As a kid, my parents purchased DVD copies of the 1960s TV show Lost in Space. The old sci-fi series, which transitioned from black-and-white to color over its three-year run, was not just significant of the changing landscape of the genre and medium. In a new way, it also came to mark my own imaginary development.
For an excitable kid, Lost in Space was the definitive sci-fi adventure. The sandy-floored habitats on the various alien planets the characters visited as well as the laser weapons they used became fixed in my mind as synonymous with science fiction and space exploration. In a pre-Star Wars era, the show often offered robots with personalities and, occasionally, duels with electrical swords that let sparks fly.
Lost in Space centered on a nuclear family unit, the Robinsons, and while growing up, my imagination easily inserted my own family members into the program’s survivalist scenario. My own make-believe fantasies among the stars carried strong parallels to the series.
My dad recalled that, when he was a kid, he got to watch re-runs of the show when he visited family in Kansas City. As time went on, we discovered other sci-fi shows from the creator of Lost in Space – Irwin Allen – and my family members often tended to like these more than LIS. But the show continued to hold a special place in my heart.
I was, like a child once more, excited when I heard a few years ago that the show was getting a reboot as a Netflix “original” – whatever that’s supposed to mean. The result wasn’t disappointing, and as the original had been to my youth, the reboot was certainly a family affair.
Highlights of the Original Series
The original series, airing from 1965-68 and competing with the more widely-known Star Trek, served up a wholesome tale about a family that stood apart from many of their peers on account of their scientific know-how and problem-solving capabilities. Of all the American families to apply for the program, theirs seemed most destined to survive through thick and thin. Little did they know that their abilities were to be tested sooner than anticipated. The intended destination of the Robinsons’ trip through deep space is Alpha Centauri, a goal that is never attained.
In reality, Alpha Centauri is a tri-star system which happens to be the system nearest the Earth that’s outside our solar system. It’s located a little over four light-years away. What is more, the planets located in this system are distant enough from the stars to not be harmfully impacted by their UV radiation. Hence, scientists think that these worlds could potentially support life. The original Lost in Space series uses a similar train of thought to act as the thrust for sending the Robinsons bound for Alpha Centauri, where they plan to colonize for posterity. (On a side note, the concept of traveling to this specific star system has inspired other storytellers over the years from game designers to writers like the Catholic novelist Michael D. O’Brien in his sci-fi narrative Voyage to Alpha Centauri.)
Irwin Allen’s Lost in Space had a tough time trying to find its niche. At first, it was sold as a show that could appeal to the whole family: Spouses who were close, young lads wielding laser pistols, a growing love interest between Major Donald West and Judy Robinson, not to mention adventure to be found around every turn. But as the show progressed, the tone changed from a survivalist story to more of a crazed series of encounters with (often) deranged aliens. While Lost in Space started with the Robinsons facing dangers like floating off into the cold depths of the exosphere or roasting alive from solar exposure on the sands of Priplanus, it ended up with the family having to come to terms with creatures like a talking human-carrot.
The show seemed to face a bit of an identity crisis. Since – for a time – it battled for ratings with Batman, some outlandish gimmicks inevitably landed on-screen. Yet, it was never really a comedy in the sense of something like Gilligan’s Island. It was neither as racy nor as promiscuous as its competitor Star Trek became on occasion. As the show continued, its perspective shifted gears somewhat from the entire Robinson clan to hone in on three characters: the stowaway Dr. Zachary Smith, young Will Robinson, and Robot B-9.
While the later episodes of LIS grew cornier and a bit ridiculous, much of the first season tried to capture an aspect of realism, a more sound imagining of what human colonization – or at least survival – might look like among the stars.
Smith is more sinister at first than he is shirking. Survival is key for all. And Season 1 also clings to a few remnants of Christian faith, particularly prayer. After a series of harrowing near-death experiences, the Robinsons pause among a lush tropical landscape, perhaps reminiscent of our own Paradise lost, to give homage to their Creator Who saw fit for them to survive such perils. Similarly, a few episodes later, we see Will kneeling before sleeping with folded hands, silently saying his night-time prayers. No such references to thanksgiving or prayer are found beyond Season 1, perhaps significant of the changing tides of American culture.
