS DRAGON BECAUSE WHY NOT.”

Perhaps the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life.

I mean, really. The episode was over. The plot was basically resolved. The moral of the story was learned, Quinn was safe, the Evil Wizard was defeated. So why do we have the Dragon-Coda? Without it, the episode would be a silly but lovable farce. Instead we have the absolutely painful “dragon’s claw” sequence, and the even more ridiculous “Mallory’s sword can block fire because of course it can” sequence. Now, the fight with the Dragon is certainly in the realm of “so bad it’s good,” but the fact that it comes after such a brilliant scene of affection nulls the joke. After Wade & Rembrandt’s scene— and I’m willing to wager that this would hold true if this was the first episode of Sliders you’ve seen (which I have the feeling is going to be the litmus that I hold much of this season to)— we don’t want a Dragon. The Dragon is forced down our throats, and really the only reason is probably because the Producers thought the word “Dragonslide” sounded cool, but read the script and said “guys, where’s the dragon?” But c’mon— the threat of a Dragon is way more interesting than the CGI Bullshit that we got.

Oh no, I’m sorry. THIS is the funniest thing I have ever seen, ever.

But the strangest thing about “Dragonslide” isn’t that it’s a bad episode—which, despite all that I’ve written above, isn’t true. The strangest thing about the episode is that it feels like it was ripped right out of Season Two. It’s everything— the pacing, the plot, the fact that we even bother talking about the characters. Hell, the first minute or so, I would forgive you for thinking you put in the wrong VHS and were watching your rerun copy of “Obsession.” Part of that is in the writing: the tried and true team of Tony Blake & Paul Jackson, who penned a host of memorable episodes from Season Two (though not Obsession, so that’s weird.) Blake & Jackson are clearly still operating with the values of the second season: there’s discussion of parallel Earth history, an actual attempt to figure out how in the hell a dude could turn into a hawk— we need this kind of stuff. Otherwise, when Arutro finally throws up his hands and says “actually I have no fucking idea I guess that was a real Dragon,” it wouldn’t be earned. His throwing in the towel of science is a character moment. If we hadn’t had the episode’s attempt of world-building, it would just be a lazy writing moment.

You know there’s a problem when a lamé cloak is the classiest outfit we’ve seen Arturo in this season.

It’s a little funny, then, that the same team who wrote “Love Gods” would deliver another episode that puts us in a similar position. I mean, if you can’t tell, I’m not being overly critical of this episode. And it has a fucking Dragon in it. But ultimately, this episode is fun and enjoyable. Every character has a moment to shine, and Wade is treated like an actual human being who has thoughts, feelings, and emotions, not to mention an entire life. 

Not even “Young and the Relentless” was this inextricably 90s. Ugh that top. Ugh that shade of lipstick.

The acknowledgement of life is one of the deal-sealers of this episode. Rembrandt reveals that he was going to ask a woman to move in with him on the day he began sliding. Now, it’s difficult to believe Rembrandt as we knew him in Season One would be able to handle an actual relationship with a normal human being. At first, this ‘revelation’ seems like it’s as last-minute a revelation as “Oh, yeah, in the Navy” was, but it’s actually a very clever bit of storytelling. It’s made obvious in the dialogue, but the fact remains: we don’t know anything about Rembrandt’s personal life because no one has bothered to ask him about it before. This tiny moment actually does the job that Navy-Remmy was actually supposed to, deepening Rembrandt’s humanity. All of his past ranting and raving about his Caddy and his Anthem and the This Is Your Fault, Quinn is just covering up the fact that he actual had a full life before sliding.

Friends! Nobles! Countrymen! Druids! Dragons! Hideously Deformed She-Witches!

I mean, think about it. We know what Wade’s like was more or less like: she worked at a computer store, seemed to be a part-time student of poetry, had a crush on Quinn. She wasn’t really going anywhere, but she was what, 22? She’s allowed not to know what she wants. Sliding filled the emptiness that anyone in their early 20s fills. Quinn was a lonely nerd, with everything to prove. But he was still stuck at the same computer store Wade was. He was too much of a rebel to fit in to the Academic circle, and it wasn’t like he was going to start a ‘zine on Cosmology (thought that would be totally awesome). Arturo had the position he desired, but aside from the occasional shining star of a student like Quinn, it didn’t seem like he was truly happy. He was still haunted by his lost love, and the lack of respect all around him surely didn’t help.

So when we learn that Rembrandt had an actual life outside of his non-existant recording career, it’s kind of hard to deal with. His life might not have been much, but it was important to him in a way that it wasn’t for any of the other sliders. And none of those other sliders ever thought to ask him about it. I mean, it’s both reassuring and disarming that it takes maybe the last pair of Season Two veterans to flesh out Rembrandt Brown more satisfyingly than any other episode thus far. But it’s a start.

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING CAVE (also look at that fucking old laptop)

But, before you forget, this episode is about Magic. I’m sure it was a fight to keep any of the interesting “Rembrandt” stuff in the episode. Quinn had to go and be a huge dick and risk everyone’s life over some illusionist ‘babe.’ Rom the Ferengi has to pretend to be menacing, but also Max Grodenchik apparently forgot that real humans don’t hunch like the Ferengi do, and comes off as some sort of Hunchback Mercenary.

I mean, I’m only half-kidding. It only took a three seconds between the “that guy looks familiar” to “why is he hunching so much he looks like a Ferengi” to “oh shit that’s Rom.”

