Enterprise Flashback: Observer Effect

The final season of Star Trek: Enterprise was mostly made up of multi-episode story arcs that each delved into key elements of franchise history. But then, in the middle of the season, the show zigged where you might have expected it to zag -- serving up two back-to-back stand-alone episodes. This is the second, "Observer Effect."

A pair of non-corporeal aliens observe the Enterprise crew as they face a crisis. Though they do not want to interfere, they want to be as close to the action as possible... and so they migrate around the ship, possessing different members of the crew with the best vantage points for scientific observation.

This episode is almost a throwback to the sort of self-contained science fiction parable that was classic Star Trek's bread and butter. The only "shout out to the fans" that connects this to Trek history is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention that these alien visitors are Organians, the powerful aliens who enforced a peace treaty of sorts between the Federation and the Klingons. It doesn't feel like we're dumping out the Star Trek toy box to play.

No, it's the actors who get to play in this episode. At some point in the hour, every one of the show's seven regular cast members gets to play one of the two aliens. Not only do they get to cut loose and play a new character, they're thrown the challenge of making that character seem consistent across multiple different actors, as the aliens hop bodies.

It's possible that the writers did most of the heavy lifting there. The script was written by Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens, the Trek novelists turned show writers I've mentioned previously. The two "observer" characters are sharply drawn with their own personalities and motivations, and are easy to track as they pass from actor to actor.

It's a clever enough story, and entertaining... and yet watching it actually makes me feel sorry for the actors. Reed and Mayweather haven't really had anything good to do on the show in ages. So while I'm glad that Dominic Keating and Anthony Montgomery finally get to headline an episode, it's a shame that we don't learn anything at all about their characters. Hoshi Sato hasn't figured meaningfully into a story all season; now we actually learn a few new details of her back story... but only in the context where she expects to die. (I feel like the Star Trek: Discovery writers saw this and thought it was a good approach they should run with for a while.)

It's more enjoyable to take a step back and appreciate this episode as a sort of inversion of Star Trek. So many episodes of the franchise turn on our heroes butting up against the Prime Directive of non-interference with alien cultures. Here, an alien culture has the exact same policy, and the consequences harm our heroes. The shoe is on the other foot, in a cheeky way. And the moral summation of the episode dances dangerously close to repudiating the Prime Directive, noting the importance of compassion in considering what is moral and just.

Other observations:

• When they don't actually have to show a movie the characters talk about, they aren't limited to old films in the Paramount archives. (Hence, the reference to The Andromeda Strain here.)

• Trip and Hoshi seem to become closer friends from their trial here. I wish the show had been able to make more use of that in the future.  

This episode kind of works better for me if you imagine it as a one-off of some anthology series. In the context of Star Trek: Enterprise, it's still decent, but foregrounds the way the series doesn't seem to care enough about its characters. I give "Observer Effect" a B.

Star Trek Flashback: Space Seed

Plenty of episodes of the original Star Trek would inspire writers in the franchise many years down the road. But no episode affected the future of Star Trek more than "Space Seed."

The Enterprise encounters a centuries-old "sleeper ship" from the Eugenics War on Earth. Its leader, Khan, is both enigmatic and charismatic -- revealing little of his own past, and sparking the adoration of Lieutenant Marla McGivers. When Khan revives his crew of genetically-enhanced followers and launches a takeover of the Enterprise, McGivers is torn between her attraction and her duty. Can Captain Kirk defeat an enemy who is superior, both physically and mentally?

When Gene L. Coon was polishing the final scene of this script (co-credited to the story author Carey Wilber), he had Kirk give the villainous Khan a punishment not really intended as a punishment. Khan wanted a world to conquer, so Kirk gives him one... and then muses with Spock about what might come of the "seed" planted that day. It was a rhetorical flourish to justify a rather obtuse episode title. It would have been impossible to imagine that Coon was really planting a seed that 15 years later would inspire Nicholas Meyer to write the Star Trek movie most revered by the fans. (And that would be re-packaged by J.J. Abrams' writing team another 31 years after that.)

