Star Trek Week 2019: Beyond

The world really needs a good Star Trek movie right about now. 

Why?

As a reminder of who we are, who we have been, and who, I hope, we can be again.

And because -- let’s face it -- 2016 wasn't a good year for humanity.

Nor was 2017, 2018 or 2019. Historic international alliances are in jeopardy because of the politics of fear and resentment, and major candidates for high office paint dystopian, apocalyptic pictures of our collective future based on the scapegoating of ethnic and religious minorities. 

Instead of actively engaging with the world, we see an administration putting forward major policies about retreat and retrenchment. They want to build walls to separate us from the rest of humanity, presumably to cower behind in terror.

It’s a worrisome time to be alive, as the unity of Western society frays, and long-held values are threatened by surging nativism, racism, and demagoguery. We are told to fear and ban those who don’t share our “beliefs,” while those who make such recommendations trade on slander, conspiracy theories, logical fallacies, and division.

Who needs enemies from outside our borders when we have them inside our borders, inciting violence and hatred?

By contrast, Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek has proven itself a beacon of light and optimism for fifty years now. 

It is a vision of a future in which people of different cultures (and co-cultures) -- and different beliefs -- work together in unity, to push the boundaries of knowledge and friendship ever further. 

It is a vision in which racism is conquered, and all life forms are considered worthy of respect, of appreciation.  

It is a vision in which the unknown is only knowledge “temporarily hidden,” and fear and hatred are more dangerous forces than are alien beings, or other belief systems.

Consider: fifty-three years ago, the makers of Star Trek put a white Caucasian male, a green-blooded Vulcan, an Asian man, a Russian, a Southern gentleman, a Scot, and an African woman together in the control room of a starship and showed us that this crew represented humanity’s best not in spite of their differences, but because of their differences

Captain Kirk, a bold leader, needed the advice of his logical alien friend, and of his cantankerous Southern medico too.  But he could not take his starship anywhere without the Asian man and Russian man driving it, or the Scotsman keeping the whole thing from flying apart. And the African woman at the communications console was the ship’s voice to the universe at large, mellifluous and gentle.

The lesson of Star Trek was -- and remains -- that the future is ours for the taking if we can overcome the petty differences of the present.

We achieve that world by getting to know each other, and learning to respect and even love the differences we see in one other. When we don’t know others, we stereotype them, we discriminate against them.  When we get to know others, we detect common ground, and we see ourselves mirrored back.

A hideous rock monster, upon further knowledge, is a mother protecting her young. (“The Devil in the Dark.”) A weird energy cloud is not a zoo-keeper or captor, but a companion, and friend, upon learning the facts (“Metamorphosis.”)  A hideous monster in a giant spacecraft is actually a child-like being, prone to laughter, testing our resolve, and seeking friendship (“The Corbomite Maneuver.”)

Those are just three examples from Star Trek’s fifty year history in which hostility is reduced not by war or gunfire, but by attempts to understand and appreciate that which is different, or unknown, to us.

We need a good Star Trek movie right now -- especially now -- to remind us of all this.  We need Star Trek to remind us that we don’t have to wallow in petty resentment, and nay, that we musn’t do so, if we hope to achieve the egalitarian future Star Trek projects with such optimism and confidence.

Thankfully, Justin Lin’s Star Trek Beyond (2016) is not just a good Star Trek movie, it is a great one -- the best of the reboots so far -- and perhaps the best motion picture in the franchise since the original series cast said goodbye in 1991’s The Undiscovered Country.

The purists and nitpickers will complain -- because they always do -- but Star Trek Beyond is a joyous, optimistic expression of Gene Roddenberry’s core ethos and belief system. The future need not be about war or bloodshed. It can be about friendship, loyalty, progress, and the better angels of human nature.

Star Trek Beyond occurs in a dangerous period for the Enterprise -- and the Federation -- as an unknown menace strikes unexpectedly from out of the dark, threatening the crew’s survival. This force hates everything the Federation stands for, and wants to take Earth and its people back to a previous age, to a time of victory and glory, but not, importantly, of inclusion or equality. This force thrives on fear and disunity.

Facing this threat, the Enterprise crew -- separated and endangered -- never forgets its unity of purpose, or ideals, and fights back to preserve progress.

Replete with many delightful and pertinent references to Treks past (particularly, Enterprise [2001-2005]), Star Trek Beyond doesn’t recycle old villains or ask us to relive old narratives. 

Instead, it provides a fresh tale that plays right into the cultural dialogue of the present epoch. It thus fulfills Star Trek’s highest aesthetic and moral purpose: it serves as a social commentary on who we are, right now.  

And -- again optimistically -- it shows us that we draw strength from unity, not fear.  

Perhaps the greatest quality about this movie is the manner in which it shows each crew member -- Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov -- contributing to the well-being and safety of the crew, and indeed, the universe. Not since Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986), have we had a Trek movie which highlights every member of the bridge crew so effectively, and with such delightful good humor.

