Star Trek Flashback: Dagger of the Mind

Prison systems are a ripe subject for science fiction. On the one hand, it doesn't take much of a turn of the dial on reality to concoct some horrific allegorical scenario. On the other hand, a desire for some humane, technological solution can lead to fanciful wishing for another way. At some intersection of both these approaches sits the classic Star Trek episode "Dagger of the Mind."

When an escapee from the Tantalus Penal Colony stows away on Enterprise, it creates an emergency aboard the ship. But once he's captured and is revealed to be a doctor, not a prisoner, questions ensue. Kirk beams down to investigate the cutting edge mental reprogramming treatment being used by the head of the colony, Dr. Adams. And soon, he may become the next victim.

To watch this episode, you may first have to silence your juvenile reaction to the repeated use of words like "penal" and "penology." (Or maybe you're just naturally more mature.) Once I did that, I found myself not quite sure of the message this episode conveys.

To be sure, Dr. Adams is presented as a terrible villain, using his device to erase memories and program thoughts as he hides beneath a smiling facade. To me, he reads rather like a #MeToo perpetrator. Kirk initially defends him (despite never having met him), citing his reputation as evidence he couldn't possibly be doing anything wrong. Adams just can't help himself; even as an investigation closes on him, he offends again. And he never argues about the good he's doing, or the greater good that might come of it. He just meddles with minds because he can. The problem in my comparison is that you want a fictional villain to have more of a motive than "it makes him feel powerful." We never get that about Dr. Adams. Nor do we get any sense that he had good intentions in the beginning before going astray. In fact, the story seems to presume there can be no good intentions here.

In the end, when the victimized Dr. Van Gelder is put in charge of the colony, his first act is to destroy the mental reprogramming device that caused all this trouble. And while mental reprogramming against someone's will does seem like a form of torture (that's what A Clockwork Orange was all about), the episode doesn't engage at all with the potential voluntary uses. You can stop well short of "make it so someone can't say their own name without feeling blinding pain," and still have plenty of room to debate where the ethical line might be between applications like "sincere efforts at self-help," "curing someone of an addiction," or just "remembering to take the garbage out every Monday night." Sure, I suppose a one-hour episode of 1960s television probably isn't the venue to get into all of that. (And yet it kind of is, when it makes room for a Spock/McCoy debate about emotion leading to violence.) I guess at the bottom of it all, I'm bothered that a sci-fi show that's thrilling its audience with the wonders of faster-than-light travel and teleportation feels there's a technology with no noble applications.

So, maybe it's best not to dig that deeply, and stay closer to the surface level. In that sense, it's an interesting episode for McCoy -- who can just tell something is off even if he can't put his finger on what. (But also, he's all about messing with Kirk, assigning to the landing party someone he seems to know has a history with the captain.) It's a big episode for Spock, who performs the series' first mind meld -- though the technique hasn't quite settled into what it would eventually look like. And it's a big episode for Kirk, who is... for reasons?... able to resist the effects of the evil mind machine to some extent. (Maybe it just takes several sessions?)

Other observations:

• These early episodes highlight the differences between the original series and The Next Generation. The vibe is much more militaristic here, with barked orders, talk of what's required in log entries, and loads of background actors filling implied positions on a cramped-feeling ship. 

• Kirk had a fling at a Christmas party with someone named Dr. Noel? A bit on the nose, isn't it?

• It's dumb for the security guard on the bridge to stand with his back to the turbolift door. Sure enough, when Dr. Van Gelder bursts onto the bridge, he gets the jump on the guard.

• The music certainly wants the audience to be suspicious long before Kirk is, serving arch stings whenever someone in the colony flatly recites something they've been programmed to say.

I feel like "Dagger of the Mind" takes too long to spring its trap, especially when the audience knows something is wrong. That and a muddled message make it a weaker installment in my book. I give it a C+.

Lace Up These Boots

This week's contribution to the pop culture zeitgeist is the final season of Stranger Things. (Most of it, anyway.) But I must honor this blog's tradition and write about Netflix's buzzy show from one or two cycles ago: Boots.

Set in the 1990s, Boots centers on young Cameron Cope. When his friend Ray enlists in the Marines, Cameron joins him -- even though both are aware that Cameron being gay would end his military career before it even begins, if people knew. Over the course of eight episodes, the two endure boot camp, each confronting their own inner demons as they meet a colorful cast of recruits and drill instructors.

Boots is based on the memoir by the real life Cope (Greg Cope White), The Pink Marine. But without having read that book, my assumption is that it's merely a touchstone for TV show and not a road map. For one thing, Cope White's actual enlistment took place in 1979, a time even more hostile to a closeted gay recruit. For another, Boots may be centered on his story, but it's far from fixated.

I started the series wondering if this boot camp show would be too gay to attract a wider audience, and quickly found myself wondering if the show would actually be too much of a boot camp cliche to retain my attention. But this is a smart show, well aware of the existence of Full Metal Jacket. It knows that it's audience knows all the tropes it might depict -- but it has eight episodes (rather than half a movie). That's plenty of time to develop other characters and make us care about them.

That's exactly what Boots does, and exactly why it works. We get to know two feuding brothers who've enlisted together, a criminal grasping at military service to avoid prison, a young man struggling to compartmentalize his feelings about family back home, a live wire oddball who might just be crazy, and many more. And that's just among the recruits. We also spend time with Cope's mother back home as she struggles to understand why her son has enlisted, with the drill instructors and their lives outside training, and with the captain of the base who must navigate the pressure of being one of the few women in such a position.

Very deftly, Boots manages to show, not tell, that being gay in a military that's institutionally hostile to that is just one struggle -- not the only struggle a person might have. And it doesn't minimize that as it showcases other problems. The show also manages to balance comedy and drama well, with plenty of charming and silly moments to juxtapose against the very serious topics it also touches upon.

The effective cast includes star Miles Heizer as Cope, Ana Ayora as Captain Fajardo, Liam Oh as Ray McAffey, Cedrick Cooper as Staff Sergeant McKinnon, and Vera Farmiga as Barbara Cope. And Max Parker seemed to get a brief bump online for his portrayal of Sergeant Sullivan. (Might he be "the next big thing?" Stay tuned.)

Boots was surely named for its setting at boot camp -- and by the end of the eight-episodes, we're done with that. Will we get a second, less-fittingly titled season? Hard to say. There is talk. The show felt like a satisfyingly contained one-off to me... but the final minutes of the last episode certainly tee up a possible first duty assignment for some of the characters. But if eight episodes of Boots is all there ever is, it's well worth watching. I give the show a B+.

Star Trek Flashback: Miri

The imagination of the Star Trek writers far exceeded what a 1960s television budget could put in front of the camera, and so various cheats were used to help stretch the budget. One of the more ridiculous the show ever employed was in the episode "Miri."

The Enterprise explores a planet where only children have survived a horrific plague that wiped out the adult population. With the landing party themselves now infected, and no access to the Enterprise after the game-playing children stole their communicators, only a few days remain to discover a cure.

I left out of my little recap any mention of how this episode opens: when the Enterprise finds this alien world, they discover it to be an exact copy of Earth, right down to the continental formations. I omitted this because it ends up having absolutely no bearing on the plot. Nor is any attempt at an explanation ever offered. That's because surely such a provocative story element wasn't actually part of the original idea; instead, it was wedged in at the end to justify how the entire episode could be shot on the standing city sets of the studio lot -- without altering the building appearances, scattered props, or English writing.

It's nearly impossible to ignore the fact that this episode casually discards the most interesting aspect of the story. Yet ignore it I must to get on with the rest of the review. But before that, I will at least acknowledge that, having stuck this "devil's bargain" to be able to film on existing sets, "Miri" absolutely makes the most of those sets. We get sweeping overhead shots of the outdoors, the interiors of multiple buildings... generally, a massive scope to this mission that very few Star Trek episodes could really touch until the "volume" technology of modern day allowed sets to incorporate CG directly on the filming stage.

