Enterprise Flashback: Babel One

After hundreds and hundreds of Star Trek episodes across multiple franchises, many pillars of "canon" had become a bit flexible and open to interpretation. But one of the few absolutely inviolable elements of Star Trek lore was that, until the events of the classic episode "Balance of Terror," no one had ever seen what a Romulan looked like. This restriction for the prequel series Enterprise never led its writers to bend over backwards more than they did for the trilogy that began with "Babel One."

When Shran's ship is destroyed by Tellarites, the burgeoning alliance led by the humans threatens to crumble. But when evidence suggests the Tellarites were framed for the attack, the question soon becomes, who does control this powerful, chameleon-like ship that's marauding through space?

If you actually watch "Balance of Terror" (which I've done recently, in my re-watch of the original series), you learn all kinds of things that don't really track with the Romulans of subsequently-produced Star Trek. They're a noble race with overt imperialist tendencies. They have slow-moving ships with powerful weapons. And yes, no one has seen a Romulan and lived to tell the tale. That last detail about the Romulans is practically the only one that sticks.

And "Babel One" really strains credulity when it comes to Romulans. Here, their super-powerful ship has advanced holographic technology that can masquerade as another ship, is too fast for the Enterprise to catch, and can be piloted remotely (and instantly) from light years away (by a member of Daft Punk?). Sure... we'll learn about a few limitations of this technology as this trilogy unspools, but one wonders why the Romulans didn't just persist with this for the next few centuries and become an unstoppable force on the galactic stage.

But if you can get past all of that, you do get a fun story about the possible "End of the Federation before it ever begins." Any episode with Jeffrey Combs is, like, 25% better... and here Shran is back on his heels after the destruction of his own ship. It's a fun new texture for the character, as is seeing him interact more with Talas. For her part, Talas is getting a far better scene partner than she had in her first appearance -- though I don't love that they're beefing up her role here just to "fridge" her for Shran's character development. 

I wouldn't think to cast the physically imposing Brian Thompson as a Romulan... but he's been on the Star Trek contact list for a long time, and it's fun to see him add another alien to his collection. It's also fun to see more insult-charged interactions with the Tellarites, And it's nice to check in on the T'Pol/Trip relationship, as it's confirmed her marriage is officially ended -- with Reed (a bit creepily) encouraging Trip to make a move.

The cliffhanger is an exciting one, leaving Trip and Reed stranded aboard the Romulan ship -- having just discovered there's no crew aboard it. We're also fresh off of a dramatic shoot-out aboard Enterprise... though, as I mentioned, I don't love where it's left Talas. In any case, it definitely leaves you wanting to see what happens "next week."

Other observations:

• Aboard the Romulan ship, Reed and Trip use their magnetic boots to stay anchored to the floor when the ship starts maneuvering wildly in an attempt to injure them. I feel like maybe the force of the movement would like... snap their legs or something.

• The Romulan uniforms in this episode actually come from Star Trek: Nemesis. It saves some money, even if they aren't really period-accurate. 

I struggle with how super-powerful the Romulans are in this episode. But aside from that, "Babel One" is a fun opening to a new trilogy, with lots of espionage and diplomacy. I give it a B.

Star Trek Flashback: This Side of Paradise

In an early episode of Star Trek, fan-favorite character Spock's emotional control was compromised, driving him to tears. But what about a situation that could make Spock smile, or even fall in love? That seems to be the creative spark behind "This Side of Paradise."

The Enterprise checks in on a distant colony, expecting to find none alive due to the previously unknown radiation bombarding the planet. Instead, our heroes find the colonists alive and well -- quite well, with no ailments and almost blissful happiness. This seems to be the work of unusual spores in the environment, whose mysterious effects begin sweeping through the Enterprise crew and driving them to mutiny. Can Kirk resist the call to shirk his duties, and break the hold these spores have over his crew?

In this back half of Star Trek season 1, I've really been struck by how often the show goes on location. Later Star Treks chose to do more on a studio stage -- or perhaps didn't have the proportional budget to go outside as much. In any case, here the show is out on the road again, using Malibu State Park as the idyllic location of this colony -- and making a real meal of the visuals by having Spock dangle euphorically from a picturesque tree branch.

That Spock moment -- and more generally, the idea of an emotionally free "Vulcanian" must surely have been the point this episode worked backward from to reach. Because absent that, this feels uncomfortably close to another very recent episode, "The Return of the Archons." Both episodes feature Enterprise crew members deserting their duties in search of bliss as they interact with a planet of "pod people"-like locals.

If Star Trek is going to repackage the same story again so quickly, at least they make it more character-focused this time around. Besides the spotlight on Spock's romantic relationship (and a nimble performance from Leonard Nimoy), McCoy gets a sprinkling of funny moments ("Just an educated guess – I'd say that man is alive") and an almsot Foghorn Leghorn persona once mind-controlled, and Sulu gets to be a bit of detective (who seems to realize just how bizarre the possibilities might be).

But the episode is most illuminating of Captain Kirk, whose sense of duty is apparently so all-consuming that it somehow allows him to break the hold of the mind-altering spores. Assuming you can just roll with that, it really shows the true core of the character -- not the pursuit of a new woman every episode (that's actually not much of a thing in season one), but of always putting one "lady" first: the Enterprise. 

