Then again, maybe not. Mission's third year (1968-69) would be the last for stars Martin Landau and Barbara Bain, then at the peak of their popular and critical acclaim. (Landau would enjoy a major comeback much later, however.) The exact reason the couple, married at the time, chose to leave the show is not known though it's generally assumed to have been over a salary dispute. It turned out to be a bad career move: they worked only sporadically for the next several years, possibly blackballed by Hollywood, before eventually moving to England to star in Space: 1999, a struggling series that didn't help their careers or offer them much in terms of their craft.

Though born of the James Bond craze of 1965-66, Mission wisely avoided the trappings of such films, the over-reliance on science-fictiony gadgets (Mission had its share of gadgetry, but these tended to be more believable adaptations of everyday objects used cleverly - no jet packs and ejector seats here) and flip, sardonic humor. Instead it's an espionage show founded on high tension suspense, with the danger of being found out lurking at every commercial break. Beyond the ritualistic "tape scene" that opens every show with the recordings not always "self-destructing" - in one show Impossible Missions Force leader Jim Phelps (Peter Graves) simply dumps the reel of magnetic tape into the mucky lake at MacArthur Park - the show retains its "dossier" scene even though its virtually the same foursome week in and week out: cool, curvy Cinnamon Carter (Barbara Bain), whose specialty is diversion; electronics expert Barney Collier (Greg Morris); strongman Willy Armitage (Peter Lupus), for muscle; and master of disguise Rollin Hand (Martin Landau).

The third season opens with some nice variations on the usual toppling-of-a-fictitious-Iron Curtain-country's-dictator theme. "The Contender" is one of Mission's best ever two-parters. In this show Barney must pass himself off as former boxer Richy Lemoine (Ron Rich) as part of an assignment to destroy The Mob's stranglehold on the sport and its penchant for fixing fights. It's a terrific show with no less than three memorable villains: Ron Randell's ruthless mobster, John Dehner's pragmatic mob boss and, a real surprise, special guest star Sugar Ray Robinson's cold-blooded hit man. The six-time world champion is genuinely intimidating here; it's a surprise he didn't get more TV and film work following this episode.

"The Contender" is a real oddity for another reason. During a training scene with Barney I'm thinking to myself, "Gee, the guy he's training with, in what almost amounts to a bit part, sure looks like Robert Conrad, but it couldn't be him, right? He was starring in his own show at the time, The Wild, Wild West and anyway he wasn't billed as a guest star." Roll end credits and there he is, Robert Conrad, billed last.

According to Patrick White's book on the series, Conrad was pals with Robert Phillips and Dick Cangey (Conrad's Wild West stunt double), who play boxers in the show, and for that reason Conrad agreed to make a cameo appearance. But when the actor hired to play the fighter in those scenes didn't show, Conrad stepped into the role.

Another good show is the season-opener, "The Heir Apparent," a neat variation on the Anastasia myth. In this episode Cinnamon pretends to be the long-lost Russian-style imperial princess of a country on the verge of a military coup. The IMF's mission is to get her identity authenticated so that she can abdicate the throne and ensure a smooth transition toward democratic rule. To do so she must pass a series of tests requiring an intense joint effort by the IMF team, and the insurmountable hurdles placed before her by the country's military ruler (well-played by Charles Aidman).

Guest stars this season include: Pernell Roberts, Bo Svenson, Vincent Gardenia, Barbara Babcock, Theodore Bikel, Paul Stevens, Ruth Roman, Lee Grant, Sid Haig, Fernando Lamas, Alfred Ryder, Barry Atwater, John Colicos, Albert Paulsen, Warren Stevens, John Zaremba, John Vernon, Edward Asner, Steve Ihnat, Jason Evers, Val Avery, Lloyd Bochner, Larry Linville, Philip Ahn, Khigh Dhiegh, Alf Kjellin, Martin Sheen, Anthony Zerbe, Martin Kosleck, Lee Meriwether, Milton Selzer, Mark Lenard, Joan Collins, Nehemiah Persoff, Fritz Weaver, and Henry Silva. Seasoned TV vets like John Llewellyn Moxey, Richard Benedict, and Reza Badiyi helmed episodes.

Video & Audio

Once again, Mission: Impossible looks just great. The full-frame episodes are very sharp, the colors strong, and there's little signs of age-related wear or damage. Despite the standard CBS DVD/Paramount warning that "some episodes may be edited from their original network versions," I saw no evidence of this, and most shows clock in at about 50 minutes. The 25 episodes are presented over seven single-sided discs (kudos to Paramount for not trying to cram them all on five-six discs. (Remember how MGM stuck 32 hour episodes on just four DVDs?) The shows are offered in their original mono, but the audio defaults to an exceptionally strong Dolby Digital 5.1 mix, one that adds enormously to the show's effectiveness, especially Lalo Schifrin's famous title theme. A Spanish mono track is included, along with optional English, Spanish, and Portuguese subtitles. There are no Extra Features, a real shame considering that Martin Landau and some of the show's guest stars have contributed to other TV commentaries, e.g., The Twilight Zone. A missed opportunity.

Parting Thoughts

Mission: Impossible: The Third TV Season holds up surprisingly well. Where most shows of this type begin to falter with repetitive material, Mission: Impossible is about as good in its third year as it was when it debuted, and for that reasons, fans of the show will want to pick this one up. Highly Recommended.

Film historian Stuart Galbraith IV's most recent essays appear in Criterion's three-disc Seven Samurai DVD and BCI Eclipse's The Quiet Duel.