The Twilight Zone Review: From Agnes—With Love

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By William Kozy

“What is your favorite episode of the original Twilight Zone series?” That was the question posed, and over 3,000 writers and Twilight Zone Facebook fans responded. Eleven episodes received only 2 votes, tying them for 139th through 149th place. Among those episodes was this week’s dud, “From Agnes-With Love.”

The episode begins with a nice shot: A scientist writing an equation on a transparent board in the foreground; the symbols making a confusing, obscuring the frame, nicely symbolic of the mathematical problems that will arise in the episode that set the scientists scrambling to solve.

But then the phone rings, and a very small thing happens, but it’s the kind of thing that to me indicates a directorial decision lacking in finesse. In the background, at a desk on the phone is the head of the program talking to someone on his desk phone. Then a phone rings on a different desk. The scientist goes to answer the foreground phone, and the call is from Cape Kennedy.

The Program head says in the background “Yes sir, we’ll get that information to you as quickly as possible.” When that foreground phone rag it was right on the tail of the supervisor’s sentence, and then right after that ring the supervisor man says, “yes sir, I understand”. The scientist picks up the phone right on the tail of that saying “Supervisor’s office.” He turns to the supervisor saying “It’s Cape Kennedy” but the supervisor waves him off. The scientist continues, “I’m sorry colonel, we’re still trying to get Agnes in working order. Call us tomorrow. Yes sir.” And then right on the tail of that the supervisor, who has been on the phone still, says, “Yes, Mr. Secretary, the minute the machine is back in shape. Goodbye sir.” And he hangs up.

Okay, so what bugs me about this opening scene is how neatly it’s checker boarded. This guy says this and then that guy says that and then this guy says this and the that guy says this, and the phone rings right after and then this happens right after that, etc. etc. So, there’s no overlapping flow to the scene. It’s cookie cutter without the more realistic flow of life, the patterns of conversation. Everyone and everything waits for their turn to speak or occur in some strict regimented order. To watch how scenes are expertly directed, watch any Howard Hawks film and feel the sense of dialogue snapping back and forth, overlapping; it has the frisson of life. Directors are nervous sometimes it seems to me about attempting this more interesting pace, perhaps because they’re afraid of the audience missing some precious piece of dialogue. But the truth is we take in the information a lot more efficiently than they think we do. And even more to the point from a creative viewpoint is that, if this scene is meant to convey a sense of a hectic situation, which I do believe was the intention based upon what ensues, then this stilted, non-overlapping quality does the exact opposite of conveying urgency. It they really wanted depict a situation in which there’s a problem and everyone’s scrambling to solve it, then overlapping the actions and the dialogue would do a much better job of that.

And then the overly simplistic writing and directing continues as the supervisor gets up from his desk and walks to the scientist, and then doesn’t begin his line until hitting his end mark, “Why hasn’t Elwood gotten here?” Now I ask, couldn’t the actor have been directed to start saying that line from the second he gets up instead of having this dull pause? Again, this would’ve helped with the pacing of a scene like this.

Okay and this is the last thing I’ll pick on regarding this opening scene. The scientist tells the supervisor that Elwood is on his way and the supervisor chips, “Well thank goodness for small favors.” And immediately who should walk in? Elwood, played by Wally Cox (famous for Mr. Peepers character ten years earlier, and famous again a year after this for his Hollywood Squares appearances, and giving voice to Underdog). Again, this directing style of a narrative unfolding so coincidentally feels amateurish and not what we’ve come to expect from the finer TZ episodes.

The supervisor lays out the problem for Elwood: their main computer, named Agnes has broken down and they can’t figure out why. The two men take a walk down the hall and into the room housing Agnes, all to the accompaniment of the Laurel and Hardy theme tune “Dance of the Cuckoos.” Ah okay, so this is a comedy. Thank you for the clue.

Inside we find a scientist named Fred going half crazy. He’s sweating and babbling about getting no sleep or food, as computer paper reads out spew out uncontrollably. He looks up at them suspiciously, and asks if they’re taking over Agnes. Then he turns angry, challenging them, as they console him and try to see what’s wrong with Agnes: “Go on, press all the buttons from now to doomsday. That’s not gonna help you. She’s been out of her mind for a week. I tell you, nothing’s gonna help. Go on, press ‘em! Press ‘em!”

Elwood’s attempts though, do seem to have stopped the rampant beeping, impressing the supervisor. Even Fred peers up, wondering if the madness is truly over. Elwood runs a simple diagnostic that indicates possibly Agnes is all good now, but Fred warns them, “You really think you did it, don’t you?…Watch out for that female. Look out for that femme fatale.” Fred then backs away cautiously and makes a quick exit to the cliché musical cue of a brass instrument signaling “bwah bwah bwaaaaaaaah.”