And then there’s Gareth, and his nonsensical excuse for a “plan to achieve immortality.” I mean, it’s so glazed over. There’s something about bodysnatching, and at one point he has to impregnate Melinda with Demon Semen, but at that point I was just sort of like “Oh, yeah? Demon Semen? Totally, dude.” And really, that’s all the reaction we’re asked of in this episode. And, yeah, that’s disappointing. We know this show can do better. It’s done so way too many times to be able to get a free pass for this. But the fact of the matter is that after “Desert Storm,” this episode just tries just such a tiny amount more that it earns that free pass.

“GARETH CAN SUMMON A DEMON FROM THE UNDERWORLD TO IMPREGNATE ME” // “GARETH CAN MAKE A RAINBOW TORSO IMPREGNATE JERRY O’CONNELL WITH A SHITTY FAKE ACCENT”

That’s not a good place for a television show to be in. But “Dragonslide” seems like it could be on its way to a mixture of silly-goofy and emotional. It’s a long shot, but there’s no reason to give up, yet. Right?

Next week: Putting out fire with Gasoline (The Fire Within).

So it’s with a profound sense of pride that I unveil the latest version of Earth Prime. Not only is it another complete overhaul – 1200+ new graphics, an all-new content management system, and a brand-new design – but this update also brings new updates and several important new contributors to the site.

Starting this week, the long-awaited reviews for Season Five will begin rolling out. You’ll see one of the aforementioned new faces, Ibrahim Ng, rightfully tear down some of Sliders‘ shittier episodes in a few weeks. In the meantime, we’ve added comments to reviews and episode capsules so you can further the dialog with your own voice. And in a couple months, we’ll unveil another Season Five exclusive that leaves me eating crow.

Coming at reviews from another angle is the exceptional Ian McDuffie, who has ported his amazing blog “Think of a Roulette Wheel” over to this site. Ian’s been deconstructing episodes (and comics) from the beginning, and I don’t know if it’s serendipitous or ironic that he joins Earth Prime right after the death of Professor Arturo, but you’re in for a hell of a treat if you haven’t read his articles before.

So keep an eye out, browse through the site again, and enjoy!

Last season, on Sliders: Professor Arturo was killed. In the season finale, Quinn pushed Rembrandt and Wade through a vortex that was supposed to take them back to their home Earth. Quinn and Maggie later tried to follow, but they ended up on a different Earth instead.

And then comes Genesis where, months later, Quinn has fixed the timer. Quinn and Maggie slide to Earth Prime only to discover the Kromaggs, an interdimensional race of conquerors introduced in the second season episode Invasion have gotten their first. Quinn and Maggie rescue Rembrandt, but it’s revealed Wade was shipped off to a Kromagg breeding camp. The episode ends with Quinn discovering that on a parallel Earth, humans developed a superweapon that drove the Kromaggs from their world. Quinn vows to find this Earth and bring the weapon back to liberate home. “We’ll be back,” Quinn declares, before sliding away with Rembrandt and Maggie. “You can count on it.”

Ah, “Genesis.”

Taken individually as a piece of television, “Genesis” is passable. It’s fast-paced and economical, quickly establishing that the Kromaggs have invaded Earth. It keeps the characters busy and active. There are some good exchanges of warmth between Quinn, Rembrandt and Maggie. The dark atmosphere is compelling. There are a few good moments of humor. It’s just that from an emotional standpoint, the scripting is inept.

The Breakdown of Emotional Reality

The first issue is how the script writes Wade out of the series: a Kromagg masquerading as a human collaborator says Wade’s been sent to a breeding camp, and no more is made of Quinn trying to find her.

For three seasons, the Sliders were always getting separated and held captive. Finding and rescuing each other was standard now, yet for no adequate reason, Quinn, Rembrandt and Maggie don’t even discuss rescuing Wade. It’s absurd. It completely undermines Quinn Mallory and Rembrandt Brown. How can they be worthwhile protagonists if they have no concern for a friend they’ve known for three years? How can their friendship remain plausible? How can we believe these people have each other’s backs? How can we believe they care about the people they try to help on parallel worlds, when they don’t care about Wade? We can’t.

Therefore, I don’t believe in the characters and I’m not convinced that Wade’s been sent to a breeding camp and is now being perpetually raped. There’s not enough emotion. In the context of the characters, it makes little sense that no rescue is considered. What “Genesis” really tells me is that actress Sabrina Lloyd left the show under acrimonious circumstances, and the writer of this episode (also the executive producer) wants to express a violent sexual fantasy towards her. As for Wade? The technical term is limbo.

The character no longer exists within the reality of Sliders, not because she’s a Kromagg prisoner, but because the actress refuses to work in the unpleasant environment that had become the Sliders set.

The result is that, for the rest of the show, we’re no longer seeing Quinn and Rembrandt. Instead, we’re seeing Jerry O’Connell and Cleavant Derricks performing characters that no longer make any sense.

The Absence of Physical Reality

The second issue with “Genesis” — I don’t believe in that Earth has been invaded by Kromaggs. It’s even less convincing than whatever happened to Wade. Neither the visuals nor the dialogue create any connection between the Earth onscreen in “Genesis” and the world Quinn grew up in. Quinn’s assertion that this was home in The Exodus after one conversation was laughable: Post Traumatic Slide Syndrome has shown one conversation won’t reveal all the potential differences. And when Quinn and Maggie land on this Earth in “Genesis,” it’s depicted as little more than the Universal backlot. A set. A stage. It doesn’t look like a real place.

The dialogue contains no references to other cities or celebrities or Quinn’s classmates or Jake the gardener or Artie or Hurley or Doppler Computers. We needed something like a shot of the Doppler building in flames, or Quinn’s house having been caved in. But the episode is set in Los Angeles, away from the familiar surroundings that would make this Earth seem like Quinn’s home.

