DS9 Flashback: For the Cause

After setting up the concept of the Maquis for Star Trek: Voyager, then playing with them a bit in subsequent episodes, Deep Space Nine ignored the rebel group for over a full season. But they came back in a big way for season four's "For the Cause."

Odo and Eddington come to Captain Sisko with evidence that Kasidy Yates is smuggling for the Maquis. Though Sisko is initially dismissive of the idea, doubt begins to creep in as Kasidy's actions grow ever more suspicious. And with an important shipment of equipment to the Cardassians soon coming through the station, they need to uncover the truth fast. Meanwhile, Dukat's daughter, Tora Ziyal, reaches out to Garak. But her motives are unclear, and Garak's natural sense of caution is at odds with his curiosity.

"For the Cause" is a case where an episode's original inspiration bore little resemblance to the finished product. Freelance writer Mark Gehred-O'Connell pitched a premise sparked by the Oklahoma City bombing, a "the perpetrator isn't who you'd expect" tale that morphed a lot as the staff writers took over and Ronald D. Moore crafted the script. The desire to challenge Sisko's relationship with Kasidy was brought into the mix, as was the desire to do something surprising with the character of Eddington -- who many fans had expected would be revealed eventually as a changeling infiltrator.

It's a well-executed story arc. We see the domestic bliss of Ben and Kasidy right at the top of the episode -- waking up in bed together with playful banter. We see Sisko's reflexive, full-throated defense of her gradually give way to creeping doubt. We see escalating efforts by Sisko to catch Kasidy in a lie. And most achingly, in the end, we see his last-ditch effort (in a sort of code) to talk her away from her criminal path. The series has invested in this relationship, and is able to use that now to great effect.

While the nature of the story hides much of Kasidy's thinking from the audience, it's a strong episode for her too. She smoothly deflects so many tests of her loyalties, but can't help but dig herself deeper and deeper. She ultimately has a reason for her actions that feels sympathetic. And she's willing to face responsibility herself, on behalf of her crew. She could flee, but she really does care about Sisko. This is not a plot line constructed to rid the star of a TV show of an unwanted, ongoing romantic relationship. This is a test of that relationship that the couple is meant to survive -- and when she says "I'll be back" (and he replies "I'll be here"), we believe it.

All this drama rather effectively masks the ultimate reveal of Eddington as a traitor, on a mission so important to the Maquis that they're willing to burn two embedded operatives to complete it. His betrayal is quite personal to Sisko on at least two levels: that Eddington was explicitly given "just one more chance" to redeem himself from a past betrayal, and that the motivations he claims in the end cut so deeply. He says that the real offense of the Maquis is that the they don't want to be a part of the Federation. But when he compares them to the Borg, those responsible for the death of Sisko's wife? That is an insult that cannot be brooked. And this vendetta is another thread the show will continue in the future.

Far less effective, though, is the Garak/Ziyal storyline. Part of the awkwardness is in the way it's told: it's definitely Ziyal driving the story here -- she's the one reaching out to Garak. But the story is told from Garak's point of view, as he rather passively tries to suss out her intentions. And ultimately, it's not terribly interesting whether she's seeking chaste companionship or expressing romantic interest... because it truly had better not be the latter.

Even considering this episode in the time it was made (rather than through a modern lens), the age difference here (specifically, Ziyal's youth) makes a romance here a troubling prospect. Ziyal is recast here since her previous appearance, possibly to make this seem less icky, but there are still some subtextual Lolita vibes at play here. Or, at least... it seems like there might be? According to show runner Ira Steven Behr, the writers had decided fairly early on to write Garak as implicitly gay (though they never had the courage to make this explicit). Actor Andrew Robinson had been shading the performance that way too, after an initial instinct to play a wider, more inclusive sexuality. In any case, it's not doing much of a service for the character to put him in this storyline -- neither in regards to his sexuality, nor in seeing his master spy's instincts so flummoxed by one young woman.

Other observations:

• While Kira isn't a major character in this story, her past as a terrorist is mentioned in a compelling discussion between Worf, O'Brien, and Eddington. It's nice to have this reminder of Kira's hard history -- and also nice that she expresses frustration at the way the Federation is helping the Cardassians to a greater extent than they helped the Bajorans.

• The little bit we see of the game of springball looks pretty good. They spent some time to film it convincingly.

• Sisko's relationships are important throughout the episode -- and not just with Kasidy Yates. He specifically voices to Jake how important their relationship is to him. And his closest friend Dax takes an unsuccessful stab at "bright siding" Kasidy's betrayal, saying it could have been worse. Underscoring what Sisko has lost by the end of the episode, the final shot shows him small in frame, in a big, empty cargo bay.

• There's a fun little mention of using the holosuite to make two different baseball teams from different time periods play each other. That's totally the sort of thing people would use a holosuite for. (Besides porn.)

The B-plot distracts a lot from a very compelling A-plot, but "For the Cause" remains a solid episode overall. I give it a B+.

Neighborhood Watch

You've heard of "stunt casting," putting a hugely recognizable actor in a (usually small) role to generate buzz and bring gawkers out to see a movie. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood might transcend stunt casting to a degree where the casting is the entire raison d'être for the film: come watch one of America's most beloved actors, Tom Hanks, play one of America's most beloved TV personalities, Mister Rogers.

A synopsis of the film really need not say any more than that. But, briefly: A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is the story of a magazine writer assigned to do a profile on Mister Rogers. With his hard-hitting background, he's determined to puncture the myth of the man and expose the sides Rogers doesn't want the cameras to see. Instead, Mister Rogers helps him face issues in his own life he's long been avoiding.

It hasn't been that long since we got a rather good documentary about Mister Rogers, so this movie needs to carve out its own path. It does that by actually being a movie about the writer, Lloyd Vogel (based on the real-life writer who actually wrote the article, Tom Junod). Fred Rogers is very much a secondary character in the story; if Tom Hanks receives another Oscar nomination for his work, it will be for Best Supporting Actor. It's a good narrative decision for this film to focus the story this way, showing the audience the type of supportive, nurturing guru Mister Rogers was by having him simply do that.

But the story of Vogel is pretty standard Hollywood fare. He has a long-standing feud with his father, the details of which feel filled in by a script-writing Madlib. It's not that the story feels like a re-hash of any one movie in particular, but it's a familiar jumble of parts that becomes engaging only occasionally. Playing the role, Matthew Rhys gets to ACT, yelling and crying, bottling things up and letting them leak out... but most of the time it feels pretty rote. It's not his fault, it's just a largely paint-by-numbers script.

Perhaps an even larger example of how familiar the movie feels is in the casting of Vogel's wife with Susan Kelechi Watson. Watson stars in This Is Us as Beth Pearson, where she has done exceptional and moving work for three-plus seasons now. It's exactly the sort of role she plays here, and the script here just doesn't feel as authentic or moving. You can't help but feel like this, she could do in her sleep.

And yet, the movie cannot be written off entirely. For one thing, the familiarity of it all never really descends into being "bad"; the movie never really feels cheesy, or fake. And more importantly, it does occasionally find its way into a truly great moment. The story is framed with the fun conceit of Mister Rogers presenting this story to the audience as an episode of his show, with exterior settings depicted in miniature (and the film in a 4:3 aspect ratio), just the way his TV show looked. Moments where you get the smallest hint of the inner mind of Mister Rogers are tantalizing and compelling.

In particular, one scene involves the most daring use of silence I've ever seen in any movie. I don't want to risk robbing the moment of its power, should you see the film, but I think I can say without spoiling much that everything goes literally silent (no sound effects, no score, no dialogue) for a literal minute. What happens in this minute is first uncomfortable, then clever, then profound. And a tremendous risk to attempt in this age of movie-going, where you can't know if some audience member's cough or cellphone might break the spell. It's far and away the strongest scene in the movie, and one I won't soon forget.

And if you are interested purely for the gimmick that is Tom Hanks as Mister Rogers, know that it is more than just a gimmick. Hanks channels the man so authentically that in short order, you truly do forget that you're seeing Tom Hanks and accept him as the genuine article. There is careful study to what he's doing here -- in his mimicry of Rogers' postures, gestures, and speech, you can tell Hanks really studied up for this performance. But the impressive aspect of it is how he doesn't let this artifice get in the way of behaving genuinely. This movie presents Rogers as someone who truly wanted to connect with each and every person who came into his life, and Hanks' performance is at every turn about forging a real connection with every actor he works with (of all ages).