Still, while there's a lot to like about the script of "Space Seed" (especially McCoy's defiant bravery when threatened by Khan, and the brinksmanship between Kirk and Khan) that isn't really where the magic happened. For one thing, the general admiration for the dictator Khan is strange -- though at least Spock points that out. Khan isn't truly Hitler, to be sure; we're told his rule had not even a fraction of the death toll. But all the ideas about a superior race, and what that entitles said race to do to their "inferiors," are just the same. On a scale of dictatorship, "not as bad as Hitler" is a woefully low bar to clear.

But more centrally, I find the character of Marla McGivers pretty hard to take. She's a 60s cliche of a fickle woman who swoons and un-swoons and swoons again according to the needs of the plot. Who knows why the Enterprise even has a resident historian of 20th-century Earth, but she of all people ought to know what a person like Khan really represents... if he weren't just so hot. At least Kirk gives her no points for bringing about the solution of a problem she largely causes.

No, the strength of "Space Seed" is in the casting of Ricardo Montalban as Khan. He really is magnetic in the way the script demands. He almost never delivers a line the way you'd expect, and the regular Star Trek actors actually change up their game in response. Kirk has to be as cool and calculating as Khan to beat him (even if the final victory is in a fist fight). And Khan is oddly magnanimous in defeat. There's just an alchemy here that works, which is why, of all the one-off villains the Enterprise vanquishes over three seasons, this is the one who would make a comeback for a feature film.

They may not have known at the time that "Space Seed" was a special episode, but the production values are pretty good. They build quite a large set for the Botany Bay, and add the "never seen again" decompression chamber to Sickbay. In the remastered version of the episode (where the production team did know of the importance of this episode), the effects get a bigger-than-usual boost.

Other observations:

• Uhura knows Morse code. Kirk acts like he knows it, but it kinda feels like he's making that up.

• This episode "predicts" a 1990s around 30 years in its future. We're now about that far after that point.

• Some fun goofs: When Khan first wakes up and everyone gathers around his hibernation chamber, DeForest Kelley drops something, and you see him look back on the floor for it for a split second. Later, when Khan smacks a guard so hard he somersaults, you can see the stuntman split the crotch of his pants.

• Much is always made of the fact that Chekov isn't in this episode, even though his "history" with Khan is key in the movie Star Trek II. Of course, his character hadn't been introduced to the show yet. But notably, Sulu also isn't in this episode.

• Ultimately, Star Trek lore would brand Khan and his people "Augments," and make them the product of genetic engineering. Because that wasn't really on the radar in 1967, this episode instead suggests they're more the product of selective breeding. 

"Space Seed" really is a great episode, though I also think that the writing of Marla McGivers punches a great hole in it. Overall, I give it a B.

Crime Doesn't Pay?

We're still relatively early in the film year, but 2026 has already served up one of its biggest box office bombs in Crime 101, a film you can now stream on Amazon Prime. Was it actually bad, or just a movie that many (like myself) just didn't even hear about during its money-losing theatrical run?

Crime 101 centers on Mike, a jewel thief whose jobs are meticulously planned and precisely executed. But the story also tracks Detective Lubesnick, the cop hot on his trail; Sharon, a high-end insurance broker who's grown increasingly dissatisfied in her job; and Ormon, the young psychopath who Mike's fence is grooming as a replacement. This film noir-type stew of shifting agendas and loyalties keeps the audience guessing what will happen next, and even who they should be rooting for.

Earning back less than its $90 million budget in movie theaters, Crime 101 can only be regarded as a flop. But is it one of those flops that years later comes to be well-regarded? (Can that even happen when no one is watching the cable networks that would constantly run the same movie to build such whispering campaigns?) Probably not (to both questions), because Crime 101 turns out to be a movie that feels less than the sum of its parts. And yet... the parts, even on their own, are pretty good.

Let's start with the absolutely stacked cast. Chris Hemsworth stars as Mike, bringing his trademark charm to yet another action role. Mike is more intellectual than physical, and part of the fun here is seeing Hemsworth as a character looking to avoid the confrontations we know he excels at on screen.