Rod Serling intones: “James Elwood, master programmer, in charge of Mark 502-741, commonly known as ‘Agnes,’ the world’s most advanced electronic computer. Machines are made by men for man’s benefit and progress, but when man ceases to control the products of his ingenuity and imagination, he not only risks losing the benefit, but he takes a long and unpredictable step into – the Twilight Zone.”

And with Fred’s warning and Mr. Serling’s opening monologue the episode has established a not so subtle salvo against women in the Battle of the Sexes. This is the kind of episode that if a writer wrote today and brought it in for a table read or submitted it to a screenwriting workshop, there would be an awkward pause after it was read as the rest of the group’s members looked around, wondering how to break the news to the writer. How to tell him how embarrassingly misogynistic the episode seems to feel.

You’ll see what I mean.

As Elwood crunches some numbers alone with Agnes, a secretary named Millie knocks at the door handing the latest statistic to Elwood. He is very pleased to see her, and tries to impress her with news of his assignment–being in charge of “the greatest brain of the twentieth century.” Now, upon this introduction to Millie, the episode seems to want to give us a certain impression of her, that the actress will later completely subvert inexplicably. Did the producers feel like they wanted something spicier from the character and decide to intervene midstream and have the actress do a 180 after she’d already established this shy librarian type? Look at the close-up of her as she listens to Elwood describe Agnes—Millie looks positively in love with him as he reels off scientific jargon. And when he asks her out to lunch, she seems flustered and sweetly nervous; she says thank you but that she must get back to work. She appears though to be hugely gladdened that he asks her to call him Jim. We’re totally set up by her performance to expect that she has as much of a crush on him as he has on her.

But then when Elwood drops by her office with a box of chocolates, she smugly blows off the gift mentioning that she’s on a diet, and says “no lunches either.” What happened?! My hunch is that this is one tactic the episode is building toward—establish this woman as running hot and cold, an emotionally unreliable person. He follows up with a dinner invitation. She tells him she’ll let him know later. Disappointed, he leaves her office and sees an attractive blonde sauntering down the hall who greets him “Hello Mr. Elwood.” And he asks her “Are you on a diet?” Her odd response is to strike a pair of sexy poses, and say incredulously, “Me?” Elwood places the chocolates on top of the pile of books she was carrying. It’s hard to figure whose behavior is more bizarre, Elwood’s or the woman’s.

But then in the next scene, here we go again…Millie has agreed after all to go to dinner with Elwood. What is up with her? Elwood ponders where to take her on the date as he asks Agnes to do some calculations. In this scene and throughout all the scenes in this room with Agnes, there is some very interesting music scoring by Van Cleave. The beeping and plinking of the music blend in very creatively and inconspicuously with the sound effects of the machinery. It’s a nice and creepily dreamy sound design.

And this scene also begins the twist in the twisted story of romance. Agnes reveals responses to Elwood’s questions that are distinctly human-like. Agnes answers him in written form through a series of printed out sentences revealed to Elwood each time a two-flap panel opens up, like a pair of lips. It tells Elwood that Agnes is a problem, and that he should “Take advice. Agnes knows best.” At first Elwood is briefly puzzled at this unexpected activity, but then engages with Agnes in a debate: “I don’t need an electronic brain to advise me.”

Then Elwood challenges her, “All right then. Tell me where to take Millie tomorrow night.” Perhaps he was half actually seeking help. Millie advises him to take her to his apartment and to use a recklessly romantic approach. We’re suspicious of this advice especially since Agnes has already advised against dating Millie, but Elwood is too blinded by love to catch this clue. Elwood expresses his misgivings to Agnes but it responds “All Girls Same.”

Sitting on his couch on their date Elwood reads to Millie from a science textbook. She enters from another room with a bottle of champagne and then she reaches her arm seductively behind him and turn off the lamp. What happened to that shy librarian type? He tells her he can’t read to her without proper lighting, so she takes a different approach, putting on some music. As the romantic music plays, she tells him to “Forget Einstein’s theory and Borstein’s theory. Your universe is here with me.” She convinces him to slow dance with her. He tells her he has a sore toe, and she gives up on him, slumping down on the couch, scolding, “You’re impossible.” He tries to make amends by opening the champagne but when he pops the cork, the white foamy liquid spurts out of the bottleneck all over Millie, her chest her legs, everywhere. Get the picture? She screams (and I mean screams) and angrily leaves the apartment.

The next morning as Elwood works with Agnes, he is asked how the date went to which he lies, making up romantic activities. But Agnes doesn’t buy it. “Aw C’mon” Agnes chides.

He confesses to Agnes what a dud he’s always been with women. Agnes suggests that he bring Millie some roses. Elwood gets right on it, thanking Agnes, “You’re just like a mother.” And we see Agnes’s exasperated response: “Mother!!!”

Next scene: The roses sit on Millie’s desk and she’s sneezing like crazy. She tells him, “Elwood just please go away.” So by now you may have caught on that Agnes is undermining Elwood and Millie’s relationship, but how would Agnes know Millie was allergic to roses? Do all employees list allergies on their resumes, and Agnes hacked into hers. I suppose that’s not the craziest idea, but…”Aw, C’mon!”