Overall, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is worth seeing. Indeed, if it was operating throughout at the level it attains in, say, its most effective 15 minutes, it would easily be one of the best movies of the year. As it stands, I'd call it a B. If you were a fan of the real Mister Rogers, or are a fan of Tom Hanks, it's probably worth going to see in the theater. Otherwise, it might be one to put on the list to watch at home later.

DS9 Flashback: The Muse

With the fourth season of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine marking only halfway through the series, it could be premature to proclaim an episode the single worst installment of the show. But "The Muse" is a contender to be sure, certain to be near the bottom if not it the very last slot.

A mysterious alien named Onaya takes an interest in Jake Sisko, stimulating his creativity through mental powers so she can feed upon his writing like a vampire. Meanwhile, Lwaxana Troi returns to the station -- pregnant and looking to escape her current husband. To ensure her baby won't be raised according to backward alien customs, she and Odo must enter a marriage of their own, and convince Troi's current husband their love is true.

Majel Barrett Roddenberry brought the germ of this episode to the writers, suggesting that Lwaxana Troi show up pregnant and claiming Odo as the father of her baby. Troi may be an alien, but with Barrett in her mid-60s, presenting her as pregnant feels unlikely even for science fiction... particularly when a Next Generation episode already depicted the character experiencing a Betazoid proxy for menopause. Still, the writers gamely tried to make the story work.

According to showrunner Ira Steven Behr, most episode outlines were worked out by the writers in two days. Especially difficult episodes could take three. "The Muse" took six. First, a lighter story was developed, interweaving four romances (Odo and Lwaxana, Leeta and Rom, Sisko and Kasidy Yates, and the O'Briens). When that wasn't panning out, the suggestion was made to follow-up on Jake's writing from the well-received "The Visitor."

Somehow, that all led to Jake being preyed on by a "creativity vampire," a notion which all the writing staff readily admits did not come off as well as they might have imagined. (Staff writer Ronald D. Moore was perhaps the harshest -- but not unfairly so -- saying: "The notion of this exotic, beautiful, older woman who comes to you and gets excited by watching you write is like the most ridiculous idea! Only a writer would come up with that.") Adding to the cheese factor is an affected, breathy performance by guest star Meg Foster.

Yet the whole story line isn't so much silly as it is just plain boring. Amorphous music underscores amorphous action. Or, I should say, "action." The climax involves people slowly crawling around the Jeffries tubes to ultimately find Onaya sitting quietly with Jake's head in her lap. It all comes dangerously close to undermining some of the greatness of "The Visitor" to name-check here in this episode the name of the novel Jake was said to have written in the future (Anslem). We don't even get the satisfaction of defeating the "vampire" in the end; Onaya escapes to go drain someone else. (Off-screen, thankfully.)

Though you'd never expect it going in, it's actually Majel Barrett Roddenberry's silly pregnancy storyline that lends anything of redeeming value to the episode. It's a rare treat to see Odo let his guard down and be vulnerable. He invites Lwaxana into his quarters and shares conversation about deep and personal secrets. They comfort one another. And when Odo speaks at his wedding ceremony, he speaks from the heart in a monologue that is legitimately moving: he credits Lwaxana for teaching him not to be ashamed of his own nature.

There are a few other nice but small moments sprinkled throughout. Kasidy Yates isn't in the episode, but the discussion between Ben and Jake Sisko about a shared trip to the Bajoran outback shows she's still very much in the picture. Lwaxana's somber talk of her daughter that died recalls one of the few halfway decent Next Generation episodes featuring her character. There's also a softly amusing scene of Lwaxana's dark mood bringing down Worf, Kira, and Dax.

Other observations:

• The visual effects are strong, particularly in the dramatic opening shot that sweeps around the station as ships dock and buzz about.

• It's nice to see Star Trek veteran Michael Ansara back... though it's a shame this new role is so one-dimensional, and the episode so rough.

Great scenes and an honest performance from Rene Auberjonois save this episode from being "all time, for all Star Trek, bad." But it's otherwise ridiculous and boring in equal measure. I give "The Muse" a D+.

Sharpened Knives

Writer-director Rian Johnson has some eclectic films on his resume, but he's now best known for Star Wars: The Last Jedi. That experience set him up to do pretty much whatever he wanted next, and what he's chosen is the new, twisty whodunit Knives Out.

A wealthy author of murder mysteries is found dead of an apparent suicide, but enough oddities suggest a possible murder... and his greedy, weaselly family is full of suspects. We follow the case largely from the point of view of the victim's nurse (who holds secrets of her own) as she's drafted as a sort of Watson to work with the "Holmes" that is private detective Benoit Blanc. And that case continues to twist and turn through many reversals and revelations.

It's difficult to say much about Knives Out without spoiling its surprises. That said, there are many surprises -- more than once, the movie seems to give the game away, only to expose that "the game" isn't entirely the one you thought it was playing. It's rather like a classic Hitchcock tale, not as focused on the mystery to be solved as it is on the tension of whether people with something to hide will continue to succeed in hiding it. It's quite a clever film in this regard, hard to "figure out" entirely as there are too many disparate elements to figure them all out.

The trailer, if you've seen it, suggests a comedic movie -- perhaps a Clue for modern audiences. (There's even a reference to the board game, at one point.) That's a bit of a false veneer. There are plenty of light moments all throughout the story, but it's more a case of a good filmmaker wanting to break up tension with humor than it is trying to layer mystery into a comedy. Jokes are not the point of Knives Out, though it will likely make you laugh a few times.

Mostly, it's just meant to be a fun ride. And from the cast, it seems a lot of people were eager to be part of such a ride with Rian Johnson. Knives Out features Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Christopher Plummer, and more. Most of them have only one or two key scenes in which to really shine, but are happy to embody a loathsome personality throughout.

The two stars are Daniel Craig as detective Blanc, and Ana de Armas as the nurse Marta Cabrera. Craig is chewing the scenery with a deliberately preposterous southern accent, while de Armas is the focus for audience sympathy and (as the plot thickens) anxiety. No one's getting an Oscar nomination for this movie, but everyone seems to be having a hell of a lot of fun.

Knives Out isn't the sort of movie that demands you see it at the theater -- its spectacle is not that grand, nor is its quality that remarkable. But I did think it well worth seeing, and how much you fear having its twists spoiled for you may decide whether you should rush out to do so. I give the movie a B+. I've seen other movies this year that stir more emotion, but few that are as much simple fun.

We Have Machi to Talk About

I've written a bit before about legacy board games (and will write more in the future; I am in the process of playing still more of them). Most recently, I completed the 10-game campaign of Machi Koro Legacy, based on the popular game that has spawned many previous expansions. This experience taught me a particular (but perhaps obvious) lesson: a legacy adaptation of an existing game is still fundamentally that game. If you didn't like it much before, a legacy version isn't going to radically change your reaction.

Machi Koro (regular and Legacy) is a dice game. A pool of available cards is placed in the center of the table, each card representing a structure players can build in their own personal city. Each structure has a number from 1 to 12, corresponding to a number that can be rolled on one or two dice. On your turn, you roll and buildings generate money (and other things) according to the result -- which you then use to buy buildings for your infrastructure. Some buildings generate only on your turn, when you roll their number. Others generate resources for you on every turn, even when an opponent rolls the number. Still others "attack" your opponents, making them pay you on their turn when they roll the number. The gold you accumulate lets you buy more buildings, expand your city, and ultimately reach the victory conditions for the given game.

Machi Koro Legacy turns this experience into a 10-game campaign with a light touch of a story. I won't spoil it for those who might play it; suffice it to say it has a Japanese fairy tale quality to it. It's also completely linear -- the players make no choices that affect the direction of the story as it unfolds in 10 chapters. I wouldn't automatically say this is a negative for the game, though. Indeed, many legacy games do not branch their narratives in meaningful ways. (And some legacy games -- such as Pandemic Legacy: Season 1 -- catch you up in the twists and turns of the story even though you're not directly controlling them.)

Still, the story of Machi Koro Legacy is so perfunctory as to be forgettable. It's basically just fluff to loosely justify why this "Machi Koro with an expansion or two of extra mechanics" is doled out to you slowly rather than immediately when you open the box. There aren't many true surprises; things revealed in early games generally telegraph (quite loudly) the sorts of elements that will be added in later games.

