BY CHRISTIAN JESSEN
Back in November of 2008 (which was virtually a whole life ago for me) I jotted down a tentative Top-10 list of Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes. My reasons for so naming it were because I hadn't seen them all yet and wanted to make sure I had watched as many episodes as I could get my hands on. Part of me also wanted to make sure that the choices sank in and really meant something, as opposed to appealing to my own ephemeral preference at that time in my life. Additionally, I think it would be fairer to actually articulate in more detail why the movies got their respective ranking. And while I could just let you sink your teeth into the Top-10 juicy center of the post, I'm feeling a bit of a tease…and a nerd in need of nerding. So let's briefly look back at this seminal show of silhouettes talking back at movies.
These days you have so many riffers, commentators, and critics gushing with pandemic amounts of snark and wit there is literally no way you could digest all of it in your lifetime. YouTube, Blip, Vimeo, and the like are awash with groups and individuals ready to cater to your every fetishistic, nostalgic memory…kind of like porn, really. Now referential humor and witty commentary has been around longer than the internet, television, or even modern civilization, so citing an originator is off the table. But in the context of the last century of broadcasted media, true genesis was in the shape of a show starring an every-day schmo and his two robots who are all stuck on a satellite and forced to watch bad movies: Mystery Science Theater 3000.
Back in November of 2008 (which was virtually a whole life ago for me) I jotted down a tentative Top-10 list of Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes. My reasons for so naming it were because I hadn't seen them all yet and wanted to make sure I had watched as many episodes as I could get my hands on. Part of me also wanted to make sure that the choices sank in and really meant something, as opposed to appealing to my own ephemeral preference at that time in my life. Additionally, I think it would be fairer to actually articulate in more detail why the movies got their respective ranking. And while I could just let you sink your teeth into the Top-10 juicy center of the post, I'm feeling a bit of a tease…and a nerd in need of nerding. So let's briefly look back at this seminal show of silhouettes talking back at movies.
These days you have so many riffers, commentators, and critics gushing with pandemic amounts of snark and wit there is literally no way you could digest all of it in your lifetime. YouTube, Blip, Vimeo, and the like are awash with groups and individuals ready to cater to your every fetishistic, nostalgic memory…kind of like porn, really. Now referential humor and witty commentary has been around longer than the internet, television, or even modern civilization, so citing an originator is off the table. But in the context of the last century of broadcasted media, true genesis was in the shape of a show starring an every-day schmo and his two robots who are all stuck on a satellite and forced to watch bad movies: Mystery Science Theater 3000.
MST3k started humbly on the set of the "lowest-rated UHF station in Minnesota," KTMA, in 1988. Its creator was one Joel Hodgson who, along with fellow comedians Trace Beaulieu, J. Elvis Weinstein, Kevin Murphy, and producer Jim Mallon, started to make good use of the studio film library, empty studios, and broadcast equipment to cobble together the first episodes. In fact, many anecdotes reveal that Joel stayed up the night before the first broadcast, gluing and fashioning the progenitors of the 'bots we know and love. As the show continued it's regular broadcasts, the channel owner remained blissfully ignorant about what these folks were cooking up. With nearly catastrophic timing, this oddball show was picked up by a cable station dedicated solely to comedy (the "Comedy Channel," later renamed "Comedy Central" after buying its competitor, "Ha!"), just days before the UHF station management packed up and sold off everything to a CBN-wannabe group.
With a new home, MST3k gained a potential for broader exposure and audience beyond the suburbs of Eden Prairie. These and other changes gave the fledgling show a six and a half season run with next to no network interference, as well as freedom to stay located in their native Minnesota. Sadly, in the midst of a seventh season the show suffered the fate of many a quality program: cancellation. With the initial cop-out of "poor ratings" having not fooled anyone, other excuses included expensive rights acquisition for initial and re-broadcasts, but some diehards believe that administrative changes are what eventually led to such asinine, top-level "fat trimming." The abrupt mid-season cut-off baffled and infuriated both fan-base and TV critics alike. After a fan-funded ad campaign to bring the show back, work began on a feature film incarnation which was met with generally positive reviews, and within the year the show was picked up by the SciFi channel. It was back on the air, but with a price.
In a stark contrast to Comedy Central's laissez faire approach, the new network had a number of provisos, contingent on the show's return. The first change was a that the movie selection became pigeonholed into the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. This demand was a little more subtle than the second: that the whole of the show needed to have a "story arc," which many on the show's team found unnecessary. In Kevin Murphy's words, "We don't need a story arc…we need an excuse to tell jokes!" Additionally, the erratic rerun schedule, as dictated by this same network, made this story arc superfluous and downright confusing. With just three seasons completed at their new home, MST3k was again getting the axe, but for good this time. However, the legacy it left lived on. Generous syndication as well as video/DVD sales and a rabid fan-base made sure of that. But network keep-away wasn't the show's only form of chaos.
