On Star Trek: Into Darkness and PB&J

I went to Feed Toledo's Jam City event last night, a fundraiser where local chefs produced riffs on the classic cheap lunch fare. Other than wondering how much the fire marshall had been paid to ignore occupancy limits, I had a good time. Some of the dishes were pretty tasty, but half of them suffered the flaw: They tasted mostly like peanut butter and jelly.

Now, in spite of what you're thinking, I'm only slightly illiterate. Yes, this was the basis of the event. But I was hoping for more dishes inspired by PB&J than dumped into the middle of a PB&J.

You see, I recognize getting those very distinct ingredients into a dish is tricky. And I supposed putting peanut butter on a hot dog is uncommon, and--close you ears Thomas Edison--maybe even inventive. But when something is so on-the-nose, the discussion dries up after "Yep, there was peanut butter and jelly in that." Nerdery is novel, but most of all, I just wanted something that tasted good.

And this is my gripe with Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Joss Whedon's The Avengers signaled the end of the revolution, I was told. The mainstream theatrical bio-engineering of beloved geeky seeds was now in the hands of the fan boys, the people we could trust because they were brave enough to admit they liked these franchises during their original runs. (Note: The spell to cast when artificially searching for this kind of courage is called "millions and millions of dollars.")

But Into Darkness is a 'tweener, a movie that attempts to service the deep fans with otherwise unexplained allusions while putting on an otherwise freestanding show. Like the Enterprise gaudily plummeting toward San Francisco, it nosedives in the territory squarely between, but nowhere near, either.

As a mainstream attraction, the movie is pretty bland, but it's big and it's loud and it's shiny, which at this point passes for summer entertainment. (It's frightening how close we're getting to the gluttonous sloths of WALL-E).

But my concern is what was supposed to be in it for me. As a kid of the '80s, I respect more than revere TOS and that cast's movies.  Still, even as someone who experienced those characters after their pop-iest days, I found Into Darkness's "nods" insulting.

Forget the whole Khan-denying campaign Abrams and co. went on. They had a movie to promote and a mystery to protect as part of that process; I can live with that.

No, my issues are that they seemed to think invoking Khan's name was enough.

The Khan character (and let's be honest, we're really talking about the theatrical version) was not wholly interesting. Sure, he's superhuman and charming, but it's a big enough universe to find more of that. Instead, it was Ricardo Montalban's slick portrayal of the quasi-cult leader that made Khan memorable.

What made Abram's Khan so frustrating is that it wastes a potentially great performance from an actor, Benedict Cumberbatch, who has great performances on his resume. In fact, if you were casting a scene-for-scene remake of Wrath of Khan, Cumberbatch would be an outstanding choice.

There are many kinds of power in the galaxy. Wrath of Khan's title character was so dangerous because he could generate an advantage from seemingly nothing. That Khan was like a great poker play reduced to a small chip stack in a tournament, unable to get action from the rest of the table because they fear what he could do with more chips.

Sure, this Khan had a plan and seemed to accept accept extreme disadvantages in the course of executing it, but he was more of a brute. He killed a horde of Klingons. He navigated his body through a debris field. And he crushed a skull.

Even the scene at the end of Into Darkness that is a reprisal of one from Wrath of Khan fails to respect even a superficial understanding of the characters. Probably the most famous word from the original movie is Kirk's red-faced exclamation of the villain's name for the death of his good friend. Of course, Kirk is human and in his relationship with Spock, we are reminded frequently that this makes him "the emotional one."

So there is something glaringly wrong with seeing Spock rage and growl Khan's name to the heavens. Yes, dumbass, I know that sequence is scene-for-scene from Wrath of Khan, and no, it isn't cool that you switched the characters. You might as well have put Jack Shepherd and an Ewok in those two positions for as much sense as this makes.

Like some of the chefs last night, Abrams seemed to think getting the required ingredients into a plausible plate was the majority of the battle. But on some level, and frankly it's a pretty low rung, food and movies are supposed to just be good, dammit. When concept trumps quality, you're no longer making art. You're making love to your own genius because, consciously or not, you know nobody else will.

You by Austin Grossman

Takeaway: The novel is bookended by discussion of "The Ultimate Game," exploring the question of why we play games in the first place. Several times I thought of Sam Kellerman's quote about sports, which paraphrased, suggests that man created sports as a joke on God, because even though we struggle through life only to die in the end, we treat sports as life-or-death important to mock the seriousness of daily life. 

Life cannot be compartmentalized. How we spend the hours we are allotted should be scored, however abstractly, and all of it counts. 

Rating: Read It

Blogging DS9, S1E16: "The Forsaken"

S1E16, "The Forsaken"
Or, You're Looking a Little Pale

"You are not at all what I expected." -Odo

Ugh. Lwaxana.

DS9's 16th episode is supposed to be another callback to the TNG glory days, and yet, its three story arcs almost immediately tear apart at its spaghetti-weak seams. Lwaxana Troi, the oft-appearing meddling mother of the Enterprise's Deanna Troi, arrives on Deep Space 9 under the guise of some Federation diplomatic glad-handing. A flimsy premise to be sure, but at least it's believable.

If an hour-long episode is going to successfully juggle three story arcs, though, (Bashir and the diplomats, Odo and Lwaxana, and the station's encounter with the software life form), there has to be juxtaposition or similarity that weaves the three together. One episode just does not offer enough time to give all three proper attention unless they can share (or directly oppose) thematic ground.

The immediate threat of the probe that comes through the Wormhole and affects the station's computer is wildly unconvincing. At this point in the series, the writers seemed to be approximating the Enterprise-D's ability to "run into stuff" by simply pumping it out of the Wormhole. The problem with this approach is that Picard and co. typically had a reason to run into these supernatural one-offs, and the balance between how that crew handled unexpected obstacles as well as their original missions allowed us to judge their priorities.

The problem with bringing these encounters to Sisko's crew is that it is much more difficult to read into how they juggle the unknown with their stated duties because lining the two up requires far more serendipity. While the probe poses a threat to station by affecting key systems, it only matters because Odo and Lwaxana are in the turbolift and Bashir takes the ambassadors to a particular corridor that happens to catch fire. O'Brien, Dax, and Sisko's awkward puppy analogies are cringe-worthy and uncomfortable, and it makes the whole pretense seem unnecessary. There has to be a limit to the number of "out of the Wormhole" episodes the writers can fill with, and in this case, it seems like they wasted one of those cards.

Meanwhile, we see more ego punishment for Bashir. To be fair, even at this point, DS9 has delved further into the less-than-ideal traits of its characters than TNG ever did. But the continued embarrassment the doctor is forced to endure starts to come off as hateration. Data works as the butt of jokes in TNG because he (mostly) does not possess a full range of emotions, so his victimization is limited. But Bashir, arrogant or not, is a person and the "tough shit" speech Sisko gives him seems less educational than probably intended. Sure, Bashir gets to play hero in the end, but who didn't see that coming?

The episode's main action between Odo and Lwaxana is bizarre and highly confusing. The discomfort her cougar-love engenders in the franchise's older men is a tired joke, but fine, it's what she does. The lengths the plot goes to trap the two in the turbolift are extreme, but my biggest problem is that once they are there, I never bought that there was imminent danger. Yes, Odo starts to get a little gooey, and maybe that's embarrassing, but why do we really care? Odo is more curiosity than lovable character at this point in the series, and frankly his disinterest in Lwaxana's attempts to pass the time through conversation come off as rude. Similarly, I find Lwaxana's "unremarkable" hair to be little incentive for Odo to willingly go to sleep. There's some kind of ill-conceived takeover of the station computer going on, but I'm supposed to be sweating this nonsense? The only redeeming part of the episode is that we learn a few more nuggets about Odo's back story and why he looks the way he does.