What we get is the first genuinely strong showing for the character of Dr. McCoy. Not only is he able to cure this alien plague and save the day, he tosses off the sort of trademark quips along the way that we'd come to know him for. (When tasked with making a vaccine, he tells Kirk: "Is that all captain? We have five days you know.") McCoy is also ultimately willing to test that vaccine on himself when it appears someone will have to be the guinea pig. Plus, his verbal jousting with Spock feels genuinely playful in this episode -- not as harsh as the "this is actually racist, right?" tone that sneaks into some other episodes.

Unfortunately, the rest of the episode now stands as a rather uncomfortable artifact of its time. If this episode were made today, you'd hope that Kirk would attempt to gently-but-firmly shut down Miri's adolescent crush on him, rather than smile creepily at her and call her pretty. (Her reaction to being "spurned" could still lead to Miri's double-cross, as the story demands.) If made today, you certainly wouldn't see Yeoman Rand breaking down about how the legs she's desperately been trying to get Kirk to notice are now marred with plague marks.

Maybe the modern version would take a little more time to explore the question of how the "Onlies" of this planet could live 300 years and still behave as they do -- is the child brain truly incapable of any "grown-up" thinking? (On this planet, at least?) And maybe we could button up some of the plot holes. Why does Yeoman Rand go on this mission? (It's not like she goes whenever the captain does.) Why does her abduction by the Onlies take place off-screen? Why does the Enterprise not try to do anything after not hearing from their landing party for days?

Other observations:

• Today, we take for granted that the core original crew was Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov. But there are other minor characters repeating too -- like Farrell, who has inexplicably moved from the helm in a previous episode to the communications station in this one. If that guy had popped, maybe today we'd know "Jim Goodwin" as well as we know "George Takei."

• This is a major episode for musical score. Several themes make a first appearance that would get tracked in for all sorts of later episodes and situations.

• Michael J. Pollard, who plays Jahn, is one of the most familiar-looking "that guy"s you'll find in Star Trek. His list of credits is a mile long, but I know him best from his appearance in Bill Murray's Scrooged.

• Classic Star Trek has a tendency to ratchet up the jeopardy with a bit too much hyperbole. Here, it's mentioned that the children on the planet -- who have lived for centuries -- are going to run out of food in a few months. As if the plague that will eventually kill them all isn't enough.

• Spock's musing that McCoy may have created a "beaker full of death" gives us a great band name.

• In a reminder of just how many details about Star Trek weren't set in place from the beginning, Kirk says at the end of the episode that he has contacted "Space Central" -- what presumably became "Starfleet Command," once all the trappings of the universe were locked in place.

Because this is an early milestone episode for McCoy, there are elements of this episode I truly like. But with so much of the rest of it evoking an eye roll or a cringe, I think "Miri" caps out at a C+. 

Enterprise Flashback: Azati Prime

Amid season three of Star Trek: Enterprise, it's been many episodes since our heroes learned the location of the Xindi weapon. Now they have finally arrived there, in the appropriately titled "Azari Prime."

Captain Archer plans to take a commandeered Xindi shuttle to infiltrate a construction facility and destroy the Xindi weapon -- despite a warning from time traveler Daniels. When Archer is captured, he must convince the Xindi that the true threat is the race of sphere builders. But factions are splintering in the Xindi council, and the reptilians are about to launch an attack on Enterprise.

We're now deep enough in Enterprise's season three story arc that no recap of an episode can make any sense without some added context -- which is ironic, as this episode begins Netflix-style, with no "previously on" package to orient the audience. Another interesting dichotomy here is that this presents as one of the most action-oriented episodes in a while... but then a very Star Trek ideal of pursuing a diplomatic solution emerges mid-episode.

Before we get there, though, we have to deal with a really obstinate and annoying Archer. He's bound and determined to fly a suicide mission to punish himself for recent, morally questionable decisions -- despite multiple characters telling him he's the least expendable member of the ship's crew. There's a saying that goes something like, "I can't be making decisions that are that bad, because no one has showed up from the future to stop me." Well here, someone shows up from the future to stop Archer, and he goes through with his bad plan anyway.

Daniels probably knew this? (Let's say he did.) And so he's uncharacteristically helpful, actually giving Archer physical proof of this whole time travel thing... which ultimately opens up that diplomatic option when it's found by Degra and other sympathetic Xindi. This is not only a nice re-introduction of Star Trek ideals of diplomacy into what's been a rather Star Wars-like story, but it hopefully means we won't see many more of the repetitive "exposition delivered by way of bickering villains" scenes we've been getting all season long (including in the first half of this episode).

That said, if Star Trek is going to be more action-oriented, this episode is a great example of how to do it. The final act, in which reptilian Xindi attack the Enterprise, is very well done. We see huge explosions on the sets, tons of debris and damage, and a classic "man on fire" stunt. In space, we see a large whole ripped in the ship, with victims steaming out into the void. Good pacing and amazing visual effects for the time are put to work for this serialized story that doesn't have to reset at the end. Enterprise takes a beating. 

But we do get a few quieter character moments along the way as well. Archer makes sure his dog will be cared for and says goodbye to his crew. An emotional T'Pol grieves for his loss, and has to be pushed by Trip to take charge. T'Pol also then walks right up to the brink of sacrificing herself too, before the action begins. If the show had built more close relationships to leverage than just among the trio of Archer, Trip, and T'Pol, there might be even more emotion to these scenes... but the episode does at least use what it can.

Other observations:

• I like that the episode makes time to show us that you don't just get into a strange craft and fly it; you have to work out the controls first.

• More effective visual effects are used to show the Xindi shuttle diving under the ocean surface and finding the submerged base.

• Archer has a particularly tailored taunt for the reptilian Xindi: that on his world, a comet destroyed the dinosaurs.

I do like the Star Trek-themed turn toward diplomacy that this episode represents in the Xindi story arc. But also, this episode plays so much like a conventional two-part cliffhanger (ending with the ship in specific jeopardy) that it's hard not to compare it to past, great Star Trek two-parters. Overall, I give "Azati Prime" a B.

Synchronized Codenames

One of the most successful board games of the past decade is Codenames, the word association game by Vlaada Chvátil. It has kept hobby gamers entertained while spreading well beyond that market. It's a party game that takes almost any number of players. And it's spawned many follow-ups, both official Codenames games and games inspired by it, each with some twist on the original to help it stand out.

Alibis is one of these. Players cooperate as investigators trying to identify the culprit responsible for a crime. Mug shots of the suspects are arrayed in the center of the table, and a word card is dealt onto each one. Then each player is dealt two cards with numbers indicating two of those suspects. Each player's job is to write down a one word clue that connects the two words on their suspects.

Once everyone is ready, clues are revealed and players use a dry erase board to indicate which two suspects/words they think each of their fellow players is pointing to. By process of elimination, ONE suspect will have no clue -- the actual perpetrator of the crime. To tally up a round, you remove chips from a pool of score tokens: 1 token for each player who had any number of fellow players guess their two words correctly, plus 3 tokens for each player who successfully identifies the perpetrator. Your goal is to try to empty this pool of tokens (or come as close as you can) over the course of three rounds.

Codenames was such a runaway hit, it might be heresy to claim it had any "problems" in the design that needed to be "solved." And yet, my gamer group has long since moved on from it, for reasons more than just "new games coming along" to crowd it off the table. In no particular order:

• Because of the two team format, it doesn't do a good job accommodating an odd number of players.

• The game comes with a timer because it really does need one, and yet it feels cruel to actually use it. Coming up with good clues is hard, and everyone just kind of has to sit there and wait while you do it. But if you actually limit the time, clue givers can easily come up with nothing at all.

• Since only two players can give clues at a time, you sometimes get tired of playing the game as a group before everyone who might want to give clues gets a chance to do so.

• Loud voices on the clue guessing side can drive that process to the exclusion of others on a team.