There's a loosely demarcated moral in the end, the notion that people need an ambition to strive for, or they'll just stagnate and do nothing. There's also a lot of meat for the fans -- from detailed closeups of Enterprise bridge panels, to tidbits about Spock's history, to a showdown between Kirk and Spock. But overall, I find myself wishing there had been a lot more space between this and "Archons." That episode may have had more creative flaws than this one, but the proximity still does it no favors.

Other observations:

• In the future as imagined in the 1960s, we still have appendectomies and tonsillectomies.

• When Kirk is alone on the Enterprise, there's a brief shot of an empty bridge before he exits the turbolift. This shot was used as a background plate for Scott's holodeck visit to the Enterprise in his Next Generation episode.

• There are plenty of stunt performers in Star Trek that look nothing like the actors they replace. But the "Captain Kirk" in this episode looks like a kid. 

I'm sure Spock fans would find it heresy that I give "This Side of Paradise" only a B-. I might even think better of it had I just watched it as a one-off, instead of in sequence so near "The Return of the Archons." But I think the repetitive elements of the story, combined with Kirk's convenient "immunity" to the spores, drags down the story from its full potential.

Boys Will Be Boys

After five seasons and nearly seven years, the series The Boys ended last week. The ultra-violent take on superhero fiction spent 40 episodes constantly trying to top its own level of gore while stuffing in ever more strident social and political satire in an effort to outpace reality. Fundamentally, the show never really changed; if you're aware of it and at some point decided it wasn't for you, this isn't a post trying to change your mind. No, this is simply me throwing my hat into a crowded ring of people on the internet offering their opinion on the final season and episode. (And I'll do my best to avoid specific spoilers.)

I am reminded in many ways of the response to the final season of Game of Thrones. Internet fandom is by no means as animated in hatred of the way The Boys ended as it was about the end of Game of Thrones... but the spirit seems similar. There are actually plenty of people defending the end of The Boys -- and I'm mostly going to be one of them. But comparing the two shows and the response to them, I feel like a few previously amorphous notions are crystalizing for me.

First, it is impossible to end a show whose bread-and-butter is plot twists. You could argue that neither Game of Thrones nor The Boys were a "plot twist" show in the same way as, say, Lost (which has been waiting a long while for others to enter the chat). But both shows were absolutely crafted to shock, one with sudden deaths of major characters, the other with violent set pieces (and, nearer the finish line, sudden deaths of major characters). The thing is, good endings are about giving characters what they deserve. And "what they deserve" can't come out of nowhere; it isn't satisfying if it hasn't been telegraphed.

It seems to me that majority of the outrage around the final season of both Thrones and The Boys came from people who imagined some other fate for a character that really did not fit the ample telegraphing of a fate they deserved. I'm talking Daenerys... or Homelander and Butcher. For some people, it was a shock they didn't like because they refused to see it coming; for others, it was disappointment in not being shocked because they did see it coming. Two sides of the same coin.

I said that was the majority of the outrage. I'd say almost all the rest of it is not actually anger at Game of Thrones or The Boys specifically, but the modern television format as a whole. Thrones had just six episodes in its final season; The Boys had eight. We're a long way from the 20-plus episodes of classic network seasons, or even the common streaming model of 12 or 13 episodes. When a show costs a ton to make, you get 8 episodes a season or less... because it costs a ton to make. And when it's time for an expensive show to end, it almost always means "not enough episodes to get to the natural ending in a natural way."

I actually thought the finale of The Boys was basically pitch-perfect. I'm not holding it up as one of the great finales of television history... but it was a finale that basically served up "the right ending" for every single major character. And that show had a ton of characters. So that's no small feat. That can be true, while at the same time acknowledging that season five as a whole was rather uneven. The pacing sputtered around from too fast to too slow. Major interpersonal conflict that was teed up at the end of season four, seemingly to set the stage for the final run, was instead mended too easily to defer the conflict for the final episode. The writers made a choice to stick with their formula right up until the very end, not just the final season as a whole. And I can understand that choice. I think it made for a satisfying finale at the end of a not-completely-satisfying season... a B+ at the end of maybe a B- or something like that?

Endings are hard. That's why TV viewers seem pretty united around the canon of great ones we've gotten over the years. 

Enterprise Flashback: A Taste of Armageddon

If I'd had to name 10 episodes of classic Star Trek, rapid fire, I doubt that "A Taste of Armageddon" would have come time to mind. But having recently re-watched it, I think it may actually be one of the more important episodes of the show.

Under the direct orders of a visiting ambassador, Enterprise visits the planet Eminiar VII -- despite a regulation declaring it is not to be approached for any reason. There, the crew finds a government embroiled in a centuries-long war with another planet... which has nevertheless maintained society through an agreement to conduct that war virtually. Attacks are registered by computer, and victims dutifully report for disintegration when so ordered. But not the Enterprise, when it is logged as "destroyed" in an "attack." Not if Captain Kirk has anything to say about it. He's determined to end their computerized war and force the people of Eminiar VII to confront the real thing.

If I had to guess, I'd say that the writers of this episode -- Robert Hamner and Gene L. Coon -- had two key points of inspiration for this tale. Nuclear warheads were still a quite-recent invention, allowing for death at a previously unthinkable scale all at the push of a button. Also, the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War was newer still, but had already reached the point where the gap had grown miles wide between the bureaucrats prosecuting the war and the people embroiled in it. Roll those ideas up, add the sci-fi twist of computerization, and I think you get "A Taste of Armageddon."