Maybe I was cranky watching this, but even my other thoughts are picky:

• Early in the turbolift ordeal, Lwaxana refers to being kidnapped by DaiMon Tog in the TNG episode "Menage a Troi." I have a feeling some people love this kind of canonical cross-series reference, but I hate it. It's fine to refer to what we have already seen in the series, even if it comes from several seasons back (e.g., TNG's "All Good Things"). But the Star Trek universe is too large to assume this kind of background, and I really think viewing of this episode after the reference would be different whether you had seen that episode or not. Good writers can generate emotions on their own; lazy ones use callbacks.
• I really thought O'Brien interpreting the computer's tone of voice was going to be some kind of joke. It wasn't.
• As the Ops staff discusses the probe, Dax throws out the always popular "What is life anyway?" theme. Star Trek writers tend to get super-preachy about this topic, but Dax's reference was as if they wanted it to be on the table just for the audience to look at. I have no idea why it was in there.
• So Ops hears there is a fire in one of the station's living areas, and the two highest-ranking officers on the station respond with fire extinguishers? 
• Lastly, this isn't really specific to this episode, but who decided on the cornflower blue turtlenecks on these uniforms. The costume folks somehow found a color that doesn't look right with any of Starfleet's departmental colors.

1.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E15: If Wishes Were Horses

S1E15, "If Wishes Were Horses"
Or, Only the Bored are Boring

"Ladies and gentleman and all androgenous creatures...  your attention please. As you have noticed we are experiencing some difficulties. I'm going to have to ask you all to please refrain from using your imaginations." -Odo

I have to make a very personal confession to preface my review of this episode: To the ten-year-old version of myself who crushed on Jadzia Dax, the payoff of her snuggling up to Bashir was wildly gratifying. Judge the fairness of this review with that in mind.

As for the 28-year-old version of myself, he was far less satisfied with this tragically cobbled mess of Star Trek templates. The episode uses one core development to link the ensemble and shows how its impacts the crew, a tactic used in many TNG episodes to varying degrees of success. What this method gains in equal exposure to the cast, it sacrifices the depth of empathy we develop in episodes where a single character's plight or aspirations are developed in full. That's not to say these ensemble episodes are without their place in the franchise (TNG's "Yesterday's Enterprise" is a great example of that place). Rather, in a space station where we are just getting to know the senior staff and focal players in any detail, their collective lack of depth at this point does not allow the story to snugly settle over their unique contours.

And that would be true of a story of any plausibility. To borrow from the quote the episode's title alludes to, a beggar-caliber story rides here. I'll stretch and accept that O'Brien's imagination created Rumpelstiltskin and Sisko's dreamt up an old baseball player, both of them for their children. But considering Bashir and Quark both imagined sex-oriented visions, wouldn't you expect the station to devolve into some massive orgy? And is Kira really so boring that her imagination can't create anything at all? And who is dreaming up emus?

By far the worst part of the episode, however, is Sisko's revelation as to how to short-circuit the expanding anomaly. In a move strangely similar to Picard's directive to think positive thoughts toward The Traveler in "Where No One Has Gone Before," in the face of collective doom, Sisko tells his operations staff that the threat is all in their heads. The franchise always faces a double-edged sword with these kinds of episodes that center around the unexplained. Whereas relations with other species can be expected to follow the pattern they do between nations here in the real world, the writers have the privilege and curse of handling unknown phenomena however they like. In the best cases, we can believe and understand when these problems are solved with 21st Century believable means (sometimes Geordi, often O'Brien). In average cases, the writers come up with pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo (usually out of Data or Dax's mouths). And in the worst cases, they force overly simplistic solutions out of thin air.

Lastly, I need to address Buck Bokai and Sisko's love of baseball. We know from their conversation at the end of the episode that Bokai was a star from the last seasons of baseball before a lack of interest forced the end of the game (which, considering this was written in 1993 at or near baseball's apex, showed a lot of foresight). Without spoiling anything, I will tell you, dear reader, that this is not the last you will see of baseball players, baseball uniforms, or baseballs. In fact, you may have noticed Bokai left the baseball with Sisko when he disappeared.

I recognize that the writers were trying to find a modern day hook to connect this imaginary space station from four centuries in the future to the present day. And yet, it's completely unreasonable to believe even in Commander Sisko's youth that he loved a long-dead sport. It probably would only be a slightly strange quirk like Picard's oddly generic love of "archaeology" except there may or may not be a holo-game involving the main characters. It's as if the show is begging for some kind of mainstream crutch. "I'm cool too, you guys; I play the baseballs."

Other things I noticed:

• The Bashir-Dax stalkership reached HR-notifying levels in this episode. Seriously, 20 years ago, people did not get uneasy about one colleague fawning over another like this?
• I always read that actors enjoy playing possessed or otherwise altered versions of themselves as Terry Farrell did here with Bashir's imaginary Dax. And as uncomfortable as imaginary Dax felt here, I somehow felt like she was the more textured of the two portrayals. Yes, Dax is supposed to exude coolness and confidence to the brink of arrogance, but in her one turn as the star of an episode ("Dax"), she is reclusive and whiny. 
• As I've read other reviews of the series, I've found people are mostly lukewarm on Avery Brooks, as opposed to my general underwhelment. But in the scene where he bonds with Bokai, Sisko assures the slugger he was one of the best and then proceeds to attempt a wink. Now many people cannot wink with one of their eyes, and some even cannot wink with either. What Brooks executes looks more like a hard blink and surely could have stayed on the cutting room floor, yes?

2 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9: S1E14, "Progress"

S1E14, "Progress"
Or, Evictions and Convictions

"You have to realize something... You're on the other side now. Pretty uncomfortable, isn't it?"- Sisko

Much of DS9's first season is spent on the theme of change: The station being turned over to the Federation from the Cardassians, the Starfleet crew learning how to live and work on it, and the new relationships built by commerce through the Wormhole. But nobody sees more change than Kira Narys.

Kira suddenly finds herself in a bureaucratic position after years spent as a near anarchist, fighting the nasty Cardassian occupation. You could forgive her if the transition isn't Creamy-Jiff smooth. But in Progress, Kira finally has to confront the conflict in her personal and professional stations. No longer can she strip down to the strange peek-a-boo necklined undershirt she rocks under that major's uniform, ready to get her hands dirty to prove her street cred. No, Kira, the days ahead will be spent earning white-collar respect.

One of the season's most poignant moments comes when Sisko tells her as much. There are many times in the Star Trek franchise where commanding officers' patience toward subordinance is tough to believe, but I don't think this is one of them. Sisko knows he needs Kira if he has any chance at soldering his two crews together, and nothing would shoe her away from cooperation faster than an iron-fisted commander. I believed Sisko when he told Kira her greatest value to her beloved Bajor was as an officer, and fortunately so did she. While she protected Mullibock's dignity by humoring his stubbornness, Kira symbolically set fire to her own fight-for-the-moment stubbornness when she lit up his hut. This is a critical turning point in the major's development in the show's longer plot lines.

Meanwhile, on the station, Jake and Nog are yet again bored and mischievous, as they realize that even in the 24th century, life without money isn't much fun. The duo sequentially trade extraneous pieces until they own a devoid tract of land on Bajor that turns out to be a target for government expansion of a public work. With a little help from Uncle Quark, the boys come into their five bars of gold-pressed latinum and, presumably, the riches of fun it allows.

While Jake and Nog are often high points of the early seasons, their role in this episode seemed redundant. We have already seen how life on the frontier can be tough for citizens like Keiko and especially the station's kids. We also know Jake and Nog are bright and have potential for great things. I didn't need three steps of arbitrage to verify that.

A few other thoughts:

• As if from the horror movie text book, Kira doomed herself to an ordeal in removing Mullibock when she declared to Sisko, "I won't be long." C'mon, Kira, that never works out well.
• If I didn't know better, I would have sworn Mullibock was played by Anthony Hopkins. That's one of the cool perks of the Trek makeup: They can hide famous actors in plain sight or suggest more famous ones are in the fold.

3.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging Trek Lit: Death in Winter (TNG 1)

A quick introduction to this series of posts: I have two distinct "first" memories of the Star Trek literature universe from childhood. I can still see and smell the tobacco-stained TNG paperbacks my dad read and piled under the nightstand next to my parents' bed. I don't remember ever seeing him reading one of these breezy adventures, nor do I remember ever picking up one of them myself. But I can still picture the cover of TNG #29, Sins of Commission, with a Ferengi Marauder flanked by Riker and Worf's renderings. I always found these covers interesting, as if I could recreate a new story based on the familiar characters and mysterious elements on each cover.