If there had been one shot of Quinn discovering his cat had been dissected by the Kromaggs, I’d have bought it. But without anything like that, the result is that I don’t believe home has been invaded. There’s nothing to connect it to any reality I know, and Quinn’s home is supposed to be my reality. The only thing I believe is that the Sci-Fi Channel desperately needed something to fill in the time between commercials and Sliders came cheap and with a built in fanbase.

The Destruction of a Storytelling Engine

But I don’t think that fanbase would have wanted anything like “Genesis,” which completely alters the objectives of the series in the worst possible way. After “Genesis,” the characters are no longer trying to find a way back home. Instead, they’re searching for a superweapon to liberate home, a concept so contrary to the spirit of Sliders that it’s astonishing it ever aired.

When you have home invaded by interdimensional aliens, you can’t compare alternate histories to home. You can’t compare the mundane to the unusual and extraordinary. The mundane doesn’t apply to Quinn and Rembrandt anymore, nor does our history. Quinn and Rembrandt no longer come from our world, but instead an alien planet that doesn’t resemble our own.

At its core, Sliders is a very simple concept. The sliders are lost in the multiverse. They’re trying to find a way home. It’s a straightforward platform that elegantly allows any kind of story you could possibly want to do. You can have the sliders enter any genre, any circumstances, any situation. War stories. Political intrigue. Social satire. Action-oriented adventures. Sports drama. Romance and angst. Monster movies and spy adventures. Psychological horror or family conflicts. You can do anything you want.

It takes a spectacular form of reverse-talent declare, I can make Sliders better; I’ll make Sliders focused on fighting an interdimensional war against a horde of despotic primates from another universe that have conquered our home dimension.

That’s not to say that it’s a story that shouldn’t be told. It is possible to do a good Sliders story about the characters discovering the home they’d been searching for over four years is now an alien battleground. But it has to be plausible and emotionally compelling: you have to believe in the characters and the world they inhabit, and “Genesis” fails to offer anything that can be believed. And it casts a terrible shadow over every subsequent episode.

It’s grotesque to see Quinn and Rembrandt joking around in the next episode, Prophets and Loss. It’s bizarre to watch World Killer and see Quinn and Rembrandt having a great time at the movies. Wade is in a rape camp and home has been devastated and Quinn and Rembrandt respond by treating sliding like an extended holiday?

However bad the third season was, it hadn’t done any permanent damage. There was nothing to prevent the series from returning to stories with strong parallel worlds, alternate histories and compelling cultures that would make an interesting contrast with the world the viewers and sliders knew. Until “Genesis.”

46 minutes to ruin Quinn, Rembrandt, the storytelling platform for the series and any hope of executing a proper Sliders story again. The writer really had a gift.

Last week I said there was a problem. But I was wrong. Last week might have been misguided, but held up to this week’s episode, “The Dream Masters” proves itself to be an elegant disaster.

It had an idea, and while it was flimsy and had absolutely nothing to do with Sliders, it stuck to its guns and followed through with that idea the best it could. Think of it as an experiment.

You may wonder how I could stand up and defend “The Dream Masters” so thoroughly. Well then let me tell you that I would quite frankly watch “Time Again & World” twice before watching “Desert Storm” again. I have a fair amount of an open mind when it comes to Sliders. My relationship with it has changed over time. It means a lot to me, and while I wouldn’t say it means less to me today, I would say that its meaning has changed.

I would say that I still have an incredible fascination with the show. A bit of pity, and a huge amount of wonder. Sometimes this wonder is good: it’s the awe of the infinite. But more and more it’s becoming me wondering how this shit gets made.

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING CAVE.

So this, then, is the moment when a huge amount of laziness injects itself into the show. “Electric Twister Acid Test,” as you may recall, was a parody/homage/rip-off of the movie Twister and mid-90s twister-mania. As commenters have pointed out, “The Guardian” has a fair bit of Back to the Future, and “The Dream Masters” is a strange take on Nightmare on Elm Street. Not to mention the hodgepodge of popular culture than went into “Rules of the Game.”

But there’s a difference, a uniqueness to those episodes. “Twister” is obvious, but only really because of the basement scene. Otherwise, it has nothing to do with Helen Hunt & Bill Paxton. Likewise with “The Guardian” and “The Dream Masters.” They use their movie “inspirations” as a starting point, and build an episode from there. There are new ideas in each episode. Fresh concepts on tired tropes.

But then we come to this. I can imagine the pitch meeting for this turd: “guys I just watched Mad Max last night.”

YYYYYYEAHHHHHHHH

Tracy Tormé hangs himself.

I mean, really. There is absolutely nothing in this episode. I suppose the major problem with it (literally every scene is a major problem) is similar to “The Dream Masters’”: what does this have to do with Sliders? There’s absolutely no explanation of how this world became drought. There’s no explanation of the history of Aquarius, of the Sand Pit, of how a shitty gay-stereotype-barkeep could have made it so far in the slave-trade (so, yes, I’m saving my “Elston Diggs” post for later). The sliders are just plopped into some hamfisted bullshit about “Water Priestesses” and “Love,” and then a midget feels up Arturo.

Show me on the Professor where the Bad Dwarf touched you.

And yes, I guess I should be happy that there’s a sense of continuity and praise the show for remembering that Arturo is ill— BUT THEY DONT EVEN GET THE ILLNESS RIGHT. So there, no one cares. Also everyone in this episode is terrible. Take the idiot Water Priestess, resplendent in her cutoff jeans:

Can we agree that Wade’s face is saying it all here?