It may seem over-the-top that a world's population would, without protest, consent to suicide whenever told to do so by a computer. Yet I think this episode has only grown more topical in the years since it was made. Now, computers really do play a much larger role in warfare. We have more precise forms of attack that can nevertheless feel as impersonal as the dropping of an atomic bomb. The line between combat drones and a realistic video game is so thin that the human mind may not be equipped to fully appreciate the difference. "A Taste of Armageddon" isn't exactly prescient, but I do think it feels less fanciful today.

Not that every aspect of it holds up brilliantly. The writers are already starting to lean too much on the Vulcan mindmeld as a plot device; it's gone from a dangerous and intimate exchange to a parlor trick Spock does through a wall to overcome a guard. The fact that every name on Eminiar ends with a number feels especially dated. It seems odd for the ships of the Federation to have a General Order they can call by number to exterminate an entire planetary population. And we have yet another overbearing, upholstery-clad bureaucrat wielding power over our heroes to artificially inject jeopardy into the episode. (A "popinjay," Scotty pegs him.)

The tone is also curious. We are talking about mass genocide, at a global level. But there's a lot of humor in this episode. ("There is a multi-legged creature crawling on your shoulder.") I can't quite tell if this is the show not quite knowing how to balance drama and comedy, or if this is actually part of the toxic allure of a virtual war... you can't really take it seriously.

But beside the searing metaphor, you get many great moments for the characters. Kirk's solution is so quintessentially Kirk. The banter between him and Spock is delightful. Up on the ship, Scotty has one of the first of many great runs taking the captain's chair in Kirk's absence. (And great banter of his own too, with McCoy.) For one of the first times, I felt keenly aware that Star Trek really had figured itself out by this point -- telling the kinds of stories it wanted to tell, actors playing the characters the way we came to know them, and more.

Other observations:

• The lighting of the hallways on Eminiar VII is wild -- real "aren't you glad you bought a color television set" stuff.

• At least this overbearing diplomat actually redeems himself at the end of the episode instead of being a heel to the bitter end.

I really appreciate the story of "A Taste of Armageddon," and the way it uses the regular characters. I'm less certain about its lighter moments, and of the several tropes employed along the way. But overall, this is one of the better episodes of the show... that maybe isn't as well-regarded as some of the most famous? I give it a B.

The Cinematic Adventures of Baby Yoda

The long-running Star Wars franchise added another movie to its ranks this past weekend with The Mandalorian and Grogu. And in my eyes, it's a strong contender for the "most OK" of the lot. Picking up on the three-season long television series The Mandalorian, the movie follows "Mando" on an action-packed adventure with the character people will always call "Baby Yoda."

The Mandalorian and Grogu is an entertaining movie. There are action sequences of seemingly endless natures and scopes. There's a surprisingly deep relationship between a character whose face you almost never see and a character whose face is rubber. Sigourney Weaver seems to be having fun, and it's kind of infectious.

But the fact that this comes after three seasons of television actually makes a huge difference. The Mandalorian has been around for years, bringing a lot of film-caliber action to our living rooms. The line between movies and television has never been thinner or blurrier than it is right now, yet the idea that a movie has to be "bigger and better" than a TV show persists. And so, to amp up The Mandalorian to cinematic size, they basically took what you could imagine as a "fourth season" of the show, and removed nearly all the quiet parts.

For nearly an hour-and-a-half, the movie bounces from one set piece to the next, deliberately leaving the audience with almost no time to catch a breath. Each sequence as an island is well-realized. Delivered as they were in assembly line fashion, I found myself getting a little numb to it all. Which is probably why I felt the best stretch of the movie was the 15-minute "end of act two" centered on Grogu. The pace relaxed, the stakes felt more personal, and character took center stage. Before, of course, an over-the-top final act.

Actually, it's probably not the shadow of three seasons of The Mandalorian looming over this movie for me as much as two seasons of Andor. It's not fair to now compare all of Star Wars to what I'm increasingly convinced is the best Star Wars there's ever been... but there's also some recency bias. Over the past several years, I've watched a lot of different "fine" Star Wars TV shows (and bad ones; looking at you, Boba Fett). I've accepted the tonal shifts between The Acolyte and Skeleton Crew. But when Star Wars is capable of being Andor instead? I understand The Mandalorian and Grogu wasn't remotely trying to be that. But also... most of me says, wistfully, why not?

Trying my best to set all that aside, I'd give The Mandalorian and Grogu a B-. I have a hard time imagining that it could ever be anyone's favorite Star Wars movie... or least favorite. But it's a serviceable action romp.

Dungeons and Aliens

From time to time, I've used reviews of books to shout out their audiobook narrators. And it almost pains me to say it, but Ray Porter no longer rules the roost as the best narrator I've listened to -- not now that I've listened to the first two books of the Dungeon Crawler Carl series.

These books seem ubiquitous in the circles I travel in -- but on the off chance you don't know, Dungeon Crawler Carl is a book about an especially strange apocalypse. Abruptly, aliens arrive on Earth, utterly destroying all of civilization and forcing its decimated survivors into a fantasy-based dungeon game with real magic, real monsters, and real peril. And it's all televised like a reality program for a galactic fan base. The titular Carl finds himself woefully ill-equipped for the dungeon, but nevertheless endures with a healthy dose of gallows humor and the help of his ex-girlfriend's cat, Princess Donut.