My other memory of the literature came when I was in sixth grade. For one week in March, all sixth graders in Ohio were required to take the state proficiency tests--key word, "proficiency." With the underwhelming goal of merely demonstrating proficiency, I found myself with hours of extra time to kill on the first day of testing. That night, I told my mom I would need to bring in a book to read while the required time was allowed to expire, so she took me to the bookstore. I eventually chose The Way of the Warrior, a novelization of a DS9 episode. I'm guessing I was sold by the cover art of a Klingon attack cruiser (Vor'cha class, I presume) firing on the U.S.S. Defiant.

But at some point in the past decade or two, the Star Trek franchise committed the same mistake as that of my other childhood passion, sports cards. Originally, Star Trek literature, like sports trading cards, came in a few, tidy series, rarely crossing over or complicating. Just as TOS, TNG, and DS9 ran in distinct paths, Topps, Upper Deck, and Donruss made an annual series for each sport that could realistically be completed. Eventually the industry saw opportunities to target more distinct segments in each market, and as a result, there were dozens of series that left the casual hobbyist overwhelmed.

And yet, I still love the characters and universe of Star Trek more than any other fictionalization (and probably most of the real) world. I met Jean-Luc Picard in very formative years of my life, and to this day, I find more to admire in his professionalism and personal ethics than I probably should. I cannot think of a single show I would be more excited to find more episodes of than my beloved TNG.

Therefore, I have decided to leap into the franchise's literature series, attempting to place the dizzying collection of arcs since Nemesis into some logical order. I am starting with this very helpful flowchart as my guide, and I will read and review the TNG and DS9-related post-Nemesis or "Relaunch" fiction. This will of course include the Titan series, where Commander Riker finally gets his first command.

Lastly, my reviews of the stories will assume deep knowledge of the characters. The writers of these novels assume their audience is fans, so I am reacting to each novel as if it were an episode in a series. In addition to my thoughts on the story itself, I will also try to address its context in the increasingly complex Star Trek lit universe by placing it on a growing diagram of the stories. If anyone has hesitated to pick back up with these beloved characters because the novels seem so difficult to attack in any order, I hope these posts encourage you to boldly go.

---
TNG Post-Nemesis 1, Death in Winter
Or Romulan Ails, on the Rocks


If there's one thing Michael Jan Friedman wants you to know, it's that Jean-Luc Picard is bummed. Throughout Death in Winter, from its very title to its climax, we are reminded that the old crew is no longer together to cover each others' backs. Riker and Troi have finally moved out of Picard's basement and into the U.S.S. Titan. Data, as you may recall, gave his life to save his crewmates' at the end of Nemesis. And Beverly Crusher, that ginger tease, has left Picard's Enterprise to become the head of Starfleet Medical on Earth.

And yet, the book is consistently bogged down to references to TNG episodes, as if the actual plot of this novel were an amalgamation of the Enterprise-D's greatest hits. "The Best of Both Worlds," "Chain of Command," and "Yesterday's Enterprise"--easily three of the most popular episodes in the series--are all alluded to at some point. The writers almost beg you to remember all the good times we had back when even though this novel marks a turning point in the series.

In a plot that is executed to average success, Crusher and then Picard are both forced to improvise as their undercover humanitarian missions crumble. And yet, the entire outcome hinges on Crusher identifying one of her alien cooperators by his coat in a driving snowstorm. Forget all of the rehashed allusions; if there is one TNG relic that felt most familiar, it was intergalactic deus ex machina.


I give Death in Winter something of a pass for its choppy narration, given the immense task of setting up a new canvas for future encounters from one graffitied by years of canon. The novel is clearly a new starting point for the franchise, knowing full-well that it will never again take TV or movie form. But where I cannot forgive Friedman is his conception of Jean-Leverly. In just a few horrific final pages, Friedman rewrites his hard-earned themes of change and metamorphasis with Crusher entering Picard's ready room like some bad romance novel.

I always appreciated the TV show's restraint in pairing Troi and Riker or Picard and Crusher as couples in the show's present day. Clearly either could have plausibly (and now have) happened, but the idea of two senior crew members being openly together drains credibility, especially when one is the captain. The appearance of "the boss and his woman" suggests a less professional operation, but probably more importantly, it's just not the kind of thing for which we come to Star Trek.

In all of its incarnations, the franchise is about independence and the spirit of discovery. For its various missteps early on, TNG always righted itself when it was concerned with "what's out there." As much as I love the characters, none of them really engendered my desire to see them personally gratified. For all of them, I primarily cared how they dealt with that nasty bitch called "the universe," romance be damned.

This is the novel where the reboot starts, and its most critical contributions are maintaining the commitment that certain characters really are never coming back. But it would have been nice if a grown-up story could have been told at the same time.


2.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9: S1E13, "The Storyteller"

S1E13: "The Storyteller"
Or, The Not-So-Petite Sirah

"You don't lose by saying, 'no.'"
-Varis

At various points in DS9, the overwhelmingly uninspired debate of "How do you keep a station in a fixed point interesting?" comes up. Aside from the fact that this is a blindly superficial, one-off, knee-jerk critique, "The Storyteller" demonstrates how the Deep Space Nine crew can boldly go while still boldly going nowhere.

The episode weaves together two stories of diplomatic change and uncertainty. Bashir and O'Brien find themselves in a Bajoran village at the death of the local protector, called the Sirah. Meanwhile, back on the station Sisko finds himself hosting a contentious negotiation between two peoples disputing land rights after the shifting of a river.  Of greater focus, though, is Varis, the daughter and young leader tasked with the new responsibility of protecting her people's interests.

The Bajor story arc is artfully, if not Star Trek-predictably, done. Bashir and O'Brien, representing the intellectual and mechanical expertise of Starfleet, quickly realize their book-learnin' is ill-equipped to handle the supernatural Dal'Rok that threatens the village. Other series in the franchise, and this series later down the road, spend plenty of time juggling the core quandry of a technological era: What is the role of our anecdotal culture in the face of science's mounting power. After all, let's not forget Dr. Soong's famous androids are named Data and Lore.

While the execution of the arc takes a familiar pattern of Starfleet unintentionally overstepping its boundaries only to find a local deus ex machina, the statement is clear. O'Brien, the whiz of engineering, is never comfortable in his new position of idolation, and long-term implications aside, we never believe this is a permanent solution. The final reveal that the apprentice Sirah was always intended to overcome O'Brien's initial success makes a bold statement. Our newest gadgets and wonders may serve us well at first, but in times of crisis, we will find ourselves falling back on tradition.

In the B-arc, the message of accepting great responsibilities we might not have asked for is amplified. Much like Sisko's command of a far-flung outpost turned into a powerful throne, Varis ascent to lead her people came rapidly and without training wheels. While I never quite accepted that Jake and Nog could gain access so easily to a visiting dignitary, their mischeiviousness is paid off in this episode and we get our first whiffs of the duo's significance in main stories. I really liked that Varis gave Nog a kiss of thanks but not Jake. Was she supposed to kiss the commander's son in front of him? It would have been an easy way to wrap their relationship while sacrificing credibility. And once again, a tip of the hat to young Cirroc Lofton for some really strong work.

My other thoughts:

• Either the amount of DS9 I've seen after the first season or the amount of time since I've seen these episodes has dulled my memory of just how unlikable Bashir initially was. The final scene where Bashir changes his mind about O'Brien calling him by his first name showed that the writers wanted more than cringe-worthy scenes of Bashir's self-importance. These episodes are like when you introduce a friend who kind of rubs people the wrong way. "Look, he might be kind of abrasive at first, but something eventually happens where he mellows or maybe you just get used to it. But I swear, he's not always this bad."
• Bashir and O'Brien's runabout trip down to Bajor smacked of a bad car-trip movie, where eventually the cabin would have piles of spent Big Gulps and beef jerky packages all around. Given the date of the episode, David Spade and Chris Farley might have been initially cast.
• From a pure structure standpoint, this episode had a high degree of difficulty. In the first ten minutes, three different plot arcs are introduced. The A-arc on Bajor feels like it gets full billing, and the B- and C-stories of Varis and Jake and Nog are effectively woven together. This was much harder than they made it seem.