Then again, involved stories aren't usually required for my gaming group to embrace a board game. Compelling mechanics are usually enough for us, and unless the flavorful terms are rock-solid fits, we'll overlook them. So Machi Koro Legacy's simple story wasn't really a big concern for any of us.

The balance issues were. Two keys ones were really a drag on the experience. First was the inherent advantage of going first in the game -- and the fact that the winner of the previous game was always the one to go first in the next game. First to roll means first to buy. First to buy gives you the first choice of the best thing to buy -- and with 5 copies of each building available, they do not divide evenly. Ultimately, at the end of the game, going first gives you the first chance to win -- because the game ends immediately when someone reaches the victory condition. During multiple games of our campaign, two or three players would be at a point where they would win the game on their next turn... but the player going first in the round would win that race simply because they took the first turn of the game.

The second problem was one particular building that didn't seem fairly balanced to the rest. (The Furniture Factory, for those who want the specifics.) The building was easy to build a combo for at the very start of the game, was more likely to be rolled on the dice than other powerful buildings, was too cheap for what it did, and often generated twice as much money as the next most potent option. The vast majority of our games were won by the player who got the most Furniture Factories. (And we couldn't just "buy them all up" to counter this strategy, because see above: there are 5 of them, so they don't divide evenly among the players.)

So ultimately, whatever novelties Machi Koro Legacy had to reveal over its 10-game campaign were ultimately countered by a few imbalanced elements. It kind of all zeroed out, leaving... something I'd give about the same marks as regular Machi Koro. Which is to say, I'd give it about a C+. (Maaaaybe a B-? I did, after all, complete 10 games of it.) I could see this potentially being a game that might ease someone into the experience of legacy games for the first time. On the other hand, there are far better examples that would do a better job of convincing someone legacy games are a cool thing worth experiencing.

Before I sign off, I should probably address the fact that one of the designers of this game, JR Honeycutt, has been accused of sexual abuse. Very recently (within the last week), and very credibly -- the accusations have clearly comported enough with Honeycutt's demeanor that nearly every person and company who has worked with him has issued a public statement cutting ties. Rob Daviau, Legacy game designer extraordinaire and co-designer of this game, has acknowledged that Honeycutt does receive residuals from the sale of Machi Koro Legacy -- but he has also pledged to donate money from his residuals on the game to a charity that helps those who experience abuse. My group played this game before these allegations had become known; our decision on a purchase had already been made. But this may be information you want to consider before purchasing a copy yourself.

DS9 Flashback: Shattered Mirror

The first "mirror universe" episode of Deep Space Nine, "Crossover," was a rare case where the revival age of Star Trek made an explicit connection to the original series. Then a follow-up episode, "Through the Looking Glass," essentially appropriated the concept of the mirror universe as Deep Space Nine's own storyline. The series made its third trip there in the fourth season's "Shattered Mirror."

The mirror universe version of Miles O'Brien has stolen our universe's plans to the Defiant, using them as a blueprint to build his own warship. But, unable to solve issues with its weapons systems, he needs help from Benjamin Sisko. Mirror Jennifer Sisko crosses over to abduct Jake and bring him to the mirror universe, extorting Ben to follow and do the work. Now the clock is ticking; this new Defiant must be operational before Worf, the Regent of the Cardassian-Klingon alliance, arrives at the station in his massive flagship.

The original "Mirror, Mirror" may have been a bit campy in the way all Star Trek of the time was (at least a little), but it was predominately a serious episode. "Crossover" mostly maintained that tone. But somewhere between it and this episode, the mirror universe became a fluffy bit of escapist fun for the writers and actors. Perhaps for the audience too -- though some elements of "Shattered Mirror" are more effective than others.

Nana Visitor once again seems to be having a blast playing Intendant Kira, a self-serving villain seen turning on everyone and delighted to do it. When her guard reveals Kira killed his wife, her reply that "I was hoping you weren't married" is perfect, over-the-top fun. When she kills Nog for barely more reason than to ensure a Ferengi dies each mirror universe episode, it's predictable yet delicious. When she spares Jake's life so Ben Sisko will owe her, she's practically saying straight to the audience that she and the mirror universe will be back -- and for a character and performance this joyous, I'm there for it!

Everyone else is some number of steps down from there. It's welcome to see Dax get a retaliatory shot in on Sisko for what he did to her last mirror universe episode ("making love to me under false pretenses"), but she has little else to do here. It's hard to take Mirror Bashir seriously under that wild wig. Or to feel much menace from Nog when he's got eye candy hanging on each arm. Maybe this is why Ben Sisko never really does much to impress on Jake the danger of this universe -- it doesn't look or feel especially dangerous this episode.

Then there's Worf's role (to do nothing but torture Garak) and Garak's (to do nothing but be tortured by Worf). It's an odd thing to play for "comic relief" -- and depending on who you ask, it's actually offensive in one key scene (in which Garak makes a pass that Worf rebuffs). It's a topic of discussion among LGBT fans of Star Trek whether the mirror universe is a net positive or negative for representation. Look at it one way, and you see everyone finding pleasure wherever they want. Look at it the other, and the mirror universe seems to be packaging LGBT people and the idea of sexual fluidity as one more form of immorality that everyone in this "evil universe" revels in. I doubt very much that any harm was intended here, but thinking about that certainly amplifies the already considerable awkwardness of this subplot.

The best moments of the episodes are the ones that play out more seriously. There's Jake's sadness over his absent friend Nog, and the shock he gets when the mirror version of Nog is no friend to him at all. There's the deep emotion of what it really would be like for Jake to have "his mom" back again. There's also the tragic ending of that story -- though I think Jake never really invests his heart deeply enough for the death of Mirror Jennifer to really hit home.

There's also a truly spectacular space combat sequence in the final act. With a vastly increased budget allocated for this episode, the visual effects department delivers a complex battle where ships weave in and out of the station's rings and pylons. It culminates in a great Star Wars-like image of the Defiant hugging close to the belly of the Klingon flagship to strafe its surface. It looks fantastic, and it's full of energy.

Other observations:

• Because Quark and Odo were both killed off in the first mirror universe episode, they get a short scene at the top of the episode just so Armin Shimerman and Rene Auberjonois get something to do. They make the most of it, needling each other in a fun way.

• The lighting and set decoration departments have fun with the episode too, adding dramatic red to the prefect's office, and adding a red stripe to the Defiant bridge.

• OK, one joke from the Worf storyline did make me laugh: the moment when he yells "make it so!"

I wasn't necessarily thrilled that Star Trek: Discovery decided to spend more time in the mirror universe. But in rewatching this Deep Space Nine episode, I was glad Discovery decided to take it more seriously again. I think I'd just barely give "Shattered Mirror" a B-.

Salad Days

My gaming group is always on the lookout for solid short options -- games that don't take a lot of time to play, but still manage to serve up decent decisions. A new entry in this space is the card game Point Salad, from a trio of designers: Molly Johnson, Robert Melvin, and Shawn Stankewich.

Nominally, each player is drafting cards to make a salad. (But the story veneer is about as thin as the name Point Salad implies.) There are six different salad ingredients (essentially, suits) in a large deck of cards... but different players will want to gather different things. That's because the backs of each card are all unique, each one presenting a different scoring condition for the end of the game. You might have a card that gives you 2 points for each card you gather of two particular ingredients... but that costs you 4 points for each card of a third. You might have a card that scores big for each complete set you gather of three particular ingredients. There are a lot of possibilities, each putting different ingredients in demand, and each sure to put you at odds with the other players.

The deck is divided into three roughly equal stacks, and then two cards are dealt face up from each stack into the center of the table. On your turn, you either take any two of the six face-up ingredient cards and place them in front of you, or you take one of the three cards from the top of the stacks, placing it in front of you for its particular scoring conditions. Play goes around the table until all cards have been drafted, and then players score their salads to determine the winner.

It's a brisk game that can take anywhere from 2 to 6 players. The reality is probably that it's best at a smaller player count, because more players just makes planning ahead harder -- the cards available will completely change by your next turn. But that said, the game is going to take roughly the same amount of time no matter how many are playing, a rarity in games. And even with more players, you do get enough turns to carve out a strategy and work at it.

The short run time of 15-30 minutes is good not just to fill in between meatier games, it's good for playing a few hands back to back. When my group did so, we found the strategies varied wildly from game one to game two. Everyone was blindly aggressive in game one, looking to score the most points possible for themselves. Everyone went on defense in game two, "counterdrafting" cards to make things harder for the player acting after them, and generally being much more aware of what everyone else was up to. Both ways, the game was pretty fun.