Author Matt Dinniman is one of the latest success stories in self-publishing. Driven into writing full-time by the Covid pandemic, he began churning out books in this series that spread like wildfire and were eventually picked up by a publishing house. We're very recently at eight books and counting.

As I mentioned, I'm two books in, having completed Dungeon Crawler Carl and Carl's Doomsday Scenario. They're both fun and breezy thrill rides. I was perhaps not fully on board after book one. I had slightly mixed feelings about the way Dinniman had so blatantly scavenged his story from other places; had he truly assembled it all in a way that felt original? More importantly, was there really anywhere for the story to go that wasn't going to be repetitive? But those doubts were easily quieted. The book was laugh out loud funny, for sure. And it also did a pretty good job of not just going for laughs, with surprisingly earnest moments contemplating the actual scope of global apocalypse. Might as well try another book and see where things went.

Book two silenced the doubts completely. It's clear that Dinniman realized that the mere premise alone would not sustain a long-running series. I don't know whether he planned the larger sprawl of the story from the beginning and wisely kept things accessible to start out, or improvised his way into something bigger after having fun the first time around. Either way, there's plenty of "there" there.

But then there's the real special sauce of the series: audiobook narrator Jeff Hays. Dinniman himself has said that audiobook sales of this series have far surpassed book physical and e-book sales, and there's absolutely no mystery why. Hays gives an absolute tour de force performance -- about 50 times over as he voices character after character after character, so convincingly that you'd swear this audiobook had a full cast. Hays is picking up the sort of humor Dinniman puts down. I've had a chance to flip through the pages of a physical copy of Dungeon Crawler Carl, and I have to say, some of the jokes are only jokes because of the way Hays delivers them. I absolutely cannot recommend reading Dungeon Crawler Carl when the audiobook version exists.

But the audiobook? That I absolutely can recommend. I'd say book one lands around a B+ for me, and then book two jumped up to an A. I'm fully invested now in finishing the series... my only dilemma being how to pace myself with other audiobooks in between, to not overindulge in the delightful experience. And whatever awards exist for audiobook narration should all go to Jeff Hays for as long as he keeps doing these.

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+.

Star Trek Flashback: Tomorrow Is Yesterday

In a weird coda at the end of the episode "The Naked Time," Star Trek established that the Enterprise could travel through time (whether the the story warranted it or not). The show delivered on that promise in the episode "Tomorrow Is Yesterday."

The Enterprise is accidentally thrown back in time to Earth in the late 1960s. In short order, they're taken to be a UFO, and unintentionally destroy an Air Force plane and abduct its pilot. Now the crew must repair their ship, erase the evidence of their presence, find a way to return the pilot and restore the course of history, and return to their own time.

There are quite a few episodes of the original Star Trek that make you think: "oh, they totally ripped this one off later for The Next Generation." This episode is one such touchstone for later Star Trek. But not for the early seasons of a still-finding its way Next Gen; rather, for Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. That movie isn't without its own new elements: a threatened Earth, an environmentalist message, and of course, the whales. But consider everything else.

In both Star Trek IV and "Tomorrow Is Yesterday," our heroes find them transported back in time to the real-world present. They soon encounter a contemporary human who takes quite well to interactions with people from the future. They have to sneak around a military installation. And all of it is done with a decidedly comedic tone. (20th century pilot John Christopher: "I never have believed in little green men." Spock: "Neither have I.")

Star Trek IV has a lot more polish. And "Tomorrow Is Yesterday" has working against it the fact it was made for 1960s television, a time and place where the humor is intentionally crafted with "dopey slide whistle" sensibilities. Is it funny when an Air Force security guard just freezes when he materializes on the transporter pad? When a freshly upgraded Enterprise computer flirts with Captain Kirk? Well, no, not really. But then, this style of comedy has aged more poorly than even the 60-year-old sets have. (Notice all the wrinkles on the screens on the Enterprise bridge.)

But still, there's plenty here that does work well. It's an entertainingly breathless episode, where one problem keeps piling on after another. Most of the characters get good moments: Scotty points out that even once he's repaired the ship, they have nowhere to go; McCoy has a great reaction when Kirk compares him to Spock (that's comedy that does work); Sulu beams down to the Air Force base with Kirk (not sure why it's those two, but whatever). And with the character of John Christopher, the episode handles well that not all people from the past are stupid... but that our heroes will always, eventually, get the upper hand. Plus, I love that in this episode, made in 1967, the writers took their shot, declared that humans would land on the moon by the end of the 1960s, and were proven right.

How the episode gets out of these stacked-up problems feels like nonsense. After conveniently inching back in time again before shooting forward again, the transporter serves as a hand-waving solution to it all (not for the first time; certainly not for the last). It's not clear what's happening when someone is "beamed into themselves." (Is this like overwriting a computer file? Is one person being destroyed and swapped for another?) And I don't understand how that causes time to reset itself midstream. But I guess the sillier tone of the episode allows for sillier solutions.

Other observations:

• The footage of scrambling Air Force jets didn't match the rest of the episode even in 1967. But when they came along and updated all the Enterprise effects shots in the 2000s re-master, it made the grainy stock footage stick out even more.  

• Gotta get that slinky trombone music in when John Christopher spots a female crewmember on the Enterprise.