Her devoted brother//OH WAIT NO THEY’RE BETROTHED WHATEVER

The moment arrives when I am embarrassed to work on this blog in public. Also that dude’s hair would NEVER BE SO PERFECT.

And the dangerous Cutter, a ruthless ninny:

Dude looks like he’s about to EAT.

Or wait, is this Cutter?

Can we agree that Remmy’s face says it all here?

Okay, that joke is probably Too Soon. Ken Steadman, the actor portraying Cutter, died during the making of this episode. That’s tragic. I don’t mean to diminish that tragedy. But the fact is that this episode isn’t changed by that death. If anything, it’s the only thing that defines both the episode and the name of Ken Steadman. But that definition is moot, because both of those things are still nothing. I’m sure he was a nice guy. But he wasn’t a great actor. And this isn’t a great episode.

Wait, so they actually had this deleted footage of Ken Steadman looking thoughtfully off into the distance? In case something bad was going to happen to him? Do they do that? Is that a thing?

I’ll tell you this— generally, I watch this show alone. I talk about it so much anyways, there’s no need to include any of my friends in the actual viewing. But I did watch “Desert Storm” with someone, and their reaction reflects all that is wrong with the episode. They were so bored and struck by how bad it was, that I’m going to have a rough time convincing them to watch another episode with me. It’s not even that they hated it. It’s that it was so undeserving of opinion.

And that is just about the worst sin an episode of television can commit. The willful ignorance of what anyone wants to see. People don’t need to see a husk of a Mad Max parody. They’ll just watch Mad Max. I’m not even talking about Sliders fans here— they already know that they don’t want to watch this. Imagine, though, if this was the first episode anyone had seen of the show. They would never watch it again.

It’s fine that FOX wants this show to be more “accessible” and less “cerebral.” But that still require actual work to go into a show. A logline is not an outline. “The Sliders land on a desert world” is not a script. The fact that this absolute shit was allowed to be on TV is very much a bad sign for the show.

I could have just used this screenshot as my entire review and it would say everything I wanted to.

But there could have been a story somewhere here, right? This could, in some utopian ideal alternate dimension, be an episode about roughing it out, the vagaries of desert trading, the hardiness of humanity. A parable about commodity, about the intense problems that arrive when people become property. A story about home and what home is and what it means to different people. A story where the two guest leads aren’t betrothed (and seriously, let me go on a tangent about that— Devin’s been kidnapped since she was what, 8? 9? 11? There’s no indication that he’s seen her since then. So at night, this dude is masturbating to an 11 year old). They’re brother and sister, because it’s less creepy that way (except for the fact that there’s only, like, ten people in Aquarius, so everyone is probably inbred to high-heaven anyways). It could have worked. It could have been, it could have. Could could could have.

But this episode is none of those things. It’s a monkey pissing in its own mouth.

Next week: Let the dragon ride again on the winds of time and relative dimensions in space (Dragonslide).

So here we are.

I’ve been very, very forgiving to this season so far (as if you hadn’t noticed). But now I can’t be nice any longer. Because here we have the first ‘problem.’ I mean, there are problems all over the season. But this is the first glaring one. The first one that really makes you wonder “oh no.” Where are we going from here?

So of course, in honor of the first problem, I present the next thrilling installment of “Ian’s Notes as Post with Annotations.” BRING IT ON, DREAM-NERDS.

Women on Balconies?

Did I mention that the episode just starts with them on this world? As in, we don’t see them slide in. REMEMBER THIS.

What?

I’m assuming the “WHAT” is referring to the “Napoleon never met his Waterloo” line.

SERIOUS Z’s

he’ll be surprised when i come back from the bathroom

LOOK OUT THERE’S A NERD ON A BIKE!

OH SHIT

WHAT

Okay, now bear with me here, but if you think about it, this guy is actually really good. Like, as in, he is a talented actor doing his best with ridiculous material.

PENTAGRAM??!?!

I am going to love this episode!

I once saw some performance art where this girl dressed in an Amish Girdle had a dude brand a Pentagram into her bared thigh. It was pretty awesome. (TRUE STORY)

What’s going on here?

This scene is all the more hilarious since they’re wearing beads.

Though due to Jerry’s ridiculous “serious grimace,” it would already be pretty silly.

THE DREAM OF THE 90s IS DEAD

NARLO HAIRCUT RIP

Oh shit that nerd’s got the hawts for Wade?

NICE SPORTS BRA PO PO

Rembrandt actually just found a prostitute on the harbor.

“Send The Meat Wagon.”

Okay, so already this is a problem. Is this Sliders? What does a dude with a pentagram on his hand have to do with alternate dimensions? I mean, it’s the teaser— I’m sure it’ll be explained. But right now this reads way more like an X-File than an… S-File?

WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?

Sup, bro?

What is wrong with his eyes? They’re like upside-down or something.

HA HA HA GOOD ONE WADE

“Don’t you know what this hand can do?”

FISTING JOKES!

Seriously, though— from this far away it really looks like Sharpie.

Quinn is less impressive than Wade— I mean, she actually had a handle of this situation.

I use to draw Pentagrams on my napkins too… LAST WEEK AT THE SEANCE. Also, your dreams? That dude wasn’t asleep on the beach.

OUT OF CONTEXT SCREEN CAPS.COM/AWKWARD

Okay, but seriously, the bartender is like “HEY LET ME TELL YOU JUST ENOUGH ABOUT THE PLOT SO YOU HAVE QUESTIONS BUT NOT EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF COURSE NOT.”

Okay, now I know there’s a precedent for “dudes they meet on almost every world” (Miss you, Will Sasso), but so far this “Diggs” dude is kind of a bore. More on him later, I guess (probably next week).

