Enterprise Flashback: Affliction

The fourth season of Star Trek: Enterprise was made up mostly of multi-episode story arcs that leveraged the series' prequel nature by delving into the vast "canon" of the franchise. Creatively, it was a successful pivot for the show... so the writers took on the highest "degree of difficulty" yet in the two-parter beginning with "Affliction."

The Klingons have been experimenting with genetic engineering, using samples of human Augment DNA... with disastrous consequences. Desperate to undo the damage, Klingon agents abduct Phlox to force his assistance. Enterprise sets out to locate and rescue their doctor. Yet it appears that Malcolm Reed may be secretly working against them for unknown reasons. Meanwhile, Trip tries to fit in at his new assignment aboard the starship Columbia.

I think you'd have to be the most "well, actually..." of Star Trek fans to have ever cared why Klingons went from looking like shoe-polish-faced humans in spandex and disco pants (on the original series) to turtle-ridged, armor-clad warriors (in the movies and beyond). The movies simply had more time and money to throw at the aliens, and The Next Generation (and the shows that followed) were passed the baton. The closest we'd ever get to an "in-universe" explanation for the change was a curt joke from Worf in the middle of a comedic episode.

Right?

Wrong! Manny Coto and Michael Sussman decided to devote a two-part episode to explaining the difference. And the explanation -- that Klingons once toyed with genetic engineering, using human DNA -- kinda works! It even goes a long way to explaining why Klingons hated humans for so long, while subtly reinforcing one Klingon commander's assertion that humans and Klingons aren't really so different. We get all of this, the most dangerous looking targ yet seen on Star Trek, Klingon characters played by actors John Schuck and James Avery, fun references to deep cut history like the Hur'q (established in Deep Space Nine), and a fantastic action sequence about an assault team boarding Enterprise. Really... hats off all around.

But we're just getting started! In this same two-part episode, the writers undertake the task of "fixing" the show's indisputably worst character, Malcolm Reed. Unlike Hoshi Sato and Travis Mayweather, who are generally just underused, Reed has been actively bad almost every time he's given something to do in an episode -- bad at his job, ranging from socially awkward at best to creepy at worst, whiny and self-centered. Now we find out, he's actually an undercover secret agent! And once you get over the initial shock of wondering what value a covert organization would find in Malcolm Reed, it kind of starts to make sense. Hell, it might even explain some of Reed's buffoonery over the years. Was this part of maintaining his cover? Were some of his stupid mistakes actually deliberate orders from his shadowy organization?

In a bit of catnip for Deep Space Nine fans like me, the secret organization is revealed to be Section 31. Well... it's never stated outright, which is good. That avoids turning this into a Marvel Cinematic Universe style demand to "do the required viewing" before being able to understand the story here. This is just a winking nod for those who know, that feels like it should be pretty seamless for those who don't. It's certainly a better showing for Section 31 than poor Michelle Yeoh was given.

I'd call all of that more than enough for a super-compelling two-part episode of Star Trek. Unfortunately, the episode doesn't stop there. It also has to reckon with the ongoing story coming out of the last episode, that Trip has changed assignments and is now aboard the Columbia. As I commented on that episode, I've reached the end of my interest in the "Jim and Pam on The Office"-like tribulations between T'Pol and Trip. I felt impatient in each of this episode's repetitive Trip scenes. (T'Pol: "Are you leaving because of me?" Trip's new captain: "Why did you leave?" T'Pol in some mindmeld/dreamscape: "I thought you were leaving.") I feel like the most interesting thing this subplot has to offer is a return cameo appearance by Seth MacFarlane -- who gets quite a few more lines here.

It all builds to the most explicit cliffhanger Enterprise has served up in a while, a Speed-like contrivance of a catastrophe in which the Enterprise must maintain high warp or it will explode. Will Keanu Reeves show up to save the day? Probably not... but tune in next week just in case!

Other observations:

• This isn't really a "Hoshi" episode, but she nonetheless has some good moments in the story. First, she does her best to put up a fight when she and Phlox are attacked in the beginning. Then she "goes under hypnosis" (mindmeld style) with T'Pol to retrieve her memories of the event. In the aftermath of that mindmeld, she even pokes up in the Trip/T'Pol story for a moment.

• The redress of the Enterprise bridge to serve as the Columbia bridge is kinda fun. It doesn't really make sense to put these weird columns right where people need to walk (what, are they load-bearing?) but you can instantly tell you're on a different ship.