Hemsworth is having a Marvel mini-reunion with Mark Ruffalo, who plays the detective. But for Ruffalo, the throwback most likely to be in the audience's mind is his similar role in Zodiac. It's been almost two decades since that movie, and Ruffalo's character feels like he's been on the job living every one of those hard 20 years. He's easy to root for, which makes it even more fun to have Hemsworth as his criminal foil.

The insurance broker, Sharon, is played by Halle Berry. It's a bit of a different role that allows her to act her age (though to be clear, she does not for one moment come across like one of our "aged" movie stars). It never quite seems like Crime 101 might suddenly turn into a Halle Berry star vehicle, but she elevates the role she's playing in the story.

Barry Keoghan is the one indisputable villain of the piece. His is a fun bit of casting too; many of his movies have him buttoned up tight, or perhaps showing one brief explosion of energy. In this movie, he's all volatility. And while I've now said a bit about all the main stars, I should note that Crime 101 also features Monica Barbaro, Corey Hawkins, Jennifer Jason Leigh (for like, a minute), Nick Nolte, and more.

It's a very stylish movie too. Writer-director Bart Layton is clearly a student of film noir, and has studied the classics. But he's also clearly influenced by more modern makers of noir and noir-like films; in particular I felt the influence of Steven Soderbergh and Michael Mann all over the movie. If you like a gritty movie that feels dark even when the sun is shining, Crime 101 might be for you.

But like I hinted... for all the appeal, it does feel to me like the movie should end up better than it is. I enjoyed the ride, but I never really felt like Keoghan's character was a serious threat to Hemsworth's. I never really felt like the story would give Halle Berry as much to do as it should. I certainly never invested in the perfunctory romantic subplot for the main character. Yet I did to some extent enjoy all the chess pieces being steadily marched into position for the final gambit.

I'd give Crime 101 a B-. It's not essential viewing, but it probably deserved better than the chilly box office reception it received. And perhaps by me doing my tiniest part to spread the word a little, it'll find its way to a person or two who might really like it.

Star Trek Flashback: The Return of the Archons

One drawback of the classic TV show model, which produced 20+ or even 30+ episodes a year, is how quickly those episodes had to be made. If the sets look cheap? Well, the team probably had only hours to build it. If the actors seem wooden? They might have had just one or two takes before they had to move on? If the script doesn't make sense? There probably wasn't time to iron out the story in a new draft. To some extent, all these problems hound the original Star Trek episode "The Return of the Archons."

The Enterprise visits a planet where a brainwashed populace blindly obeys the will of a mysterious and unseen ruler, Landru. When an encounter with a landing party leaves Sulu pacified and another crewman missing, Kirk and company have no choice but to solve the mystery of Landru.

In my eyes, "The Return of the Archons" is not a particularly good episode of Star Trek. But you do see hints of the really good episode it might have been if they'd just had more time to make it. There's a Star Trek morality play at the core, a message about what happens when free will is given over to a powerful government (and more specifically relevant to today, to artificial intelligence). The episode marks the first of several times that Captain Kirk "talks a computer to death." It seems at least possible that, decades later, this episode might have inspired the film franchise The Purge.

But so much about the episode is not fully cooked. Let's start with that Purge-like "Festival" we learn about in the opening act, where for one night, the citizens of this planet engage in a violent bacchanal. Absolutely nothing about this is made clear. Does this happen periodically, or every night? Why are people inside buildings unaffected? (Or is it that they're older?)

Most importantly, what purpose does this Festival serve? Landru's control over society seems rather complete, and it's never suggested that the Festival is a failure of his abilities, a necessary concession to human urges, a consequence of the actions against him by the resistance, or any other explanation of any kind. Indeed, at the end of the episode, when Landru's control has been broken, the team of sociologists left behind by the Enterprise reports that violence has broken out among the once-peaceful population, as though this was an unprecedented development. The Festival is a clever gimmick, but it cuts completely against the rest of the story, both narratively and metaphorically. It seems certain that, had they had just one more week to work on the script, it would have been either integrated more logically, or cut.

