XPost: rec.arts.tv   
   From: weberm@polaris.net   
      
   Near the start of The Twilight Zone‘s second season, after CBS had informed   
   the production team that they were well over budget, it was decided that six   
   episodes of the show would be shot on videotape in a matter similar to that   
   of a live drama, then later transferred onto 16mm film for future   
   syndication. While the experiment was deemed a failure—the episodes wound up   
   looking like cheap soap operas and only saved about $30,000 in total—the   
   result was a unique chapter in The Twilight Zone‘s history with a couple of   
   memorable episodes, including a personal favorite of mine, called “Twenty   
   Two.”   
      
   The Twilight Zone was a show of many faces, shifting on a week-by-week basis   
   from science fiction to horror to something in between—with an occasional   
   detour into fantasy and even comedy at times. “Twenty Two” is pure horror,   
   following a professional dancer suffering from a vivid, recurring nightmare   
   after being hospitalized for exhaustion.   
      
   We first meet Liz Powell at the beginning of one of her nightmares, seemingly   
   awoken from sleep by the ominous ticking of a clock. Thirsty, she reaches for   
   a glass of water, only for it to fall from her bedside stand and shatter on   
   the floor. Then, she follows the sounds of footsteps out of her room into the   
   hall to see a nurse get on the elevator down to the hospital’s basement, her   
   face hidden in shadows. Following the nurse down to the basement, Liz finds   
   herself drawn to room 22—the hospital morgue—from which the nurse she’d been   
   following emerges and ominously says “room for one more, honey,” which sends   
   Liz fleeing to the elevator in terror.   
      
   A close up of Liz, with only the blinds of her hospital room visible behind   
   her   
      
   When we next see Liz, she’s fully awake—and her longtime agent has come to   
   visit and check in on her. This sequence, while more dialogue-based and less   
   tense, is arguably more uncomfortable to watch than the nightmare that   
   precedes it. Liz is convinced that her dreams are actually happening, but   
   when she brings up her concerns to her doctor and her agent the two of them   
   are…less than receptive to the idea. It’s unnerving just how unconcerned   
   Liz’s doctor and agent are of her anxieties—her doctor literally laughs off   
   her concerns, and he and Liz’s agent wind up literally talking to each other   
   over her as if she wasn’t there. Social commentary isn’t the main focus of   
   “Twenty Two,” but the episode certainly seems aware of the troublesome   
   history of those in the medical profession being dismissive of women’s health   
   concerns, at some points leading to some women even needing a boyfriend or a   
   husband to come to their medical appointments to validate the pain they’re   
   feeling.   
      
   Liz’s doctor recommends that she try a lucid dreaming technique and not reach   
   for the glass the next time she has the dream, believing it will break the   
   dream’s hold over her. But in the very next scene she has the dream once   
   again, and it winds up going the same even after she grabs some cigarettes   
   instead of reaching for the glass. She wakes up the next day in hysterics,   
   requiring a sedative from her doctor as he wonders how she knows the morgue   
   was room 22, given that patients are not allowed down on that level.   
      
   Finally, Liz is discharged from the hospital after several days rest. She   
   makes her way to the airport for a flight to Miami Beach, but when she   
   arrives, sure enough the flight she’s meant to take is flight 22. Upon   
   hearing that number, Liz’s anxiety starts to spiral out of control. As she   
   uneasily makes her way to her flight, elements from her nightmare start to   
   appear in real life—a ticking clock that only she can hear, a vase dropping   
   and shattering on the ground, footsteps sounding unnaturally loud, all the   
   while Liz is constantly trying to convince herself that she’s not dreaming.   
      
   She makes her way to the tarmac, but the stewardess who greets her as she’s   
   about to get on the plane is the spitting image of the nurse from her   
   nightmare. When the stewardess says “room for one more, honey” it sends Liz   
   running back to the airport in a panic. As the flight attendants try to   
   console her, they look out to see flight 22—right before it explodes on the   
   tarmac, seemingly confirming Liz’s apprehension.   
      
   A closeup of the stewardess, identical to the nurse from Liz's nightmare   
      
   “Twenty Two” is far from the best episode of The Twilight Zone, but it’s one   
   of my favorite hidden gems from the show’s run. A large part of what makes   
   the episode work for me is, funny enough, the unique matter in which it was   
   shot. The higher frame rate, harsh lighting, and buzzing audio that were   
   hallmarks of tape at the time all add to the sense of unease, especially   
   during those long shots of the basement hallway. At times, it feels more like   
   you’re watching a home video than an episode of television. There’s even a   
   little bit of tape wobble during the second nightmare sequence to add a   
   little bit of unintended texture.   
      
   It’s also a surprisingly open ending for an episode of The Twilight Zone. The   
   show doesn’t give a definitive answer as to what happened with Liz, whether   
   she’s having another nightmare or if her nightmares were a warning as to the   
   fate that would befall her if she got on her flight. There are   
   interpretations that could be made either way, but “Twenty Two” is content to   
   leave us in limbo as to what ultimately happens to Liz at the end—and how she   
   turns out afterward.   
      
   Meanwhile, the dialogue-heavy sections deliver an entirely different variety   
   of discomfort, that of seeing a woman’s concerns about her health and   
   wellbeing being dismissed. Social commentary is one of The Twilight Zone‘s   
   highlights, and while it’s not the central focus here it’s a unique way of   
   making Liz feel isolated from the people who should be trying to help her and   
   care for her wellbeing. Even Liz’s initial diagnosis of “exhaustion” feels   
   dismissive—she’s clearly suffering from some strong anxiety, and the   
   dismissive attitude towards said anxiety shared by her doctor and agent is   
   likely making it worse.   
      
   It almost feels like Liz’s doctor winds up gaslighting her, intentionally or   
   not—bringing in the night nurse to show her it’s a different person than the   
   one she saw, talking to her agent about her well-being like she’s not even   
   there, as well as the already mentioned dismissiveness he has towards her   
   insistence that what she’s experiencing is real. It ultimately raises even   
   more questions in those final moments: is her ending one of validation,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)