I wouldn't say this game is so exceptional that it'll become the go-to 15-minute choice for my group. But everyone did seem to enjoy it well enough, so I can see it entering the rotation for a while. I give Point Salad a B+ -- and in its own class/category, it should probably be scored even higher. It would be challenging indeed to make a game this brisk and easy that still has at least some strategic meat on it. (Well... not "meat." It's a game about salad. But you get my point.)

DS9 Flashback: Hard Time

Because the character of Miles O'Brien was so human, so accessible, the writers of Deep Space Nine liked to torture him at least once a season. Because of Colm Meaney's grounded performances, these episodes were usually strong. But one was truly exceptional: the fourth season's "Hard Time."

Convicted of espionage by an alien government, Miles O'Brien has the memories of a 20-year prison sentence implanted in his mind as punishment. Reintegrating with his regular life is harder than he wants to admit to himself, in particular because of one aspect of his "prison time" he refuses to admit to anyone -- his cellmate Ee'char.

This is one of the very best episodes of Deep Space Nine, and so it seems odd that it almost didn't happen. A pair of outside writers, Daniel Keys Moran & Lynn Barker, pitched the idea of the implanted memory of a long prison sentence during season one of the show. Show runner Michael Piller failed to see any potential in the idea; according to writer Ira Steven Behr, Piller thought that "all the drama happened in the past and there was no real ground to cover in the present." Another staff writer, Robert Hewitt Wolfe picked the idea back up again in season three and tried to lobby for it. Again, Piller shot it down. Finally, when Behr took over as show runner near the end of that year, he approved the concept for development.

That turned out to be easier said than done. In the three years since Moran and Barker had pitched, they'd quit working together as a writing team. It took weeks to track them both down to formally buy their pitch. Then there was some debate in the writers' room about how to proceed. Wolfe had fleshed out the story by adding the concept of the murdered cellmate (lifted from an abandoned script that was going to reveal Next Generation character Sito Jaxa had been captured by Cardassians). But there was fierce argument over whether Ee'char should be shown only in flashbacks or only as a present-day hallucination. (It took a while to arrive at the eventual answer: both.)

Everything finally clicked into place, and Robert Hewitt Wolfe came up with an exceptional script that really presents O'Brien's PTSD in a truthful way. O'Brien can't let go of the behaviors he's learned (squirreling away food, sleeping on the floor), nor can he easily re-embrace the things he used to enjoy (darts, kayaking) or excel at (his work). He can't help but feel inferior when he's being retrained by Jake Sisko and junior engineer Muniz. There's no one to whom he can fully reveal his memories -- not a counselor and certainly not the close friends or family he doesn't want to let down.

He also can't control or cope alone with what he's feeling; eventually, the facade cracks. He snaps at Julian, threatens Quark, and is reduced to near-begging with Captain Sisko. In an unconsidered outburst, he actually encapsulates the issue perfectly: the person he was died in that cell. Ultimately, O'Brien is driven to the brink of suicide, and the show gets to confront explicitly and directly the notion of the vaunted paragon of perfection that is Gene Roddenberry's human of the future. O'Brien feels he's nothing more than an animal, but Bashir is able to counter that an animal would feel no remorse at all, wouldn't think he deserves to die.

The performances in the episode are superlative. Colm Meaney goes through the wringer emotionally, with the added difficulty of sometimes having to act in extreme makeup to make O'Brien look old and haggard in prison. Guest star Craig Wasson is perfect as Ee'char, endlessly upbeat in the flashbacks to perfectly twist the knife on what ultimately happens, endlessly caring in the present-day hallucinations to draw O'Brien out. The climactic scene in which O'Brien nearly kills himself is masterfully played by both of them, and by Alexander Siddig, who holds tears in his eyes as he talks O'Brien back from the brink.

It's also an excellent episode for Rosalind Chao as Keiko. Her character is in pain too, the pain of being unable to help a loved one, no matter what you try, no matter how desperately you want to do something, anything. You can see Keiko try to gently push Miles back into the light so many different ways. The moment where she must draw the line, when Miles snaps at their daughter, is heartbreaking but very real.

Other observations:

• Some fans note the similarities between this episode and The Next Generation's "The Inner Light" -- both about characters burdened with decades of implanted memories. I think the similarities end there, though. If anything, "Hard Time" has more in common with the first season Voyager episode "Ex Post Facto," in which aliens punish Tom Paris for an alleged murder by forcing him to repeatedly relive the implanted memory of his victim's death. "Hard Time" is the far superior of the two.

• The episode is right to maintain focus on O'Brien and his situation the entire time. Yet there is a dangling thread: what sort of diplomatic fallout results in the alien Argathi dispensing justice unilaterally this way against a Federation citizen?

• And speaking of justice... is it? Set aside the question of whether O'Brien is guilty or not. Is this method of criminal justice actually humane? Sure, it doesn't itself inflict physical harm. But if you receive the memory of having been tortured, is that meaningfully different than having been tortured? Can the answer for one crime be to make you believe you've committed murder, a far worse crime? How many released prisoners actually do commit suicide for lack of a support system like Miles O'Brien has?

Sure to be remain on my "Top 10 of Deep Space Nine" list (even though I still have half the series to go), "Hard Time" gets an enthusiastic A.

The Mediocre Liar

The Good Liar seemed like an intriguing movie to me, in principle: a story about a con man, clearly promising deceptions and twists. Two great actors in the lead roles, in Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen -- both of whom seemed to be bringing their gravitas to this movie... but both with a history of making some fun films that hinted at the fun this could be too.

McKellen plays Roy Courtnay, a career con artist who has spent his life scamming money from stupid marks. He's found one in Mirren's character, a widow named Betty McLeish. She's looking for romance again; he's looking for the hefty nest egg her late husband has left behind. But Betty's suspicious grandson Steven (Russell Tovey) smells something rotten. Can Roy close the deal before he's exposed?

I might caution that if you haven't seen the trailers for The Good Liar, you'd best avoid them -- they give away too much. Then again, I actually think this movie isn't nearly as clever as it thinks it is. It conditions you early to look everywhere for clues, and doesn't do an especially good job at hiding them. Trailers or no, you're likely to figure out the surprises the movie has planned for you, in at least a general sense even if the specifics escape you.

Unfortunately, the movie doesn't have too much to offer beyond its intended surprises. There is a sort of fun (in moments) to watching a master manipulator ply a scheme, or backtracking on lies and replacing them with new lies. But it always comes back to this: the characters in the film are more deceived than the audience.

This is not the sort of movie that generally features older actors, though, and that does lend some novelty to it. The closest thing that comes to mind might to be to call this a Dirty Rotten Scoundrels without the comedy, but even then, Steve Martin and Michael Caine were in their mid-40s and mid-50s, respectively, when they made that film. Mirren and McKellen are a generation older, and that makes a difference in how the audience responds to both victim and perpetrator.

McKellen's performance has its charms here and there. It's a fun role for him, and one can see why he took it. Mirren's role is less compelling for the bulk of the film, though. Great an actress as she is, she really only gets a few moments to shine; perhaps she took this role simply to share the screen with McKellen more than for a love of the character?

Average is really the best word to describe The Good Liar. (Unless you'd accept "meh" as a word.) I grade it a C. It would be a bit harsh to call it a bad movie, but there are better con artist movies, and far better movies starring these two formidable actors.

Shakespearing Things Up

This week, I went to see a theater performance no one will ever be able to see again... and I enthusiastically recommend you go see it.

From now until March, the Improvised Shakespeare Company is performing at the Garner Galleria Theater downtown. The troupe got its start in Chicago, but has spun off into performances around the world, now including this long, half-year run here in Denver.

The show is exactly what it sounds like: five performers take an audience suggestion of the title of a Shakespearean play that doesn't exist. From that, they proceed to improvise a 90-minute performance of that play. All the trappings of Shakespeare are there -- much of the improvisation is in poetic meter, and much of that in rhyming couplets. Heightened language, tricky wordplay, and clever metaphors are peppered throughout. As many Shakespearean tropes as possible are hauled in -- lovers forced apart, women disguising themselves as men, villains scheming for vengeance, lowborn characters speaking truth to power, and more.