In the course of the story, we learn that the people of this planet are mind-controlled by Landru. (Though we never learn how this control is asserted.) We also learn of people who are immune to Landru's control. Allegedly. They don't seem particularly motivated to do much to stop Landru, acting as cowed in their own way as the brainwashed masses. Is this all part of the system? Are they actually immune? If so, how and why? The episode isn't interested in any of this -- not for the potential intellectual puzzle, nor the exploration of how dissent is quelled in a fascist society. This is the stuff of prime Star Trek, but this episode just isn't interested in any of it.

When Sulu is brainwashed in the opening teaser, it's a rapid rush into the plot of the episode, paced more like a modern episode of television than the slow build of other episodes thus far. But the extent of his control is never explored. Is he a danger to the ship? When McCoy is brainwashed later on, he's a threat to the rest of the landing party who must be dealt with. But Sulu is also among other people who are "not of the body" of Landru, and apparently does nothing about it.

The performances are all over the map. DeForest Kelley goes 10 out of 10 with a manic, screaming performance; George Takei embraces the persona of a stoned hippie with equal commitment. Both probably could have used a few more takes to find a more realistic pitch. Some guest stars are giving uncharacteristically grounded and realistic performances; others feel like they're reading their lines off of cue cards. One or two extra days in the shooting schedule might have done wonders to improve the episode, even with the script as written.

The episode doesn't feel cheap. It films extensively on a studio backlot, with dozens of stunt performers, period costumes for everyone, a rather elaborate dungeon set, and more. But then when we get to the big reveal, that Landru is actually a computer, the money simply runs out. The computer doesn't even look as "convincing" as the consoles of the Enterprise, and the sad spray of sparks and smokes that marks its "death" are woefully small for the defeat of the episode's ultimate villain.

Other observations: 

• There's a great new effects shot in the remastered version, zooming down from the Enterprise in orbit to an aerial view of the city below.

• Some Star Trek fixtures are coming into focus. Here, the ship's defenses are "shields" (not "screens"). And we get the first mention of Starfleet's "Prime Directive" of non-interference -- though it's a bit muddled with Landru's own "prime directive" being discussed in the same episode.

• You can definitely tell with these classic Star Trek episodes that they were made for a time when audiences for another program would switch channels after a half-hour show and join in to an hour show midway through. Kirk always has a helpful log entry at the halfway point to recap everything that's happened.

• The moment Landru is destroyed, a de-programmed Sulu is ready to go back to work. When did he change back into his uniform?

There are enough neat aspects of "The Return of the Archons" that I don't actually think it's a bad episode. But it's such a jumble of misplaced and half-finished thoughts that I don't find it a good one, either. I give it a C+.

Life in a Nutshell

Of all the television shows due for a nostalgic reboot, I would not have expected Malcolm in the Middle to get tapped. Don't get me wrong: I did watch the original show about this quirky family with no last name and lots of unruly kids... and there's plenty I liked about it. It often had the zaniness of a live-action cartoon. It rather smoothly navigated the aging of its mostly child cast over a seven-year run. It's now a fun artifact of a time when Bryan Cranston was known only for comedy. But did I want, as the reboot itself says as it kicks off, "more of this?"

It turns out -- yeah, I kind of did want more of this. And I found it weird just how little we got.

The new reboot on Hulu, Malcolm in the Middle: Life's Still Unfair, runs just four episodes. Each is barely longer than the classic network length that would have allowed for commercials, clocking in under half an hour. If you're a binge-watcher, you could easily finish it in one sitting, as though it were a movie. (Not a particularly long one, by today's standards.) And it feels like it's barely gotten going by the time it's all over.

It's been 20 years since the original series went off the air. Some of the cast has hardly worked in acting in that time. As I noted, Bryan Cranston's career has turned upside-down, and now he'll forever be known foremost as a dramatic actor. The writers haven't thought about these characters in decades. There is, quite simply, a warming up period here. The first episode of the re-boot isn't bad, and does have moments that reminded me of what was good about the original series in its prime... but at the same time, it didn't really seem laugh-out-loud funny to me. But hey... there's only three more, so why not keep going?

What unfolds is a tight story about parents Hal and Lois planning a big event for a milestone wedding anniversary, struggling to get all their kids there amid grand romantic gestures. And with each episode, the footing seems to grow more assured. A weird diversion for Hal in episode 3 absolutely captures the wild swings that the original series would sometimes take. (And is also a showcase for Bryan Cranston. Did he need to be coaxed into this reboot, and was this the bait?)