SHE WAS AROUSED AS NEVER BEFORE

This is literally the best scene the show has ever had. (Also, damn Wade how short is that dress?) LOL PROFESSOR’S “PORN” FACE IS HILARIOUS.

YES I AM CERTAINLY AROUSED BY THIS (seriously though an erotic novel read by John Rhys-Davies? MAKE IT HAPPEN)

“Here we go!” Quinn is so dumb sometimes.

HA HA LOOK AT THIS DOOD

No comment.

WINSOME WADE… Dude the more you make these Wade jokes the less likely she is to sleep with you. Y’know, if it wasn’t for the whole “I KILLED A DUDE” thing, she’d probably be TOTALLY in love with him.

Dude he already touched you.

LOL sound effects.

Wait what’s happening?

Okay, remember when Wade was tripping in “Fever” and it was genuinely terrifying? Not so here.

What is this energy?

Okay, actually, with a slighter hand, this sequence would have been pretty good. They’re playing with Dream Tropes here. Unseen enemies, running in place, the uncanny. It almost, almost, almost works.

HA HA HA HA  HAHA

WOW that thing with Quinn was kind of awesome!

One imagines this was the same thing he did when he quit the show.

Can’t a girl have some ketchup with out it being a thing?

PSYCHOTROPICALLY INDUCED STIGMATA

Just sayin’, guys, I don’t think waking up to the sight of you UP IN HER FACE is going to chill her out much.

HA HA HA HA “when he touched her she felt a tingling sensation” um… duh?

Okay, so the only reason this isn’t the dumbest thing ever is because the actors are doing their best to sell it. Arturo’s got conviction— so, then, do we.

These guys are so cute. Best friends forever.

The best part is that they actually DO have orange juice and liver. Also NAVY REMMY GO AWAY.

Y’know, the thing is I feel like this entire concept would be less ridiculous if they weren’t called “THE DREAM MASTERS.”

That acid coffee is pretty cool, though.

Yeah maybe don’t drink that.

Okay, but seriously, calling someone a “Dream Master” is stupid.

Yeah yeah, blame it all on REM.

Nice Camel Toe, Doc.

Doctor Whats-her-name, MD. Also yes, Netflix, I hate you.

Wait, why is there a secret wall. AND WHY DOES IT LEAD TO A CAVE?

LOOK AT THIS FUCKING CAVE.

Is that moonlight in the background? What if someone just fell into this fucking cave?

Yeah, just show any two strangers the lab.

Arturo’s shirt is pretty awesome.

But also what is with Quinn in this shot? He looks like he just remembered how bad the rap verse in “Radio Song” is.

HERE COMES THE INFODUMP. Actually, she’s doing a pretty good job of it. “Eliminate them?” Damn, Quinn. (Also Arturo agrees with me on this one.)

OH SHIT SO MUCH FOR LIVER.

AWW SWEEPY WEMMY

LOL FRIGHTNENERERS

Actually, that dude coming through the door is so dumb it’s terrifying.

Oh shit all that blood!

WHO YOU GONNA CALL?

This is unsettling! I kind of like this guy! These parts are fun!

The only thing keeping this episode back at this point is the dumb scream noises.

Hey Wade, I can see your squibs popping! AW NO NO NO NO NO.

OH SHIT THEY PULP FICTION’D WADE.

Sliders as Gerhard Richter painting.

Oooh, pack your bags, Remmy. YOU’RE GOING ON A GUILT TRIP!

You’re going to let her down far worse than this, Rem. Don’t worry about it.

LOOK AT THAT FUCKING CAVE.

Ha ha ha. WTF is this.

This is the best they can do? Why aren’t they just floating on top of a Dragon with huge Breasts or something?

Okay, so this sequence is like how I feel about Bauhaus: I always want to listen to Bauhaus. I like looking at Bauhaus. But when I listen to Bauhaus, I’m always disappointed.

BELA LUGOSI’S DEAD

I think it’s really just the dumb fake screaming sound that drags this episode down.

This would also be terrible if that dude’s crazy grinny face wasn’t totally awesome.

THE MAN WHO LAUGHED.

NICE UVULA WADE!!!

Whatever it takes to pay the bills, Sabrina.

Okay, so remember in “Love Gods” when it was like a silly action adventure and it was troubling because we were having fun watching it but it wasn’t really what we expected Sliders to be? Like, it opened the door for more whimsical stories that had less of a tether to reality? Well, this episode is basically the farthest end of that reality-prism. It’s pretty fun to watch, if you divorce it from your expectations.

But I guess that’s the problem, right? At this point, we aren’t watching Sliders. We’re watching something that’s fun— a television show that couldn’t be more mid-90s if it tried (though I think it’s trying really really hard). It’s action packed and has enough of a plot to justify it. But it isn’t Sliders. When I said it’s more X-Files in the teaser, I didn’t really know how right I would be. The difference is that Our Team knows so much less than Mulder and Scully would. They’re going in way blind. They’re like a team of detectives. Interdimensional detectives.

Except that brings in another issue: there is no sliding in this episode. We don’t see them come in, we don’t see them leave. What does that make the show? What is this episode? I don’t know— I really don’t have an answer. I’m sure that I’m enjoying myself, since my expectations are zilch. But it isn’t Sliders.

“THe pentagram inspires terror”? I mean, I don’t know, it just makes me think of hipsters.

I love the nerdy dude’s Kristen Stewart-esque “hair fidget.”

This isn’t what I was talking about, but it’s still really funny.

Y’all weren’t hip so you took drugs, put on a SHIT TON of eyeliner and wore the stupidest sport coats EVER. The lead nerd is the coolest because he’s wearing the sharpest suits.