One cannot talk about Mystery Science Theater 3000 without recognizing the obvious internal changes that took place over it's 10-season existence. For those not familiar with it, MST3k was the story of Joel, a mild yet fastidious maintenance worker in "Deep 13," a hidden lab deep below Gizmonic Institute. OK, you know what, go watch this right now. Watched? Good.
Watchers of this inaugural Comedy Channel season got a shock in season two when their beloved Tom Servo got a voice box/puppeteer change in the shape of Kevin Murphy. Some show fans went as far as to send him a giant, dot-matrix-printed banner: "I HATE TOM SERVO'S NEW VOICE," which Murphy lovingly hung over his desk for many years. Tom's original operator/voice, peer of antagonist Dr. Clayton Forrester, and show writer J. Elvis Weinstein left the show at the end of season one. His feeling was that the major network's influence had made the working environment more "hostile," but he did not go into further detail. Writer Frank Conniff stepped up to become the lovable TV's Frank, assistant/associate in the goings on of Deep 13.
In the late-middle of season five, the now country-wide fan-base received a huge blow: Joel, the show's host and creator, escaped the Satellite of Love in a pod hidden in a box of "hamdingers." He also left the production as well. His own after-the-fact account regarding the departure may well mirror those of Weinstein's. He also felt that the show's direction and the work environment had dramatically changed since the early days at KTMA. When daily fights with the producer became a reality, Joel made the "final sacrifice" by leaving the program to, as he said, "allow it to continue." And it did. Very noble, really.
With a new home, MST3k gained a potential for broader exposure and audience beyond the suburbs of Eden Prairie. These and other changes gave the fledgling show a six and a half season run with next to no network interference, as well as freedom to stay located in their native Minnesota. Sadly, in the midst of a seventh season the show suffered the fate of many a quality program: cancellation. With the initial cop-out of "poor ratings" having not fooled anyone, other excuses included expensive rights acquisition for initial and re-broadcasts, but some diehards believe that administrative changes are what eventually led to such asinine, top-level "fat trimming." The abrupt mid-season cut-off baffled and infuriated both fan-base and TV critics alike. After a fan-funded ad campaign to bring the show back, work began on a feature film incarnation which was met with generally positive reviews, and within the year the show was picked up by the SciFi channel. It was back on the air, but with a price.
In a stark contrast to Comedy Central's laissez faire approach, the new network had a number of provisos, contingent on the show's return. The first change was a that the movie selection became pigeonholed into the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. This demand was a little more subtle than the second: that the whole of the show needed to have a "story arc," which many on the show's team found unnecessary. In Kevin Murphy's words, "We don't need a story arc…we need an excuse to tell jokes!" Additionally, the erratic rerun schedule, as dictated by this same network, made this story arc superfluous and downright confusing. With just three seasons completed at their new home, MST3k was again getting the axe, but for good this time. However, the legacy it left lived on. Generous syndication as well as video/DVD sales and a rabid fan-base made sure of that. But network keep-away wasn't the show's only form of chaos.
One cannot talk about Mystery Science Theater 3000 without recognizing the obvious internal changes that took place over it's 10-season existence. For those not familiar with it, MST3k was the story of Joel, a mild yet fastidious maintenance worker in "Deep 13," a hidden lab deep below Gizmonic Institute. OK, you know what, go watch this right now. Watched? Good.
Watchers of this inaugural Comedy Channel season got a shock in season two when their beloved Tom Servo got a voice box/puppeteer change in the shape of Kevin Murphy. Some show fans went as far as to send him a giant, dot-matrix-printed banner: "I HATE TOM SERVO'S NEW VOICE," which Murphy lovingly hung over his desk for many years. Tom's original operator/voice, peer of antagonist Dr. Clayton Forrester, and show writer J. Elvis Weinstein left the show at the end of season one. His feeling was that the major network's influence had made the working environment more "hostile," but he did not go into further detail. Writer Frank Conniff stepped up to become the lovable TV's Frank, assistant/associate in the goings on of Deep 13.
In the late-middle of season five, the now country-wide fan-base received a huge blow: Joel, the show's host and creator, escaped the Satellite of Love in a pod hidden in a box of "hamdingers." He also left the production as well. His own after-the-fact account regarding the departure may well mirror those of Weinstein's. He also felt that the show's direction and the work environment had dramatically changed since the early days at KTMA. When daily fights with the producer became a reality, Joel made the "final sacrifice" by leaving the program to, as he said, "allow it to continue." And it did. Very noble, really.
In the wake of this upheaval, Michael J. Nelson took over host duties, and a great schism formed two fan factions—each favoring one host over the other. Season six’s finale saw Conniff leave the production, with TV's Frank being lead out of his "lackey's" life by the hand of Torgo the White, further changing the show's dynamic. Now alone, the mad Dr. Forrester continued to torment Mike and the ‘bots, occasionally helped by his mother, Pearl. The final moments of the truncated seventh season showed the Forresters moving out, unplugging the connection to the Satellite of Love, and cursing the "funding cuts" that finally beat him in his grand scheme to torment first the SOL crew, and then, THE WORLD! The feature film following not long after the Comedy Central era marked the last appearance of Trace Beaulieu as both Dr. Forrester and the beloved Crow T. Robot—the second snarky, and more sardonic, of the two ‘bots.