Episode 4 is a satisfying culmination of the new storyline. It's stuffed with cameos of characters you may remember from the original series -- or perhaps had forgotten until the moment they reappear. It has just the right touch of sweetness to remind you that Malcolm in the Middle wasn't just about being wild and occasionally crass. And with several new characters, introduced in this reboot, now settling into their apparent new roles in the "No Last Name" family, it feels that the stage is set for more.

But there isn't any. That's it. Life is unfair.

I can imagine the sort of behind-the-scenes discussion that led to it being this way. Does anybody remember Malcolm in the Middle? If we spend money to make, say, 10 more episodes, will enough people watch it? I get it. But four episodes feels right at the line of "why bother at all?"

Should you bother at all? Well, if you never watched the original Malcolm in the Middle -- or only caught a few episodes -- I'd say no. This reboot is not going to make the case to you that you should go back and find out what you missed. On the other hand, the reboot feels to me like a warm reminder: this was fun once, and it's still fun. And if it left me wanting more, isn't that better than overstaying its welcome?

I'd give Malcolm in the Middle: Life's Still Unfair a B. Maybe a B+, if I'm judging mostly by the point it reaches in the final episode than the less-solid start of the first. If you feel any nostalgia for the original series, you pretty much have nothing to lose.

Star Trek Flashback: Court Martial

When the original Star Trek went back to "save" its original pilot episode by turning it into a two-part episode, a courtroom drama plot was added. Though the trial against Spock barely resembled any authentic legal procedure, it was an effective device to splice in footage from that first episode. But it also stole the claim to being Star Trek's first "courtroom episode," a distinction that otherwise should have (more rightfully) gone to "Court Martial."

When a crewmember dies aboard the Enterprise, Captain Kirk's account of what happened is contradicted by the ship's recordings. A trial ensues, where Kirk is prosecuted by an old flame, defended by an brilliant eccentric, and unaware of the surprising truth of what happened.

The legal drama is one of the most enduring narratives of film and television -- and so its only natural for other TV shows, looking for a break from formula, to turn to it for an episode. The tradition has run for decades, and as such has changed along with the storytelling techniques of the time. What I'm getting at is: today, most legal shows try to be quite realistic in their depiction of courtroom procedure. Once upon a time, shows like Perry Mason ruled the day, staging a gestalt of a trial that didn't care as much for accuracy.

"Court Martial" falls between those moments in time, and expectedly falls somewhere in the middle on the spectrum of realism. In many ways, the episode holds up after 60 years as a compelling bit of drama. It makes a meal out of evidence, fierce cross-examination, and objections. The conceit of Kirk's legal opposition being an old romantic interest was a compelling enough idea for The Next Generation to borrow it for one of its own foundational legal episodes. And some story elements resonate even more now than they did when the episode was new: the "man against machine" nature of Kirk's defense, along with the "deep faked" video used against him, evokes thoughts of one of modern day's hottest topics, AI.

At other times, you have to remind yourself that you should not look to a 1960s TV show, set in an imagined future, for any sort of realistic legal procedure. When the prosecuting attorney gets to testify directly to the court? The defense decides to skip half the prosecution's case? The trial is re-opened after both sides have rested? The defense attorney just starts monologuing about historical documents? We're in Perry Mason territory now. But is it entertaining? You bet!

The idea that Cogley rejects digitized books seems wild, but perfectly highlights the thematic spine of the story. When the daughter of Kirk's alleged victim rants hysterically at him, it's melodramatic, yet it kind of works. When a commodore tries to coerce Kirk into accepting a desk job to avoid a trial, it feels all too realistic. It's great to see Kirk fiercely defended by the characters we've come to know, and hear (some of) his many accolades. Spock using chess to figure out the computer has been manipulated is fun. The dramatic way in which the dead crewman Finney is revealed to be alive is a hoot.