• I think my picture at the top of this post actually comes from "part two" of this two-parter. But it felt appropriately representative. 

The high-school-romance-drama of Trip/T'Pol detracts for me, but I otherwise find this a really strong episode that does "prequel" right. I give "Affliction" a B+.

Star Trek: Errand of Mercy

Long, long before Klingons were portrayed as a noble warrior race, or fixated on honor -- and before writer Gene L. Coon could have conceived that Klingons would have more life beyond the script he was rushing to finish that week -- we had "Errand of Mercy."

The Enterprise arrives at the planet Organia shortly ahead of a Klingon invasion, and Captain Kirk is determined to persuade them to stand against it. But the non-technological, stalwartly pacifist Organians are utterly unmoved by Kirk's argument. When the Enterprise is chased away by a Klingon attack, Kirk and Spock must live in cover amongst the Organians. Will the evil Klingon captain Kor see through their ruse? And is there more to the Organians than meets the eye?

This is the first appearance of the Klingons in Star Trek, and to any Trekker who came of age in the era of Next Generation and its spinoffs, there's very little that's recognizable about them. The differences are more than skin-deep -- though to be sure, these Klingons sport (instead of ridges) a slapdash "shoe polish" makeup that inches uncomfortably close to the line of offense. Kor delights in torture, orders mass executions on a whim, and is constantly relying on a "mind sifter" technology we never hear of again. These Klingons, quite plainly, are a villain of the week.

I would point to two reasons the Klingons had life beyond this single episode. One is the way the story ends: the promise that one day, Klingons and the Federation would be fast friends. That's a classic bit of Star Trek morality, and you can't help but want to see that come to pass. (As a bonus, that ending comes after an episode in which we get multiple, classic "we're not so different, you and I" comparisons between Kirk and this bitter enemy.)

The other reason is the performance of actor John Colicos. Kor is not written with subtlety, and Colicos doesn't really bring any to the part. But he plays the villain with a gleeful relish that's just plain fun to watch. (I mean, listen to how he says "vegetable.") The story goes that the Star Trek writers tried twice to bring the character back, but conflicts in Colicos' schedule forced them to create other Klingon captains in his place. Sci-fi fans would have to wait about a decade for Battlestar Galactica to come along and give us Baltar, a regular source of Colicos' winking evil camp. We may not have gotten to see Kor again on the original Star Trek, but he sure did make audiences want to see more Klingons.

The episode does have its shortcomings. It strains belief that Kirk -- and especially Spock -- are utterly incurious about how one of the Organian council members seems to know where the Klingons are without consulting any device, or how the leader Ayelborne manages to free them from prison. I also think it's a shame (though clearly a budgetary necessity) that we don't get to see much of Sulu in command of the Enterprise when he's forced to abandon the landing party.

Also -- to me, this episode feels uncomfortably close to "Arena." Fundamentally, both stories are about Starfleet and an alien enemy at each other's throats until some god-like beings swoop in to teach them both a lesson. At least this time, you do get John Colicos instead of a lizard suit, and that tantalizing "fast friends" ending. 

Other observations:

• "Curious how often you humans manage to obtain that which you do not want." That's just a really great line. Even though the most famous line from this episode -- for any child of the 80s, at least -- is Spock's "pure energy," sampled by Information Society for their song "What's on Your Mind."

• Scotty isn't in this episode. (Hence, Sulu taking command.) More strangely, neither is McCoy. (He would be in every remaining episode of the series, though.)

• Allegedly, the baldric worn by Kor in this episode is the exact one that was spruced up and used for Worf in the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation. If not literally true, it's clearly at least the inspiration. 

• Spock's ultra-precise stating of the odds feels like a direct touchstone for The Empire Strikes Back. 

Star Trek can hardly be blamed for the Klingons not arriving on the scene fully-formed. "Errand of Mercy" was a story for a particular place and time. But the fact that Klingons changed so much from what we got here maybe highlights the shortcomings of the episode. I give it a B-.

Enterprise Flashback: The Aenar

Right at the end of Star Trek: Enterprise's "Romulan espionage" trilogy, the writers threw a big Andorian curveball with "The Aenar."

A brain scan reveals that the pilot of a mysterious, marauding drone ship is Andorian. But not exactly, clarifies Shran -- it's an Aenar, a telepathic minority who live outside Andorian society. So Shran leads Archer and his crew to Andoria, where they hope to find out who is responsible for these raids, and how to stop them.