Like much of traditional science fiction, the series includes scenarios reminiscent of various notorious scenes from classical myths. Additionally, there are a few subtle nods to biblical incidents or possible inspiration. For instance, Dr. John Robinson mentions the story of David and Goliath following his victory over a technologically superior race of aliens with little more than a slingshot. And in the episode “There Were Giants in the Earth,” the Robinsons face down a ginormous cyclops, like something straight out of a Greek fable; meanwhile, the title itself smacks of Gen. 6:4: “Now giants were upon the earth…” The cyclops’ towering size evokes an enormity and ferocity of biblical proportions.
The modern viewer, when he gets past the special effects which were considered dazzling back in the day, finds the later development of Allen’s LIS ridiculous as it pivoted from spending the whole first season on a single planet (in order to mine for fuel) to, by the third season, hopping to a new planet every single episode.
Netflix’s Remake: A Messy 21st Century Family
Prior to viewing, I was initially leery of the direction Netflix’s retconned vision appeared to be taking. After all, why did Dr. Smith have to be a woman in the updated version? It turned out my fears were largely ungrounded as Smith is himself a man (played by Bill Mumy, who portrayed Will Robinson in Allen’s original version) whose identity is stolen by the new villainous character June Harris, played by Parker Posey (Superman Returns).
Posey’s character is intriguing and fulfilling since she effectively replaces the twisted antics of Jonathan Harris’s Zachary Smith from the 1960s. She does not tarnish Dr. Smith as his own character but, in stealing the character’s identity, solidifies her own position as the villain in the Netflix series. Posey’s villain proves repeatedly that she has a warped sense of justice, an urge to save her own hide at any cost. Yet, she struggles. She has a conscience. She’s human. She’s fallen like the rest of us. But in the Robinsons she also manages to glimpse a glimmer of hope, a picture into what love looks like. In her proximity to the Robinsons, she witnesses the Robinsons’ relationship in the raw with all the ups and downs, yet with an abiding love that unites this family in times of hardship, stress, and uncertainty. By the end, it’s the Robinsons’ collective example of authenticity and endurance – and a little help from a certain Robot, that allows June Harris to let go of her past life of vice and blind self-interest.
Something else the Netflix series does which helps connect with the modern viewer is show the family unit of today as something messy. Mistakes are made; they have to be lived with. Maureen Robinson, prior to marrying her husband John, had an affair with astronaut Grant Kelly. Out of wedlock, they had Judy, who is fully accepted as Robinson’s own daughter. But having Judy – bringing her into the outside world – was a conscious choice and even then, not an easy one.
With the show having a plot set just a few decades into the future, we know that Maureen, an expectant mother, could have taken an alternative and gotten rid of Judy while she was still in utero. As far as her career was concerned, such a decision might even have, seemingly, benefited her. Like Kelly, Judy’s father, Maureen was on her way to becoming a successful astronaut. The human being in her womb could be a setback. This life-long dream had to be postponed with the role of parent taking its place for many years. It stings, but Maureen makes a conscious and ethical decision to be a loving mother to her baby. In the end, she still achieves her goal of becoming an off-world pioneer as well as a committed parent.
This is just one example of the dysfunction we see present in the Robinson clan. Other examples include John and Maureen’s rocky relationship, Judy’s longing for belonging, and the rest of the family’s perception that John wasn’t always there for his kids. While it’s far from perfect, it exemplifies something truthful about all of our families. The old series showed Mr. and Mrs. Robinson in an idyllic, postcard-perfect relationship where any real quarrels they had were the result of alien trickery. In Netflix’s take, however, the dysfunction makes the family scenario more genuine and more relatable. The family is still a beautiful aspect of community, but we are all cracked vessels in need of repair at the hands of a skilled Potter (cf. Romans 9:20-21).