Number One Dalis Car fan in Heaven.

NEXT IN LINE FOR THE THRONE. THE DARK THRONE. BLACK METAL YEAHHHH.

I’m not sure how to react to this “they’re really nerds” “reveal.” It almost would be better if they were simply nut jobs with delusions of grandeur.

“Where can we find some geeks this time of night?”

ORPHANINE.

Wow, look at that wash over Arturo’s face. That’s why we watch this show.

NOW WHO’S THE ELEPHANT

Here comes the powerhouse. EMOTIONS ARE A GO.

Even the “elephant” part is great. See, it is Sliders!

The Dark King of Context Disappears Again.

AWWWWW. I love these people as much as they love each other.

I guess that’s the difference— it’s these people, their bond.

Their bond of wacky-ass Laugh Faces.

Why did Quinn keep those glasses on for so long.

No, really, why?

I’m really into the image of these guys holding their tatted hands up.

Ew, creepy!

GLOW STICK MEDICINE

What is her face! When would an intravenous drug EVER be black-light friendly?

Why are the lights strobing?

This scene is shot like Season One. Too bad it looks the most like “Fever.”

RAVE UN2 THE DREAM WORLD

Coffee Shop of Terror.

I’m not impressed.

“WAAADE” get used to that, bros.

SMOKE MACHINE OF TERROR.

NoooOOOooooOOooO!!!

Seriously, could you make that Squib any more obvious? No shit it’s not real.

Like, I know that isn’t a shoulder pad.

Stop yelling, Quinn.

WHOA THE DREAM IS SHARED. Too bad there’s no such thing as “Residual Self Image” for those fools.

Stuck in a Dream-World in your PJs. At least they aren’t trapped in their Middle Schools naked, AMIRITE?

HA HA HA SNAKE ROOM IS SO GOOFY

WTF is Wade’s Shirt?!

THIS IS A FORMICA TABLE. GREEN IS ITS COLOR.

Cool snake, bro.

They did SUCH a good job aligning Rembrandt’s eyes with the CG snake, didn’t they?

BWWWWAAAHHHHH, he said.

LOL. Jerry, let’s get a second take on that “Quicksand” face, huh?

KNOWLEDGE COMES WITH DEATH’S RELEASE OHH OHHHH OHHHH OHH

“DAMN IT.” This chick is the worst stop screaming ugh.

But like, this is paced briskly.

DREAM BFFS.

COWLICK OF TERROR

OH SHIT. BACKLOT OF TERROR. Also, why does it sound like energy? Man, get a different, like, “sound effects” CD or whatever.

Dig that logo. Was that too complicated to copy in Palm-Sharpie?

LOL CG KNIVES CAN’t HURT YOOO.

At least they weren’t thrown in agressive slow-mo.

LOL NICE GLASSES READJUSTMENT.

They probably hired this guy out of a Lenscrafters catalog.

SICK FIREBALL BRO.

SSSSSMOKIN’ (that is my 37th Mask reference this year)

Not so sick quip.

YEEAAAHHHHHHH!

I did that with a shuttlecock once. In real life, not a dream.

Is he laughing?

DERP.

I know I am.

Why is that wall red?

I see a red door… wall… whatever?

That dude is so chill about being on fire.

Why did that happen? Why is he awake now?

I went to sleep and woke up in this shitty cave set. WHAT A NIGHTMARE.

HOW DID YOU STOP IT?!?

HOW DID YOU FIX ANYTHING?!?!?

AND THEN THEY WENT TO SLEEP AND MISSED THE SLIDE AND SPENT 29.7 YEARS ROLLER BLADING.

FUCK THIS CAVE

Okay, so this is ridiculous not because it’s totally ridiculous, but really because of the “World President” problem I’ve been talking about. Like, there are what, 20 Dream Masters? You seriously can’t get enough tear gas and taxpayers to get rid of 20 nerds? If it’s really so much of a problem, can’t you call the National Guard? Except no, that solution is ridiculous because the problem is ridiculous (so ridiculous in fact that there’s literally no solution that makes sense). There’s no way that anyone would be allowed to get this far in their “pentagram terror tantrum” plan. No amount of eyeliner can stop a gun in real life.

I mean, I’m not saying you have to kill these nerds. But this show isn’t asking me to think that far.

But I’m not stupid. None of us are that stupid. But we’re not supposed to ask any questions here. We’re supposed to take this nonsense at face value. And no matter how reduced our expectations are, something like this just can’t fly. Take it as a showing of the goodness of Sliders, but we want more out of our show than this. We expect to be challenged. Not much— Sliders isn’t Mozart, it isn’t Mensa. But it’s smart. At it’s best, it’s intelligent in a way that respects its audience. So as much as I think the lead nerd’s face is funny and maybe yeah, even a little scary, it’s still a little insulting.

And yes, it’s been said before, but it’s worth repeating: there isn’t any Sliding in this episode. I don’t need to see the Vortex every episode. But there’s something about the image of the four of them running off into the blue light off screen that integral to the experience of the show. If you take that away, what are you left with?  Not Sliders. Not anything, really. A garish husk.

This husk insults me and entertains me at the same time. Is that enough to build a show on?

Next Week: It was hot we stayed in the water (but there wasn’t any [Desert Storm]).

I think everyone here is aware of the hype surrounding this episode. It’s the last televised stand of Tracy Tormé, the last time the creator of the show gets to put his mark upon it. So this should be the be-all-end-all of Season 3 scripts, right? This episode should be the benchmark of all that comes after it.

