Perhaps the most biographical of Rod Serling's scripts is the plaintive, simple "Walking Distance". 36-year-old Martin Sloan, worn and disillusioned by the corporate rat-race in New York City, wanders back to the town where he lived as a child. Soon after his arrival, he finds he's not just where he grew up, but when. Having somehow stepped back to the past, he is once again immersed in the sights, sounds, and people of Homewood as he knew them 25 years before. Even his parents are alive and well and in the same house he knew as a boy. Martin has found his way home, and he intends to stay. But Homewood, circa 1934, already has one Martin Sloan, age 11. Can the adult Martin truly reclaim his past, or will he rob himself of his own boyhood in the attempt?
Martin Sloan is Rod Serling's personal mirror, held up to reflect his experiences as a meteoric success in the cutthroat world of TV and movie production and his desire to retain some part of his childhood's simplicity and security. "Walking Distance" is Serling's reconciliation with the knowledge that you really can't go home again. Like any of us, all Sloan has is now, and in reaching for the past he might relinquish both it and the present.
Serling's spare and beautifully prosaic script is complemented by Robert Stevens's sensitive direction and an achingly poignant Bernard Herrman score. But what makes this episode a masterpiece is impeccable acting by Gig Young and Frank Overton. Young's compelling performance makes it easy to suspect that his real-life depression was at the heart of Martin Sloan's world-weariness. His portrayal of quiet, nostalgic pleasure as Sloan eats an ice cream soda at a drug store fountain, one of the strongest emblems of his youth in Homewood, is effortlessly genuine, and as satisfying for us at it is to Sloan. Later, Young is artfully understated as he traverses resolve, desperation, and anguish in Sloan's attempts to reinsert himself into his disbelieving parents' lives. Frank Overton is superb as Martin's dignified and gently compassionate father, and the scenes between him and Young are the highlights of the episode. In one especially notable scene in which the elder Sloan gives his dejected son some touching advice, Overton and Young communicate an authentic father-son affection that makes it clear the whole point behind Martin's fanciful journey was to "hear it from the old man", one last time.
Begin Spoilers ->
By the end of the episode, it's apparent that the 1934 part of the story happened entirely inside Martin's head, probably as he was walking back to his hometown for the first time in 20 years. It was all a fantasy, Martin's reminiscences of his youth transformed into a "what if" daydream. This is why at the beginning of the episode, you can't clearly see whether or not Martin has a limp (an injury that becomes relevant once he seems to have returned to 1934) until he begins his walk to Homewood. Only then do we see him full length, walking normally from the camera while reflected in a vending machine mirror. Likewise, our first sight of him in Homewood is when he appears reflected in a large mirror behind a drug store fountain. He's gone "through the looking glass" on an imaginary journey in which he has no limp, as a fine online article about the show once keenly noted. It's also why Martin doesn't seem to recognize many of the people from his past, and why he doesn't seem that shocked to find he's suddenly moved back in time 25 years. Serling himself touches on this fantasy aspect in his closing narration, when he describes the tendency of men to nostalgically reflect on their pasts with an "errant wish, that a man might not have to become old".
The 1934 events unfolding only in Martin's mind makes the story even more sadly sweet. Martin is facing the stark truth that there is no going back. All that's left for him is to use his memories and sentiments to create a brief sanctuary from a world that he hates, and to conjure up fictional events that allow him to understand why he can't escape his real life and maybe how to deal with it. It's at once a refuge, a farewell, and a resolution. Martin is, in effect, growing up.
-> End Spoilers
This is a remarkably thoughtful episode that resonates with powerful themes of what it means to grow up and grow old in today's world. It's also one of the finest half-hours of television ever created, and for my money, the best "Twilight Zone" episode of all. Not to be missed. 10/10.
Martin Sloan is Rod Serling's personal mirror, held up to reflect his experiences as a meteoric success in the cutthroat world of TV and movie production and his desire to retain some part of his childhood's simplicity and security. "Walking Distance" is Serling's reconciliation with the knowledge that you really can't go home again. Like any of us, all Sloan has is now, and in reaching for the past he might relinquish both it and the present.
Serling's spare and beautifully prosaic script is complemented by Robert Stevens's sensitive direction and an achingly poignant Bernard Herrman score. But what makes this episode a masterpiece is impeccable acting by Gig Young and Frank Overton. Young's compelling performance makes it easy to suspect that his real-life depression was at the heart of Martin Sloan's world-weariness. His portrayal of quiet, nostalgic pleasure as Sloan eats an ice cream soda at a drug store fountain, one of the strongest emblems of his youth in Homewood, is effortlessly genuine, and as satisfying for us at it is to Sloan. Later, Young is artfully understated as he traverses resolve, desperation, and anguish in Sloan's attempts to reinsert himself into his disbelieving parents' lives. Frank Overton is superb as Martin's dignified and gently compassionate father, and the scenes between him and Young are the highlights of the episode. In one especially notable scene in which the elder Sloan gives his dejected son some touching advice, Overton and Young communicate an authentic father-son affection that makes it clear the whole point behind Martin's fanciful journey was to "hear it from the old man", one last time.
Begin Spoilers ->
By the end of the episode, it's apparent that the 1934 part of the story happened entirely inside Martin's head, probably as he was walking back to his hometown for the first time in 20 years. It was all a fantasy, Martin's reminiscences of his youth transformed into a "what if" daydream. This is why at the beginning of the episode, you can't clearly see whether or not Martin has a limp (an injury that becomes relevant once he seems to have returned to 1934) until he begins his walk to Homewood. Only then do we see him full length, walking normally from the camera while reflected in a vending machine mirror. Likewise, our first sight of him in Homewood is when he appears reflected in a large mirror behind a drug store fountain. He's gone "through the looking glass" on an imaginary journey in which he has no limp, as a fine online article about the show once keenly noted. It's also why Martin doesn't seem to recognize many of the people from his past, and why he doesn't seem that shocked to find he's suddenly moved back in time 25 years. Serling himself touches on this fantasy aspect in his closing narration, when he describes the tendency of men to nostalgically reflect on their pasts with an "errant wish, that a man might not have to become old".
The 1934 events unfolding only in Martin's mind makes the story even more sadly sweet. Martin is facing the stark truth that there is no going back. All that's left for him is to use his memories and sentiments to create a brief sanctuary from a world that he hates, and to conjure up fictional events that allow him to understand why he can't escape his real life and maybe how to deal with it. It's at once a refuge, a farewell, and a resolution. Martin is, in effect, growing up.
-> End Spoilers
This is a remarkably thoughtful episode that resonates with powerful themes of what it means to grow up and grow old in today's world. It's also one of the finest half-hours of television ever created, and for my money, the best "Twilight Zone" episode of all. Not to be missed. 10/10.