And above all: it is funny! I can imagine the slyest references hit better the more actual Shakespeare you know, but I don't think you have to know Shakespeare to laugh a lot. The mask does slip plenty, usually to slip in a modern joke or indulge in one of improv's most reliable laughs: putting another performer on the spot to watch them wriggle out of it.

The degree of difficulty on this type of improv seems off the charts to me. You have to pay attention to the rhyme and meter at all times. The language is far enough from normal to be almost like performing in a second language. It seems to me that only a handful of people could do it well... and most of them are probably employed by the Improvised Shakespeare Company. That they're able to basically make you forget about how difficult it must be for most of the show is, if anything, yet another testament to the skill involved -- they make it look easy.

On the night we went, the "play" performed by audience suggestion was "The Benefits of Economic Collapse." The result was inspired most heavily from The Merchant of Venice, though the 100-minute improv wove in splashes of As You Like It and other comedies. It was, of course, one-of-a-kind; as the performers themselves declared, it was the first and last ever performance of "The Benefits of Economic Collapse." But I have no doubt that attending the Improvised Shakespeare Company at any other performance would be just as entertaining, just as funny, just as breathtaking a display of wit.

I enjoyed the performance tremendously, and would even see them again during their run in Denver. The production was top notch, grade A, and if you're at all a fan of Shakespeare, you should absolutely get out to see them.

Rabbit Feat

You're writer-director Taika Watiti. After some beloved but not so widely seen film successes, you broke through by making Thor: Ragnarok. Your next movie will attract more attention. What do you do? Hitler!

Jojo Rabbit (based on the novel Caging Skies by Christine Leunens) is set in Germany in the final months of World War II. 10-year-old Johannes "Jojo" Betzler is a member of the Hitler Youth so devoted to the cause that his imaginary friend is Hitler. (At least, the boy's ridiculous vision of what Hitler must be like.) He's being raised by a loving mother, but his values are about to be challenged when he actually meets a Jewish girl.

It's hard to peg just what this movie is. It's the blackest of black comedies, to be sure; at many points during the movie, the audience at my theater was laughing uproariously. But it isn't a frivolous tale either; it most emphatically does not make light of the Holocaust, and ultimately moves into very challenging dramatic territory. Have you ever watched a snake get fed? Watching Jojo Rabbit is a bit like watching a quirky, irreverent comedy be slowly devoured by a dark and serious Holocaust film.

The performances are great. Any movie that turns on a child actor's performance is taking a considerable risk, but Roman Griffin Davis is great here as Jojo. As director, Taika Watiti gets a perfect balance from him of stubbornness and curiosity, and plenty of humor with tongue planted firmly in cheek. He gets another strong performance from another young actor, Thomasin McKenzie, who plays the Jewish girl that upends Jojo's world view. Meanwhile, Watiti's own performance as Hitler is, quite simply, hilarious. If you're here for the comedy, then there are plenty more cast members who will make you chuckle, including Rebel Wilson, Stephen Merchant, Alfie Allen, and Sam Rockwell -- though Rockwell definitely makes the most of subtextual elements of his character that aren't comedic at all.

The not-so-secret weapon of the cast, however, is Scarlett Johansson as Jojo's mother. Hers is by far the most sympathetic character of the film, and a lot of the best acting is incredibly subtle work that occasionally peaks out from behind her carefully constructed emotional mask. Her character is struggling to keep her son a child under impossible circumstances, all while caught up in her own problems. It's through Johansson that the movie's more dramatic intentions slowly become known, and it's a performance I could see being nominated for Best Supporting Actress come award season.

I feel as though perhaps the movie is a little too light and fun for it to make the dramatic turn quite as swiftly as it wants at the end. The final act of Jojo Rabbit will definitely stop you short and tug on your heartstrings, though I personally wasn't as deeply moved as I believe some will be. Nevertheless, I admire the way the film presents a deeply personal story set in the war, aspiring to more than the message that "Hitler was bad."

I give Jojo Rabbit a B. It's arguably not a movie best seen on a big screen at the theater, but it's one I'd recommend in whatever venue.

DS9 Flashback: Rules of Engagement

Star Trek has done its share of episodes that put a main character on trial. Deep Space Nine did it multiple times, to good effect ("Tribunal") and with more mixed results ("Dax"). The fourth season's "Rules of Engagement" fits more in the latter category.

While commanding the Defiant in a dangerous area of space, Worf accidentally destroys a Klingon transport ship full of civilians. Now a hearing will determine whether he'll be extradited to the Klingon Empire for trial.

This story was the first from Bradley Thompson & David Weddle, who after this would join the writing staff and go on to work on Battlestar Galactica with Ronald D. Moore (who gets the script credit here). Show runner Ira Steven Behr had read a biography of Sam Peckinpah written by Weddle and invited him to come tour the Paramount lot. Weddle parlayed that into a chance to pitch story ideas with his screenwriting partner, Thompson, and thus arrived a big influence on the latter half of Deep Space Nine.

Some elements of the episode are quite great. The character of Ch'Pok, the Klingon lawyer prosecuting Worf, is fantastic. First, he's well conceived and well written. He looks at the courtroom as a battlefield to conquer; he is a warrior Klingon as surely as any we've seen before, but in a very different context. (And we see he cares about the fight itself more than the cause, offering to defend Worf once he's extradited.) Second, the character is well portrayed by actor Ron Canada. He preens and postures and powers not only through the makeup, but reportedly through a major cold he came down with halfway through the filming.

Also great is the gimmick of mixing flashbacks with trial testimony, with witnesses delivering their statements straight to the camera. The overt artificiality of it makes each version of events seem a bit unreliable. The technique is used effectively for comedy (when Quark can't remember which dabo girl Bashir was chatting up) and for tension (when O'Brien is asked to speculate on what he would have done in Worf's place). Director LeVar Burton really makes the most of these moments (as well as Worf's nightmare in the opening teaser), infusing the episode with great visual style.

But just as "Dax" was an episode that largely marginalized the very character it put on trial, so this episode gives Worf very little to do. He sits and stares into the distance for three-quarters of the episode as Sisko and Ch'Pok battle over his fate. He's a secondary character in what ostensibly is his story.

The legal procedure depicted throughout the episode is also horrible. Sure, most TV shows that aren't courtroom drama (and many that are) tend to fudge the trial process. But this episode is the poster child for getting almost everything wrong. Lawyers provide their own testimony in the middle of questioning witnesses. They offer objections to the judge without stating the grounds. They call each other to stand as witnesses. And that's just the incorrect lawyering. Then there's the bad lawyering, such as Sisko failing to cross-examine half the witnesses, and failing to call out Ch'Pok's blatant attempts to play for the judge.

Avery Brooks does make a delicious meal out of this legal nonsense, though. It's simply fun to watch him best the "villain" in the end with his surprise evidence. He's also great in the final scene when he dresses down Worf for his mistake, but then offers him encouragement and advice for the future. If Sisko is unintentionally going to become the star of Worf's episode, you at least know Avery Brooks is going to do something good with it.

Other observations:

• The hearing opens with a ringing of a bell that calls back to the original Star Trek series.

• The judge is a Vulcan... and it's interesting to ponder whether you'd want a Vulcan judge at your trial. You could probably rely on logic and fairness to rule the day, and yet there would be no measure of compassion in your justice, which I believe to be an essential element for it to be called justice.

• Odo delivers quite a zinger: "I'm always suspicious of people who are eager to help a police officer."

I'm not usually one for style over substance, but I feel like the style counts for a lot here. Kudos to everyone involved here for finding a very different way to tell the "main character on trial" story -- even if, under the surface, it's actually a weak story. I give "Rules of Engagement" a B.

A Joke With a Weak Punch Line

I hadn't really intended to go see the new movie Joker -- not in the theater anyway. But things lined up this past weekend that I did... and I got roughly what I expected. (Self-fulfilling prophecy? Well, you can decide for yourself in your review of my review.)

The Joker arrived with some controversy as to whether it glorifies violence in an unsavory way. Yet another controversy with some relevance has appeared since the movie, when Martin Scorsese (and later, Francis Ford Coppola) savaged comic book films as "not cinema." Many people respond to this by claiming that any comparison between them is unrealistic, that the two kinds of movies are apples and oranges. Whether you buy that argument or not, ir doesn't really work for Joker, as it really wants to be taken as "seriously."