3.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E12: "Battle Lines"

S1E12: "Battle Lines"
Or Tu-Opaka Shakur

"In the eyes of the Prophets, we are all children."
-Kai Opaka

One of the richest parts of DS9 is its willingness to address religion, a subject only sparsely touched by its predecessors. "Battle Lines," while lacking in most other ways, at least advances the moral conflicts of the Bajorans as they keep their faith in a politically tumultuous time.

The episode itself is pretty weak in terms of plot (there is no B-arc), and even the big reveal that the moon's living dead were doomed to remain isn't all that surprising or gut-wrenching. But the redeeming moments come in the interactions between Kira and Opaka. Kira is as deep a character as the show offers, and nowhere is her baggage more obvious than in the presence of her religious idol.

Kira, the devout freedom fighter, comes to realize the peace that came with the end of the Cardassian Occupation is completely foreign to her. Opaka tells Kira to face her violent nature head-on and learn how to channel it. The writing is fairly grounded and worthy of praise, and the acting is adequate to not distract from the topics the writers isolated. Nana Visitor's dramatic change from a proud fighter to a sobbing child at the Kai's feet is a little over-the-top.

It's hard for me to effectively determine whether the Kai's gravity is effectively expressed given my extended knowledge of the series. In reviewing these posts, it seems to me that 12 episodes into the series, the Kai should have been developed a little more before she is essentially killed off. Odo and others make a point of telling us how important Opaka is to the Bajorans, but being shown rather than told would have been far more effective. Without giving away too much, the Kaiship is an extremely important position to the development of DS9 in its first few seasons, and focus on Opaka's succession almost retrospectively begs for a little more on the series' first Kai.

As for the Starfleeters? Ouch. O'Brien and Dax's turn as scientific one-uppers was a snoozer. As always, they threw around pseudo-science and came up with some frontier innovation to save the day. But you already knew that would happen. Sisko and Bashir clumsily plodded around in a war zone, though maybe there is some buried humor in both of their efforts ultimately failing. On this particular moon, they were hardly Picard and Dr. Crusher.

As for some other thoughts:

• The exit from the runabout made me chuckle. So somehow Opaka was knocked out cold, but the other three were almost unharmed. And even though Kira was wounded, she was still in good enough shape to lift the Kai out of the ship. 
• Many fictional problem-solvers use the innocuous-comment-as-inspiration crutch, including Gregory House and Sherlock Holmes. But Colm Meaney may have set a record, as he was barely halfway through "needle in a haystack" before he was into the physics of his solution to find the downed runabout. Look, I'm not asking for my shows to mirror everyday life. But could we only use this trick when it's clever or interesting and can the actor at least sell the moments of inspiration between thinking of the offhand comment and final genius?

2 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E11: "Vortex"

S1E11: "Vortex"
Or Shapeshift Happens

"Drop your suspicious nature for a minute, changeling."
-Croden

Odo's origin is a story that comes and goes throughout the course of DS9, and "Vortex" gives the first, albeit frustratingly hollow, look at this thread. In fact, knowing how fundamental Odo's background is to the later structure of the DS9 story, "Vortex" is comically teasing.

Early in the episode, we are introduced to Croden through the dead-beyond-recognition Star Trek introductory horse I call "Unknown in Distress." His vessel comes through the wormhole damaged, it looks like he has been through some kind of battle...stop me when this sounds familiar. If prospective command officers are not majoring at Starfleet Academy in how to handle these situations, the school should be disbanded. (For example, see http://tangentiallyspeaking.blogspot.com/2011/11/blogging-ds9-s1e5-captive-pursuit.html)

The rest of the episode plays out rather formulaically, as Croden is held captive, his guilt is discovered to be dubious, and Odo violates the spirit, if not the letter, of direct orders. The shapeshifting locket with which Croden lures Odo turns out to be a key to the stasis chamber that holds his daughter. Odo and Croden use runabout maneuvers nobody else has thought of and, voila!, Croden and his daughter find freedom and Odo stays alive.

Aside from the disappointingly predictable storytelling mechanisms, the reveal that Croden was bluffing Odo about how much he knew of the origin of shapeshifters was teasingly disappointing, even for a series churning out procedural episodes as DS9 did in its early days. While giving away a potentially major (and eventually major) background secret as early as the eleventh episode would have been slutty writing, the reveal here was cruelly prude.

Maybe "Vortex" just stoked our appetite for Odo's origin story more, but at the end of the hour, we are left with galaxy-class blue balls.

A few other thoughts:

• As a Terran blessed and cursed with a heavy beard, it was refreshing to see Croden rocking three Earth-day stubble. I know the makeup department in the Star Trek series has a lot on its hands, but is the rest of the galaxy really Scandinavian smooth?
• I was and am often hesitant in this series to accept Odo being affected by humanoid injuries like a blow to the head. I'll buy that he can react differently to a strike he sees coming versus one he does not, but it's not like he has a brain in a fixed location. If his human impression is flawed, as he admits about his ears and nose, I doubt his brain and nervous system are carbon copies.
• Odo's soliloquy to Croden's key at the episode was not as effective as the writers probably hoped. The constable is quick to avoid sentimentality, and while he does hold connection to his past incredibly dear (as we will continue to see), talking to a rock with an on-and-off position? That seemed outside of the character.

2 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E10: "The Nagus"

S1E10: "The Nagus"
Or The Guy's Got Brass Lobes

"I'm just not as greedy as I used to be."
-Nagus Zek

From a functional standpoint, "The Nagus" serves as an important introduction into previously under-explored Ferengi culture. And yet, in measures of soul, the episode is the rare Star Trek episode where the B-story dominates the overall impression.

"The Nagus" explores Ferengi traditions by introducing the swindler race's royalty along with several powerful hangers on. It is a hybrid snapshot of Game of Thrones crossed with Pawn Stars. Remember, the Ferengi were first introduced early in TNG as a laser-whipping primary adversary for the Picard-era Federation, displaying a level of military aggressiveness that always seemed at odds with their motivations. In events predating TNG, Picard's outgunned USS Stargazer outmaneuvered a Ferengi vessel with his oft-referenced Picard Maneuver which, if I knew the guy, I would be awfully sick of hearing about.

The arrival of the Grand Nagus and his court bridge this overly malevolent first impression and the more mischeavious behavior of Quark. Yes, the Ferengi are ruthless in business fora, but they surely prefer underhanded and less direct means of conflict than open combat. This nature is made clear by Zek's ruse to test his son's throne-worthiness.

Behind this fairly clever front-ring A-mystery, one of the series' best story lines further evolves, and as someone with knowledge of where the characters' development takes them, it is a relatively rewarding one. The episode's initial scenes show a growing distance between Commander Sisko and Jake, highlighting the loneliness each feels stationed on this distant outpost. But just as the elder Sisko's frustrations with his son's uncharacteristic insolence crescendos, we see the true nature of Jake Sisko. As it turns out, Jake has been staying out late and missing dates with his dad to tutor his Ferengi buddy Nog, whose father does not value education in his son's life.

The turn is a welcome one for a child role on a Star Trek series, and the look of pride Avery Brooks shows is probably the series' first lump-in-your-throat moment. See, TNG tried endlessly to explain questions of the crew's personal life that were never really addressed in TOS. Kirk, Spock, et al, were more archetype and less soul, and that nature served the time period the show aired in well, as America was figuring out how to deal with "others" (Soviets abroad, minorities at home). But those characters left viewers wanting something more substantial from the characters they grew to love.

One of the many questions about the Star Trek premise is how these crew members trek across the galaxy either without a family or never seeing it. Many TNG episodes tried to address this concern through a variety of avenues, some more successful than others. One that I always found among the least successful was Wesley Crusher.