I’m not sure if this is a real conception, but I feel like there’s an expectation that the work for a show by its creator must be inherently better, assumed to be the best. This kind of really isn’t true for the most part. To take modern examples, both Fringe and Lost both got hugely better once JJ Abrams took his hands off those shows (I mean, I love you JJ, but for real). And to use more contemporary to Sliders examples, Star Trek: The Next Generation improved hugely after Gene Roddenberry stepped back from it, and Chris Carter’s X-Files episodes ended up being bogged down with boring continuity porn (this is me actively refraining from bringing up Doctor Who again). Tracy Tormé is not an exception to this. His episodes are never the best of the bunch. “Into  the Mystic?” “Summer of Love?” “Invasion” is probably his best solo script outside the Pilot, but even then its more impressive for its new ideas than its actual storytelling.

This train of thought, of course, is limiting. Tormé certainly had a hand in crafting every script that came through the show. In most cases it’s impossible to know exactly what he added or rewrote. But it isn’t hard to imagine that his interventions ended up making the difference between a Sliders script and a script of any generic sci-fi show (and, if I can break my rule, is exactly what’s going to happen to the show once he leaves). So he knows what he wants out of the show. But by himself, he never seems to know quite how to get it.

The science behind this makes no sense.

Or at least he didn’t until he seemingly pulled one of the best episodes of the show out of his ass. Gone are the unnecessary explosions. This week, we get a reprieve from needless escapes and recaptures. We’re treated to an episode that reveals not only a lot about our characters, but also a lot about the nature of sliding.

The real meat of the episode is a strand of storytelling we haven’t seen on the show in a rather long time: Sliding as wish-fulfillment, and specifically how doubles figure into it.  We’ve had doubles before, and not too long ago (hello, alt-Wade from Double Cross!) But the most recent use of double have been plot-driven rather than character-driven. That’s not necessarily a bad thing— Alt-Remmy in “Greatfellas” was a non-entity, but he was an exciting non-entity. Alt-Wade from Double Cross is a little more insidious. If it’s that easy to infiltrate the group, shouldn’t they be more nervous about it happening (yes, I’m willfully ignoring “Post-Traumatic Slide Syndrome” here)? Doubles are ourselves, with minor divergences leading to major differences in personality (Fringe did a great job with this a couple of weeks ago, with two doubles discussing their childhoods and finding no difference between them). When the team encounters doubles, they’re encountering their past, but changed— a left instead of right. Sliding is an interesting micro/macrocosm in this way: not just the Earths that change, it’s ourselves.

You can wear all the leather jackets you want, but it won’t change your soul.

This episode takes that concept and makes it real— showing Quinn the moment that could change his double, and giving him the opportunity to be the force of change. Quinn is forced to relive a terrible moment form his past- a huge fork in his life’s road. Quinn’s never been much of a Man of Faith, but this is too much of a coincidence for him— first it was Daelin, now this?

IN A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE IS SEPIA.

Sliding, for Quinn more than anyone else, has been a grueling moral gauntlet, exposing a guilt-ridden introvert in the place of this increasingly macho persona. Of course, as the universe proved, intervening with the lives of others in disastrous to yourself and others. But again, this is too much for Quinn. His past is so raw and un-dealt with that it blinds him.

It’s the blindness that makes this episode difficult to watch at times. Quinn snaps at his friends for not understanding his actions, but refuses to take the time out to explain them. The more I think about it, though, the more that Quinn’s behavior actually lends a sort of realism to the episode. These are people who spend way too much time around each other. There’s not much left to hide between them. Quinn’s going to protect what’s left of him. It’s weird though that it’s only really now that I get this sense of “earned pricklyness” from the show— Wade’s shrillness in Season Two made no sense at the time— but the team’s tension is much more believable now, simply by dint of the length of this journey. The fact that Quinn and Arturo decide to hide Arturo’s secret from the others is going to cause trouble later— but I’m actually kind of looking forward to it.

The way Quinn’s mom just let this handsome young stranger into her home, you’d think this scene would take a much different turn…

But the thing is, at least in this episode as scripted, we don’t understand Quinn’s intentions either. So we, as an audience, side more with Quinn’s mother, who is worried that this “Jim Hall” is going to weaponize her son. We also, hopefully, are a little disgusted by Quinn’s ‘romance’ with Heather Hanley, his third-grade teacher. I mean, sure, she’s attractive or whatever, and it’s clear that Quinn has always wanted to get with her— but is this what Sliding is for? When I speak of “Sliding as Wish-Fulfillment,” this really, really isn’t what I’m talking about. Plus, it gets more to the irresponsibility of Quinn’s actions, as he’s making a tangible mark on this woman’s life for purely selfish reasons. The end of the episode has Quinn throw off a quip at Heather as she catches them sliding: “By the way, my name’s not Jim… it’s Quinn.” So Heather, after getting over the shock of seeing a dude disappear into a fucking hole in the universe, is going to shudder with the realization that she just made out with a 12-year old. HOW IS THAT GOING TO HELP LITTLE QUINN? She’s going to look at the young Quinn and be terrified by the fact that he’ll one day put the smarmy moves on her. Ugh so gross.

What teacher would be allowed to wear that top!

But still, one must give kudos to the episode for having the event Old-Quinn’s trying to prevent be so horrible (by which I mean hitting a kid in the knee with a baseball bat [JESUS CHRIST, QUINN]). By showing Kid-Quinn how to prevent himself, he gives him an alternate outlet for the rage he feels. It’s commendable but I still feel… uncomfortable, I guess, about it. Even if he changes that moment for the ‘better,’ how can he know how it’s going to Butterfly Effect out? Kid-Quinn, from this point on, is a different person— Old-Quinn can’t know what kind of person he’ll be. Will he still invent Sliding? Will he still need to? Old-Quinn’s actions are wholly selfish, as much as I’m sure he’d deny it. But he, more and more, is defined by his guilt. Was Sliding a way to run away from this guilt? If so, it’s proving that you can never run away from yourself, no matter how hard you try. The universe will always be there to hold a mirror against you.

