Today, as part of research for our next immersive VR project, I rewatched the very first episode of The Outer Limits. It was called The Galaxy Being.
I was struck not so much the deep layers of irony of the narrative (a given, since the very existence of the series was essentially a response to The Twilight Zone). Rather I was compelled by the sumptuous of the imagery, the oddly compelling black and white cinematography, the — strange as it is to say — romance of dystopia.
I found myself drawn into the show’s unnerving ethos of “Reality is not what you have been led to believe.” When you think about it, such shows were, in some way, our collective introduction to the existential relativism of the ’60s.
But most of all, I was astonished by the timing. By some odd coincidence, the day that I chose to reintroduce myself to this series — today, the 16th of September — was the very day of the year that The Outer Limits first aired in 1963.
For some reason, I feel that this realization needs to be accompanied by a theramin.