Alibis addresses all of that. Making the game fully cooperative allows everyone to be active at the same time -- and in particular, lets them come up with clues at the same time. Not only does everyone get to participate in clue giving, but you don't feel the time spent doing that as keenly when everyone is doing it at once. Even if one or two players do take longer to concoct their clues, they're helping your team (because you're all one team), and you're more comfortable waiting for that.

On the guessing side, everyone must make their own decisions in secret, so no one can quarterback that part of the game. And the pressure to be right is reduced, since the most you can score is 1 point no matter how many people guess a clue right. The big scoring comes in guessing the culprit, which you can occasionally find your way to even if you don't pair all the right words with the right players along the way.

Alibis takes 2 to 6 players -- and while it's best with more, it works fine at any number (including odd numbers). To set up the suspects and words in a round, you simply double the number of players and add one (the one ultimately becoming the perpetrator). Plus, the game follows in a long line of "chase the best score possible" co-op games (like Hanabi, Just One, or The Mind) where coming this close spurs you to want to play again.

I will confess that Alibis hasn't caught fire in my group the way Codenames once did. Still, it's super fast to set up and explain, so I expect it will make appearances on game nights with larger groups in the coming months. I give Alibis a B+. It manages to be new and a bit nostalgic at the same time, and scratches an itch I didn't know I had. 

Star Trek Flashback: What Are Little Girls Made Of?

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds has been picking up odds and ends from the original Star Trek series, expanding on one-off elements in its semi-serialized format. One such element was Nurse Chapel's fiance, Dr. Roger Korby: a complication for Chapel and Spock's SNW relationship, but a back story originally introduced in the TOS episode "What Are Little Girls Made Of?"

The Enterprise arrives at Exo III in search of Dr. Roger Korby, the "Pasteur of archaeological medicine," whose expedition to the planet has been out of contact for five years. They find Korby, who has made a mysterious discovery he wants to share only with Captain Kirk... though his plans change upon learning his fiance, Christine Chapel, is also aboard the Enterprise. As Korby plots a secret foisting of his discovery upon the Federation, Chapel may be the only one who can make him reconsider.

Strange New Worlds had to acknowledge this original series episode somehow; how is it that Chapel had a fiance she didn't see for five years? Still, it's fascinating how such as siloed idea -- an almost tangential part of this episode -- became such a significant element on the prequel series. This episode only scratches the surface on Chapel's emotions; it's really about adventure and suspense with android brutes, bombshells, and doppelgangers.

In the way of many Star Trek episodes, there is a moral to this story, almost slipped in at the end like a pill in a dog treat. Obsession can blind someone and make them behave so strangely that they aren't even themselves anymore. (The android conceit of this story makes that quite literal.) But I'd say that's not what the episode is really remembered for by Star Trek fans. Maybe its the imposing Ruk, played with icy menace by the bass-voiced Ted Cassidy. Maybe it's Kirk's huge stride toward becoming the lothario we all know, as he literally romances his way out of trouble by kissing doubt into the android Andrea. Maybe its the unceremonious deaths of two redshirts who, for the first time, are literally wearing red shirts? Maybe it's the uncomfortably phallic stalactite Kirk tries to use as a weapon.

In any case, it seems clear that the more action-adventure elements are leading the charge in this story. And while I don't mind that in principle, I'm surprised on this re-watch to see just how often classic Star Trek was already recycling plot elements this early in its run. This is the second time that the Enterprise has dealt with a clone of Kirk. It's the second time a member of the medical staff has had compromised judgment because of a significant person from their past. Don't get me wrong; I think this episode is better than "The Man Trap" (if not as good as "The Enemy Within"), but it's weird that barely half a dozen episodes into the series, I can already find two prior episodes to compare a "new" one to.

Other observations:

• We head into the credits off of ridiculous crash zooms on the shocked faces of Our Heroes -- very much a style of the time this episode was made.

• For how fast and cheap so much of Star Trek was made, I am rather impressed by the underground cave set. There's more to it than I'd ever expect (and they cleverly film it to look like even more).

• ...but they took the money this week from the sound department, it seems. At many points through the episode, sliding doors don't make the expected Star Trek sounds. 

• The communicator is a prop that takes a beating. At two different points in the episode, Kirk's communicator (ostensibly the same one) is shown flipping open and locking in position like the cell phones it would inspire, and later with the screen bent backwards because the hinge has given out.

• The character of Andrea is definitely here to titillate. But the episode does hang a lantern on that, with Chapel calling her a "mechanical geisha." (And I guess they show is equal opportunity, showing not one but two naked Kirks strapped to a table elsewhere in the episode.)

• I noted earlier that this is the second episode in close proximity to serve us two Kirks. Also repeated is the reversing of a closeup to make the eye lines match. There, the scratches on "negative Kirk"'s face gave it away. Here, it's the green-crossed-over-blue outfit that Kirk has been made to wear; a closeup shows the colors on the opposite shoulders.

I suggested earlier that this episode falls between two earlier ones for me, and here I'll make that official: I give "What Are Little Girls Made Of?" a B-.

Enterprise Flashback: Hatchery

Enterprise has been on its way to the Xindi weapon build site for a few episodes now. But with several more episodes in season three to fill, another diversion is needed. And so we get "Hatchery."

Enterprise encounters a drifting Reptilian Xindi ship with a dead crew. But a hatchery is intact with dozens of young Xindi about to be born. Perhaps if the Enterprise can rescue them, it will help send the message that humans aren't savage threats? But Archer is irrationally consumed with this goal, influenced by an encounter in the nursery -- and soon, there's talk of mutiny. A conflict between the Starfleet crew and the MACO forces seems inevitable.

There's a particular kind of episode that most Star Trek series seem to do some variation on at some point. The captain isn't acting like themself, and the crew finds that potential mutiny is on the table. Usually, these episodes land in season one of a given Star Trek, at a time when people are still learning about the captain and no one is ready to state definitively that they're behaving strangely. But Enterprise has been effectively giving us a new captain in season three, in the form of a new, darker Archer who will go as far as he needs to to stop the Xindi. So this is as good a place as any to tell a story like this. The MACO angle is a good one to explore as well. The childish bickering between Reed and Major Hayes has been a snooze, but having effectively two crews on one ship is a ripe environment for a mutiny story.

But the recipe doesn't turn out as well as the ingredients. Archer's behavior is too extreme, relieving and confining his bridge officers left and right. The Archer of season three has been so extreme that his behavior must now be even more extreme to seem odd. Part of telling a 9/11 allegory, it seems, is to include a George W. Bush character, and since this was written mere years after 9/11 -- basically, in the immediate aftermath -- the prevailing perspective on W. is that he's "The Decider," the guy who makes decisions and then stands by them no matter how much evidence to change course is presented later. That's how they've been writing Archer in season three, and the writers seem to think they're making a heroic, wartime hero out of him in doing so.

OK, uh.... that was kind of a digression there. Bottom line: it's too easy for the audience to guess that Archer has been influenced by Xindi goo in this episode.

The ticking clock of reaching the Xindi weapon hangs over this side quest in an uncomfortably prominent way. For that matter, it's hard to imagine how they ever found this downed Xindi ship in the first place -- Enterprise should have been warping by too fast to even notice it. (And if it had been sending a distress signal, surely there would have been more concern expressed early on about another Xindi ship showing up at some point.)

The actual mutiny isn't enough of a conflict, either. All season, we've been told how much better the MACOs are supposed to be in battle situations. But they make a monumentally poor showing for themselves in not being able to hold the ship against adversaries they've actually trained with -- they should know their every move.

Other observations:

• Spacesuit costumes aren't cheap, but they still go to the trouble of giving the MACOs a distinctive one that doesn't look like the Starfleet versions.

• A dying-then-dead infant Reptilian Xindi is rendered first in CG, then becomes an interesting prop that John Billingsley has to sell.

• The characters are starting to be less hesitant to use the transporter.

"Hatchery" falls somewhat short of its interesting premise. Or perhaps it's just the familiarity of the mutiny premise that makes this take on it less compelling. Either way, I give the episode a B-.

David Kelley, I Presume

I find myself again at the cutting edge of entertainment from year-and-a-half ago: I've just finished watching the Apple TV+ series Presumed Innocent.

