Space Cases, part 1

Originally published June 2, 1995, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1124

OK, OK, so I wasn’t really in the frozen north. I got as far as Montreal, which is where I’m writing this.

What I’m doing in Montreal is overseeing the culmination of a project that’s been in the works for nearly two years. It’s a pilot for a TV series for the kids’ network, Nickelodeon. I haven’t written about it until now because, being habitually paranoid, I refused to take for granted the notion that it would ever get made. Of course, that’s hardly a guarantee that it will get on the air, but I figure, what the heck.

I’ve written about (i.e., subjected you to) projects I’ve worked on that I had nothing to do with originating. So I might as well tell you about (i.e., inflict on you) the origin of the possible new Nick series called Space Cases, which I co-created.

Saturday, April 22: I arrive in Montreal and head straight for the studio.

Why Montreal, you may ask? The short answer is: It beats Romania. The longer answer is: Since this is one of the most expensive pilots Nickelodeon has ever embarked upon, it’s being done as a co-venture with a Canadian production company called Cinar (best known for the Nick show Are You Afraid of the Dark?). This means that most of the cast and pretty much all of the crew (including director) must be Canadian.

When we embarked on casting some months ago, we were informed by an American producer that our task was hopeless; we’d never find sufficient Canadian talent to produce a quality series.

We didn’t buy it for a second. Top-notch series such as The X-Files, Due South, and The Commish are all filmed in Canada. And indeed, as I sit here in the midst of the gorgeously built sets, while the superb cast we’ve put together walks through rehearsal, I merely have it confirmed for me that the Canadians have a lot on the ball. If nothing else, set design has certainly come a long way from the nightmare Harlan Ellison described in his Starlost experiences several decades ago.

Background on the series:

Nearly two years ago, Nickelodeon was in the market for a kid’s science fiction series and approached my manager, Susan Dietz—who also has producing experience under her belt (The Steven Banks Show on PBS).

In conjunction with another client of Deitz’s, my sometime collaborator Bill Mumy (of Lost in Space and Babylon 5 fame), we developed a series entitled Space Cases. (Space Case, singular, was my original title for my Star Trek novel A Rock and a Hard Place. Paramount thought it sounded a bit too juvenile. So what better place?)

What Nickelodeon was really looking for was a show about kids at a space academy. But I shuddered at the notion of a weekly show about an entire class of Wesley Crushers. There’s a notion spawned in hëll for you. So we went in a related but totally different direction that would still be simple and kid-oriented:

A group of misfit, goofball, remedial students at the “Starcademy” sneak aboard a mysterious ship that has appeared in orbit around their space-floating school. Upon discovering the kids are missing, their teacher (a burned-out fleet captain who is himself a screw-up, demoted in rank, and assigned to teaching remedial students so that he can “re-learn” the basics himself) and the assistant principal (Miss Jean Brody, without the warmth) go after them. Through a series of mishaps, the ship gets activated, hurtles away from the Starcademy, and then falls through a spatial rift that deposits them at the far end of the galaxy. The rest of the series would be about their adventures getting home. To put it on Hollywood terms, it’s kind of No Exit meets Summer School.

Four months after I wrote the pilot, Paramount announced the formation of UPN, the Paramount network, and that the anchor would be a new Trek series entitled Voyager. A month later they described the premise of Voyager—a ship falling through a spatial distortion, winding up at the far end of the galaxy with a long trip home ahead of them. I proceeded to bang my head against the wall, fully aware that, should our series ever get on the air, I could look forward to lame-brained reviewers declaring that it was “inspired by” or even “ripped off from” Voyager. As if Voyager, for that matter, wasn’t preceded by Red Dwarf, which was preceded by Lost in Space, which in turn was inspired by Swiss Family Robinson, which—if you go far back enough—has its roots in The Odyssey.

We’ve got a series about space travelers trying to get home, and it was co-created by Bill “Will Robinson” Mumy. What’s Trek’s excuse?

In any event, we persevered despite the unfortunate duplication (particularly since, in tone and style, the series will obviously be nothing alike. This is Nickelodeon, after all. The odds of any Star Trek cast member getting slimed are rather low.)