The Foundation of Family
Pope St. John Paul II was an amazing figure. He attracted the public eye, but he was also a devout and holy man. He took the long-neglected truths of the Catholic faith, dusted them off, and allowed Christ to breathe new life into them. JPII spoke highly and eloquently of the theology of the body, the beauty of womanhood, hope for the present and the future, and the foundational role of the family.
Discussing the function of the Christian family in the apostolic exhortation Familiaris Consortio, St. JPII says:
God is love and in Himself He lives in a mystery of personal loving communion. Creating the human race in His own image and continually keeping it in being, God inscribed in the humanity of man and woman the vocation, and thus the capacity and responsibility, of love and communion. Love is therefore the fundamental and innate vocation of every human being.
In the earliest principles of catechism, we come to the knowledge that we were created out of love and for love. Love extends beyond the individual person. Hence, JPII points out the unique and intimate love shared between the three divine Persons of the one Godhead, the Trinitarian love, which every human family is called to reflect.
The family is, at its core, meant to be a loving communion between persons: spouses giving selflessly and faithfully to each other, then giving to their children, and then the children out of reciprocation, devotion, and affection returning their love.
As noted above, both versions of LIS convey rather pro-family messages, though slightly different in how they go about showing the family as something attractive and inherently good. Likewise, both Allen’s original series and the remake show that the family unit is a community in which each of the members is called to love and to sacrifice. Love isn’t always the easy move. It requires the lover to “deny himself.”
In the Netflix adaptation, the parents in the Robinson family are clearly trying to work through some of their past differences. John tries to fit in, showing that he can be diligent and committed in his vocation as husband and father. Maureen struggles with being over-controlling and integrating her husband’s presence as a daily reality back into her life.
Guilt, anger, and confusion are emotions that frequently surface between the two. At least they find common ground in wanting what’s best for their children. As time goes on, however, they rediscover the spark that they had cultivated with each other so many years earlier. The development of this rekindling of affection is not one that’s portrayed as an arousal of eros. Rather, they realize anew their marital relationship through shared companionship, commitment to their family, and the fact that they are fellow pilgrims sharing an adventure among the stars.
Mr. and Mrs. Robinson aren’t the only ones to understand their calling to selfless love. By Season 3, young Will is of the mindset that – because an entire race of murderous alien robots is out to get him – he must intentionally distance himself from his family. There’s a target on his head, and he isn’t willing to let those he loves suffer. Instead, he is prepared to sacrifice himself for the good of his family members.
Uncertainty and Faith
Given the show’s title, Lost in Space is ultimately a story which involves a tremendous amount of uncertainty. There are the great unknown factors of our daily lives; it’s part of being human. (It’s also a beautiful way God reminds us of our own finitude and the acceptance we must have in the surprises He has waiting for us.) But the scenario in which the Robinsons find themselves takes the unknown of the everyday and multiplies it exponentially. Can one really fathom being lost in the vastness of the universe? The stress and danger added to their situation only make the invitation to have faith amid these uncertainties all the more pressing.
In the early stages of interaction with the alien Robot, the other Robinson children must place their trust in Will and the Robot itself that the latter won’t go berserk (again) and lash out against any of the colonists. By Season 3, June Harris must trust in Will to protect her. And the parents on board the Resolute, who have lost communication with their children, must – for the course of a year or more – have faith in the abilities of their children to survive in an unknown region of the cosmos. John and Maureen must also learn to cooperate with and trust the robot Scarecrow, which had earlier been intensely hostile to their son Will.
In another dramatic sequence, Will speaks to the most ruthless of the alien bots called SAR. Though he simply wants to see if peaceful coexistence is an option, Will pays for his faith in this other robot by being stabbed through the abdomen. Was the suffering worth it? Was the benefit of the doubt that he extended to SAR necessary?
Having faith amid uncertainty is also a distinctively Christian charism. Except, in Christianity, we understand that our faith, our hope, our trust is placed in Jesus. It has a definite focus. Our whole being and who we are depend utterly on God. And everything that comes our way is the Will of God for our edification. As the example of selfless love shows, the archetype of which is Christ’s suffering on the Cross, what comes our way is not always what comes easy. Like Will Robinson, we have to ask the difficult questions and realize our calling to sacrificial love regardless of what it might cost us.
