Here is an excerpt from Billās Star Trek Memories.
As originally scripted, the scene would have begun with Spock walking down a corridor openly sobbing. At that point, weād cut away and find that another infected crewman has begun frantically running around the ship, slapping graffiti paint jobs all over the walls of the Enterprise. In subsequent shots, weād find several more crewmen beginning to lose their inhibitions, and just when the pandemonium is beginning to overwhelm the ship, weād come back to Spock.
Spock is now riding in an elevator, crying. He gets to his floor, and when the doors open, the graffiti guy runs up and paints a big black mustache on Spockās face. At that point, Spock cries even louder. Leonard continues:
Now, thatās very imaginative, very inventive, very theatrical and very funny, but I felt that it was not really significant or appropriate for Spock. I mean, Spock was cryingā¦ but so what? There was no context for it, no discernible root force, no underlying cause for whatās going on. You know, in a strange way, this one-shot extra whoās walking around doing the paint jobs all over the place is a lot more interesting than Spock, whoās weeping. It seemed to me like we were wasting some really strong dramatic possibilities, all for the sake of an easy sight gag.
So I said all of this to John Black, and I also said that what I felt we really need to do her was a scene in which Spockās basic inner conflict, the human versus the Vulcan, rises to the surface and motivates his tears. I mean this draft of the script found Spock fighting through all this emotion in public, and I felt that would be a terrible thing for Spock, because heās a very private person.
So I said to John,Ā āI think Spock would look for privacy when he feels the urge to cry. When he can no longer resist his tears, he would probably look for a private place in which to battle it out within himself.ā
And Johnās reaction was very negative. It was typical producer/writer-under-pressure kind of stuff.Ā āCāmon, leave it alone because Iām working on next weekās script. Shoot it, just shoot it.ā This kind of thing. And he complained about hurting the rhythm of the script.ā
Iāve got to break into Leonardās story here to explain thatĀ āit hurts the rhythm of the scriptā is a sort of basic, all-purpose producerās excuse thatās fed all too often to actors seeking script changes. Good, bad, legitimate, frivolous, it doesnāt matter. If a producer doesnāt want to deal with your suggestions, heāll probably just tell you that what youāre suggestingĀ āhurts the rhythm of the script.ā Itās the TV producerās equivalent ofĀ āthe dog ate my homework,ā orĀ āthe check is in the mail.ā Itās just an easy, somewhat plausible excuse that generally has no basis in reality. With that in mind, Leonardās determination and fiercely protective nature in regard to Spock drove him over Blackās head to Roddenberry.
I called Gene about it, and I told him just what Iād told John. In talking to Gene, I was very careful to be politically supportive of his producer but about an hour and a half later, here comes John Black out to the set. So now Iām feeling,Ā āAhh, this great!ā Iām feeling that someoneās actually listening to me.
And Black was funny, he cam onto the set and said,Ā āLetās go talk someplace.ā We went to my dressing room, and he said,Ā āOkay, tell me your idea again. Daddy says I have to listen to you.ā And I had already formulated a basic concept of the scene, so I said,Ā āLook, John, just get me into a room, and write me a half-page, a quarter-page, where you see Spock walk down a corridor and slip inside a door. As the doors close behind him, heāll burst into this emotional struggle.ā And John asked,Ā āWell, whatās this struggle all about?ā And I said,Ā āItās about love and vulnerability and caring and loss and regret, versus C=pi-r-squared and E=m-C-squared. Spock is a scientist, he is logical, and he feels this canāt be happening to him. Itās that kind of struggle. Itās logic versus emotion. Itās rational control versus uncontrollable urge. With that in mind, going behind closed doors will speak to the basic privacy of the character.ā
So John wrote that and some other stuff, six or eight lines maybe, and it was exactly what I needed. Spock was now able to slip inside a door, close it behind him, struggle for a moment, then cry. At this point, he would start babbling, and the cause of the internal struggling would become obvious. Problem was, when it came time to shoot this stuff, a whole new set of obstacles had to be overcome.Ā
Marc Daniels, who was directing this particular episode, came up and asked,Ā āWhat do you have in mind for this scene?ā So, playing director, I said,Ā āJust put the camera here, behind the desk. Iāll come in the door, Iāll walk toward you, Iāll come around, Iāll sit in the chair, and Iāll start this babbling conversation with myself, and Iāll cry. Now, if youāll dolly around getting closer and closer we can meet at the end of the scene. We can see Spockās entire breakdown in one long dramatic shot.ā
Okay, now itās five-thirty, I got out to get my ears and makeup touched up, and the time is important because weāre on a very rigid schedule. With overtime being so ridiculously and prohibitively expensive, weād have to wrap each evening at exactly six-eighteen. Didnāt matter if you were in the middle of a sentence, come six-eighteen, we wrapped.