Indeed, I can't help but wonder if Scorsese made his comments because of Joker -- to a great extent, it feels like a remake of (or homage to) Scorsese's own 1976 film, Taxi Driver. Both are the story of a protagonist consumed by insanity and unable to function in a morally corrupt city. They're set in roughly the same time frame, with Taxi Driver contemporary in its time, and Joker set just a few years later in 1981. And to really hammer the comparison home, both movies have Robert De Niro in the cast.

Joker is not just choosing not to aim for the light escapism of Marvel movies, it's also not really going for the grimdark of Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy (or the subsequent DC films determined to fit in a similar mode). To the greatest extent possible -- while name-dropping things like Gotham City, Arkham Asylum, and the Wayne family -- this movie is aiming for stark realism. And I think it's fine if a "comic book movie" wants to try charting such a course. But to me, the movie is sort of missing a point of view to go along with that.

At times, it seems like Joker might be trying to make a statement on wealth inequality. But it's awfully hard to square that with the movie's rather frequent references to the Batman universe -- what with Batman being a billionaire and all (albeit one who decided to become a superhero rather than run for president). There's just enough meat here to defend against the claims that the movie glorifies violence: it's in the name of overthrowing unjust classism. But beyond making the obvious statement that the world is filled with haves and have-nots, the movie doesn't really do much to make you think or feel anything on the matter.

At other times, Joker feels like it might be trying to make a statement on mental illness. Here, it struggles in two ways. First, the period setting of decades past makes it easier to dismiss. Second, the film never actually finds a statement on mental illness to make. The protagonist, Arthur Fleck, is shown within minutes to be an unreliable narrator... but he's the only narrator we get in the whole movie. (Only one scene happens without him present, and it's a scene we've seen many, many times before.)

Unlike other movies with unreliable narrators, Joker never contrasts with other unreliable narrators (like Rashomon), or ever offers you a look at objective truth (like Fight Club). In the two hours of Joker, it is equally plausible that some or none of what we're seeing actually happens. And it isn't particularly compelling to wonder where that line between fantasy and reality is, as the movie offers no tidbits of information to spark such a discussion. Even though the movie is striving for realism, it could all be fantasy in Arthur Fleck's head -- and that makes it hard to care about anything that happens.

The movie does look great. From locations to sets, from costuming to props, to the way images are framed and the usage of the camera, it looks so authentically early 80s that you could almost believe the movie was actually made then. And Joaquin Phoenix is certainly giving a hyper-committed performance; Christian Bale is no longer the benchmark for taking a comic genre movie oh so seriously.

Mostly, though, I was kind of bored by Joker. It wasn't bad, but there was potential there that never really gelled. I give it a C.

DS9 Flashback: Bar Association

In Star Trek, the format of two parallel stories, an "A-plot" and a less-important "B-plot," was a common approach to writing an episode. Every now and then, the B-plot would turn out to be more compelling than the A-plot. (See "Heart of Stone.") Other times, the writers would recognize when a secondary idea they were developing had enough meat to it to become a main story instead. That's what happened with "Bar Association."

Driven to the breaking point working for his brother Quark, Rom leads his fellow workers in a strike -- which soon attracts the attention of Brunt, from the Ferengi Commerce Authority. Meanwhile, Worf is reaching a breaking point too, frustrated by the chaos surrounding life on Deep Space Nine.

Two sisters, Barbara J. Lee and Jenifer A. Lee, had an opportunity to pitch story ideas to Deep Space Nine, and reportedly machine-gunned over a dozen in an hour. Their last, "Rom leads a labor strike against Quark," was the keeper; the writing staff bought that pitch and begin developing it as a possible B-plot for "Rejoined." That episode wound up with too much story to carry a B-plot, and when the writers tried (again, unsuccessfully) to relocate the idea, they began to feel that it also was being forced into too small a space. It then became the main plot of its own episode.

Armin Shimerman, who sat on the Board of Directors of the Screen Actors Guild, was eager to depict a serious subject close to his heart -- even though the episode had a comedic tone, and even though as Quark, "I play management in the episode." But he actually has a nicely dimensional part here. Though he is the heavy, written more like stone cold, first-season Quark, he does get strong-armed by Sisko at one point, and brutally beaten by Brunt's thugs at another. (His injuries are a spectacular bit of makeup on top of makeup.)

Max Grodénchik, on the other hand, was worried that writing Rom out of the bar was the beginning of the end for his character -- that the character would change too drastically, the writers would lose interest, and he'd soon be out of a job. He need not have worried; this episode shows a leadership potential in Rom that would ultimately augur the end of the series for him. Not only does he blossom in new ways after getting out from under Quark's thumb, but the track is laid here for his romance with Leeta. (Grodénchik would later say he thought the writers responded to the Beauty and the Beast quality of Rom/Leeta. He also noted that "Dr. Bashir is the hunk of the show, and Leeta left him for me. That made me feel really good."

It's not just Quark and Rom in particular, but Ferengi in general that are built out a lot by this episode. The idea of a union is so antithetical to their culture that most Ferengi can't even bring themselves to say the word. We see all the begging, bribing, and trickery Quark tries before he'd ever consider negotiating with a union. (His holographic bartenders are a fun sight gag.) And ultimately, we get the delicious return of Jeffrey Combs as Brunt to force the situation to a conclusion. His casual misogyny and constant threats remind you that many Ferengi are a lot worse than Quark.

There's fun use of the other characters on the periphery of the story. O'Brien gets to brag about union history in his family (that didn't meet with a happy ending for that family). Odo gets to voice his frustration with the disruptive strikers, bristling at Sisko's orders to let them protest. And there's a great moment when Bashir and O'Brien's game of guessing who will cross the picket line turns into a brawl with Worf. (Sadly, off-camera -- though the cut to the three of them in a holding cell is a great laugh.)

This B-plot-turned-A-plot of a story does get saddled with a B-plot of its own, though... and it isn't an especially effective one. We've already gotten some "Worf doesn't fit in on Deep Space Nine" stories, and this feels like a retread of similar ground. Indeed, with this coming nearly two-thirds of the way into the season, it doesn't quite feel right for Worf to only now decide he'd rather live on the Defiant, sleeping on a cramped mattress-free slab. It does give an opportunity for more fun flirtation between Worf and Dax, though -- from their continuing debate over weapon choice to her "housewarming" gift of favorite Klingon operas.

Guiding the actors through this great character material in both A- and B-plot is LeVar Burton as director. He's good not only with the actor he knows well from The Next Generation, but with those he's working with for essentially the first time here. He also does some flashy things with the camera, including a complex crane shot that moves from the first floor picketers at Quark's up to a second floor conversation, and a camera that moves past a bickering Quark and Rom to show their argument (and the hallway set) from both directions. It's all directed with confidence.

Other observations:

• I mentioned the great makeup for the injured Quark. Another great makeup gag comes at the top of the episode when Rom pours a tonic in his ear. (When you stop to think of the logistics of getting that to stay in without leaking anywhere, and then getting it out again for another take without ruining the makeup, it feels like a magic trick with a secret you don't quite understand.)

• Rom speaks openly of giving himself oo-mox, which must surely be Star Trek's first (and only?) reference to masturbation.

• When Odo taunts Worf with incidents of lax security aboard the Enterprise, he references things that happened in actual episodes of The Next Generation.

• There's a great background gag of Brunt's Nausicaan thugs entertaining themselves by throwing darts at each other. Because of this joke, the performers cast were actually experts at darts, specifically chosen for their accuracy at this (and, naturally, padded up quite extensively).

• I don't know if this had registered with me before, but the badge on Brunt's necklace is itself a bar of latinum. Fitting.

The episode walks a great line between comedic moments and a serious underlying issue. It drags a bit for its repetitive side plot, but I'd still give it a B overall.

Stiehl Grade

Because Terry Brooks publishes at least one book every year, and I continue to read them all, I've now written multiple versions of this same blog post introduction: I really should stop reading Terry Brooks. If he ever really was as good as I thought as a teenager, he's certainly declined in the years since. But I'm in it until at least next year, as the four-book series he's publishing now concludes his long-running Shannara fantasy series, and I can't not be there for the end.

This year came book three of this Fall of Shannara cycle, The Stiehl Assassin. Picking up cliffhangers from book two and leaving more for book three, it's not a book anyone could pick up and read without starting at the beginning of this set. (So I won't bother to summarize the plot.) But it's a book best read by those who've read the entire Shannara series, all 20+ some books of it, because it really does feel like a story "for the fans."