When the show came to SciFi, writer Bill Corbett stepped in and gave Crow a new, albeit testier, spin, and the supposedly dead Pear Forrester returned to torment the SOL crew as they journeyed "across the universe." Murphy and Corbett took on additional roles and makeup in the form of her idiotic cronies: the Planet-of-the-Apes-esque Professor Bobo and the omnipotent yet dimwitted Observer, respectively. Along their storylined travels they encountered spacial anomalies, a planet made of vinegar (which Nelson destroys with some baking soda), and then somehow end up back in earth's orbit, with Pearl taking up residence in Castle Forrester.
For a show that had such internal and external transitions, it's hard to imagine that it remained tonally and conceptually cohesive. I'm going to sound very biased for a minute, but believe me, I'm trying to be as objective as I can: The glue to this whole project was, in my view, Michael J. Nelson. I'm not going to talk politics of who owns rights to what, or even who's better than who. Joel was the creator of the show and was always given the credit, even after his departure. In the post-MST3k world, both Rifftrax and Cinematic Titanic are great, funny entities from great, funny folks. OK, back away from that comment box and get back up here: Michael J. Nelson was the head writer for the show from 1988 to 1999. He left a promising career at Friday's for this, people! Yes, Joel is the show's creator, and no one can take that from him.
Each script from each episode of the show—writing the jokes, assigning lines, etc.—was a collaborative process. Just watch some clips of the the process of them watching the movie for the first time. But I think it was Nelson's work as head writer that really kept things together. For a reflexive example of this, in the television series M*A*S*H, there was a definite tonal shift on screen once Alan Alda took control of the overall direction of the show; it's almost palpable. With MST3k, the only change I experienced, beyond the need for a story line, was aesthetic: new camera crews, a new set, new lighting, and so forth. The heart and soul of the show was, as Murphy says, "the jokes." True, the SciFi channel's interference bled into the feel of the host segments, but the show's meat and potatoes, the riffing of the movie, remained thankfully unaltered.
There was nothing else like this on television at the time, and really hasn't been anything like it since. It's left an impact on audiences and aspiring critics alike. It warrants, nay it earned, and still keeps the adoration given by so many.
Christian is a reclusive, insular critic who relies on his inane knowledge of TV, movies, and music that the young kids don't care about. He can be found blogging at Electric Musings and is on Twitter as @The_CBJ.
When the show came to SciFi, writer Bill Corbett stepped in and gave Crow a new, albeit testier, spin, and the supposedly dead Pear Forrester returned to torment the SOL crew as they journeyed "across the universe." Murphy and Corbett took on additional roles and makeup in the form of her idiotic cronies: the Planet-of-the-Apes-esque Professor Bobo and the omnipotent yet dimwitted Observer, respectively. Along their storylined travels they encountered spacial anomalies, a planet made of vinegar (which Nelson destroys with some baking soda), and then somehow end up back in earth's orbit, with Pearl taking up residence in Castle Forrester.
For a show that had such internal and external transitions, it's hard to imagine that it remained tonally and conceptually cohesive. I'm going to sound very biased for a minute, but believe me, I'm trying to be as objective as I can: The glue to this whole project was, in my view, Michael J. Nelson. I'm not going to talk politics of who owns rights to what, or even who's better than who. Joel was the creator of the show and was always given the credit, even after his departure. In the post-MST3k world, both Rifftrax and Cinematic Titanic are great, funny entities from great, funny folks. OK, back away from that comment box and get back up here: Michael J. Nelson was the head writer for the show from 1988 to 1999. He left a promising career at Friday's for this, people! Yes, Joel is the show's creator, and no one can take that from him.
Each script from each episode of the show—writing the jokes, assigning lines, etc.—was a collaborative process. Just watch some clips of the the process of them watching the movie for the first time. But I think it was Nelson's work as head writer that really kept things together. For a reflexive example of this, in the television series M*A*S*H, there was a definite tonal shift on screen once Alan Alda took control of the overall direction of the show; it's almost palpable. With MST3k, the only change I experienced, beyond the need for a story line, was aesthetic: new camera crews, a new set, new lighting, and so forth. The heart and soul of the show was, as Murphy says, "the jokes." True, the SciFi channel's interference bled into the feel of the host segments, but the show's meat and potatoes, the riffing of the movie, remained thankfully unaltered.
There was nothing else like this on television at the time, and really hasn't been anything like it since. It's left an impact on audiences and aspiring critics alike. It warrants, nay it earned, and still keeps the adoration given by so many.
Christian is a reclusive, insular critic who relies on his inane knowledge of TV, movies, and music that the young kids don't care about. He can be found blogging at Electric Musings and is on Twitter as @The_CBJ.