Because this is not a TNG blog, I'll only touch on the writers' struggles with Wesley as a contrast for their success with Jake Sisko. Wesley was a brainy, weak stereotype used to bluntly address coming of age stories. Jake, on the other hand, demonstrates the ability to adapt you might expect of a Starfleet brat, separated from friends with every transfer his father made. The episodes up to "The Nagus" have several examples of the Federation and incumbent Deep Space Nine crew and residents being forced to work together for survival, but Jake's loyalty to Nog--and his devotion to keeping Nog's secret to his own detriment--is the first time we see true friendship between the groups.

And now for some more trivial thoughts:

• The threat of being "tossed out an airlock" comes up often on the station. But unlike the image of being "thrown overboard," the physical mechanics of actually doing it are hardly dramatic. We see an example of this as Rom tricks Quark into walking into the airlock before trapping him in there. Disappointingly, there is very little "tossing" or any other action going on.
• I will certainly have much more to say about the Ferengi in general as these reviews go on (including whether they are an anti-Semitic construct), but the writers clearly enjoy the "ears-as-testicles" biology of the race. At times, I find this very humorous, and at others, I find it way over the top and distractingly sophomoric.
• Yet another example of how far real world technology has come: The classroom, which we see with O'Brien substituting for his wife, is basically composed of a Smartboard and iPads, right? We made up the ground our 1993 imaginations thought would take about four centuries in less than two decades.
• Consider this a gift: After seeing more of the bright green and blue liquors in Quarks, I'm shocked there is not a line of Star Trek novelty liquors available in your local beverage store. Romulan ale, anyone?

4 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E9: "Move Along Home"

S1E9: "Move Along Home"
Or The Ferengi's Pawns

"Is it against Starfleet policy to press a few buttons?"
-Constable Odo

I have to start by stating that "Move Along Home" is the DS9 episode I remember more than any other. Perhaps it was the striking visuals or maybe the conceit of a role playing board game, but regardless, I remembered nearly every turn of the episode. And somehow, my memory did not do its quality justice.

"Move Along Home" manages to leverage the great freedoms of the Star Trek series while breaking away from its older sister's shadow. After all, this is the franchise that had Captain Kirk nailing bright green women and Picard commanding staff from multiple bright blue species. Both the Wadi themselves and the game the four Starfleeters are thrown into are colorful and eye-catching. The decision to build a set where the halls and rooms seem to have the same architecture yet accommodate wildly different twists was very clever, and the overhead shot of Sisko in the triangular room was really well conceived.

Furthermore, the opening scene where the Wadi are far more interested in getting to Quark's than first contact is a refreshing acknowledgment that yes, these overly grown-up Federation types are a bit stiff, and no, the universe is not a study in etiquette. To this point, we have already seen different new races come through the Wormhole, and the writers' choice to demonstrate that not all of them share the same value platform greatly widens their range of future offerings.

And yet, this episode could easily have slid into a TNG rescue-mission pattern. When Odo boarded the Wadi vessel looking for the game's source, it felt like a typical Star Trek resolution where a perfect technological solution saves the day. So you can imagine how surprising it was to see Odo enter that shining doorway, only to reappear in Quark's.

In fact, if I had to criticize this episode in anyway, I would accuse the writers of trying to get too much into their 46 minutes. Quark seemed to realize that the four pieces represented the four missing officers too quickly, and I would have loved to have seen Kira, Dax, and Sisko struggle over losing Bashir a little longer. By the time they sang the rhyme of the hopscotch girl and realized they were playing a game, the episode was half over.

My other quick thoughts:

• I remember my dad used to be disgusted by the Starfleet dress uniform of this era. I used to think the idea of having a dress uniform with some gold scrawl on the lower collar was very cool, but now I agree with my dad: It just looks like a man wearing a dress.
• There are a few tricks the Star Trek writers rely on with comical frequency across the series, such as the tendency of the unknown ensign to be killed on away missions (Family Guy nailed this with the Ensign Ricci aside). Another is how it seems every important conversation a senior officer has is interrupted by the bridge, and Sisko's birds-and-bees talk with Jake is no exception. I know the writers needed a mechanism for Jake to bring his dad's absence to Odo's attention, but I think the station commander's son and chief of security would probably figure out he was missing soon enough.
• Give a lot of credit to the four actors in the game for their work on the rhyme/hopscotch scene. First, Kira and Bashir have to do the always awkward force field shock reaction. But then each of them has to sing the rhyme and complete the sequence, and I think each did an admirable job. The best was Avery Brooks' take on it. The obvious way for an overtly intense Starfleet commander to sing in front of three of his officers would be wrought with embarrassment and discomfort, but Brooks owned it with an enthusiastic New Orleans spin that felt completely believable.

4.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E8: "The Passenger"

S1E8: "The Passenger"
Or The Tragedy of Dirty Fingernails

"It's hard to keep secrets in a place like this."
-Commander Sisko

Sisko's warning to newly arrived Lieutenant Primmin is a coy wink from "The Passenger"'s writers and a clever nod to how important events that happen on the station and in front of our own viewing eyes can be. In this episode, which uses the single-episode-mystery-arc formula often successful across the series, the DS9 writers show a level of nuance missing from many of the first season's heavy-handed introductions.

Although "The Passenger" yet again eschews any secondary plot arcs in developing the primary story, it smoothly transitions from a whodunit first half into a relatively climactic second half, punctuated by a classic Star Trek in-the-nick-of-time solution. The beginning stage is incredibly effective, as the writers show in the enough information before the credits to know all along what the episode's big reveal turns out to be.  It is a classic example of how a twist can be hidden in plain sight by deft writing.

If there is one flaw with the alien consciousness hiding within Bashir, it is that a) The Star Trek franchise uses mental invasion very frequently b) the rules of this mechanism have never been clear to me. I understand Rao Vantika hiding within the unused part of Bashir's brain like dormant malware, waiting to spring to action. But if this kind of cerebral attack is as common as DS9 and TNG make it seem, I imagine the Federation would have taken more preventative action against it. You can't have senior staff members who possess vital passcodes and secrets being neurologically hijacked this often. With that said, "The Passenger" is one of the franchise's more successful uses of this mechanism, and Siddig El Fadil deserves a solid B for depicting the shift in consciousness through menacingly plodding diction.

While this episode does not have a true secondary story, the introduction of Lieutenant Primmin as chief Starfleet Security officer is noteworthy at this point in the series. I admit, I barely remember Primmin from my first run viewing, and part of me was expecting the squeaky clean stranger to be caught up in the sinister plot. I can say with honesty that I do not remember exactly how long Primmin's role lasts on the show, though I can promise he does not stay long enough to leave a lasting impression on the show's development. In retrospect, I'm not quite sure what motivated the writers to introduce him. Yes, I guess on some practical level, Starfleet would want its own security presence on this new frontier, and the stodgy Primmin reads well as some kind of G-man trying to bring iron-fisted order to the Wild West. But like Dr. Pulaski before him, Primmin's insertion is both awkward to the lives of the characters, as well as the exposition itself. Only nine hours into the series, we still have not seen a Kira-centric episode, and only glimpses into the pasts of the Siskos, Quark, and Bashir. In this episode, Primmin comes across incredibly stiff (probably by choice, not poor acting) and not as a character I would want to see studied in depth. I say this with little memory of what lies ahead for the Lieutenant: He seems poised to be a piece of furniture that doesn't fit comfortably in any room.

My other quick thoughts:

• Dax finds a chip in the ship transporting Rao Vantika that contains a map, she declares with some suspense, of the humanoid brain! This is another "out there" piece of science that only 18 years later I have a hard time believing would still be a mystery in the 2300s.
• You noticed Bashir taking off the comm badge, right?
• This is hardly limited to Star Trek, but won't villains eventually figure out that giving the good guys time to make a decision is a recipe for disaster. Vantika gives Sisko and company "one minute to decide" whether to let him go or risk killing Bashir with him. The trend continues in "The Prisoner;" that one minute is enough time for Dax to recalibrate the tractor beam to attack Vantika's consciousness.
• On the other hand, I thought the trick at the end to use the transporter to remove the cells with Vantika's consciousness through a transporter was a slick idea. 