Andorians were an interesting species for Enterprise to explore. Their very brief appearances in prior Star Trek series gave very little to work with -- certainly not the "we're all about one thing" cliches that drove more popular adversaries like the Klingons and Romulans. Over three-plus years, the Enterprise writers managed to flesh out a more-rounded-than-usual-for-Star-Trek culture that, with the help of Jeffrey Combs as Shran, became one of the better aspects of the show.

Now here, they double down by inventing the Aenar, an interesting subculture -- blind, telepathic pacifists. It's a rather delicate threading of a needle for Enterprise; I find the Aenar unusual without being unknowable, and powerful without being a throwback to the dozens of god-like species of classic Star Trek. And as we learn about them, we actually learn new details about Shran's past. I'm not thrilled that Shran gets a bit flirty with one of the Aenar; she seems too young, and he's just lost someone he loved. But aside from that detail, I find everything about this thread in the episode to be interesting. In particular, the story that emerges between brother and sister has surprising pathos for not having been set up in the episodes leading up to this.

But I find the rest of the episode a bit rough. T'Pol and Trip seem like they should be past the point of "hiding from each other" as they do here, and I'm growing tired of the rom-com-like "will they, won't they" dynamic. The latest artificial obstacle to their relationship -- his decision to transfer to another starship -- is just a total groaner.

And there is... So. Much. Villain-splaining. They have a villain moot to complain about how their plot against diplomacy has only led their alien adversaries to grow closer. They bicker about how hard they can push their captive pilot. The leader of the scheme monologues about his days as a senator, his downfall, and how this is all just to reclaim his power. It feels far too late to be trying to empathize with this mustache twirler.

Other observation:

• Many fun visuals in this episode, from the Aenar's mushroom-like underground city, to strange burrowing ice worms, to even just the surface of Andoria. Even the omnipresent Star Trek caves get a glow-up.

I like a lot of elements in this episode. As a wrap-up of the trilogy as a whole, I find it a bit lacking. I give "The Aenar" a B overall.

Feelings of (Dis)closure

Director Steven Spielberg is back with a new science fiction adventure film? Sign me up! Like many this past weekend, I headed to the theater to see Disclosure Day.

A cybersecurity specialist steals sensitive information from the secretive organization he works for. A Kansas City weather reporter zones out on live television and begins speaking in some strange... language? The head of a rogue group of whistleblowers is holed up somewhere... building a house? What does it all mean, and what do these events have to do with each other?

Depending on what information you've sought out about Disclosure Day, you may know some of these answers before you see the movie, or at least think you know. I think the film is probably more enjoyable the less you know. But the discourse has been hard to avoid, so you probably know (or sense) that this movie in some way marks some return to very early Steven Spielberg -- some sort of spiritual successor to Close Encounters of the Third Kind, or E.T., perhaps?

The thing is, those two movies set a very high bar to live up to, when a much more fair one might be to expect something on par with Spielberg's take on War of the Worlds. Go into Disclosure Day expecting anything like "the best Steven Spielberg movie in decades," and I wager you'll come out feeling disappointed. Yet also, it's exceedingly rare for Spielberg to make a bad movie. Things like clever shot-making, perfect pacing, and working with actors just seem to come as naturally to him as breathing.

And to that last point -- working with actors -- he has a hell of a cast assembled here. There's a veritable who's who of recent rising stars, including Josh O'Connor, Colman Domingo, and Wyatt Russell. There's Eve Hewson, who seems just one or two big movies away from joining their ranks. There's a stalwart like Colin Firth, who continues his slow evolution from drawing room drama to unlikely action star to now playing the mustache-twirling heavy.

Bright as they all shine, Emily Blunt outshines them all. It almost feels like her impressive career -- playing opposite the likes of Tom Cruise and Dwayne Johnson in action movies, anchoring horror in The Quiet Place, ranging from Sicario to Mary Poppins -- has been leading up to this role that asks her to do it all. In Disclosure Day, she's in an earnest and emotional scene one moment and in mortal danger the next. And I'm convinced that despite all the rest of the talent involved, Disclosure Day wouldn't work without her.