When junior prosecutor Carolyn Polhemus is brutally murdered, her colleague Rusty Sabich -- with whom she was having an affair -- becomes the prime suspect. As Rusty's home life fractures, his co-workers who have long held hostility for him seize the opportunity to railroad him in court. And though Rusty maintains his innocence, his cheating and hot-headedness aren't helping him come off as the "good guy."

Presumed Innocent was based on a novel by Scott Turow, and has been previously adapted in a movie starring Harrison Ford. (If you're familiar with either, they've changed up the ending this time to preserve some surprise.) But it's not that pedigree that made me curious to watch this new version. It's that spearheading this adaptation was David E. Kelley, the television writer-creator-producer behind legal shows like The Practice, Ally McBeal, and Boston Legal (plus a number of other non-legal shows less relevant to this endeavor).

Kelley's brand can be polarizing. His love of placing cartoonishly eccentric characters in serious situations just doesn't gel for some. I personally dig it, having watched every episode of every one of those past shows I mentioned. And yet, I knew that Presumed Innocent was going to be a far more serious story than even The Practice (by far the most realistic and dramatic of Kelley's legal shows). I was curious to see what he would do here, adapting someone else's work and presumably feeling too constrained to go off on his typical flights of fancy.

The results are intriguing. I think if you know what you're looking for, the signs that "this is a David E. Kelley show" are there -- perhaps once an episode, a character imagines something fleeting and strange in their head (and we often aren't meant to know it's imagined until some line is abruptly crossed). Certainly, a lot of the legal procedure we see takes considerable liberties with what's allowed in the real world -- though that's kind of what all dramatized legal stories do and not only a Kelley thing. Generally, Presumed Innocent plays it straight and gives us one court case from murder to resolution, told over eight episodes.

Because this was conceived as a limited series, adapting this one novel, there are some bigger names in the cast. Jake Gyllenhaal stars as Rusty Sabich, and is the perfect lead for the story. His career is full of movies without vanity, and here he's unafraid to present a man who actually isn't very likeable, supporting the ambiguity of the story. Peter Sarsgaard plays Tommy Molto, the guy who is emotionally out to get Rusty. He too is a great choice for this story, portraying someone irrationally (but believably) out for revenge.

But there are plenty of other less well-known performers in the cast that really build the atmosphere of the story. Oscar nominee Ruth Negga plays Barbara Sabich, and makes compelling a significant subplot about her character exploring her husband's betrayal. Bill Camp is a long-working character actor who plays Raymond Horgan, the attorney who agrees to take Rusty's case. And depending on what other shows or movies you watch, you might recognize O-T Fagbenle, Chase Infiniti, Lily Rabe, Noma Dumezweni, and more. Not everyone in the show has a lot to do, but it feels like a perfect ensemble who makes this world feel real. That said, it is a story with "no heroes," so you have to be up for something dark and brooding. This isn't uplifting television.

The show was such a hit on Apple TV+ that they renewed it for a second season... despite the fact that the story of Turow's novel has now been told. The word is that the new season will feature an entirely new cast, and will be adapted from the different book by a different author. Presumed Innocent will apparently become a sort of anthology show for as long as it lasts... and that too is an interesting proposition for David E. Kelley, who likes his own characters so much that he'll keep crossing them over and reviving them across his TV series.

I'd give Presumed Innocent a B. I admit, I didn't like it as much as Kelley's more confectionery delights -- but I still found it to be a worthwhile watch.

Star Trek Flashback: Mudd's Women

The character of Harcourt Fenton Mudd occupies a larger-than-life space in Star Trek lore: often talked about despite only two original series appearances, and brought back in more than one subsequent series. His debut came in "Mudd's Women."

Enterprise is strained to the breaking point in a rescue of freighter captain Harry Mudd and his "cargo," three conspicuously beautiful women. When the ship travels to a mining planet to replace its depleted resources, Mudd has struck first in a deal with the miners: the only trade they'll accept for their needed lithium crystals is for the three women, to take as their wives. But not all of the women feel enthusiastic about the situation... or about the secret behind their beauty.

This episode hits on a noble message in a quite ignoble way. Through the conceit of a "Venus drug" that conveys beauty -- and Kirk's cunning swap of it for a placebo -- this story culminates in the rather uplifting idea that if a person feels beautiful, then they are beautiful. And yet, the preceding hour is mostly a lewd parade of objectification.

"Mudd's Women" is so set on telling us how beautiful the titular characters are that every male character is one notch shy of "aaa-ooooooooga"-ing in their presence. (Expect Spock, who tiptoes right up to the edge of eye-rolling at everyone around him.) The women beam up in a "cover shoot" pose (and then, weirdly, are off the transporter pad in a line, then back on the pad in their tableau). Slinky music accompanies their every step. They're color-coded, upholstered Bond girls who need husbands. Not particular husbands; any will do. Needless to say, that's all pretty icky, regardless of the surprising story turn at the end.

That said, one of the three women -- Eve -- gets more characterization than you'd expect the premise to allow. When directed to flirt with Kirk for advantage, she doesn't play along. She's the one this close to rejecting the Venus drug altogether. When ostensibly paired off with one of the miners, she'll have none of it... though she is determined to earn her keep for however long she's around. Eve is a (tiny) island of feminist ideals in the deeply misogynist ocean of this episode.

But of course, most Star Trek fans don't remember "Mudd's Women" for the women, they remember it for the "Mudd." Actor Roger C. Carmel makes a meal of every scene as an almost proto-Jack Sparrow kind of character (who is even costumed not dissimilarly in a pirate shirt and bandit hat). Out of dozens of "villains" over the course of original Star Trek, he gets a return later because he's fun. He doesn't seem like a credible threat to the ship and crew (Star Trek: Discovery would retcon that), but he's also far less annoying than, say, Trelane, or other buffoonish, lighter characters the show would try.

This is still an early episode of Star Trek, and so we're still getting a number of other important milestones in this episode. McCoy expresses distrust of the transporter. Majel Barrett is heard at length as the voice of the computer. And for the first time, there's a hint that maybe there could be another "woman" in Kirk's life besides the Enterprise. (I think the absence of Yeoman Rand from this episode may have contributed to the thinking that romantic pairings for the captain were off the table with her character around.)

Other observations:

• This is one of the few very early episodes in which Uhura wears gold.

• Given the content of this episode, it's laugh out loud funny when, after rescuing the people from Mudd's ship, we hear the line: "how many did we get off?"

• Apparently, you could say "jackass" on network TV in the 1960s.

• How do just three people handle all the mining on this entire planet? Especially if what they're mining is so valuable? And how are they able to hide every last crystal from the Enterprise sensors?

"Mudd's Women" doesn't quite feel "well-intentioned," but does manage to stumble into a good place at times. And the character of Mudd himself keeps it from going completely off track. I give the episode a C.

Calam Up

Previously, I've blogged about the Reckoners series by Brandon Sanderson. Steelheart and Firefight -- books one and two of a trilogy -- were fun audiobook adventures. I had a few reservations with each, but generally enjoyed their premise and narrative.

Those being: when people begin to develop superpowers in our own world, society quickly collapses. That's because the "epics" who get powers are invariably corrupted by them, turning evil. Young David Charleston has a history with one epic in particular, and his deep desire for vengeance leads him to the Reckoners, a group of humans dedicated to learning the weaknesses of epics and taking them out. Now, in book three, Calamity, the Reckoners are forced to fight one of their own who has been corrupted by powers. But David is convinced there is a way to turn epics back from the darkness. If he's right, the world will be forever changed again.

There are a couple of other Reckoners stories floating around out there, including an interstitial novella and an audiobook exclusive. But Calamity is the end of the trilogy, and as such has two almost competing goals to fulfill. First, it has to pay off the very personal conflict that the Reckoners now have with one of their own. This is by far the most interesting part of the story, with stakes built up over multiple books, characters you've come to care about, and a Return-of-the-Jedi-esque "there is still good in him" tension. This part of Calamity is quite successful. The story doesn't shy away from the corrupted former Reckoner doing some truly horrible things, making any redemption uncertain -- and bittersweet if it does come.  