3 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E7: "Dax"

S1E8: "Dax"
Or "My Inner Slug"

"When one of my kind stumbles... It is a mistake that is there forever."
-Lieutenant Dax

For all of the early-series missteps the DS9 writers made in "Q-Less" (and there were many), they rebounded nicely in the title-character-centric "Dax." The episode delves further into the nature of Trill existence while asking some intriguing questions about honor, statutes of limitations, and just how well we can really know another person. There is a smoothness to how this episode builds depth to Dax's character while further rejecting the notion that an immobile space station isn't interesting, as opposed to the awkward wink-wink forced participation of TNG retreads just the episode before.

The Dax character, along with Odo, is certainly one of the more mysterious constructs introduced at DS9's inception. As I remember someone saying to me during that first season, "The prettiest girl on the show a guy living inside her as a slug." And to this point in the series, the most substantial discussion of Dax's Trill identity was an awkward exchange where Sisko told Bashir he would not be an obstacle to the doctor's romantic pursuit.

The plot arc allows Terry Farrell and Avery Brooks to play the roles they seem most comfortable in with these characters. Farrell, who always seemed to have just heard a mildly humorous one-liner, effectively keeps Dax coolly detached from the defense of her own life while stonewalling the efforts to extract her great secret. When I think back on Farrell's Dax, I think of her engrossed yet under control while performing her duties or humoring her fellow crew members from emotional distance. This plot fit snugly into that wheelhouse.

And then there's Sisko. I made be a little hard on Brooks in these reviews. After all, he is more-or-less asked to be a black Patrick Stewart, wrestling between his Federation-issued moral zeal and the pragmatism it often defies. In "Dax," Sisko makes an impassioned case to spare the life of his science officer. In he moments when he seemed to be channeling the best of Jack McCoy from a New York courtroom, Brooks' intensity hit the mark. Of course, he attempted to jam that same intense square peg into his private plea to Dax to help him by divulging more information (lowlight: "Dammit, if you were still a man"), but let's at least stay positive for a post.

Furthermore, the opening scene demonstrated the level of "get me past the credits" intrigue TNG pulled off so often. If these first eight hours of DS9 stake any claim, it is that frontier life will often bring the unexpected, especially when that frontier flanks a wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. The series' best moments come when the writers lean heavily on this premise.

Additional thoughts:

• Speaking of that opening scene, the writers deserve credit for not fixating on discord between the Bajoran and Federation crews. Perhaps this is a holdover of Roddenbury's "Let's get along" credo, but it would be easy to see envision a multi-episode theme where the two sides bristle with working together until they learn they must to survive. In "Dax"'s first minutes, we see Sisko, Kira, and Odo work together effectively to prevent Dax's captors from escaping. If the crew friction angle were strongly in play at this point, this would strike discordance.
• If Fionnula Flanagan looks familiar as Enina Tandro in this episode, you are probably a nerd. If you recognize her as Eloise Hawking from Lost, give yourself one nerd point. If you recognize her as Dr. Juliana Tainer (i.e., Data's Mom) from TNG, that's nerd checkmate.
• It appears there is no sexual harassment code in the Federation. Lucky you, Dr. Bashir.
• I have little expertise in the technical side of stage performance, but I found the fight scene between Bashir and Dax's captors confusing. First, Bashir probably would not give away the element of surprise by yelling Dax's name as he charged through the corridor, right? But most of all, he appears to knock himself down as he strikes the first captor. I also struggled to find the head trauma that would knock the doctor out. Are these failings of planning or execution?

3.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E6: "Q-Less"

S1E6: "Q-Less"
Or Julian Bashir, Intergalactic Pussy Hound

"The galaxy can be a dangerous place when you're on your own."
-Q

Friends, I know have been a little hard on DS9's first handful of episodes, outside of the pilot. And yes, I understand that starting a new series can be a little herky-jerky, as the writers try to introduce central elements of a full cast that will be using, they hope, for seasons to come. Perhaps I have been a little demanding of these first few episodes, but that should be colored by the fact that I know the series becomes very compelling as it grows. I do not have a comprehensive memory of the series (thus, these reviews), but I have a rough idea of where the high and low points lie.

And that is why I can write, with confidence, that "Q-Less" is the worst DS9 episode of the series.

This is a strong statement, but I will not qualify it. My strongest gripe with this episode is the way it assaults the viewer with TNG background plots. Nobody likes the guy who insists on making inside jokes foreign to new members of a group; but that guy is especially loathsome when those inside jokes aren't even that funny.

While Vash and Q are certainly not the low points of TNG, I cannot think of a single episode either appears in that is particularly memorable. Vash was a mildly amusing character, a sort of hooker-with-an-eye-for-gold witty enough to intrigue Picard. Her seduction of him adds some personality to Picard's standard rigidity, but I always felt like the writers saw a lot more in her character than I ever did.

And then there's Q. TNG is based, of course, on Q's evaluation of mankind, which is the direct premise for both that series' premiere and finale. And the juxatposition of Q's omnipotence with the mortal struggles of man has some value. On one hand, knowing that the show's universe houses a species that can be anywhere and do anything at will reduces to triviality many encounters in the series. Yet, the persistence that the crew of the Enterprise, and in this episode the crew of Deep Space 9, shows speaks to the nature of humanity. Our births and eventual deaths are inevitable, yet we strive to overcome obstacles in between those bookends in spite of that knowledge. This theme is mirrored in Odo and Quark's debate over the acquisition of material wealth, a pursuit Odo downplays due to the inevitability of death.

(On a side note, the scene also includes another Auberjonois-Shimerman dialogue gem:


Quark: I'm selling quallity merchandise to select clientele.
Odo: What makes them so... select?
Quark: They're all ridiculously wealthy... and not too bright.


This is yet another scene in which Odo humors Quark just long enough that we understand he has more interest in his would-be nemesis than procedure would merely dictate. Auberjonois does this subtly and expertly.)

And yet, why the writers pathetically leaned on old TNG crutches in this episode is hard to explain. From a plot standpoint, I guess Vash's collection of Gamma Quadrant goods is a reasonable way to get the shiny egg onto the station, putting it in climactic peril . But if you carefully consider the key points at which the episode turns, it becomes clear that it didn't even need to include Q. Q conveyed some vague references to Sisko about the danger Vash posed, but the crew eventually found the egg based on their creative solution without Q's influence. The first twenty minutes of the episode were wasted on Q and Vash's dreary bickering over what they had been up to for two years and Bashir's loverboy pursuits, which became a red herring anyway.

I know I have been demanding on the series. Dear reader and viewer, please take my word that DS9 is never as bad as "Q-Less."

A few items of novelty:

• In one of the most unbelievable and unnecessary stage directions in the series, the first segment ends with Q somehow hiding crouched over next to the runabout, roughly two feet from where Sisko is standing. Q, of course, would never actually have to hide to avoid discovery, but regardless, am I supposed to believe Sisko would not have seen Q in spite of the fact that he could have tripped over him?
• The bareknuckle boxing scene was humorous both in how out of place it seemed and in the actors' portrayals. The Gangs of New York-esque (yes, I know the episode predates that movie by the better part of a decade) mustache on Q was sadly a high point, and Avery Brooks was, per usual, overly emphatic.
• Almost as if the writers heard critical contemporaries make the same complaint about overusing Odo's shapeshifting, Quark starts rattling off objects Odo could have posed as while eavesdropping on his conversation with Vash. A small dose of self-awareness is always a funny touch.

1 bar of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E5: "Captive Pursuit"

S1E5: "Captive Pursuit"
Or "An Irishman and a Tosk Walk into a Bar..."

"I live to outwit the hunters for another day."
-Tosk

"Captive Pursuit" borrows a traditional TNG story structure to illustrate the new-found Wormhole's potential. A mysterious stranger is introduced, the specifics of his cultural differences are humorously personalized through his friendship with a core crew member, and multiple levels of moral judgment are passed by the always-ready-to-judge Federation.