But "convinced" is a word I chose deliberately. Because I kind of feel like I need to be "convinced" a bit to truly love this movie. I walked out with generally warm feelings, thinking I'd seen something good-but-not-great, but also immediately questioning my read. Disclosure Day is a movie that makes me ask if modern blockbusters have rotted my brain and caused my movie-going muscles to atrophy. The movie very pointedly does not explain everything to you. Not only do you have to hop on board quickly in the middle of the action, but not all of the dots are connected by the end. Afterward, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the more I thought about the movie, the more I'd feel not everything about the story really held together.

Yet I also felt like it had been a long time since I'd watched a summer blockbuster that didn't spoon-feed every answer to every asked and unasked question its audience might have. And when I happened to mention this to a friend who also saw Disclosure Day, she was quick to point out possible themes and threads I may have overlooked in the movie. Hmmm. Food for thought, for sure. Signs that this movie was deeper than I gave it credit for, probably. But... should I need to be convinced to like a movie in this way?

That's probably a much bigger topic than a review of a single movie can cover. But I will say, whether or not Disclosure Day has a "there" there, and whether or not it holds up to deeper scrutiny... it's still, either way, a fun ride with some very good acting. So overall, I think I'm going to give it a B+. And I'm pretty sure that if I should ever watch it again, that grade wouldn't hold. Whether it moved up or down, I couldn't say... but I doubt it would stay the same. 

Star Trek Flashback: The Devil in the Dark

Some people poke fun at Star Trek by pointing out that no matter where they explore in the galaxy, they find aliens that look like humans with bumpy foreheads. But that's not always the case, as demonstrated with the well-known original series episode "The Devil in the Dark."

When a "monster" threatens a mining operation on a remote planet, the Enterprise is dispatched to help. But Kirk, Spock, and company discover a creature with all-too-relatable motives, who may itself be the one who needs help.

I imagine not too many people outside Star Trek fandom know of the Horta, but it looms large within the fandom. As "rubber suits" go, it isn't much more credible than a "salt vampire" or a Gorn; it's part "Pizza the Hut" and part shag carpet. But director Joseph Pevney knows what all good horror directors know: showing the monster less early on makes it scarier. (Even if the parade of miners giving us screaming reaction shots aren't top notch.) It's all just credible enough that, when featured in a solid story like this one, it works. (It "breathes!" It skitters!) And this is a solid story. You might be ahead of "twist" and anticipate that this Horta is protecting its young, but it's a classic star Trek morality play to say that all life, no matter how alien, will have some relatable motives.

There are a few stumbles along the way. I can't understand why the Horta steals the valuable reactor part when it could just use its acid to destroy it. Kirk and Spock switch opinions a bit too quickly and without apparent cause -- one wanting to kill the Horta and the other wanting to save it, then vice versa. I've also recently mentioned that I'm growing a bit tired of convenient mindmelds, and this one may be the most deus ex machina-like yet. (But then, maybe they wouldn't keep going to mindmelds if Leonard Nimoy could hit every pitch thrown at him. Not many actors could scream about "pain!" without it being a laugh line.)

While Spock gets the showiest character moments, he's not the only one who shines in this episode. McCoy is at his most irascible ("I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer"), but then is able to heal a life form he doubted could even exist minutes earlier -- and is charmingly pleased with himself in the aftermath. Scotty's improvised patch on the reactor is able to buy the needed time to get to the bottom of the problem. And Kirk gives a rousing speech to an angry mob that is actually able to calm them down!

Other observations:

• This feels like it might be one of the first episodes where the Enterprise is implied to be "something special" and not just "one of many ships" in Starfleet. At least, that's what I take from the fact that miners on some distant world seem to have actually heard of the ship.

• A lot of the one-off crew members to die in season one have actually worn gold or blue shirts. But in this episode, when Kirk addresses an entire lineup of redshirts, you know what's in store for them. (But actually... you don't! They're going to fall for a miner pulling the old "what's that behind you?!" ruse.)

"The Devil in the Dark" does sometimes show its age. But it's also a reminder that Star Trek has always relied on actors selling the hell out of the unbelievable. (The core cast, in this case. Not so much the guest stars.) I give it a B.

Enterprise Flashback: United

The Star Trek: Enterprise trilogy about a Romulan plot to thwart peace continues in "United."

The Romulans continue to use their advanced, remote-piloted ship to attack different species while posing as someone else. But Trip and Reed remain aboard, working to sabotage the drone. Meanwhile, aboard Enterprise, it may not take Romulan meddling to fracture any alliance between the Andorians and Tellarites. Shran demands vengeance through personal combat with a Tellarite dignitary... and the only way Archer can stop it is to join the fight himself.