But second, the book also has to bring an "end" to the larger issue of the epics in this world: how is the red comet Calamity responsible for making superheroes, and is it truly inevitable that all of them will become corrupt and evil? This is a much harder element for the story to tackle, for a number of reasons. Sanderson has wanted to keep some of the mechanics of this secret for a big third act (third book) reveal, making for a heavy freight of exposition just before the finish line. Some of the answers relate to new characters we haven't spent any time with before now, making it much harder to invest in what happens. And ultimately, how complete a resolution do any of us actually want here? Sanderson ultimately went back to his Mistborn series that started it all, writing a whole new trilogy; does he really want to foreclose any possibility of returning to this setting? All of these elusive qualities make it essentially impossible for this third book to satisfy the reader in this second aspect. It can kind of only just end abruptly, in a bit of a letdown.

Together, these two aspects of the story average out to a book I found to be the least satisfying of the trilogy, even as I acknowledge that it probably could not have gone any other way. I give Calamity a B-. It's not a steep enough drop in quality for me to regret reading the Reckoners trilogy; indeed, I think I would still recommend it overall to anyone tantalized by the premise. This is neither a perfect ending (that's really hard!) nor a... well... calamity.

Star Trek Flashback: The Enemy Within

William Shatner has a reputation for big, wild line readings -- though when you watch classic Star Trek episodes, you don't always see that on display. But just when you think every William Shatner impersonation you've ever seen might be an unfair caricature, along comes "The Enemy Within."

A malfunction in the transporter splits Captain Kirk into two halves -- one the embodiment of all "negative" emotions, and the other his opposite. As the former wreaks havoc aboard the ship, a landing party on the planet below is in a deadly position: lethal cold is coming as night falls, but they cannot be rescued until the transporter malfunction is resolved.

This episode gives us one of the more enduring internet memes from classic Star Trek (seen above), but there's really a lot more to this episode than Shatner giving us 11 out of 10 intensity as "Negative Kirk." But let's start there, because it's not like Shatner is going out on a limb in giving us this big performance. He's matching the physical appearance we get when the makeup department slathers on the eye liner, the lighting department sets up the most arch upward spotlights, and the music composer gives us brash and loud melodies that are perhaps second only to the classic Trek fight music as memorable score. It's all pretty fun, and I find that big as it is, it does work.

Still, the production is working on a shoestring budget, at a breakneck pace. So for every moment that still holds up (an effects shot of Kirk sitting near his dark half in a Sickbay bed), there are many moments that don't work so well -- awkward jump cuts to reposition William Shatner as his own duplicate, a terrible body double that looks nothing like Shatner, a flopped camera angle placing Negative Kirk's scratches on the wrong side of his face, and a poor dog wrapped up in a shag carpet to portray some sort of "alien creature."

This is one of the earliest examples of Star Trek reaching out to a noted science fiction writer to contribute a story. Richard Matheson -- perhaps best known for I Am Legend -- is credited for this story, which offers a surprisingly nuanced take on "what makes a man." The episode is as apt to use words like "negative" as "evil" in describing Kirk's dark half, and takes great pains to say that both parts must unite in whole to form a functional human being. Spock in particular is given a great monologue acknowledging his keen awareness about how two halves of a person combine to make a greater whole.

Because the episode is saying that this IS Kirk -- not a twisted version, but the actual dark essence within him as balanced by the light -- it's kind of wild that this episode comes so early in the series. Our Hero, James T. Kirk, who the audience is still learning to like, is shown (in part) in this episode to be a drunken, belligerent, attempted rapist. That the character could ever recover from this is, sure, due partly to the uncomfortably casual 60s-era depiction of the attempted rape and its aftermath... but also due to the charisma Shatner would imbue the character with in many episodes to come.

This is also an early example of one of those noted science fiction writers, having contributed to Star Trek, being unhappy with the finished product once it was rewritten for television by Gene Roddenberry. Richard Matheson reportedly hated the added jeopardy of the landing party down on the planet. And while I won't quite go so far as to say "he's right," I do agree that they ask George Takei to give a few too many versions of "gosh, I'm cold" throughout the episode. And also, once they'd add shuttlecraft to the show a few episodes after this, their lack of use here is retroactively cruel.

There are a few other elements that deflate the tension. We get another Captain's Log that gives the game away to the audience before they have a chance to learn the nature of this transporter accident. Scotty arbitrarily tells us it will take a week to fix the transporter, and then hours later (with no explanation of any breakthrough) announces it's repaired. And in this episode's "aged most horribly" moment, Spock needles Rand about the "interesting qualities" of the Evil Kirk who tried to rape her.

On the other hand, it's yet another strong episode for Rand (even if it's not great that she has to be). It's a shame that she'd be dropped from the show, because to this point, she's kind of coming off as the most interesting character after Kirk and Spock. (Yes, I'd put her in front of McCoy right now.) And speaking of Spock, he has a number of good moments giving Kirk advice on how to maintain his command presence. We also get some early Spock/McCoy banter, as each one has a moment where they can't believe they're agreeing with what the other has offered as advice.

Other observations:

• Here's the first appearance of the distinct "Saurian brandy" bottle -- actually a Dickel bottle. (I mentioned seeing one in the bourbon "library" at Bardstone.) 

• In filming order, this episode gives us the first Vulcan neck pinch. It's also McCoy's first "he's dead, Jim," improbably said about the alien dog creature.

• Sure, guys can wear makeup. In the 1960s, though, it seems odd that Captain Kirk just keeps a jar of concealer in his quarters.

"The Enemy Within" is a noteworthy episode in season one of Star Trek. I give it a B.

Dexter 3.0

After eight seasons of serial-killing drama, Dexter ended its original television run with a notoriously bad finale that enraged fans. Then, a few years later, the single season Dexter: New Blood arrived to "re-conclude" the story in a more satisfying way. But this show about a killer won't stay dead; this year brought us a prequel series (that I never even made time to sample before it was canceled), and an improbable new revival, Dexter: Resurrection.

Dexter: Resurrection delivers on the promise of the title, finding a way to pick up the story of "killer of killers" Dexter Morgan for yet another season of tension, drama, and blood. When Dexter's son Harrison snaps and commits a brutal murder of his own (albeit, on a "deserving" person who would very much fit "the code"), Dexter is determined to help him evade suspicion. But soon Dexter is entangled in a situation of his own: he accepts the invitation of an eccentric billionaire who gathers serial killers for intimate dinners and conversation. Has Dexter found brethren who can truly understand him... or a veritable buffet of worthy targets for his Dark Passenger?

I approached Dexter: New Blood with cautious optimism, willing to embrace more time with Dexter Morgan partly because of the eerie charisma of Michael C. Hall, and partly thinking that the writers couldn't help but improve on the ending of the original series. Dexter: Resurrection arrived in a different posture. New Blood had given me the worthy ending I craved, and I needed nothing more. And yet, I kind of had to know what soap opera-style tricks they'd embrace to keep Dexter's story going. Plus, of course, Michael C. Hall was going to be compelling in whatever story that was.

Early on, Resurrection faced every reservation I had. The show wiggled out of the ending of New Blood without doing too much damage to its dramatic heft. Jennifer Carpenter does not return -- a real loss for the new show (as I wrote in my New Blood review that you can't do Dexter without her as Deb). But at least James Remar is back as Dexter's "ghostly" father Harry. And Jack Alcott, the best addition to New Blood, returns here as Harrison and is central to the story.

But Resurrection crossed the line from quieting my doubts and into actively entertaining me with its stellar new characters and their casting. The season features Uma Thurman, Peter Dinklage, Neil Patrick Harris, Krysten Ritter, Eric Stonestreet, and David Dastmalchian -- packing as much star wattage into a single season of Dexter as any three or four seasons of the original run. (And that's not even counting the numerous re-appearances and cameos of characters from the original show.)