And sure, there are some elements that don't work as well. The wild array of ages in Kirk's supposed graduating class is a stain on the casting department's figurative shirt. The slinky version of the Star Trek theme that plays when Kirk's old flame Shaw walks in is cringe. Everyone's incredulous reaction to the video is wild when we've been told all along what it would show. The whiplash turnaround of Finney's daughter, from enraged at Kirk to supporting him, is presented without justification. Kirk being allowed to go alone to confront the man people thought he murdered is just wild.

There are also hints throughout that maybe this script was written by someone who's heard of Star Trek but maybe hasn't actually seen an episode before. Spock is a "Vulcanian." A microphone is presented as though it's some unrecognizable futuristic prop. Kirk narrates like a private detective, without making an actual log entry.

Other observations:

• The remastered version of this episode might be the first to show us multiple Constitution-class ships, and also shows us the hole in the Enterprise hull undergoing repairs. 

• Shaw's big stained-glass earrings cast crazy light patterns on her face under the bright studio lights of the time. 

• The big showdown between Kirk and Finney features classic Star Trek fight choreography -- complete with obvious stunt doubles, a ripped uniform, and a comically large wrench.

I give "Court Martial" a B. It may quietly be one of the stronger episodes of Star Trek's first season. It's certainly one of the more fun ones, without trying to be comedic.

Enterprise Flashback: Daedalus

Not every episode in the final season of Star Trek: Enterprise was part of some multi-part story arc. Still, the season was nearly half over when it did finally reach its first stand-alone episode, "Daedalus."

Emory Erickson, inventor of the transporter and family friend of the Archers, comes aboard Enterprise to conduct an experiment with his daughter Danica. But as Trip slowly gets over his hero worship of the man, he begins to suspect that Erickson is hiding something. Is it something that threatens the ship?

I've already noted that the push toward multi-episode "mini arcs" in season four was fertile ground for the series. It let the writers really explore being a prequel to Star Trek, and gave space to balance character with story more effectively. This stand-alone episode highlights that growth by being far less effective.

Like many early episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, this episode has the problem of being too much about its guest star. This story is driven entirely by Erickson's secret mission (which I'm spoiling here): to rescue his son from a fate worse than death. It's a rather similar premise to the early Star Trek: Voyager episode "Jetrel," though that episode had an important role in the story for regular character Neelix.

What do the regular characters do here? Not much, really. Archer is said to be a family friend of the Ericksons, which gives Scott Bakula more scenes without actually making him very important to the story. Trip is around a lot, but he really is written in the story as an antagonist, an obstacle to keep the central character, Erickson, from getting what he wants. All the emotions are Emory and Danica's, as they grieve for a family member who isn't truly dead. And none of the other series regulars interact with them much at all. The guest stars are at least solid, particularly Bill Cobbs as Emory, a real "that guy" actor you've probably seen on other shows. I do feel for the Ericksons; I just wish any of the regular characters seemed to. 

There are some interesting elements at the margins. There's fun talk about transporters that mimics actual fan discussions. ("Is the person who transports the same, or a copy of the original who has been destroyed?") It's not central to the plot that Emory uses a wheelchair, but it's a nice bit of inclusion that he does. There's fun production work, including interesting original series-style camera angles, and a power outage sequence with great haunted house vibes. And there are nods to continuity, as when T'Pol reveals she is reading the recently discovered Kir'Shara.

Other observations:

• But one bit of continuity that isn't acknowledged: at one point, Emory says that Trip should reserve judgement until he has lost a son. In a weird sci-fi way, he has.

• Emory is so sure that Starfleet wouldn't have authorized this mission if Emory had revealed his real intentions. Would they not? There's a person out there suffering a horrific living death, and the inventor of the transporter would like to borrow a ship for a week to attempt a rescue. Why not?

• The fact that the original transporter took a minute-and-a-half to work is an effectively macabre detail.

• T'Pol's spiritual journey is such a side note in this episode, but it does give us another moment of John Billingsley crushing one of his maybe five lines in an episode -- when Phlox notes that most people never re-examine their core beliefs.

It must have been appealing to the writers to tell a story about the inventor of the transporter, a rare corner of Star Trek lore that had essentially no details fleshed out. But the story doesn't really come together. I give "Daedalus" a C+.