• On the Air Force base, the photo lab has a silent alarm on the door, but the computer records office doesn't. I'm sure it's just for writing convenience, but it's fun to pretend this is a sign of the times (and a reflection on the value of computers).

• Are the clocks on the Enterprise tied to some outside, observable force in the universe? Or did Spock program them to count backwards when the ship is moving backwards in time?

In a world where Star Trek IV didn't exist, "Tomorrow Is Yesterday" might hit a bit better for me. Then again, I imagine that 1980s humor misses with a younger audience in much the same way this 1960s humor misses for me here. But it's still a fun enough episode. I give it a B-.

Enterprise Flashback: Kir'Shara

Another epic three-part Enterprise story arc comes to a close with "Kir'Shara."

Possessed by the spirit of Surak, Archer leads the Vulcan resistance in search of an ancient artifact that could change all Vulcan society. But the planet's leader V'Las is determined to stop them at any cost. Meanwhile, Trip and Soval seek help from the Andorians, and a particularly skeptical Shran.

At a high level, I have similar criticisms about this concluding part three that I had with part two of the trilogy. V'Las grows ever more villainous, to a degree that seems increasingly hard to believe. (You have to wonder if there's any Vulcan version of the 25th amendment, and what the political landscape is like that people as logical as the Vulcans wouldn't use it.) It's never made clear why Archer was chosen by Surak, and things only get more MacGuffiny in the hunt for an artifact whose revelation will magically resolve everything... somehow.

But you either went along with this stuff back in part two or not. And once again, the more personal aspects of the story elevate the storytelling. You can always count on Jeffrey Combs to bring his A game, and it's great to see two long-running guest stars get big scenes together, as he does with with Gary Graham when Shran tortures Soval. It's not the only noble moment for Soval either; he also demonstrates respect for Archer when he tells Trip that he's doing just what the "cap'n" would do, and that it's the right thing.

Archer is experiencing growth too, as he confesses that his experience with Surak has led him to understand why Vulcans suppress their emotions. He's able to walk T'Pol through a minefield of emotions about her mother in a way that she's able to hear. For her part, T'Pol comes to embrace the cause of the Vulcan rebels, and risks her life to aid them.

One element I don't love is how the episode picks up on the story line of the Vulcan stigma about mindmelds. That began as a Star Trek allegory for HIV, and while the storytellers mishandled some of the details, it felt like their hearts were in the right place. But here, we learn that skilled mindmelders can actually cure "Pa'nar syndrome" -- HIV and AIDS. It's quite the rapid wave of quite the magic wand, a simplistic way of backing away from the story line.

It's almost as quick as the dissolution of T'Pol's marriage. I suppose we were told quite directly that she only agreed to marry because of her mother's situation. Still, it seems surprising when a plot complication introduced only a few episodes ago is so unceremoniously resolved. I guess this is the easy Vulcan conflict resolution that I've been feeling the absence of in this trilogy's A story.

Other observations:

• Two decades before a memorable turn on Star Trek: Picard, Todd Stashwick appears here as Vulcan security stooge.

• ...who is revealed in the final scene of the episode to be a Romulan operative! This plays well for longtime Star Trek fans who have watched other series in the franchise, but it doesn't amount to much in the context of Enterprise alone. It makes V'Las, who already seemed irrational, appear weak as well for being so thoroughly manipulated.

Despite a few missteps, "Kir'Shara" is a fun ride. We get fist fights, neck pinches, and lirpas. We get epic space battles. And many of the characters get a chance to do some truly heroic things. So overall, I'll give this episode a B. 

Throw Yourself Into the Pitt

Back in early 2025, there seemed to be no corner of the internet where I wasn't hearing about this amazing new medical drama, The Pitt. Several of my friends joined the steady drumbeat: you have to watch The Pitt! But I had enough of a TV backlog then that I never got around to it. When the season finale ran that April? By May or so, everyone had moved on to something else.

But then 2026 arrived, and The Pitt turned out not to be one of those modern shows that needs like two or three years to produce a season of television. The Pitt was back, and with it that choir loudly singing the praises of the show. This time around, I couldn't resist.

And now? Pass me the hymnal, because I'm joining that choir.

Set in a Pittsburgh hospital that trains new doctors, each season of The Pitt follows one shift on one day at the emergency room. It's not quite operating by the rules of the show 24, with events occurring in real time... but each hour of television is one hour of show time, and story elements continue from episode to episode.

That one hour of television is somehow the shortest one hour on television. Each episode of The Pitt unfurls at breakneck pace, juggling multiple medical crises and mysteries with apparent ease. And the real triumph of the writing is that it also finds time to honor the human element: you very quickly come to care about the hospital workers in the main and supporting cast, and each new case that comes their way features patients and their families who are memorable, often sympathetic, real people in an extraordinary situation.

It's challenging to praise the cast, because it's so large and there really isn't a weak link in the bunch. I'll focus on a few to avoid droning on. Noah Wyle anchors the gang as Dr. "Robby," a wonderful blend of competency and humanity. Absolutely everyone who watches the show is going to instantly fall in love with Katherine LaNasa as charge nurse Dana Evans, conductor of this triage symphony. I quickly gravitated toward poor, put-upon Dr. Whitaker, played through all manner of tough situations by Gerran Howell. I appreciated the work of Isa Briones as the prickly Dr. Santos, who I think ably serves up a character with many unlikable traits without actually making the character wholly unlikable. And sling the "nepo baby" accusations all you want at Fiona Dourif (daughter of Brad Dourif) and Taylor Dearden (daughter of Bryan Cranston) -- it doesn't change the fact that they're both excellent in their respective roles of Drs, McKay and King.

