By its fifth (and what would become its final) season, Rod Serling's landmark series had grown a bit tired. Many of the season's episodes are either retreads of what had gone before, or are almost unwatchable (think, for example, of "I Am the Night -- Color Me Black," in which a good idea about the spread of evil is rendered hopelessly didactic). The subtlety Serling showed in the early years too often gave way to on-screen homilies.
Yet, there were a surprising number of bright spots -- "In Praise of Pip," "The Masks," "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," "Living Doll." And there is this episode, which has lost none of its thought-provoking power more than 50 years after it was produced.
The show is set, somewhat amusingly today, in the year 2000 -- although the date is less important than the society that writer John Tomerlin has constructed. (The episode is credited to Charles Beaumont, but at the time Beaumont was already overwhelmed by too many writing commitments, not to mention the onset of a frightening mental ailment that could have been a variation on Alzheimer's Disease, even though Beaumont was only in his mid-30s. Beaumont farmed out the script, based on his own short story "The Beautiful People," to Tomerlin, who shared credit with Beaumont even though the script was entirely his.)
In the society depicted in the episode, the main character, Marilyn, brilliantly played by the late Collin Wilcox, is surrounded by people almost too good-looking to be true. Everyone who turns nineteen can undergo a "Transformation" to make them as handsome or beautiful as every one of their friends and neighbors. This sounds like an improvement over the usual dystopian worlds depicted in science fiction (such as in "Logan's Run," where everyone gets killed after a certain birthday) . . . but the effects of a society that places such a premium on good looks is corrosive in subtler ways that are only hinted at for most of the episode.
To save money on actors with speaking parts, the creators cleverly had each actor or actress play several parts, differentiated by name tags; this not only saved money, but had the added benefit of making it seem as if there were only a limited number of "body models" to choose from. So, while one can become "beautiful" after the Transformation, you'll likely end up -- as the title implies -- looking just like your best friend or neighbor.
Wilcox, although hardly unattractive, is still what might be called "plain" compared to the other players, from whom she gets great support. All of the male parts, including her late father as depicted in a photograph, are played by Richard Long, who would go on to "The Big Valley" and "Nanny and the Professor" before his untimely death in 1974. Her best friend Valerie is portrayed by sometime model and occasional actress Pam Austin, who certainly came closer to what might be called an ingénue than Wilcox. And in a clever bit of casting, producer William Froug had the bright idea to hire Suzy Parker. Parker is largely forgotten today, but in the early 1960s was the highest paid model in the United States, typically earning $200 an hour for her work -- which, as the saying goes, was serious money back then.
As the story progresses, Marilyn, who is on the verge of 19, resists undergoing the Transformation, because she was schooled by her father to resist pressure from society -- including the pressure to become beautiful merely because it's what everyone else is doing. Marilyn also suspects that the Transformation will change more than her appearance, and so fights for her right to remain as she was born -- much to the consternation of her mother, her best friend, and her doctor, all of whom cannot understand why a young woman would not want to become stunningly beautiful.
Unlike some episodes that relied on now-primitive-looking special effects, what makes "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" special is that it really relies on no special effects at all (except for a few split-screens that allow the same actor or actress to appear to be in the same scene twice). The story is all in the dialogue and the psychology, as Marilyn resists this supposedly wonderful Transformation, while everyone around her seems to believe that she must simply be a little addled, and just needs to "see the light."
And unlike some of the series' later episodes that descended into preaching, the message here comes across quietly, allowing the viewer to reach his or her own conclusions. It also brings up some disturbing questions about the ongoing importance of personal appearance in our real world -- a message more pertinent today than in 1964, with ever more effective means of plastic surgery, botox, hair restoration, and the like, the better to "improve" what nature has given you.
Yet, there were a surprising number of bright spots -- "In Praise of Pip," "The Masks," "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," "Living Doll." And there is this episode, which has lost none of its thought-provoking power more than 50 years after it was produced.
The show is set, somewhat amusingly today, in the year 2000 -- although the date is less important than the society that writer John Tomerlin has constructed. (The episode is credited to Charles Beaumont, but at the time Beaumont was already overwhelmed by too many writing commitments, not to mention the onset of a frightening mental ailment that could have been a variation on Alzheimer's Disease, even though Beaumont was only in his mid-30s. Beaumont farmed out the script, based on his own short story "The Beautiful People," to Tomerlin, who shared credit with Beaumont even though the script was entirely his.)
In the society depicted in the episode, the main character, Marilyn, brilliantly played by the late Collin Wilcox, is surrounded by people almost too good-looking to be true. Everyone who turns nineteen can undergo a "Transformation" to make them as handsome or beautiful as every one of their friends and neighbors. This sounds like an improvement over the usual dystopian worlds depicted in science fiction (such as in "Logan's Run," where everyone gets killed after a certain birthday) . . . but the effects of a society that places such a premium on good looks is corrosive in subtler ways that are only hinted at for most of the episode.
To save money on actors with speaking parts, the creators cleverly had each actor or actress play several parts, differentiated by name tags; this not only saved money, but had the added benefit of making it seem as if there were only a limited number of "body models" to choose from. So, while one can become "beautiful" after the Transformation, you'll likely end up -- as the title implies -- looking just like your best friend or neighbor.
Wilcox, although hardly unattractive, is still what might be called "plain" compared to the other players, from whom she gets great support. All of the male parts, including her late father as depicted in a photograph, are played by Richard Long, who would go on to "The Big Valley" and "Nanny and the Professor" before his untimely death in 1974. Her best friend Valerie is portrayed by sometime model and occasional actress Pam Austin, who certainly came closer to what might be called an ingénue than Wilcox. And in a clever bit of casting, producer William Froug had the bright idea to hire Suzy Parker. Parker is largely forgotten today, but in the early 1960s was the highest paid model in the United States, typically earning $200 an hour for her work -- which, as the saying goes, was serious money back then.
As the story progresses, Marilyn, who is on the verge of 19, resists undergoing the Transformation, because she was schooled by her father to resist pressure from society -- including the pressure to become beautiful merely because it's what everyone else is doing. Marilyn also suspects that the Transformation will change more than her appearance, and so fights for her right to remain as she was born -- much to the consternation of her mother, her best friend, and her doctor, all of whom cannot understand why a young woman would not want to become stunningly beautiful.
Unlike some episodes that relied on now-primitive-looking special effects, what makes "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" special is that it really relies on no special effects at all (except for a few split-screens that allow the same actor or actress to appear to be in the same scene twice). The story is all in the dialogue and the psychology, as Marilyn resists this supposedly wonderful Transformation, while everyone around her seems to believe that she must simply be a little addled, and just needs to "see the light."
And unlike some of the series' later episodes that descended into preaching, the message here comes across quietly, allowing the viewer to reach his or her own conclusions. It also brings up some disturbing questions about the ongoing importance of personal appearance in our real world -- a message more pertinent today than in 1964, with ever more effective means of plastic surgery, botox, hair restoration, and the like, the better to "improve" what nature has given you.