An Intimate Union
The stab wound SAR inflicts on Will leads to his needing an artificial heart. (The terrible blow was aimed thus because SAR understood Will’s heart to be the cause of changing Robot’s programming, of changing Robot into a more sympathetic rather than sadistic entity.) In over-exerting himself to reach the alien Robot’s world, Will lacks the vitality to live. At this point, Robot steps in and offers what in human terms might be considered the ultimate sacrifice.
For a lack of better distinctions, Robot showcases the attributes of intellect (which allows a person to know other persons and recognize what goods might benefit them) and will (which allows a person to choose things and act on one’s beliefs). These are attributes persons have. And while Robot is an artificial entity, he has been bestowed with the gifts of intellect and will. It’s a science fiction TV show. So you’ll have to cut the creators a little slack.
Anyway, this makes Robot’s character – in this fictional story – function the way a person might. This means it can recognize what will be good for those he cares about. He can also make a sacrifice. In the finale episode, “Trust,” Will says he is dying, and Robot decides to do something about it. While caring for Will, Robot bends down, connects himself with the boy’s mechanical heart, and thereby imparts himself to the youth, a move which also restores Will to good health. When he regains consciousness, Will realizes that Robot forfeited his own existence to give him his life back. The lifeless husk of the bygone Robot crumbles to dust…
Not too long after, we learn that Robot’s essence remained inside Will’s newly-created heart, making the lad veritably impenetrable. Furthermore, Robot’s “death” allowed him to have the upper hand over SAR in the end. Robot’s essence is transferred to the metallic frame of SAR, taking him over, and vanquishing this foe that had tried to kill Will Robinson. The danger…has passed.
Robot’s sacrifice to, in a word, “become more powerful than you can imagine” via self-annihilation is reminiscent of Obi-Wan’s sacrifice in Star Wars IV. As a Catholic, though, I can’t help but be reminded that this turn of events harkens back to a core element of the Faith. It reminds me of Jesus dying, emptying Himself, in order to save us from death eternal. Through His Cross, Christ conquered the devil, sin, and death. Through the humility of dying, Jesus Christ vanquished the ancient foe. And Jesus, in resurrected body, is glorified as God and man.
The physical bond briefly shared between Will and the Robot reminds me too, if even on just a surface level, of the awesome relationship we get to participate in when we receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. We become united with God the Son, Who gives Himself freely to us. Savior and sinner are joined in love, and the Bridegroom of the soul is also Defender of the soul. In a similar sense, Will and Robot are joined, and Robot defends Will.
Concluding Thoughts on Netflix’s Remake
Netflix’s reimagining of Lost in Space is amusing and entertaining, though not without its highs and lows. The stakes are raised as the series goes on. The progression through the last season seems perhaps more convoluted and not as well-planned as earlier developments. With many Netflix-produced shows depicting same-sex relationships these days, it’s refreshing to see instead a family engaging in healthy relationships. While the show carries a few new-age-ish nuances, it maintains the dignity of the family, particularly as exhibited by the Robinsons.
Unlike the original series from the sixties, which presumably had no definitive climax in sight, the Netflix reboot finally lands the Robinsons on their destination world in Alpha Centauri. By the show’s close, the adventure continues, yet the Robinsons have settled down in their new home. A bright future awaits them in the colony.
In a charming way, this illustrates what John Paul II understood the family to be: a civilization of love. And it’s the family and the love nurtured in the family that will carry us into the future. Love drives away the enemy and builds up community. To quote Professor John Robinson from the earlier Lost in Space series, “Love…in all the worlds and galaxies of this universe, there is nothing stronger.”
John Tuttle
John Tuttle is a Catholic journalist, blogger, and photographer. He has written for Prehistoric Times, Culture Wars Magazine, Those Catholic Men, Catholic Insight, Inside Over, Ancient Origins, Love They Nerd, We Got This Covered, Cultured Vultures, and elsewhere. He can be reached at jptuttleb9@gmail.com.