Season 1 of The Pitt was a whirlwind ride that built to a frenetic crescendo in its final few episodes. Season 2 wisely took a different path, using its final episodes to dig into the humanity in the main characters. Both approaches worked, and I found both seasons to be top-notch, grade A material. (If I must pick, I'll give the nod to season 1.)

Yes, The Pitt is as good as I'm sure you've heard. It has created a TV backlog of its own for me; I've been so eager to devour it that many other shows have just been piling up. Had I watched the first season last year, I would have put in in the #3 slot of my "Top 10 of 2025" List (ahead of Slow Horses, behind Pluribus). If somehow you've missed it? You've likely got until next January to catch up in time for season 3.

Star Trek Flashback: Arena

Certain episodes of classic Star Trek loom large with the fans. Then there are the rare few that broke out even wider in pop culture. One of those is "Arena."

The Enterprise arrives at a colony to find it wiped out by an alien threat that's still in the area. After a skirmish on the planet, an interstellar chase begins. But that's interrupted when a super-powerful third party steps in to resolve their distastefully violent dispute. Captain Kirk and the reptilian Gorn captain of the enemy ship are transported to an alien landscape to battle it out one-on-one. Kirk seems hopelessly outmatched, unless he can apply reason to his situation... or find empathy for his foe.

There are people who have never watched a full episode of Star Trek who nevertheless know two things about this episode. The first is its location filming at Vasquez Rocks. While numerous episodes of Star Trek and other TV shows have filmed at this picturesque spot less than an hour from Los Angeles, the iconic rock formation featured in this episode has become indelibly linked with Star Trek. (Seriously: "Star Trek Historic Film Site" is a searchable map location.)

The second thing people know about this episode is that Kirk fights a giant lizard. This is a more ignominious claim to fame, thanks to the less than convincing rubber suit. The 2000s remaster of this episode tries to help a little with CG eyelids that blink, but there's no hiding the fact that this suit clearly couldn't move well. And it probably still cost a fortune. So we get a series of fights in which a suited stuntman can't move too fast for fear of hurting William Shatner (who he cannot see), and William Shatner can't dare to play rough for fear of damaging the lizard suit (which cost too much to put at risk). There's no other way to put it: these fights look silly. (So silly, that it was only natural to poke fun at them later.)

It's a shame the cheap looking suit hogs the spotlight, because so much else about this episode seems so expensive. There's extensive location filming -- not just for the titular arena where Kirk and the Gorn fight, but in a lengthy opening sequence where a landing party at the destroyed colony is bombed by an unseen foe. And it had better look good; William Shatner did some of his own stunts in this episode, and famously was so near an explosion when it detonated that he developed tinnitus that he's lived with ever since. Between opening the artillery sequence and the ensuing space chase, this episode is half over before we ever even get to the famous "Kirk and the lizard suit at Vasquez Rocks" material.

The late-onset silliness may also overshadow the solid Star Trek moral at the very end of this episode. The Gorn did not attack without purpose, and our heroes come to realize that they themselves -- not the Gorn -- may actually be in the wrong. Plus, this message in support of empathy and diplomacy comes at the end of a lengthy sequence where Kirk "MacGyvers" (before the term existed, of course) a weapon out of the materials he can kind -- a message supporting "brains over brawn."

And yet -- I wish that more of this episode felt original. We're not even halfway done with the first season, and we've encountered so many aliens with godlike powers that it's hard to keep track. The destruction of outposts and an ensuing space chase were the entire story in "Balance of Terror." So I find it hard to love this episode, no matter how famous it is, when half of it is a rehash and half of what's left is kind of hokey.

Other observations:

• Even with nearly 20 episodes in the can, Star Trek was still finding itself. The ship has "screens" instead of "shields," there's still clearly no concept of the "Federation" as people talk about "Earth outposts," and there's no real consistency between episodes about how fast is dangerously fast for the Enterprise.

• But we do get a vaporized redshirt, expected banter between Spock and McCoy, and a lot of Star Trek characters watching an episode of Star Trek. (Once you notice it, you'll see that characters on Star Trek watch viewscreen clips of themselves and their shipmates more often than you'd expect.) 

• Speaking of "watching Star Trek," Spock gets really weird about it. As he watches footage of Kirk figuring out how to build a weapon from raw materials, he groans "yes, yessssss...." like some kind of villain cheering on his minion.

This iconic episode does have many good moments. But when you're actually watching it, and not remembering it through rose-colored glasses, it has many shortcomings too. Overall, I'd give "Arena" a B-.

21!

You may have noticed that I don't blog as frequently as I used to. Or hey, maybe you're too busy to have noticed.. That's ok -- especially if you're not that into Star Trek, which I acknowledge makes up a fair chunk of what I post these days.

But I do still post often enough that I still consider this a regular thing. And now, it's been a regular thing for a shocking 21 years. That's right -- this blog is of drinking age... and features nearly 6,000 of my posts.