The pros and cons of this book are pretty much the same as those I identified when I reviewed books one and two. Brooks is definitely making bigger plot moves than he's been willing to try in this series for quite some time, as he really is writing toward an ending. It's less predictable than some of Brooks' more recent books, as he's willing to go farther than you'd expect. There aren't Red Wedding-level shocks in here, but it's still nice to read a story that's taking some risks.

This concluding series of books really feels like the "Stranger Things of Shannara," with all the good and bad that implies. It's incredibly nostalgic about past Shannara books, referencing characters, monsters, and magic from previous stories. It feels rewarding to the reader to recognize all the references packed in here. But then there's also a familiarity that hampers any sense of excitement. You know what happened to that past character being mentioned, what that returning monster is capable of, and how that magic behaved in the past book. But the possibility that Brooks might remix elements on the way to the climax is intriguing.

On the bad side of things, this tale focuses on some of the least compelling characters he has ever created. This walk down memory lane necessitates archetypes in the mold of past characters, and almost every one of them here is just a shadow of the previous character they're emulating. They're one dimensional, and their inner monologues are long-winded and repetitive. Somehow, the book feels like it's often stalling for page count, even though it's really not very long (particularly for fantasy). Most of the interesting plot developments are loaded into the back half.

As with the second book, I feel this third one is perched right on the knife's edge between B- and C+. The last book, I nudged upward. This one I think I'll nudge downward, as it gets off to a bit of a slow start. One more book, already completed by Brooks and slated for publication next year, and I'll have reached the end.

City Building Games Go Tiny

There's no shortage of board games about gathering resources to build a town -- but there are still plenty of unique rules sets yet to be invented that make use of that staple concept. One of the newest is called Tiny Towns, from designer Peter McPherson. It's a quick game (taking 30 to 60 minutes) that can take up to 6 players.

Each player is given their own 4x4 square board to build on. A series of building cards are placed in the center of the table, representing what can be built in this particular game. (Each of the wooden building pieces can represent a number of different kinds of structures, each with their own way of scoring points; the numerous combinations of different cards makes for a lot of differing strategies and replayability.)

The game has five building resources, and the rules are simple. On your turn, you name one of the five resources. Every player must take one of what you named, and place it on an empty space in their own grid. To build a building, you must create a particular pattern of particular resources within your grid; as soon as you do, you remove that pattern from your board and establish the building that matches that pattern on one of the spaces you just emptied. Continue around the table, gathering resources, constructing buildings, and scoring points, until no player has any empty spaces left to work with. The player with the best score wins.

For a simple rules set, it's surprising how much it feels like there's a learning curve here to master. That's because there are a lot of ways to think about the spatial puzzle this game presents. You never know what resources your opponents will call for on their turns, yet you have to take them all the same. While the patterns required to make a building can be placed in any orientation (and even mirror imaged), the simple fact is that a 4x4 grid fills up fast. It's a fun challenge to plan for what you want while still leaving space to switch to what your opponents might force on you. And every building you successfully build makes for one less space you can store resources to build again -- each space holds only one piece, building or resource. If you aren't careful, your own past successes can hem in your future progress.

Frankly, it's rather easy in this game to make a mistake and yet not realize it until several turns later. For many games, that would probably be a drawback. Here, the entire experience is quick enough (while still giving you plenty of decision points in that short play time) that if you make a mistake, you don't have to live with it long. Learn from your error for the next game -- which you might very well turn around and play right away.

But there is an aspect of the game I'm a bit leery of. It's actually similar to a feeling I had about the popular game Welcome To.... Every player gets exactly the same resources all game long. They have the same space to build with, and they have exactly the same buildings they can choose to build. Well... almost. At the start of Tiny Town, each player is dealt one unique building (with a unique power) that they and only they can build. It remains a secret until the player has assembled the pattern to build it, at which time they may construct it like any of the normal, shared buildings and begin to benefit from its power.

With Welcome To..., players have literally the exact same decisions the entire time. That means that in any given game, if only you'd made the exact same choices as the winner, you could have shared the victory. Nothing you do has any direct impact on anyone else. Tiny Towns doesn't quite go that far. Having a secret building -- even just one -- does give each player a reason to consider doing something that no one else may want. It adds some unpredictability to what opponents might choose too. It's very good for the game, I think... but it might be that just one building isn't enough in the long run? Each time I've played Tiny Towns, there's been a bit of a sense at the end that the players who lost did so less to bad strategic choices than collective whim and luck of the draw. Maybe. Like I said, it's a fast game that doesn't leave you too much room for serious regrets at the end.

So despite my reservation, I could see playing more games of Tiny Towns in the future. And as fast as it is, with as many players as it can take, I could see it being a game my group plays a fair amount. If I had to settle on a grade now (and I guess I do; I'm writing this post), I'd say Tiny Towns deserves a B. But I could truly see that going up or down with future plays. One thing is certain: it is aimed at that sweet spot that tries to satisfy more serious gamers while being simple enough to coax new players into the gaming hobby. And while I'm not certain it's a bullseye, it's definitely on the target.

DS9 Flashback: Accession

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine's seven seasons began and ended with Benjamin Sisko in very different places as the Emissary to the Bajorans. And as it happens, the midpoint of that journey, the moment where he begins to embrace the role, comes halfway through the series -- just past the halfway point of season four -- with "Accession."

A Bajoran solar ship from centuries past emerges from the wormhole, bringing time-traveling poet Akorem Laan, who claims to be the Emissary of the Prophets. Sisko is initially eager to shed his role as Bajoran religious figure, until Akorem calls for regressive social policies that affect his friends and threaten Bajor's relationship with the Federation. Meanwhile, Keiko returns permanently from her job on Bajor -- pregnant from her last visit home. Also impactful is the change her return brings to Miles and Julian's friendship. The two have grown inseparable, and don't know how to continue their "cool hangs" now that "the wife" is back in the mix.

The fortuitous midpoint timing of this episode was actually unintentional. At this point, the writers had mostly steered away from any episodes about Bajoran religion. The studio had noted fan reaction to previous episodes on the topic (the vocal "this isn't Star Trek" crowd) and concluded they were bad for ratings. They hadn't forbidden these stories, as such, but the writers knew they'd be burning goodwill with the executives whenever they tried one. But then a freelance writer came in with a pitch too tantalizing to ignore: "there's another Emissary, and Sisko has to fight for what he never wanted."

That writer was Jane Espenson, who would later amass a raft of credits on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, Battlestar Galactica, and more. One might have guessed at her future success based on this -- hers is the only writing credit on the finished product, a highly unusual thing for an outside writer. Different members of the writing staff noted that very little rewriting of her final draft was necessary, and that many of the best moments were her idea. (For example, Worf's panicked reaction to hearing that Keiko will be having another baby: "Now?" A spectacular callback joke.)

Without being super preachy about it, the episode examines what can happen when religion -- particularly a socially regressive faction within a religion -- seizes an outsized role in government. Akorem literally brings with him a centuries old world view of a society based on class and caste. The story transitions somewhat from Sisko to Kira as she tries to reconcile her sense of faith with her sense of self. Nana Visitor does a great job a presenting Kira's reluctance, then frustration, and near-hopelessness as she tries to pursue the artist's path Akorem says is meant for her. Kira fights back tears when tendering her resignation, showing us the personal cost of this societal change.

Meanwhile, through Sisko, we see larger scale consequences. He learns of the power he might have wielded as Emissary, were he a different sort of person; Kira confesses her people would have done literally whatever he asked. We see a particularly orthodox Vedek commit murder -- and admit to it readily, as though he's done nothing wrong -- when someone resists giving in to the new religious order. Ultimately, Sisko accepts his role as Emissary, even finding joy in it at the end of the episode.

But this intriguing arc is a bit short-circuited by how easily it all unfolds. Realistically, you would expect some intense factions to develop over just which of these two men is the real Emissary. Sisko abdicating and then reclaiming the mantle shouldn't come without friction -- in both directions. Kai Winn is wisely mentioned in dialogue in the episode, but given how well she's been established as an orthodox religious figure (and how strained her relationship is with Sisko), she really should have been present on screen to personify the strife in this situation.