The director of the pilot is Burt Metcalfe. Burt is best known for his work on M*A*S*H, which he cast and directed three dozen episodes of. Most important for us are his skill and experience. Most important for Cinar is that he’s Canadian.

There’s only one cast member who would really be recognizable to any audience members. Fortunately, he’ll be recognizable to the right members, namely, the kids. His name is Walter Emanuel Jones, and he’s best known for his work as Zack the Black Ranger on Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. That alone should get us big points with the focus groups for whom Nickelodeon will be screening the show. And it sure doesn’t hurt that Jones was unquestionably the best actor who came in and auditioned for the role.

Walter plays the eldest of the students, “Harlan Band”—named for Harlan Ellison (obviously) and Charles Band (not as obviously).

All the students have a sort of yin and yang relationship. Harlan is the classic underachiever; Catalina from Saturn (Jewel Staite) is an overachiever; Rosie from Mercury (Paige Heuser) is an optimist (naturally, considering on Mercury all sides of the street are sunny); Bova (Rahi Azizi, currently on view in A Little Princess) from Uranus is a pessimist (and if people were always snickering about your planet’s name, you’d be a pessimist, too); Radu from Andromeda (Kristian Ayre) has no yin and yang counterpart, which heightens his personal situation—he’s the outsider, always trying to find ways to fit in.

Commander Goddard (Paul Boretski) wants to prevent the kids from making the same mistakes he did in his career; the assistant principal (Tamsin Kelsey) is our “Dr. Smith” or “Frank Burns” in that she’s the built-in antagonist. Rounding out the cast is the android Thelma (Anik Matern), slightly wonky and with unfortunate gaps in her memory banks (plus Anik’s mime training brings a wonderful physicality to the role that will nicely distinguish Thelma (Techno Human EmuLating MAchine) from other androids such as Data or Red Dwarf’s Kryten.

Dietz, who is executive producer, arrived several days ago, and Mumy got here yesterday.

The cast seems to be meshing nicely. No major-league egos or personality conflicts are immediately visible. That’s fortunate; dealing with so many young actors is a challenging enough proposition. The last thing you need are personality conflicts getting in the way.

Sunday, April 23: I spend the majority of the day in my room, working on my next Star Trek novel. The maid shows up at one point. She speaks no English; only French. She makes it clear that she’ll come back later, but I’m not planning on going anywhere. So I endeavor to communicate with her, despite the fact that my ability in French is limited to (as the Bill Cosby joke goes) three years of French 1. I convey the notion to her that she can and should make the bed now if she’s so inclined, since I’ll be staying put.

It makes me a little nervous. If I’m addressing a sentence to a woman in a foreign language and the word “bed” is involved, I want to make dámņëd sure that I get phrasing right. Otherwise, next thing I’d know she’d be screaming for help, the police would show up, and I would wind up on the Channel 11 news.

My only outing is late in the day, wherein Deitz, Mumy, and I have passed out invitations to the cast for a pizza dinner at the local gourmet-style pizza place. We get there a few minutes before 5 p.m. (the scheduled meeting time). Paul shows up, and Jewel and her mom, Cher, are there on time as well.

Long minutes pass as none of the other cast members show up. This is not a good sign. Here the exec producer (Dietz) and two associate producers (Mumy and myself) invite the cast out to dinner, and the cast doesn’t bother to come? No, not good at all.

But then, thank God, everyone else starts showing up. They appear in dribs and drabs, but at least they appear. The pizza is adequate, although it really tastes more like matzo than pizza dough.

Mumy initiates a toast, raising a glass to the future of Space Cases (whatever that may be). Everyone is hopeful, since steady employment is always desirable. And the characters, with their colorful costumes and bizarre make-up, are so different and fun for them.

I go back to the hotel, do some more writing, and watch Le Moment du Verité, a.k.a. The Moment of Truth, a.k.a. The Karate Kid. Nice dubbing. The guy doing Mr. Myagi sounds more like Pat Morita than Pat Morita does.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to once again at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. He wondered if the point had been made with the past two columns of cowering in an igloo, afraid of not being morally pure. He checked on Usenet May 11 to discover that people were asking him how he could justify working for Marvel. *Sigh*. Well, at least there’s a ready retreat. Special thanks to Arne Starr for his contribution.)