I started it all those years ago mainly as a way of keeping in cyber-touch with friends I'd moved away from after a layoff and cross-country move. This was in a long-ago, mythical time where there wasn't much social media established for doing that. Heimlich Maneuvers was really just a way for me to swap the same talk with people that I would have if we were still getting together in person, having all seen the latest movie or played the latest board game.

I'm still in touch with most of those people. I've met many more along the way. (Though let me raise the glass this blog is now old enough to drink in memory of one no longer with us.)

As long as you pop in here from time to time, actually caring what I might have to say about a new TV show, my latest vacation, or whatever? I'll probably keep coming here to write about it. (Though I suppose by now, there's more than enough material here for AI to mine my tastes and spit out a reasonable facsimile of what I might think about any given thing -- and how I might express those thoughts.)

The value of opinions on the internet are perhaps worth less than ever. But thanks for coming here for mine. 

Enterprise Flashback: Awakening

The epic Vulcan trilogy on Star Trek: Enterprise continues with "Awakening."

Archer and T'Pol find the resistance enclave they've been searching for, where many revelations ensue. The people there are not the terrorists the government claims. The disillusionment that drove T'Pol's mother to join then runs so deep that the two of them now find surprising common ground. But most significantly, Archer now carries the living spirit of the movement's heroic figure, Surak. Meanwhile, Vulcan leader V'Las escalates his campaign against the dissidents, removing anyone who might stand in his way.

This trilogy has such epic storytelling intentions, aiming to show us how Vulcans grew from their Enterprise depiction (hardly as in control emotionally as they claim) to the people we know from later (well... earlier) Star Trek. Surak appears to Archer in multiple visions to discuss the state of the world, relative to the one he was trying to create; this is not unlike the Buddha or Jesus appearing to someone today. (Time scale and everything.) We soon learn of an artifact containing Surak's original writings, an Ark of the Covenant-like Macguffin that seemingly introduces Raiders of the Lost Ark adventure to the tale.

But to me, the thing this episode does best is balancing the epic story with personal stakes. Soval is fired from his ambassador job, completing his transformation from prickly adversary to stalwart ally for the Enterprise crew. T'Pol and her mother finally reach an understanding... only for the latter to die and leave T'Pol in emotional turmoil once more. The character of T'Pau is made to confront her prejudice against humans. It's all strong material, and generally well performed.

Yet also, this episode has common "middle of a trilogy" issues where the story is straining to get from point A to point B. Surak's katra has been in other Vulcans before now landing in Archer. Why does he reveal to Archer where to find his writings when he could have done so with any of those previous hosts? At the end of the episode, Soval reveals the Vulcan plan to spark war with Andoria... though it sure seems like knowledge he had the entire time and could have revealed earlier, except to make for a dramatic cliffhanger.

Then there's the character of V'Las, leader of the Vulcan government, who just seems cartoonishly villainous. Why is V'Las so bent on war with Andoria? Why does he actually think that bombing the Syrrannite faction is necessary for him to get to that? (I guess Vulcan doesn't have a T'Streisand effect.) How did a guy this irrational become the leader of a people who pride themselves on logic?

(I will admit: in the real world, a certain Cheeto-haired would-be Mussolini is doing his level best to illustrate that this sort of behavior is far more realistic than you might think. But as the saying goes, truth is stranger than fiction... which means that fiction has to "hang together" better.)

Other observations:

• Apparently, most Vulcans regard katras as they do time travel... which we've been told again and again (and again and again and again), is regarded as impossible by Vulcan orthodoxy.

• There's a fun exchange between Soval and Trip, when the former confesses his deep affinity for humans. "You did a pretty good job of hiding it." "Thank you."  

The villain of this story seems to be evil just for evil's sake. But I still find the rest of the episode fairly compelling. I give "Awakening" a B.

The Growth of Shrinking

When I blog about TV shows, it usually goes one of two ways: I dive in to an episode-by-episode recap of the entire show, or I post about it once and move on. It's very rare that I circle back to a show just finishing up a new season. But I feel compelled to do that about the just-finished third season of Shrinking.

Shrinking is a comedy-drama hybrid about therapist Jimmy Laird, who is struggling with grief after the sudden death of his wife. But with the help of his co-workers, his neighbors, a long-time friend, and a patient with whom he takes a very hands-on approach, he begins to pull things together for himself and his teenage daughter.

I admit, the description of the premise certainly doesn't sound funny. But the cocktail that is Shrinking is a delicately balanced one, with all the ingredients in just the right proportions. And if you're a TV fan who somehow hasn't tried Shrinking, perhaps it would help to know that one of the show's creators is Bill Lawrence, the guy behind Scrubs, Ted Lasso, Cougar Town, and most recently, Rooster.

When I first blogged about season one of the show, pretty much the only less-than-positive things I had to say about it were that the show took a few episodes to really get going, and that star Jason Segel wasn't as strong as the rest of the cast. Today, with season three just finished, neither of those things are true. The show knows exactly what it is. And more than perhaps any other cast member, Jason Segel has come to embody the show's unique blend of bittersweetness.

I wanted to mention the series again because season three was the best yet for the show. Every single one of the 11 episodes made me laugh out loud in moments and made me cry in others. Despite stiff competition from other things I'm watching right now, there was no other show I looked forward to more. Every single cast member -- Jessica Williams, Luke Tennie, Michael Urie, Lukita Maxwell, Christa Miller, and Ted McGinley -- was superb. Harrison Ford was doing the best work of his career. (Yes. I said it, and I meant it.) The parade of guest stars was extraordinary: Cobie Smulders, Brett Goldstein, Damon Wayans Jr., Lily Rabe, Wendie Malick, Michael J. Fox, Jeff Daniels, Candice Bergen... on and on and on.