As I've noted before, it is nice to see Enterprise finally embracing its role as a Star Trek prequel. And there are shovels full of fan service in this episode in particular. But this installment also has big "middle chapter" vibes, doing little to advance the narrative with a third part still to come. Fortunately, it makes up for this with smaller stories for the characters.

Reed and Trip's adventures aboard the Romulan ship are a return to form for the pairing, who always seem to wind up in these sorts of scrapes together. The cat-and-mouse games between them and the Romulan commander they never meet are entertaining. Shock of shocks, Reed is finally shown to be good at his job! A timely phaser set to overload does disable the ship long enough for them to eventually be rescued.

The episode tries to deepen the Romulan aspect of the story by introducing a high-ranking senator who holds the other end of the leash on our scheming commander. I rarely find this sort of bickering between villains to be compelling. But it does give actor Brian Thompson more scenes in the episode, so I'll give it a pass.

But the main story line of the episode belongs to Shran, so much so that Archer has to put two senior officers on researching Andorian customs just to find a way to force himself into it. Make no mistake, what happens to Talas to motivate Shran is pure "fridging," but at least actor Jeffrey Combs is here to take the wheel when you throw him the keys. He manages to thread the needle on all this "honorable combat" stuff in a way that doesn't feel like a reheated Klingon trope, all the while showing Shran's respect for Archer and selling a resolution that somehow makes everything OK.

Archer's brand over three-and-a-half seasons hasn't really been to act like the adult in the room, but it still works to make humans in general the pivot point between all these squabbling aliens. Star Trek has previously done the "we need a network of multiple ships to stop Romulans" story, but it's been long enough to use it again here. And I can't argue with the thematic resonance of the first steps to the Federation being an armada of over 100 different alien ships.

Other observations:

• We also see some Remans in this episode -- another example of Enterprise using stuff from Star Trek: Nemesis because it was handy.

• The wild spins and other maneuvers that the Romulan ship does to avoid enemy fire feel far too extreme for the CG to look realistic.

• "Malcolm, you're such an easy target," says Trip. He's got that right.

This episode ends with a surprise reveal of the Daft Punk-helmeted pilot of the Romulan drone ship... a reveal that's going to send the final episode of the trilogy in a decidedly Andorian direction. Tune in next time. As for "United," I give it a B.

Sports Mockumentary

It doesn't seem like too many people have the Peacock streaming service. But they do occasionally float crazy deals to buy a year's worth of service for the cost of one or two months on some other services. Maybe you caught one of those deals to watch the Olympics earlier this year, and now are open to other things worth checking out as long as you have Peacock. In that spirit, let me suggest The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins.

The title is the premise. Reggie Dinkins is a former professional football player now trying to rehabilitate his image, decades after his career ended in disgrace. He's invited an eccentric documentary filmmaker into his life to film everything, from his ex-wife (also his manager) to his new young fiancée, to his teenage son and a former teammate who lives in his house. Hijinks ensue.

This half-hour sitcom comes from Robert Carlock and Sam Means, who between the two of them have extensive writing credits on 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, and more. If you enjoyed any of those shows, it's hard to imagine you wouldn't like this new one. Familiar "mockumentary" tropes are once again in service of a fun cast of characters.

However, if you're like me, the main star of the show might actually be one of your least favorite things about it. Tracy Morgan stars as Reggie Dinkins -- and if you've seen him on 30 Rock or Saturday Night Live, you know exactly what he's like on this show because he just seems to always play "himself." But the premise of this show almost positions him as the ringmaster around which the rest of the circus whirls, and it's a really funny cast.

 I had just finished watching Erika Alexander in a dramatic recurring role on the "can't believe I'm still watching this" Invasion, and was delighted to see how funny she was (with better material) here. Relative new faces Precious Way and Jalyn Hall keep up with more established comedians like Bobby Moynihan, and a parade of guest stars including Craig Robinson, Heidi Gardner, Anna Camp, and Ronny Chieng. But seemingly having the most fun is Daniel Radcliffe as documentary filmmaker Arthur Tobin. He's played in this sort of tongue-in-cheek space before, but his character is sharper here, as is the comedy.

This being an actual network show, the episodes are a breezy 30 minutes minus commercials. This also being a streaming show, it's a brisk 10 episodes. The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins isn't a show to make you get Peacock... but it's a pretty fun use of time if you're already there. I give it a B+.

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+.