Each of these new-to-Dexter actors plays an indelible character, quirky but believable, that might have been the focus of any one season of the original Dexter. They're all brought together here in a sort of "leave it all on the field" approach to storytelling that works very much in the re-revival's favor. Too well, perhaps? After Resurrection reached another satisfying (if less definitive) end than New Blood, it got renewed for another season! Can there possibly be any toys left to empty from this particular toy box? I suppose we'll find out.

I'd give Dexter: Resurrection a B+. If you were burned out by the original (or sated by New Blood) and are not inclined to give Dexter another chance, I get it... and Resurrection isn't quite "essential" viewing. But it is a nice reminder of how fun Dexter could be at its peak.

Naked Eye

I would not necessarily have pegged The Naked Gun as a franchise that was ripe for rebooting. But Hollywood will reboot pretty much anything these days, and so it was that this year we got a new The Naked Gun film starring Liam Neeson as Frank Drebin Jr., a lieutenant in L.A.'s "Police Squad" that fights crime with tongue planted firmly in cheek amid an avalanche of jokes.

I admit, the "reboot anything" framing I just used probably makes it sound like I was primed not to like this film. Quite the opposite, actually; I had high hopes for it, given the pedigree. It was directed and co-written by Akiva Schaffer, one-third of The Lonely Island. It was produced by Seth MacFarlane's production company, and he in turn probably influenced getting Liam Neeson to star (the two having worked together before). Every one of these people has comedy chops -- and has demonstrated an affinity for the joke-dense environment that was the original Naked Gun trilogy.

When you watch this new movie, it's clear that everyone involved has a particular affection for the comedy of Zucker-Abraham-Zucker ("ZAZ"), the trio who created Police Squad! (the short-lived TV show that inspired The Naked Gun), as well as Airplane! and Top Secret! (They had a thing for exclamation points.) This new movie embraces the particular anarchy of a ZAZ film that will try anything for a laugh -- running gags, dumb puns, sight gags, prat falls -- and will pile it on so fast that there's no worry when one joke doesn't work for you. One that does will be close behind.

There are particular jokes in this new movie that feel like they could have been written by that original ZAZ trio, wordplay along the lines of "Surely you can't be serious." But there are other styles in the mix too, like a long plot diversion about a snowman that almost feels like a Lonely Island sketch plopped down right in the middle of the movie. I didn't find the whole to be as deliriously funny as some of those ZAZ classics, but that could well be because those hit me at just the right age. In any case, this did make me laugh.

Liam Neeson is a wonderful heir to Leslie Nielsen's deadpan delivery, and the cast surrounding him meets that tone. Pamela Anderson is willing to shed every ounce of vanity in her femme fatale-like role. Paul Walter Hauser brings the "comic sidekick" chops he displayed on Cobra Kai to this more satirical stage. Danny Huston and CCH Pounder, both best known for dramatic work, bring the same intensity to this utter tomfoolery. That is the Leslie Nielsen model: don't behave any differently as you say the stupidest stuff.

In short, The Naked Gun is stupid fun. If you liked the original, you will like this reboot -- it's that simple. I give it a B.

Enterprise Flashback: Doctor's Orders

"Doctor's Orders" is the 16th episode of season three of Star Trek: Enterprise. And if you've watched a lot of Star Trek, you'll probably feel like you've seen it before.

When Enterprise comes upon a massive anomaly, directly on the route to the Xindi weapon, they cannot afford the lengthy detour to fly around. Instead, a plan is hatched to put the crew in stasis, protecting them from the effects of the anomaly. Phlox, less susceptible, will tend to both the sleeping crew and the ship. But is he up to the challenge?

Many Star Trek series have lifted story ideas from earlier installments of the franchise. When you start with a new cast of characters, then remix enough of the details, you can end up with an episode that feels different even when the inspiration is clear. But to me, this is not an example of that. "Doctor's Orders" feels quite directly inspired by Voyager's "One," which put Seven of Nine in the same position. And instead of making different choices to suit the characters of Enterprise, this episode almost methodically makes all the same choices of that previous script.

First, Enterprise doesn't take the bold risk of actually depicting Phlox on his own -- which would have immediately differentiated this episode from Voyager, where Seven of Nine had the Doctor. Phlox has T'Pol as a partner and sounding board. And while T'Pol's erratic behavior is likely to make you deduce way before the reveal that she's (uh, SPOILER) actually a figment of Phlox's imagination, enough of the episode functions as a "two-person play" that it's hard for this story to step out from the shadow of the Voyager version.

That reveal itself is also stolen from the Voyager take on the concept. Seven of Nine eventually imagined a villain -- threatening the ship and her personally -- who wasn't actually there, making Phlox's imagined T'Pol even less of a surprise to savvy Trekkers. And Enterprise doesn't get much mileage out of that twist here. Jolene Blalock gets to cut loose, portraying an increasingly unmoored and emotional version of T'Pol, but we never really scratch beneath the surface of what she represents in Phlox's psyche, or even have Phlox reckon with just how far he'd slipped once he realizes he imagined her.

I think fundamentally, the issue here is that Seven of Nine is just a far more interesting character to put in this situation than Phlox; her history in the Borg collective makes her especially susceptible to the pressures of being alone. Sure, Phlox has always been portrayed as a gregarious extrovert... but isolating him is hardly the same. And I think without that clear direction for the story, the writers don't quite know what they want to do. They try a few suspense-thriller moments of strange noises in the ship... but then Phlox never finds anything and the tension never really builds. They try comedy, with Phlox walking around naked (Austin Powers style) and then being able to a watch a movie without his incessant talking ruining anyone else's experience... but this isn't a naturally funny situation, and so the comedy runs out quickly.

But Enterprise does have one major thing on its side: John Billingsley. In a show that consistently has shown little interest in developing characters outside of Archer, T'Pol, and Trip, Billingsley has consistently delivered performances as Phlox that make you take notice. If you're going to do this story on Enterprise and put one actor front-and-center, Billingsley is the only choice. Even as the episode as a whole doesn't always work for me, his choices in each moment really make each scene shine. (And Jolene Blalock has certainly grown as an actor since season one. Before we reach truly "wild T'Pol" at the end of the story, she gives several more subtle moments that I think would have been beyond her during season one.)

Other observations:

• This feels like the weak version of the "XX hours earlier" trope, manufacturing tension by showing us an empty ship before flashing back to show us how they got there. (The story doesn't move fast enough to build interest if it showed events chronologically.) 

• I'm not sure who the foot fetishist is among the Star Trek writers of the time, but first they gave us a closeup of Neelix's gross feet, and here they do the same for Phlox.

• Possibly adding to the whole "Voyager did this first" of it all is the fact that Roxann Dawson (who played B'Elanna on that show) directs this episode.

So here's my twist ending: I'm going to give "Doctor's Orders" a B. Yes, it's an uninspired retread, but still... it isn't tedious to watch. I guess this is how much esteem I have for John Billingsley, that I'm basically willing to watch the same episode twice to see what he does with it. Though I feel like if this episode had been about anyone else, it might have been a low point for the season.

Star Trek Flashback: The Naked Time

Nearly 40 years (!) after Star Trek: The Next Generation began, it has become many Trekkers' favorite Star Trek series. It's almost hard to remember that in the run-up to the two-hour premiere, a significant chunk of the fan base was denouncing the show before it even began, for not featuring the original crew. The Next Generation was going to just be a pale imitation of the original series! It probably felt to that crowd like their worst fears were being realized when the first regular episode of Next Gen was practically a straight-up remake of an beloved original, "The Naked Time."

When the Enterprise arrives to monitor the destruction of a planet, a landing party finds a research team dead on the surface in a variety of unexplained circumstances. Unknowingly, they bring a virus back to the ship that is transmitted by touch and acts on the crew like intense alcohol intoxication. Soon, half of them have abandoned their stations in drunken rage, ego, grief, or stupor -- leaving the Enterprise spiraling out of control toward the planet surface.