Then there's the Miles/Keiko/Julian subplot, which falls pretty flat. The "controlling wife who doesn't let her husband come out to play" is a thing that occurs in real life, but it feels overly represented on television. That's not what's actually happening here -- though I'm not sure O'Brien looks much better for the truth. Keiko is in fact quite understanding and supportive of her husband's friendship, but he lacks the ability to pick up on that or to articulate what he wants. It's a very sitcom-like scenario that exists only because of lack of communication, infantilizing Miles and cheapening his relationship with Keiko. (Also infantilizing Miles, his inability to keep his house clean when his wife is away -- an element that actor Colm Meaney complained about to the writers.)

Director Les Landau really does pull out all the stops to make the episode look special, though. There are showy moments (Sisko transitioning from dream to vision in a single take, via a sudden lighting change), subtle moments that illuminate character (a series of slow push-ins on Sisko as he explains to Dax what being Emissary has meant to him), and moments that encompass both (a slow push up to the promenade's second floor as Odo and Kira talk about the nature of faith). He also gets to take advantage of the CG Bajoran ship model created for an earlier episode.

One advantage Landau didn't get, though, was in casting. Originally, the production reached out to actor David Warner to play the role of Akorem Laan. The reliable Star Trek veteran (of two movies and the Next Generation's indelible "Chain of Command") was talked out of taking the job by his wife, in favor of a vacation. Good news for Warner, bad news for the audience, who were deprived of his skill and gravitas. (Plus, with an actor of that caliber in the role, you might have wondered -- for at least a moment or two -- if Akorem might be a character sticking around beyond this one episode.)

Other observations:

• When Sisko is asked to bless the marriage of a Bajoran couple at the start of this episode, you can pick up a nice character detail in their costumes: the wife is in the military, while the husband is a civilian.

• Quark has an odd way of serving beer, pouring it warm from a pitcher that's been sitting around, then putting the glass on a tray to carry it a couple of feet.

• Keiko's pregnancy was Jane Espenson's idea, one that the staff writers liked enough to roll with. Fortuitously, it would become a way for the show to work in Nana Visitor's real-life pregnancy later in the season.

• Kai Opaka makes her final appearance on the series here, as an Orb vision and a Prophet.

Though are several ways in which "Accession" might have been a truly excellent episode -- if the two Emissaries had caused more of a fracture among the Bajorans, if the goofy O'Brien family subplot had been left out, or if David Warner had played the key guest starring role. Still, it's a pretty good episode as it is. I give it a B.

Current Events

I hadn't heard of the rocky road to release behind the "new" movie The Current War until I'd already decided it looked intriguing enough to see. There's just something like nerd catnip in the idea of dramatizing the development race between alternating and direct current, the clash involving Thomas Edison, George Westinghouse, and Nikola Tesla. Or, if that's not intriguing enough for you, how about this: Doctor Strange, General Zod, Beast, and Spider-man all fight over science!

Had I known a little more of the history behind the movie, I might have approached with a bit more skepticism. The story reportedly went through more than 60 script drafts over more than a decade, with multiple big names attached to direct and/or star over the years. When it was finally screened at the Toronto Film Festival in 2017, it was panned by the critics. Its release date was then bumped altogether when the sexual accusations against Harvey Weinstein broke and the assets of his company were sold off. Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon persevered, convincing the new owners of the film to let him extensively re-edit it... and now, two years later, to finally release it as The Current War: The Director's Cut.

It may well be that this version of the movie is better than the one seen by only a handful two years ago. But it's still not great. For being such a fertile tale of scheming, ambition, and betrayal, there's surprisingly little dramatic tension in it. I think it's because the movie doesn't really offer a message or point of view about any of those grand topics. It's more of a packaging of the events, with very little narrative momentum to it. It occasionally circles the notion of being about asking "how far would you go" to realize a vision. It introduces heady tangential issues like slander, propaganda, and capital punishment. And yet, it somehow fails to do much with them.

Though the cast is full of fine actors, the lackluster script doesn't really give any of them much to do. The performances are perfectly adequate without being flashy or memorable. Benedict Cumberbatch can play this type of dogged, emotionally stunted brainiac in his sleep. Michael Shannon has vindictive, power-mad villain on speed dial. Nicholas Hoult is often a compelling actor, but here seems to be making up for a lack of screen time with an odd accent and overly cultivated behaviors. And Tom Holland seems altogether too young for his role (even though another character explicitly comments on this at one point, hanging a lantern on the issue).

There's something rather dramatically inert about the film... and yet it wouldn't be right to call it boring, exactly. I seldom checked my watch even after realizing I was hardly engrossed in the story. There was an oddly hypnotic quality to it -- a tantalizing promise that maybe more would develop. It never really got "bad" (or "so bad, it's good"), but it never got particularly "good," either.

Ultimately, I feel like I'd have been better served reading a good nonfiction book on this particular topic. This movie, I'd call a C+. Not really a "waste of time," but not a film to seek out, either.

DS9 Flashback: Sons of Mogh

Star Trek: The Next Generation was less serialized than its first spin-off Deep Space Nine. But it did have the occasional ongoing storyline, arguably the most significant being Worf's discommendation from the Klingon Empire. When Worf was added to Deep Space Nine and immediately became outcast once more, you can bet that this series -- more structured to examine the consequences of an action -- was going to pick up that thread. It did so with "Sons of Mogh."

Worf's defiance of Gowron has led to the dissolution of his House in the Klingon Empire. His brother Kurn has been stripped of title, lands, and honor, and has nothing to live for. Now he arrives on the station, asking Worf to assist in his ritual suicide.

Whenever you start to think Worf is rigidly Klingon-y and surrounded by patient friends who indulge that side of him, you can always count on "real" Klingons to provide perspective. Kurn comes stomping in to ridicule Worf for the creature comforts of his daily life and pull him to be even more Klingon. You have to admit, though, Kurn does kind of have a point here: when Worf recently chose his personal sense of honor over all else, he didn't give any consideration to how it might affect his brother (or his son).

Worf thinks about Kurn now, though, agreeing very early in the episode to actually go through with assisting his suicide. This was a twist introduced in a very late draft of the script by Ronald Moore (who felt that the earlier versions, in which Worf just spent the whole episode wrestling with Kurn's request, were falling flat). It does inject some compelling conflict into the story, putting Dax and O'Brien in the position of trying to defend Worf's choice to a Captain Sisko who thinks Worf has crossed well over the line in cultural differences that should be tolerated.

It's an episode all about "not fitting in." Worf tries to honor his brother's wishes, but when Dax's own code of ethics compels her to save Kurn's life, Worf must accept her intervention as honorable. At first, it seems Kurn will make a great deputy for Odo, who appreciates Kurn's discipline -- but when it becomes clear that Kurn is just looking to get killed in the line of duty, he loses the job. And at the climax of the story, Worf is forced to realize he can no longer fit in within the Klingon Empire either; his own instinct for danger has been too blunted.

There is one unsettling place in this episode where cultures don't collide though: Julian Bashir's infirmary. With no pushback or hesitation, Bashir agrees to mind wipe Kurn at the end of the episode, on Worf's say-so alone and without Kurn's consent. It's a bit mad scientist-like of the good doctor, if you ask me.

Also, apparently, if you ask actor Tony Todd. He returned here to play Kurn for the final time (after playing "old Jake Sisko" earlier in the season). Though he said in one interview that he felt "blessed" to play two such different roles on the show, he also noted elsewhere that he agreed to do this episode before seeing the script, and felt that its ending was "a disservice to people that were really into Kurn and into the Klingon legacy." The real shame of it, I think, is that this really was the end, that we never saw Kurn again in the three seasons to follow. There was surely a compelling story to be told in having Worf interact with a brother who no longer remembers him. Just like the awkward reintroduction of Toral a few episodes earlier, this is setting up something interesting that will never be paid off.

Other observations:

• The first scene of the episode is a flirtatious one between Dax and Worf. It was reportedly written to see what the chemistry was like between the two characters (and Terry Farrell and Michael Dorn). Clearly, the writers liked what they saw, and leaned into this pairing heavily from here on.

• I believe this is the first episode to show Worf wielding the one-handed mek'leth rather than the traditional bat'leth weapon. Designer Dan Curry created the weapon at Michael Dorn's request for something smaller. As Curry put it, the small weapon was meant to be cooler: "A guy who can use a dagger against somebody with a broadsword is certainly the badder of the martial artists."

There are some good performances in this episode. Tony Todd, in particular, is always a great Star Trek guest star. But the story overall is a little disappointing, especially in the unresolved possibilities it leaves on the table. I give "Sons of Mogh" a B-.