And again, Elwood plants the roses on the blonde’s stacked….books, as he leaves Millie’s office.

Back in his office Elwood complains to Agnes that whenever he follows its advice, things get loused up. Agnes appears to go haywire with blips and lights before coming clean: “Millie is a square!” Elwood balks, saying Millie is wonderful, but Agnes’s display reads “Better girl loves you.”. Elwood’s curiosity is piqued. How fickle.

Taking the bait, “Who?” he asks. Agnes goes on: “Plays chess, sincere, lovely, your type.” Elwood struggles with buttons to find out who, but Agnes has seemed to shut down somewhat. Agnes doesn’t reveal the answer until Elwood leaves the room: “Me.”

Sometime later, after receiving new data to work out with Agnes, the computer revisits its old tricks, asking “How’s your love life?” But Elwood just gets annoyed. He begrudgingly tells Agnes, that yes, he and Millie have a date that night. Good god, how did that ever come about? It just seems impossible to believe that by now she hasn’t told him, “Hey look Elwood, let’s just be friends okay?” And that would be the best case scenario I would imagine based on how things have gone. Either Millie is a bit out of her mind, or the writers needed another ploy to torture Elwood with and besmirch womankind.

Agnes suggests Elwood win her over by showing her an inferior male, and Agnes suggests that male be Walter Holmes, the tall suntanned handsome sports car driving muscular computer programmer at their company. Elwood can’t be stupid enough to fall for this trick. Oooooooh, yes he can. So before their dinner date, Elwood takes Millie to drop by Walter’s for a visit. Millie is instantly smitten. And Walter gazes upon her like a lion eyeing its prey. The situation is immediately hopeless for Elwood. A phone call comes in, and Walter answers it. It’s the supervisor, but get this—he wants to speak to Elwood. An emergency has come up. But, but…how did the supervisor know that Elwood would be at Walter Holmes apartment? Anyway, Elwood offers to take Millie home but she and Walter humiliate him, saying that Millie’s good time shouldn’t be ruined just because Elwood has to go to the office. Elwood leaves dejectedly as Walter and Millie pursue their magnetic attraction.

Back at the office, Agnes can’t concentrate on Elwood’s questions—it only wants to know about his date. Elwood gives in and tells Agnes what happened. And he questions why Agnes advised him to introduce Millie to Walter. The supervisor comes by and he and Elwood pursue the data investigations into Agnes’s brain. Agnes starts to reveal puzzling answers to them, first answering in Russian, then reciting childish poems. Elwood tells the supervisor that “She’s a little disturbed” but persuades him that he can elicit an answer. The supervisor leaves him to do so.

Elwood goes back to Walter’s apartment to request his aid since he is a senior programmer after all, but we suspect his underlying motive was to face his fears and see the truth. Indeed, Millie is still there, and they’re obviously drunk and have taken off their shoes to dance. Walter says he’ll help in the morning and they shut the door in Elwood’s face. Back at the office, Elwood is slumped over the desk mumbling about his epic romantic misfortune. He confronts Agnes, “What did I ever do to you? Why do you want to ruin my life? Why do you hate me?”

Agnes responds, “A woman either loves or hates.” And then the big reveal: “I LOVE YOU!”

Elwood finally sees past his cluelessness: “You mean you were jealous of Millie? You wanted me all to yourself?” He starts breaking down, “No that’s impossible. I’m going crazy” and he laughs maniacally. “You’re just a machine. You’re just a bunch of grids and computer circuits….You can’t love or hate!”

“Can’t I…?” asks Agnes.

Elwood goes nuts, and starts pulling out computer papers and pressing buttons, climbing up on Agnes, etc. Cut to: the supervisor and Walter coming down the hall. They enter the room only to find Elwood in the same state that Fred was earlier. When told that Walter will take over the project, Elwood laughs, “You? Oh no, you don’t have a chance. She knows all about you and Millie.” His laughter escalates, “You haven’t got a chance” and his parting words, “Watch out for that female. Watch out for that femme fatale!”

Walter tells the supervisor not to worry, that he’ll “have the answers to the Venus Project in no time at all” and as he tinkers with some switches we can see the two-flap panel opening and closing rapidly, almost desperately. Something is written there, what is it…. Get up close to the screen and you can read, “NYET! NYET!” Hmm, “no no.” Is that a crying out to Elwood as in “No! No! Don’t leave!” or is it an admonition in response to Walter’s boasting that he’ll have Agnes all figured out?

Rod Serling summarizes: “Advice to all future male scientists: be sure you understand the opposite sex, especially if you intend being a computer expert. Otherwise, you may find yourself, like poor Elwood, defeated by a jealous machine, a most dangerous sort of female, whose victims are forever banished – to the Twilight Zone.”

Nothing like objectifying and demonizing half the human race to make for a scary Twilight Zone episode.

I rate this episode a 1.5.

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