Deep Space 9's first visitor from the Gamma Quadrant turns out to be prey bred to elude its captors. But unlike prey species here on Earth, Tosk is a sentient creature O'Brien comes to befriend while repairing his vessel. The story is built on the concept of the Noble Savage, a staple of early American literature such as James Fennimore Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. This archetype depicts a humanoid that, while unenlightened by modern measures like European or Federation standards, demonstrates inherent quality of character through just and moral actions. Like Cooper's Chingachgook, Tosk is naively confused by O'Brien's new-fangled technology, but reassures us that man (or humanoid) is deep-down compelled to act nobly.

As with many of the one-off species the Star Trek series introduces, Tosk is designed to win the audience's compassion, and by corollary, loathe whomever his enemies are. Clearly he is a busy alien with places to go and people to see (or not see), but his candor and child-like lack of awareness desperately ask the viewer's sympathy. In another universe, maybe O'Brien and Tosk would have modified podracers on Tatooine, but in this cruel reality, we learn that Tosk's best-case scenario is death in the course of duty.

These are the episodes where Star Trek gets a little preachy, though the message in this episode is less sickeningly sweet than others. Tosk is flagrantly one-dimensional, but straw men like him and his would-be captors often are to focus the message on the real issues at play.

Beyond the main (and only) story arc, "Captive Pursuit" called attention to a few plot holes common across the franchise's series which give me a chuckle:

• Like Picard and Kirk abandoning their bridges before him, Sisko leaves Ops upon hearing of the intruders on the Promenade. I maintain how little sense this makes. Sisko has security personnel better equipped to handle any violence. And if the intruders are hostile, how much of a distraction would his safety be? I'm sure Odo's funk (I mean c'mon, he has to smell, right?) makes Sisko want to leave whenever he can, but I never understand Star Trek's desire to have commanding officers chased from their command centers by trouble.
• Speaking of Odo, "Captive Pursuit" again uses the "Odo as a background object" trick (this time, a painting) for when Tosk attempts to get to the arsenal. For a while, it seemed like that trick would be DS9's David-Caruso-one-liner-sunglasses-removal trick.
• And speaking of that weapons arsenal, would you allow your station's computer to not only be accessed by a Gamma Quadrant stranger, but to tell him where the weapons locker is? When Tosk asked, "Show me where the weapons are stored," I was actually half-shocked not to have the computer deny him.
• Another Star Trek staple is when a core character has to choose between following orders and doing what he or she thinks is right. If pressed, I think could name a scenario where every senior staff member of TNG's Enterprise directly violated orders to follow their consciences. Maybe the 23rd Century is a more forgiving time, but isn't that grounds for immediate dismissal (or, you know, death) in every navy you've ever heard of? I also enjoy the obvious removal of the communicator when the character has to make the choice against duty. I get it, writers: They're going against the Starfleet Shield on this one.

And lastly, a couple of odds and ends:

• Auberjonois' execution of the double take upon Sisko's unstated order not to capture O'Brien is outstanding. The wryness Auberjonois injects into Odo is one of the series' acting highlights.
• In rewatching this episode, I wondered if Terry Farrell's hair poof indicates Jersey Shore fashion will have a revival in the Federation's outer reaches. If so, is it fair to call Worf a juice-head gorilla?

2.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Tasting Notes: Birra Moretti La Rossa

First impression: Let's keep the Germans and Italians separate.

For full disclosure's sake, I admit that my experiences with Italian beer have been decidedly unenjoyable. I find Peroni to fall into the lower rungs of mass-produced brews, and my other tastings have fallen into the same categories.

So I was immediately skeptical of an Italian brewer attempting to do something Germans do so well. After all, when a country has so much enthusiasm for its wine production, how much can we expect of its grain-based alcohol.

On first smell, La Rossa (a doppelbock) reminded me of Newcastle and other brown ales. And yet, it clearly had the deeper color and persistently thick head that are typical of its family.

Again, I have to color my review by admitting that La Rossa falls into the dreaded middle between my preferred neighborhoods of really dark or really light beer (call it the Oreo syndrome). The malty-ness wasn't overpowering as it can be in some beers like this, but it was markedly sweet. I found the middle of the tongue to balance this with the toasted flavors.

Was it memorably bad? Not at all. But perhaps worse, it is easily forgettable.

Order a Pint: Eh
Buy a Six-Pack: No
Stock by the Case: No

Tasting Notes: Samuel Smith's Taddy Porter

First impressions: And a good day to you, guv'nah.


In my taste buds' younger days, I had a difficult time distinguishing between porters and stouts. You know the general terms: They're dark, viscous, and supposedly contain tastes of coffee and chocolate. Stouts just seemed to fit those characteristics a little more.

As my taste buds have passed through adolescence, a semester at taste bud community college, and a nasty breakup with cucumbers, I have come to appreciate the subtle differences in dark beers. And Samuel Smith's Taddy Porter highlights many of those best traits in the breed.

The Taddy Porter is a grown-up porter, dressed up in the sophisticated richness of its stout brothers. It carries the same quality of thickness that mid-stouts demonstrate, and tasted best on the back of the tongue. With that said, it avoids the sheer leaden heft of many stouts and is surprisingly drinkable with pace.

If stouts are the spells to cast against the coldest of winter's evil, the Taddy Porter is the vernacular of late fall, spoken in the weeks before we are prepared for the coming intemperate battle. Sipping it while insisting "It's not that cold yet" might just make you believe your claim.

Order a Pint: Yes
Buy a Six-Pack: Yes
Stock by the Case: If porter's your thing

Rating: 4.5 kegs out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E4: "Babel"

S1E4: "Babel"
Or Pneumonic Devices for Your Cardassian ATM PIN

"Frosted wake... Simple hesitation."
-Chief O'Brien

Oh, those tricky and completely not subtle DS9 writers. "Babel" is the series' first installment in the Star Trek pretentious title tradition. Yes, the virus that sweeps through Deep Space 9 causes the crew to "babble" nonsensically, but did you also catch the reference to the Tower of Babel, the Biblical story that explains why people have such different languages across the globe? We get it, guys: This episode is about not speaking the same language, and maybe not just literally!

I can accept that writing engaging main plot arcs that can be wrapped up neatly in 60 minutes less commercials is a challenge. But like many of the early TNG plots, I found "the crew gets sick" to be less than compelling. Not every episode in the franchise can carry the action of "The Best of Both Worlds," but in rewatching this episode the relatively low voltage premise got me to wonder about 24th Century health care costs. Did the Federation instill Obamacare? Does Bashir collect a co-pay? What about non-Federation personnel on the station that might not have Bashir in their network. You might be surprised that the 9-year-old version of me didn't think about these things in 1993.

The opening sequences of Star Trek episodes are typically a good litmus test for the strength of the episode's premise. Strange happenings, sinister characters, or giant holes in the ground? Those get me excited to boldly go. But at the start of "Babel," the "oh shit" music starts playing as the camera pans a potpurri of strange looking devices behind the replicator O'Brien just fixed. Eventually the shot focuses on a small device, and as the violins crescendo, we are supposed to understand that this iPhone is the heart of malevolence for the rest of this chapter. Hmm, go ahead and scratch my name off under the "buyer" category.

With that said, "Babel" introduces two key characteristics of the station, which has much more personality than any of the other Star Trek vessels. First, we are reminded that Deep Space 9 was a crappy mining station upon its construction, and as such, a lot of stuff is going to break down. The extended scene of O'Brien repairing things to exhaustion might have been over the top, but I'll cut some slack this early in the series. Secondly, as we learn that the virus-introducing device was planted by the Bajoran resistance 18 years prior, the writers establish an "anything goes" premise for Deep Space 9. I probably wouldn't have bought this conceit aboard a Federation-built ship or station, but this was an excellent point early in the series to establish the very environment's potential for unpredictability. Deep Space 9 is more than just the blank canvas the Enterprises have been.