So now Jerry Finnerman starts to light the scene and itās obvious that this will be our last shot of the day. Iām in the makeup chair, getting touched up, and now in comes Cliff Ralke, our dolly grip, who was always a very supportive person, and he says,Ā āExcuse me, Leonard, but youād better get out there, because theyāre changing the shot you guys just talked about.ā
So now Leonard comes out to the set, and the director has indeed changed the shot theyād just agreed upon. Itās important to note, however, that the reasoning behind this change, though not particularly sensitive to Leonardās needs, was rational and perfectly valid. You see, as previously discussed, this shot would have entailed a one-hundred-and-eighty degree camera move starting from one side of the set, then slowly dollying completely around to the opposite end. This caused problems because the long, involved shot required a lot of lights and a time-consuming, involved setup that Jerry Finnerman didnāt think could be accomplished without going into overtime. Finnerman discussed this situation with Daniels, and together they decided that the most efficient way to shoot this scene would be in a series of brief cuts, each of which could be lit quickly and with relative ease.
They were going to have Leonard enter in a wide shot, then cut. Next, in a slightly tighter framing, theyād follow him as he crossed the set and sat down. Cut. An even tighter frame would catch the beginning of the speech, and they planned to cut once more, zooming to a close-up as Spock began weeping. This made sense in terms of production efficiency, but Leonard felt this shooting sequence would really damage the dramatic impact of the scene. He continues:
I said,Ā āYouāre going to lose the continuity and fluidity of the scene if you shoot it this way. I will not be able to do it as well, and I think the end result will just seem choppy and phony.ā
By now itās five forty-five, and with no time to debate the situation, they got hold Gregg Peters, our first A.D., who was the equivalent of the hatchet man. He was the guy whoād always call the six-eighteen wrap, and we all discussed the situation. Finally Marc Daniels said,Ā āLetās go for it. Letās try to get it done.ā
Now the lighting crew ran around setting up the shot, and I think it was about six-fifteen when they finally said,Ā āWeāre ready.ā Marc had me walk through it once, and by now production types were standing around behind the camera, looking at their watches and saying,Ā āHe wonāt make it. Heāll never do it.ā So the tension was really mounting.
So basically I know this has got to be a flawless, one-take thing. Yāknow, Iāve got one crack at it before they shut us down for the night. If I were to screw up, weād almost certainly have gone right back to the cut-and-chop scenario come morning. Anyway, this was the scene that Iād asked for and fought for, and now the logistics of the situation were such that there was absolutely no room for error. There was a lot riding on this, and I wouldnāt have been so adamant in my battling if I hadnāt felt that this scene was extremely important. I felt like it merited my efforts, in that it truly defined, for the very first time, what the Spock character was all about.
Now the lights go on, the cameras roll and we nail it. They get the pan, get the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree dolly shot and the scene was ultimately worked really well in illustrating Spockās inherent inner conflict. This went directly to the heart of what Gene and I had originally spoken about in regard to the character of Spock. It was an opportunity that I absolutely did not want to miss, and an opportunity to plant a seed in defining a certain edge of the character.