It's easy to see the appeal of this episode for everyone involved. For the writers, it's a useful "shortcut" to establish character early on in the series; get them all drunk and lower their inhibitions, and it becomes plausible for them to act out or give voice to the core desires that drive them. (Gene Roddenberry liked this gimmick so much that he straight-up stole it for The Next Generation.) For the actors, it's a chance to color outside the lines they're usually given. (George Takei gives a wild but entertaining performance -- and since he was really never given more to do than in this episode, he often cites it as his personal favorite.)

The audience at the time ate it up too. Leonard Nimoy often spoke of the surge in his fan mail after this episode aired, spurred by a key monologue in which an infected Spock wrestles with his turbulent repressed emotions. Nimoy says he requested the scene as a very late rewrite, to replace some dopey sight gag involving Spock and a crewman. I would say he doesn't hit a home run in his performance of it. Still, it's at least a solid double. It's filmed in a single take, and all reports are Nimoy was only given one chance to perform it (thanks to the merciless production speed of the day). Not only did it win over the first wave of Spock fans, but I suspect it's the reason why when The Next Generation remade this story, they inexplicably chose for Data to also get drunk. (It worked so well last time for the emotionless character!)

The Spock scene is the one most cited by fans, but there are plenty more moments here to like. Kirk's devotion to the Enterprise is a fun conceit, even if we'll all come to learn that "she" is most certainly not the only "woman" in his life. It's a great episode for Uhura, who can take the navigation console when ordered, actually gets an apology from the captain in a heated moment, and gets the slyest one-liner possibly in all of Star Trek -- when a sword-wielding Sulu declares "I'll protect you, fair maiden," she instantly snaps back: "sorry, neither." And while you could easily cut it for time (and they did, when syndicating this episode later), I like the cool professionalism of McCoy and Chapel as they perform a surgery mid-episode.

The advent of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds has possibly increased the impact of this episode. We now have that show's long-running exploration of the relationship between Spock and Nurse Chapel to inform their interaction here. Does every moment of Strange New Worlds dovetail perfectly into the original series? Of course not. Still, if you've actually watched this couple on Strange New Worlds, dancing around each other and ultimately drifting apart, the emotions here in "The Naked Time" matter a whole lot more: they're buried feelings re-emerging rather than being dredged up from nowhere.

Of course, not every moment of the episode plays perfectly in 2025. The casual disdain for disease containment shown by a crewman (starting this whole mess) is horrifying in a post-Covid world. (Not that those suits look like they'd stop anything.) A "tense" moment of the same crewman threatening people is pretty silly thanks to the butter knife prop he's given. Riley reveals casual sexism when drunk, McCoy's tearing of Kirk's shirt to administer a shot is laugh-out-loud funny (thanks, Galaxy Quest!), and a crewman's drunken graffiti makes no sense at all. (Why is "LOVE MANKIND" so funny and "SINNER REPENT" so sinister? Is this a commentary on hippies we had to be there for at the time?)

And completely separate from what parts of this episode "age well" or not, I really don't understand the ending. In the strangest epilogue to the story that I could imagine, the crew accidentally discovers how to travel through time. Does it have anything to do with the drunken virus shenanigans we've watched for the last hour? Nope -- just a flag being weirdly planted to say, "come back next week, folks -- we might have a time travel adventure!" (Not right away, we won't.)

Other observations:

• The camera angle of the first drops of blood infecting an Enterprise crewmember is just strange. Is the blood dripping sideways? Is it conscious somehow and reaching toward him? I don't get it.

• We get the first Vulcan nerve pinch in this episode! But it's clearly not the first time Kirk has seen it, since he suggests Spock should teach him to do it some time.

• In one moment, Spock is seen making some calculations on a device that seems like it's meant as the futuristic version of a slide rule.

• Uhura absolutely gets touched by infected Sulu, and yet never succumbs to drunkenness. That makes her the most professional member of the entire Enterprise crew.

I do feel like "The Naked Time" could have used a bit more script polish. Is the core of Sulu's being really that of a swashbuckling swordsman? Do we need to spend so much time on Riley instead of the core characters? And again, what's with the random time traveling element? But overall, the premise here is a good one, and the results are a lot of fun. I give the episode a B.

Burn Notice

Back in 2019, a then-new movie made it on my "watch it someday" list. But that "someday" didn't come until James Gunn's recent Superman film gave it a second moment in the spotlight.

Brightburn is a movie clearly derived from Superman's well-known origin story: a childless farmer couple discovers an alien spacecraft with a single young occupant, and raise the adopted alien as their own. As the child approaches adolescence, he comes to realize his true purpose on Earth: to use his manifesting super powers to conquer the planet.

Brightburn arrived in theaters a few years before Invincible reached our TV screens, and a few months before The Boys -- though well over a decade after the source comics for either of those series. While that timeline could get fans arguing over which if these (if any of these) was "first" to the idea of ultraviolent superhero stories, Brightburn is doing something distinctly different from the rest: it's a horror movie.

As young Brandon Breyer discovers the scope of his powers, he quickly becomes a Freddy/Jason/Michael Myers-type figure at the center of a story that observes all the conventions of the bloodiest horror movies. Cornered victims flee for their lives -- sometimes making clever choices but often not -- before being snuffed out in the most grisly ways imaginable. It's not for all audiences, and it certainly lacks the social commentary of the episodic TV shows I mentioned. But if you just like a good slasher movie on occasion, well -- here it is. (And what occasion is more fitting that the run-up to Halloween?)

Brightburn has been hard to find on streaming services (included in a subscription, at least), and might not have been remembered at all were it not for the its creative pedigree. James Gunn used his Marvel-soon-turning-to-DC clout and money to produce this script by his brother Brian and cousin Mark. And while he didn't take the director's chair (that job went to David Yarovesky), he did make sure to cast many of the actors from his core "repertory company." Fans of Peacemaker in particular will clock the brief appearances of Jennifer Holland, Steve Agee, and omnipresent Gunn collaborator Michael Rooker -- as well as David Denman in the role of Brandon's father.

But the big name in the cast is Elizabeth Banks. She has a tricky, almost double role that calls for her to be both loving, protective mother and conventional horror movie heroine. This movie is certainly more about "the kills" than the performances -- but for what it's worth, I think Banks gives a good one.

I don't feel like Brightburn is "can't miss" entertainment, not even for horror movie enthusiasts. I'd give it a B-. But if it sounds like a bloody good time, you might want to check it out. Either way, I think it's nice that the movie got something of a second life as a side effect of the new Superman discourse.

We Had a Grape Time

Although we got to see plenty of gorgeous scenery on our recent trip to Palisade, the main reason for the trip was to visit wineries in the area. On the afternoon we arrived, and over the next two days, we stopped at a number of places -- and here are some of the highlights.

Maison La Belle Vie Winery was an impulsive stop on the first night -- it was literally just across the street from where we were. It had a lovely outdoor patio area that would have been ideal just a few weeks earlier before the evening chill was so strong. They also had (among other good options) a tasty port-style wine that I enjoyed enough to buy a bottle. Regrettably, I didn't snap a picture there (since the sun had already set), but I'll swap out for an image of the rainbow that welcomed us to the area earlier in the afternoon.

On our first full day, we got to go to university. We stopped by Varaison, hitting it at just the right time where the owner and head winemaker Ron personally oversaw our tasting. And in his own words, "I'm not just going to shove a menu across the counter at you." Instead, he did a deep dive on exactly how to get your palate to perceive different flavors, and then how to drill in on exactly what about the wine is contributing to the flavors you like. The goal: once you know what you like and why, you should be able to find more wines that also suit your tastes.

Along the way, Ron taught us about De Long's Wine Grape Varietal Table, how alcohol content corresponds to fruit ripeness (and what numbers you should be looking for, depending on your own preference for fruit-forward wines), and much, much more. He also regaled us with stories of his past work for a massive beer conglomerate, a later stint in California wine country, and more. Ron seems to have done it all, and wanted nothing more than to share his experience with others.

