Every Director’s Cut You’ve Ever Seen Owes Its Existence To The Twilight Zone

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“The Obsolete Man” takes place in a dystopian future wherein a bitter, strict, ultra-Communist government has taken control of the world. Burgess Meredith plays a gentle librarian named Wordsworth whose profession — and, gasp, belief in God — are considered obsolete by the government. In this future, obsolete humans are put to death. Wordsworth is allowed to select his mode of execution.

He chooses to be trapped in a locked room with a time bomb while his last moments are televised worldwide. Wordsworth also lures the State’s Chancellor (Fritz Weaver) into the room with him before explaining about the bomb and the cameras. The Chancellor cannot escape without losing face. Wordsworth uses his last few moments to lecture the Chancellor on the power of compassion.

The episode ends when the Chancellor escapes … but then is apprehended and put on trial. The Chancellor is declared obsolete and beaten to death by the State. Rod Serling’s closing narration lays it bare: “Any state, any entity, any ideology which fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of Man … that state is obsolete.”

In Marc Scott Zicree’s invaluable book “The Twilight Zone Companion,” Silverstein recalls the editing issue that got him in trouble. “The Obsolete Man” was very abstract, taking place largely in an expressionistic courtroom space lined by a chorus of scowling Nazi-like judges. Silverstein wanted the judges to “sing” their disapproval to their plaintiff, the Chancellor, moaning in an eerie, nightmarish fashion before dragging him across a long table and killing him.

 The episode’s editor wanted to cut a few moments of “singing” before seizing the Chancellor. No, Silverstein said, it needs to build. He and the editor fought over it.

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