Television Review: Bread and Circuses (Star Trek, S2X14, 1968)

Bread and Circuses (S02E14)

Airdate: March 15th 1968

Written by: Gene Roddenberry & Gene L. Coon
Directed by: Ralph Senensky

Running Time: 50 minutes

Trekkies justifiably revere Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS) Season 2 as the show’s zenith. This season delivered timeless classics—The Doomsday Machine, Amok Time, and Trouble with Tribbles—that cemented the franchise’s legacy as a cornerstone of science fiction and pop culture. Yet, the same season also exposed vulnerabilities. Its second half revealed creative stagnation, budgetary constraints imposed by NBC, and behind-the-scenes tensions that foreshadowed the series’ cancellation in Season 3. While Bread and Circuses, the penultimate episode of Season 2, is not among the worst instalments, it epitomises these mounting issues. Its blend of recycled concepts, ideological contradictions, and rushed execution underscores the strain on the production team, making it a telling artifact of TOS’s twilight.

The USS Enterprise investigates the fate of merchant ship SS Beagle, which vanished six years prior. Captain Kirk, personally invested due to his friendship with the ship’s captain, Robert Merrick (William Smithers), beams down to planet 892-IV with Spock and McCoy. They discover a baffling civilisation that merges ancient Roman social structures with 20th-century technology: television broadcasts, automatic weapons, and consumerism (evidenced by car ads in magazines) coexist with slavery and gladiatorial games. Most of the Beagle crew perished in the arena, but Merrick has adapted ruthlessly, ascending to the role of First Citizen. The true power, however, lies with the calculating Proconsul Claudius Marcus (Logan Ramsey), who manipulates Kirk by invoking the Prime Directive. Marcus demands the Enterprise crew surrender to slavery, but Kirk refuses, resulting in Spock and McCoy being forced into the arena. The episode culminates in a tense battle where Kirk defeats Marcus, securing his crew’s escape.

Bread and Circuses exemplifies Season 2’s problematic trend of reusing Earth’s historical settings to cut costs. Episodes such as A Piece of the Action (Prohibition-era Chicago) and Patterns of Force (Nazi Germany) justified their anachronistic backdrops through in-universe explanations—Earth cultural contamination. However, The Omega Glory (featuring iconography based on USA) lacked such rationalisation, revealing a growing reliance on studio pragmatism over narrative depth. Bread and Circuses, though, attempts a feeble defence via Hodgkin’s Law of Parallel Planetary Development, a fictional scientific principle asserting that identical environmental conditions produce identical biological and cultural evolution. This premise, while convenient for recycling Roman-inspired sets and costumes, undermines TOS’s earlier aspirations as “thinking man’s science fiction.”

The episode’s Roman setting—a fusion of imperial grandeur and 20th-century tech—was a direct cost-saving measure. Director Ralph Senensky filmed the arena scenes on Paramount’s Stage 32, using minimal props and backdrops. The result, though visually serviceable, feels derivative, trading originality for economy.

Hodgkin’s Law’s deterministic logic not only simplifies storytelling but also imposes a Eurocentric lens on alien civilisations. Why a Roman-inspired society, rather than one mirroring ancient China or India? The choice reflects 1960s America’s cultural myopia, prioritising familiarity over imaginative diversity. Moreover, the civilisation’s technological advancements—television, consumerism, firearms—contradict its retention of slavery. If industrial progress reduced the need for manual labour, why persist with human bondage? The episode sidesteps this inconsistency, prioritising spectacle over plausibility.

The civilisation’s fusion of eras also strains credibility. Roman titles (“Proconsul,” “First Citizen”) coexist with modern slang (“TV ratings,” “advertising”), creating a disjointed world. As TV Tropes notes, the locals’ use of English further stretches logic, as Latin would presumably dominate.

Hodgkin’s Law’s deterministic framework parallels Marxist historical materialism, positing that societal structures arise inevitably from material conditions. Yet, in the Cold War era, Roddenberry and co-writer Gene L. Coon feared accusations of “Red” propaganda. To appease conservative audiences, they introduced a counterpoint: a quasi-Christian cult worshipping the “Sun”, led by the old and wise Septimus (Ian Wolfe, prolific character actor known as one of the very few WW1 veterans to appear in Star Trek). This cult offers hope to slaves, subtly critiquing the regime’s oppression. However, the episode’s finale undermines this critique by suggesting the cult might actually be Christianity—a linguistic misunderstanding renders the revelation unconvincing. This contrivance reflects the writers’ timidity, prioritising ideological safety over narrative coherence.

Despite its flaws, Bread and Circuses boasts strengths. Senensky’s direction is assured, particularly in the arena sequences, which blend practical effects and editing to heighten tension. The gladiatorial combat—staged with inventive choreography—remains thrilling, while final confrontation is very impressive for standards of 1960s television. Logan Ramsey’s performance as the cunning Proconsul elevates the episode; his smug, calculating villainy contrasts sharply with Merrick’s being torn by his own moral failings.

The episode’s exploitation streak surfaces in Drusilla (Lois Jewell), a scantily clad slave offered to Kirk as a bribe before his arena fight. Jewell’s costume—a deliberately provocative design—caters to male gaze tropes, reducing her to a sexual prop. Kirk’s decision to spend the night with her, while brief, reinforces his “ladies’ man” persona, a character tic that occasionally overshadowed his leadership.

The most intriguing element is the episode’s meta-commentary on TOS itself. The gladiatorial games, televised for mass entertainment, mirror NBC’s pressure to prioritise ratings over artistic ambition. The Roman Empire’s reliance on “bread and circuses” to distract its populace parallels the network’s demand for cheaper, formulaic episodes. This irony is heightened by the episode’s airdate: March 15, 1968—the Ides of March—coinciding with the show’s uncertain future. By the time Bread and Circuses aired, Gene L. Coon had departed as producer over creative differences with Roddenberry, and tensions between the production team and NBC were palpable. The episode thus functions as both a critique of external pressures and an omen of TOS’s impending cancellation.

Bread and Circuses is a curiously uneven episode. While its ideological contradictions and budget-driven shortcuts weaken its narrative cohesion, its satirical edge, strong performances, and inventive direction elevate it above outright mediocrity. It serves as a microcosm of Season 2’s contradictions: a season that produced masterpieces but also revealed the cracks beneath Star Trek’s veneer of optimism. For all its flaws, the episode endures as a testament to TOS’s ambition—and its vulnerability to the commercial and creative forces that ultimately doomed it.

RATING: 5/10 (++)

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