Two Rivers Winery was another spontaneous stop, this one on day two, after our drive through Colorado National Monument. This winery is in Grand Junction, just minutes from the Monument, and was picturesque inside and out. We had the French-style chateau completely to ourselves, sitting in a big hearth room with a window to the distillation room and lined with paintings. Their highlight was the less common Baco Noir grape, grown right on their property, and great both on its own and in a complex red blend.

 

The final winery of the trip was Restoration Vineyards. It's location further away from the cliffs made for a sprawling view in any direction, which you could enjoy in their spacious yard peppered with inviting clusters of chairs. It was a beautiful setting for a full glass, and a sort of "summation" of the whole trip.

Palisade turned out to be a lot more like Napa Valley than I'd have ever imagined. Though not every turn revealed a new "wine Disneyland," you could certainly find just about anything here in Colorado that you might look for there -- whether that's a beautiful view, a sprawling estate, a hidden gem... or just a tasty wine. In all, the trip was an excellent reminder that from time to time, it's great to play "tourist" close to home. 

Star Trek Flashback: Where No Man Has Gone Before

The original pilot episode of Star Trek was famously rejected by the network. But in an incredibly rare turn of events, a second pilot was commissioned. The second time around, the series was picked up, and the rest is history. That second pilot that got the job done was "Where No Man Has Gone Before."

When the Enterprise attempts to penetrate the barrier at the edge of the galaxy, the ship is critically damaged. Even more concerning, helm officer Gary Mitchell starts to exhibit strong mental abilities... and an even stronger ego as he begins to regard himself as something different -- and better -- than human. Can he be stopped before it's too late?

Like "The Cage" before it, "Where No Man Has Gone Before" doesn't arrive as fully-formed Star Trek as fans would ultimately come to know it. There's still no Dr. McCoy. Kirk's friend describes him as a "stack of book with legs" who turned away every attempt to set him up on a date. The iconic red shirts still don't exist, with a subtle shade of tan in its place instead. (And even the "gold" is actually a shade of green, as you can see in some moments either when shadows block the blazing studio lights, or a matching color undershirt peeks out beneath the sweater.) The writers haven't decided how human Spock is. (His comment that "one of my ancestors married a human female" would be a truly weird way to talk about your father.)

And yet, this feels a lot closer to classic Star Trek than "The Cage." The familiar theme of godlike powers is here -- filmed before "Charlie X," but oddly aired just one week after. Mitchell's descent into "evil" feel better paced and earned than that similar episode, plus his personal history with Captain Kirk makes it matter more. McCoy may not be here, but the Kirk/Spock/McCoy dynamic is; Spock argues with cold logic that Mitchell must be killed, Doctor Dehner argues for compassion, and Kirk must triangulate his decision between these opposing views. And once he does, he winds up delivering a classic "Kirk speech" at the climax of this episode (ironically, to Dehner).

Of course, some elements of the episode are dated -- some as a product of the time (recordings on "tapes"; lots of unscientific talk about "ESP"), others because the writers could not possibly have known they were making this for the ages (the reference to a love sonnet written on an alien planet in 1996). I do wish the episode had thought to raise the question of whether distrust of a mind reader is a self-fulfilling prophecy -- if they know you're turning against them, won't they inevitably beat you to it? But then, that's a very "cerebral" notion when the network specifically advised them to do a less cerebral story. That's why Kirk chases after Mitchell in the end, kind of for no reason, when he could just let Mitchell go and warp Enterprise out of there. We have to have a climatic physical showdown to please the executives. This episode "understood the assignment," as we'd say today.

Other observations:

• It feels odd to me that so much of this story would hang on two characters fated to die in the end. But the solid performances of guest actors Gary Lockwood and Sally Kellerman go a long way toward making this episode work -- so both deserve a big "thanks for giving us Star Trek" in my book.

• There are stories about how much the silver contact lenses (denoting psychic powers) hurt the actors to wear. And really, they just look like they hurt like hell when you see them here. 

• The tombstone Mitchell creates for Kirk gives his name as "James R. Kirk" (not "T.") -- a contradiction that many fan theories have tried to reconcile in a spectrum of wild ways. (Among the ones I've heard: this one episode somehow takes place in an alternate universe; "R" is short for some nickname that's an in-joke between Kirk and Mitchell.) 

• We get Kirk's first fight-ripped shirt! 

• This is the only time Spock wears command gold. When you see how it looks on camera with his Vulcan makeup color, it's immediately obvious that one or the other has to change.

There's a lot I question about the original air order of Star Trek from 1966. But assuming you'd hung with the show back in the day (there were only two other things you could choose to watch), I think you'd be finding that each episode was an improvement on the one before. I give "Where No Man Has Gone Before" a B-.

Monumental Views

This past week, I made myself a tourist in my own home state and headed to the western slope of the Rocky Mountains, to Palisade. We were several weeks past the peak of the peaches for which the city is well-known... but it's also Colorado's wine county -- a little slice of Napa or Sonoma Valley just a few minutes east of Grand Junction. (With bizarrely named roads that are just mile marker fractions. Think "turn left on D 1/2 road, and we're at the intersection of 37 3/4 road.")

I'll often post a chronological recap of my trips -- as much for my own later reference as for sharing with others -- but that doesn't quite seem the right approach on this occasion. A lot of our activities were wine-related, and not all the wine was worth a detailed blow-by-blow. So I think I'm going to break things down into a "booze" and "non-booze" post... and start today with the latter.

On our first morning in Palisade, we started by backtracking east a bit to drive the Grand Mesa Scenic Byway. Along the way, we saw bighorn sheep grazing right by the road, a curiously decorated golden toilet marking the start of someone's private driveway, and plenty of beautiful mountain scenery. But as we approached our destination, an overlook known as the Land of Lakes, the weather took a turn. A drizzle increased to full-on rain, and we were high enough for low-hanging clouds to become a view-spoiling fog.

We were the only car in the parking lot when we stopped long enough to reinflate tires after a pressure warning had gone off. (I need to get a portable compressor for my own car!) Just the time that took, standing out in the freezing rain, was enough to discourage us from trying even a half mile hike to what surely would be a view of fog. So we bailed and headed back down the mesa. We might have missed The View we'd been seeking, but the sights were plenty beautiful on the return trip. The weather was clearing as we got to the bottom -- not quite enough to convince us to turn around and try again for the hike, but enough to promise that our winery-hopping afternoon wouldn't be spoiled by rain.

We had much better luck with our morning hike on the second morning. We drove into Grand Junction to have breakfast with family from the Denver area that was coincidentally driving home from their own road trip, and then pressed on to Colorado National Monument. It's a location that I think gets forgotten amid beautiful and well-known spots in other "four corners" states, but it's absolutely worth seeing -- a long loop road that circles Monument Canyon and provides access to gorgeous hikes of many lengths and difficulties.

We drove in at the western entrance and stopped at Canyon Rim Trail. The visitor center was closed due to the current government shutdown, but the trail itself was the main attraction. As the trail name suggests, we hiked along the rim of the canyon, getting a wonderful view of several named rock features out in the canyon. It's about half a mile to a marked overlook spot -- though honestly, the view was more breathtaking along the way, and no less so on the short walk back.

While on that hike, we'd seen other visitors at an overlook on a different point of the canyon, and decided to seek that spot next. That turned out to be Otto's Trail, an even shorter quarter-mile hike that takes you right to the edge of canyon rim. (Though the uphill return trip caught us maybe a little off-guard after the level Canyon Rim Trail.) If you're ever in Colorado National Monument, you should absolutely plan on one or both of those two hikes; they're a real showcase of what makes the site special.

We continued with the full loop, making other shorter stops for photos -- but ultimately deciding against any further hikes in favor of grabbing lunch back in Grand Junction and then getting back to afternoon winery-hopping. These morning drives -- both the one that went according to plan and the one that didn't -- were a welcome reminder that when you live in Colorado, beautiful locations are really right there in your "backyard." I'm glad they were part of our getaway.

I'll be back later this week with highlights from our winery visits.