Other quick thoughts:

• The isolinear rods Quark plugs into his computer terminal are basically USB flash drives, right? I expect to have many comments in this vain throughout these reviews, but it amazes me how much Star Trek technology we have already developed today. Those fancy padds they use for mobile information? Not only do we have iPads, but there is a Star Trek Padd app for them!
• Star Trek staff are fans of the "You better get down here" message to their commanding officers, with Bashir using that famous beckon in this episode. Let me just say, there is nothing more annoying than someone calling for you and providing no context for what they need. Does "you better get down here" mean someone with key information is dying of a phaser blast and I should sprint, or does it mean you have a 10% off coupon for my favorite Romulan ale? If I were a station or ship commander, that would be my first rule: Elaborate at all times. Brevity is overrated.
• The babbling took many forms in the episode. First, I tip my hat to the writers for showing how Bashir's ability to read his screen changed as the virus afflicted him. You may have noticed the two shots of his screen; in the first, his research is on the screen, but in the second, the words have all been replaced seemingly at random.
• Additionally, I'm assuming the writers gave each actor some freedom in his interpretation of the aphasia onset. The good: O'Brien and Jake; O'Brien used many words with Irish connotation, and I give bonus points to 15-year-old Cirroc Lofton for pulling it off. The bad: Dax and Bashir; we get it, folks: you're confused. The ugly: Of course, Sisko was very, very intensely confused. 

2.5 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E3: "Past Prologue"

S1E3*: "Past Prologue"
Or Tailor? I Hardly Know Her!


*"Past Prologue" and "A Man Alone" originally aired in reverse order, but Netflix has them in the order I had reviewed them.

"It was so much easier when I knew who the enemy was."
-Major Kira

Regardless of whether it is the second or third episode in season one, "Past Prologue" is the first Kira-centric episode and introduces her character's initial reservations about serving Bajor through construction instead of destruction. The Kira character is probably the one that shows the most growth through the course of the series, and "Past Prologue" does a serviceable job setting a baseline for Kira's development.

Both DS9 and TNG were written and run under the backdrop of the fall of the Soviet Union and revolutions in former Bloc states. Even today, shifts in many Arab states have many parallels in the story of Bajor that DS9 focuses on in its early seasons. The question of freedom fighter vs. terrorist is explored several times in both series, and the personal connection Kira has to Tahna Los is a classic Star Trek tactic to bring some perspective to otherwise faceless violence.

"Past Prologue" also introduces Garak, the suspected Cardassian spy-turned-simple tailor. The character is expertly portrayed by Andrew Robinson with equal parts of playful vagueness and knowing confidence; he could have been a stand-in for Lost's Ben Linus.

However, as we see in this episode, Garak tends to serve too beneficial a role in crucial points of several plots. In many ways, he is like a token black friend white people turn to to ask painfully obtuse questions about black culture. Sisko and Co. always seem just a little too willing to act on Garak's word, and Garak always seems to be positioned just right to help them. Garak, to my recollection, is too frequently a deus ex machina to otherwise overwhelming problems.

Speaking of God from the machine, the episode continues the streak of the writers' use of Odo's shapeshifting as its own improbable weapon. Odo poses as a rat (symbolism?) and eavesdrops on Tahna's conversation with the Klingon twins. As happens in many DS9 episodes, the entire sinister plot the main arc is built around would never have been thwarted if not for Odo incognito. This conjures more recent examples like Elliott in Leverage or, most recently, Reese in Person of Interest. In both characters' cases, they are able to overcome significant obstacles without fail because of their superior combat training. The problem is, this begs the question: Why not rely on their fighting skills as a primary tactic, rather than one of last resort. In the same way, we can wonder why Odo doesn't go on regular patrols as a rolling tumbleweed?

Beyond the main story arc, two other thoughts came to mind:

• Lursa and B'Etor are confusing, both as characters and sex symbols. For one, their aggressive cleavage is somewhere between provocative and revolting; yes, they're boobs, but they're attached to two members of a snarling warrior species with crooked fangs and forehead ridges. It would be like crossing Baywatch-era Pamela Anderson with a rhinoceros.
  
  Secondly, I always had a hard time understanding how they were supposed to be getting along around the universe. They attempted to start a civil war in a TNG arc, eventually being defeated. If I know my Klingons, they should have been killed at any number of points after that. Instead, they sneak around and pop up when various rogue agents are plotting mischief. They would be furious to hear it, but they are basically Ferengi. Their introduction to this episode was unnecessary (the later used Maquis would have worked just fine), and it clearly showed the writers leaning on the TNG-training wheels early on.
• This could have been mentioned in earlier posts, but I'm torn as to whether the evolving intro credit sequence being doctored to reflect the plot is cool. You may have noticed that in "Emissary," the Wormhole does not appear at the very end. This, of course, would have spoiled the surprise in the second hour of that episode. Without giving away too much more, I'll just say keep an eye out for the gradual changes in what you see on and around the station as new story elements are added.

3 bars of gold-pressed latinum out of 5

Blogging DS9, S1E2: "A Man Alone"

S1E2: “A Man Alone”

Or Get Some Rest, You're Looking a Little Pail

"You don’t know me… I’ll take care of my own best interests."

-Constable Odo

One area where the Star Trek series typically stumbles is the transition from momentous season- or series-opening epics to the following "return to normal" episode. One week Picard is kidnapped by the Borg, destroys half of Starfleet, and is cunningly rescued; the next week, he's getting drunk on Earth with his cranky brother.

The beginning of DS9 suffers from the same awkward transition. With Starfleet’s presence and Deep Space 9’s importance established in the pilot, “A Man Alone” begins business as usual for the patchwork crew. Still, the series’ second episode offers a glimpse of the typically morally-weighty themes that set DS9 apart from many of TNG’s slick-but-empty adventures.

The main story arc follows the framing of Odo for the murder of a Bajoran rable-rouser. While the story introduces the theme of Odo’s isolation among non-shape shifters, it does so with a rather blunt hammer (best demonstrated by the brutally obvious title) and clumsy parallels to history. In particular, the vandalism and mob scenes try way too hard to summon images of the persecution of blacks in the United States post-slavery. Any member of the crew, including most plausibly Kira, could have stood in front of Odo’s office door as the crowd gathered. But the writers went to great lengths to put the station commander, the only black major character on the show, in front of Odo. And yet, the symbolism might have worked if that had been its extent, but when the leader of the mob asked rhetorically, “How do you hang a rope around a shape shifter’s neck?” well, it was quite enough already.

My other problem with the main story arc was Ibudan’s motivation for framing Odo. I am more than willing to accept black boxes of prior relationship collateral (see below), but we are supposed to believe Ibudan would grow and murder his own clone just to remove Odo from his post? Chaos and terrorism eventually become much bigger themes in the show and perhaps this was an amuse-bouche of those flavors, but on its own, I find the inception of the main story arc improbable.

On the positive side, the episode did introduce the give-and-take between Quark and Odo that Rene Auberjonois and Armin Shimerman execute so well. The subtext of their conversation in Odo’s vandalized office acknowledges that Odo, typically a strict constructionist of law interpretation, tolerates Quark as the preferable “devil he knows,” while Quark relies on Odo to keep his underworld markets civil. Perhaps in another review, we can compare their give-and-take to Picard and Q’s less successful repartee in TNG.

A few other quick thoughts:

• The secondary arc of the episode focuses on Keiko O’Brien’s establishment of a school on the station. I never enjoyed Keiko’s wet blanket cameos on TNG, and she continues to disappoint on DS9. To be fair, I think this is more a criticism of how one-dimensionally the character is written than Rosalind Chao’s portrayl. To paint broadly, TNG and DS9 both seemed to struggle with avoiding stereotypes in romantic relationships. As such, Keiko O’Brien could be the nagging wife on a 23^rd Century Ed O’Neill sitcom.
• Speaking of awkward romances, Bashir’s advances toward Dax are strange, overt, and quite a bit unprofessional. One of the few things I remember from my original viewing of the first season is Bashir continually embarrassing himself pursuing Dax. I recognize that Bashir was intended to play a comic relief role in a cast of otherwise very serious characters (a la Data in TNG), but I have a hard time accepting his medical genius moments after seeing him flailing toward a B+ of a woman.
• In the episode’s most dramatic moments, I caught pieces of the contemporary TNG soundtrack that were used in that series’ final few seasons. I’m not sure if this was done to invoke the established sister series or because it was cheaper than scoring new music, but it definitely distracted by bringing to mind some later TNG memories.

2 bars of golf-pressed latinum out of 5