Can You Recall Which Twilight Zone Episodes Had a Mid-Point Narration?

For many Twilight Zone fans, Rod Serling’s narrations are the highlight of every episode. He’ll step in, usually after a short introductory scene, to enlighten us about the characters and hint at what lies ahead. Then he’ll return at the end and deliver a wry commentary on what we’ve just seen.

But on four occasions — three times in Season 1, and one time in Season 3 — he talks to us briefly before the episode concludes. Let’s take a quick look at these narrations and see what they tell us.

“Walking Distance“
Season 1, Episode 5
October 30, 1959

“Everyone thinks [The Twilight Zone] is a scary show, but it’s actually a beautiful show,” filmmaker J.J. Abrams once said. Although this quote covers the series as a whole, it clearly applies to “Walking Distance,” which Abrams singled out for praise on other occasions.

Serling’s penchant for nostalgia is on full display in this moving story about Martin Sloane, a corporate man run ragged by his high-pressure job. Badly in need of rest and a change of perspective, he makes an impulse visit to his hometown, only to find that everything is just as it was when he was growing up.

He sees himself as a young boy. He even meets his parents — dead in his time, but alive here — who are astonished to hear a grown man insist that he’s their young son. Confused and frightened, they send him away.

Martin (Gig Young) leaves their front porch, but not the town. He moves through the streets, dejected, as Serling tells us:

A man can think a lot of thoughts and walk a lot of pavements between afternoon and night. And to a man like Martin Sloan, to whom memory has suddenly become reality, a resolve can come just as clearly and inexorably as stars in the summer night. Martin Sloan is now back in time. And his resolve is to put in a claim to the past.

Fortunately for Martin, things end on a somewhat happier note. He can’t remain in this earthly paradise, but he later has an encouraging talk with his father. And he manages to return to the present with a healthier outlook on life.

“Time Enough at Last“
Season 1, Episode 8
November 20, 1959

Many Twilight Zone fans consider this their all-time favorite episode. Along with “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” it’s probably the most famous foray into the fifth dimension. Even people who have never seen the series know about the gremlin on the wing — and the plight of poor Henry Bemis, weeping amid stacks of books, smashed eyeglasses at his feet.

But before we get to that heartbreaking moment, we watch Henry (Burgess Meredith in his first TZ) stumbling through the smoking landscape of a nuclear blast. His home, his neighborhood, the bank where he worked … everything is in shambles, and he seems to be the sole survivor. As he wanders about in shock, Serling speaks up:

Seconds, minutes, hours — they crawl by on hands and knees for Mr. Henry Bemis, who looks for a spark in the ashes of a dead world. A telephone connected to nothingness. A neighborhood bar, a movie, a baseball diamond, a hardware store, the mailbox at what was once his house is now a rubble. They lie at his feet as battered monuments to what was but is no more. Mr. Henry Bemis, on an eight-hour tour of a graveyard.

That tour, of course, brings him to the public library and hundreds of books — his own personal nirvana. Moments later, though, he was teaching countless viewers about the importance of carrying a spare pair of eyeglasses.

“I Shot an Arrow Into The Air“
Season 1, Episode 15
January 15, 1960

Ah, those early days of the Space Race. They heralded so much promise, but they also prompted a certain amount of fear. What would we find up there? Heck, what if we didn’t even make it, but thought we did?

Such a scenario seems implausible, even with the rudimentary equipment then in use, but Serling’s point wasn’t scientific accuracy. It was asking hard questions about how human beings behave under pressure. And for Officer Corey (Dewey Martin), the answer is most unflattering. It isn’t long before he’s resorted to murder to ensure that the small store of remaining supplies will last him long enough to find civilization on the asteroid he thinks they’ve landed on.

As he scrambles up the barren hills (shot on location in Death Valley), his victims lying in the canyons below him, Serling addresses him:

Now you make tracks, Mr. Corey. You move out and up like some kind of ghostly billyclub was tapping at your ankles and telling you that it was later than you’d think. You scrabble up rock hills and feel hot sand underneath your feet and every now and then, take a look over your shoulder at a giant sun suspended in a dead and motionless sky…like an unblinking eye that probes at the back of your head in a prolonged accusation.

Mr. Corey, last remaining member of a doomed crew, keep moving. Make tracks, Mr. Corey. Push up and push out because if you stop…if you stop, maybe sanity will get you by the throat. Maybe realization will pry open your mind and the horror you left down in the sand will seep in. Yeah, Mr. Corey, yeah, you better keep moving. That’s the order of the moment: keep moving.

And move he does, right up until he crests one final hill and sees where they really are — his hysterical lapse into apparent madness surely echoing for miles.

“I Sing the Body Electric“
Season 3, Episode 35
May 18, 1962

When The Twilight Zone began, Serling anticipated having Ray Bradbury be a regular contributor. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. “I Sing the Body Electric” turned out to be TZ’s only Bradbury-scripted episode. The story of a motherless trio of children acquiring a custom-made robot grandmother is certainly intriguing, but it lacks the magic we usually got in the more sentimental Zone tales. It’s just okay — which means it’s below par for TZ.

That said, there are some nice moments along the way. The centerpiece of the story deals with the oldest girl, Anne (Veronica Cartwright) having trouble accepting the new grandmother (Josephine Hutchinson). Hurt by her mother’s untimely death when she was so young, Anne is afraid to be vulnerable again, and she reacts angrily to the new arrival. By the end, however, she’s mellowed and come to accept her, and the family is happy.

Over a montage of them being cared for by Grandma, Serling tells us:

As of this moment, the wonderful electric grandmother moved into the lives of children and father. She became integral and important. She became the essence. As of this moment, they would never see lightning, never hear poetry read, never listen to foreign tongues without thinking of her. Everything they would ever see, hear, taste, feel would remind them of her. She was all life, and all life was wondrous, quick, electrical – like Grandma.

We see them as grown young people in the final scene, saying goodbye to their computerized caretaker. She’ll be taking care of a new family soon, but she assures them she’ll never forget them. And maybe someday, she’ll receive the gift of life herself. How this will happen isn’t explained, but it’s a nice thought, to be sure.

Have a favorite mid-point narration? They’re all appealing in their own way, but I’d vote for the one in “Time Enough at Last.” The wording is just letter-perfect. For my money, it’s Serling at his poetic best.

Which one do you like and why? Feel free to sound off below.

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Hope to see you in some corner of the fifth dimension soon!