And the show wound its way to a satisfying conclusion. Because yes, this was written as a series finale. Creator Bill Lawrence has stated that the show always had a three-year story plan, and this was it. He's now also agreed to make a season four. Is this going to be like the weird ninth season of the original Scrubs, or more like the new revival season I'm hearing good things about from fans? I guess we'll find out. But for now, the three seasons we have stand perfectly on their own.

Season three of Shrinking is the best TV I've seen so far this year. Eight months from now, if it no longer stands atop the heap, it will have been a truly extraordinary year of television indeed. Season three is a perfect A. If you've never watched Shrinking, I'd make it #1 on my list of recommendations for you. 

Star Trek Flashback: The Squire of Gothos

Almost 40 years on from the debut of Star Trek: The Next Generation, it's hard to imagine that when that series first launched, it was uncertain whether it would last, and its was actively hated by a small but vocal group of Star Trek fandom. (Look at Star Trek: Starfleet Academy today, and you'll see times haven't really changed.) While The Next Generation did indeed get time to grow (and wow, did it flourish), I have to admit the haters might have had a point about many of the very early episodes, which often blatantly ripped off story lines from classic Star Trek episodes. When the very first episode needed to be padded from a regular one-hour installment into a special two-hour premiere, Gene Roddenberry did so by adding Q, a character lifted directly from a classic Star Trek episode, "The Squire of Gothos."

Passing through an empty region of space, the Enterprise comes upon an entire planet seemingly out of nowhere. Its lone inhabitant, Trelane, is an eccentric alien with powerful, almost magical abilities -- and an unchecked desired to see the Enterprise crew perform for his amusement. Can our heroes figure out a way to neutralize or overcome Trelane's abilities? Or will Kirk be sentenced to death by Trelane in a show trial?

It's shocking just how closely the Q story line of "Encounter at Farpoint" follows the essential plot elements of "The Squire of Gothos," from the archaic speech and cosplay to the casual chauvinism to the mock court proceedings. It's little wonder that fans have been supposing that "Trelane was a Q" pretty much since Next Gen day one, a connection finally made official by Strange New Worlds in its most recent season. The story is only different at the margins, with the revelation of "Gothos" removed (that this powerful alien is actually a child) and the motives of the trial being added for "Farpoint" (all of humanity is being judged, not just the captain).

It seems certain that The Next Generation's rehash would never have gotten the traction it did without the performance of actor John de Lancie as Q. But I think that just goes to show how unthinkable the idea of a "sequel episode" was in late 1960s television. Trelane absolutely could have returned, because it's not like William Campbell gives a bad performance. Is he over the top? Absolutely. Is he petulant and obnoxious? You bet. Also, is he exactly what the script calls for? Of course. He's the reason why this episode was memorable in the first place, to be ripped off some 20 years later. There's a reason classic Star Trek would cast Campbell again as guest star in season two in another, also highly-memorable role.

The fact that we have both a 1960s and 1980s take on essentially the same story really highlights all the 1960s elements of "The Squire of Gothos," To illustrate to the 60s audience how commonplace space travel is in Star Trek's imagined future, it's happening as literally everyone on the bridge is drinking coffee. When actors are "frozen" by Trelane's power, there's no visual effect or even a locked-off single frame of film; they just have to hold still -- poorly. The leaps in logic our heroes make as they reason the limits of Trelane's power seem wild, dictated by episode run time more than reasonable extrapolation. The cartoonish sound effects that result when Kirk shoots out Trelane's "magic mirror" are actually laugh-out-loud silly. So are the efforts to enact a sprawling chase through a forest on the limited set the show is able to present. (All the money went, understandably, to the castle gate and interior.)

But the episode has its charms. Its great when Spock uses precise language to tell Trelane, to his face, how distasteful he is. It's fun to watch Kirk slowly discover the right way to handle Trelane (as the bratty child he's ultimately revealed to be). Scotty actually gets to be shown as a miracle worker in this episode, beaming up the first landing party despite interference (rather than exclaiming that some repair will take four times longer than it will).

Other observations:

• The episode makes a point of placing two characters, DeSalle and Jaeger, and then calling upon (respectively) their French and German ancestry. But the episode can't get everyone on the same page about referring to the later as "YAY-ger" or "JAY-ger."

• McCoy just dives on in, eating and drinking everything on Trelane's table. Sure, he "covers" a minute later when he shares the observation that none of it had any taste. But I love the "if I'm gonna be stuck here, I might as well try to get drunk" vibe.

• One moment, Trelane is said not to be aware of any Earth history in the past thousand years. The next, he's referencing Alexander Hamilton. (Though Trelane's "take turns shooting" rules of pistol dueling don't look anything like any other duel I've seen in pop culture.)

• A few moments have aged like milk, such as the moment when Trelane meets Uhura, or when Kirk talks about the boyish prank of dipping girls' pigtails into inkwells.

I might think more highly of this episode if the Star Trek of my childhood hadn't gone on to make so much more of the same concepts. On its own, I feel like "The Squire of Gothos" is a C+.