A super ultraviolent mirror, maybe.

It’s interesting, then, that for something that’s ostensibly about infinite possibilities how few possibilities there seem to really be. You can’t escape your past, and you can’t escape your death. This episode doesn’t satisfy itself as just a morality tale about the importance of your past decision. It’s also a meditation on the relentlessness of mortality.

We don’t start the episode with the revelation of Quinn’s impending introspection. We start with a quieter revelation: The Professor is sick. Very sick. He’s got a terminally (and impossibly vague) illness that will kill him, and kill him soon. (The opening hospital sequence is a minor masterpiece in the way that it starts out as if it’s some sort of cyber-dystopic lab, but really is entirely mundane, and all the more horrible for it.) Arturo’s B-plot, as we see it, is his “thirst for life” in the wake of this news. But the focus is really on a couple of hugely moving moments.

Tender.

There’s a moment in the middle of the episode where the Professor physically restrains Quinn from intervening in stopping his Past-Double from getting beaten up. In it he chides Quinn for using his double as an excuse for running away from all the pain and loss at hand. He drops a heavy blunt load on him:

“You’re angry at me because I’m going to die, and I’m going to leave you all alone.”

This ties in with the scene in the teaser where Quinn confronts Arturo about his illness. Arturo is convinced that he’s got to leave the team, go on and die alone. He’s walking away when Quinn slays him with this: “We need you, Professor.”

The gravity of Quinn admitting this floors Arturo. But it isn’t really until the end of the episode, where we truly see the way that Quinn and Arturo are each other’s emotional glue, that it floors us. The need each other—they’re the two scientists, the two de-facto leaders. Neither of them are equipped for the job. They complement each other. Quinn needs Arturo to be an anchor of adulthood in his life. Arturo needs Quinn to impress him with the goodness in people. His tearful of admission of pride (he says that it’s Quinn’s Dad who would be proud of him, and while that may be true, it’s obvious he means himself) at the end of the episode cements this.

Not even Arturo’s weird polar-tek can distract from the power of this scene.

So we have a powerhouse of emotions here. This is truly a ‘big’ episode. We have a script that’s worthy of the cast, and a story that’s worth remembering. If this is Tracy Tormé’s last stand, then so be it. It’s his best work for the show. We haven’t had an episode like this yet this season. It’s proof that not every episode has to be action-packed—as much as watching the show struggle to mix action and emotion has been entertaining thus far— there’s still room for quiet, moving moments.

This scene is really sweet until you remember that Quinn is talking to himself and is being wayyy too chill about it.

But this episode also lays down a gauntlet. Because even if Quinn and Arturo argue that they need each other, it doesn’t matter. No amount of love in the multiverse can stop Death and save Arturo. He is dying, and they are going to have to deal with that. From now on, there’s a countdown. This group of friends was brought together by extreme circumstances. It will be broken the same way.

Their days are numbered.

Next Week: Get out of my dreams, and also out of my car (The Dream Masters).

Another season, another theme song. (Also, apologies for having a Polish-Dubbed youtube video. If someone can score me a better link I’d be much appreciative. But also a Foreign Dude saying “Sliders” sounds really funny, so enjoy it.)

I do feel that Sliders’ lack of, let’s say, ‘brandable identity’ is not wholly unrelated to its mild unpopularity. Season One’s theme song, for all its techno-fueled bluster, was pretty uncatchy and completely unrelated to the tone of the show. Season Two’s was very catchy, but ultimately too dated to the mid-90s that it would never be memorable enough.

Season Three now, is by far the catchiest. You can hum along to it— it’s fair to say it could get caught in your head. That’s a good start. But just being catchy isn’t enough. You’ve got to back it up with some strong imagery. You’ve got to represent the show. Sliders often suffers from misleading or boring teasers. So more than most shows, Sliders has to work harder to re-convince its audience that they’re watching the right show.

Season Three’s intro, it must be said, does the best service to the show. First off, it trims down the opening monologue to something much more concise and exciting. Here, we have the makings of something that could actually become iconic.

What if you found a portal to a parallel universe?

What if you could slide into a thousand different worlds,

where it’s the same year, and you’re the same person,

but everything else is different?

And what if you can’t find your way home?

Jerry O’Connell’s reading of it is brilliant, but there’s something more at play, here. It de-specifies the story. It’s no longer the “story of Quinn and the Sliders.” It’s not saying “hey, look at this awesome thing I did.” It’s “what if you did this,” or “what if it was you.” It welcomes the audience into the adventure, asking us to participate in a way that we haven’t been before. It isn’t that we wouldn’t have come along on the adventure before. It’s just that we haven’t been asked. And so down the rabbit hole of a Vortex we go, happy to at last have an invitation.

You can make the grumpy argument that the montage that follows cherry picks all the flashiest moments from the first two seasons and makes it seem like all Sliders is is one long explosion/DINOSAUR/explosion. But let’s be honest— Season Three is all about explosions. If they could find an excuse for another dinosaur episode, I’m sure we’d see it (nyuk nyuk). So by choosing the most ‘exciting’ moments of the show, we’re greeted with the most honest representation of the show thus far.

So, good job, team. Now I’m sure that next week’s episode will be completely devoid of explosions and spend its run-time putting the characters through an emotional gauntlet.