Similarly, Star Trek Beyond’s commentary about “unity” in the face of backwards, divisive villains, not only reflects the specifics of the asymmetric warfare tactics of our current age, but finds literary and historic “symbols” to make its case about progress.

Sometimes, we get “lost,” the movie suggests, but we can find our way back…with a little help from our (pointy-eared) friends.

“Unity is not your strength. It is a weakness.”

Three years into the Enterprise’s five year mission, Captain Kirk (Chris Pine) is tired, and uncertain about the future, feeling that every day is becoming “episodic.”  As his birthday nears, he considers a vice admiral position in Starfleet, and turning the ship over to Commander Spock (Zachary Quinto).

Spock, upset to learn of the death of Ambassador Spock (Leonard Nimoy), is also reconsidering his options for the future.

The ship docks briefly at a new starbase on the frontier, Yorktown. Once there, Kirk learns from Commodore Paris (Shohreh Aghdashloo) that the Enterprise is needed to help a crew in distress.

That distress call, however, proves to be a lure to get the Enterprise into an uncharted nebula. Once inside, the ship comes under attack from a swarm of bee-like spacecraft, which cripple her.  The enemy leader, Krall (Idris Elba), apparently seeks an artifact that Kirk has aboard the starship; an artifact that can be used as a weapon.

Krall captures most of the Enterprise crew, including Uhura (Zoe Saldana) and Sulu (John Cho) and holds them captive on a nearby planet surface. Scotty, however, befriends an alien, Jaylah (Sofia Boutella), who has made herself a home out of a crashed Starfleet vessel over a century old, the U.S.S. Franklin.

As Kirk and Chekov (Anton Yelchin) attempt to locate the position of the missing crew-members, McCoy (Karl Urban) must tend to Spock, who has been badly wounded.

As Starfleet’s finest gather -- with no ship and no crew -- the Federation’s future itself is at stake from a monster who wants to see the progress of the last century torn down. He wants a return to the past he knows, and will stop at nothing, even mass-murder, to achieve that goal.

“This is where the frontier pushes back.”

One of the greatest lines in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country comes from the Klingon Chancellor Gorkon (David Warner). He notes to Captain Kirk that “if there is to be a brave new world, our generation is going to have the hardest time living in it.”

His line suggest that progress is always jeopardized by an old guard; a generation, or establishment that wants to maintain the status quo. Even if that status quo is conflict and warfare.

In many ways, this is also the subject matter of Star Trek Beyond. 

Krall is a man who was bred into war and conflict, and who fought the Romulans and the Xindi as a military officer. After those wars, he saw the emergence of a “brave new world” (like Gorkon’s) and couldn’t adjust to it.  Instead, he feared it.

The world he had served in was, specifically, human centric, but this new “Federation” is not.  Instead, in the new order, humans are just one square in a quilt of many colors and designs.  This fact is conveyed in beautiful visual terms through Beyond’s surfeit of aliens.  It has been years since so many alien beings took center stage in a Star Trek film, and their make-up and designs here are fantastic.

But the message is that Krall wants things to go back to being the way they were when he was comfortable and at the top of the food chain; he wants to return to a “human” world, or one where humans are, at least, first in line.  

We see a similar desire in 2016 America, as demographics change.  There is a longing by some to “take America back” to a time when it was less diverse, less colorful, and more monolithic.

It is no accident, I submit, that the new starbase in the film is named Yorktown.  

It is true, of course,  that Yorktown was the original name of the starship Enterprise in pre-production of the original series in the 1960s.

  

But historically-speaking, Yorktown was the site of the last battle of the American Revolutionary War. It was there, in 1781, that the forces of the Colonies defeated the British, and finally, truly became something greater than a group of states. After Yorktown, those states -- which had declared their independence from England in 1776 -- truly became the United States of America.  The war was, for all intents and purposes, over.

And yet those thirteen colonies, of course, still had big differences in terms of industry and agriculture, religious belief, and even geographical features. Beyond, by selecting the name Yorktown, celebrates the last battle for the birth of the United Sttates. And thus, we can speculate that this Yorktown is the place that expresses, in the final frontier, the ideals of the ethnically-diverse, still young United Federation of Planets.

We know it is vulnerable. Bones compares it, explicitly, to a glass snow-globe. 

Glass snow-globes break. By inference, we understand that this is a fragile time in the history of the Federation.

Pitched against the young Federation is a villain named Krall, who is essentially a 23^rd century equivalent to Kurtz in Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (1899). But Krall is based more upon the literary figure, Kurtz than he is the historical one. In Heart of Darkness, Kurtz is described as a demi-god; as being more than a man.  Given his abilities to regenerate (and absorb life), Krall could be given the same description.

In Conrad’s narrative, Kurtz is a man who goes to the Congo Free State and becomes a tyrant of sorts, using superior technology to control the natives. He is prone to exclamations of hate such as “Exterminate the Beasts!”  

Krall -- also like his literary corollary -- travels to uncharted territory, harnesses unusual technology, and plans a campaign of extermination. He even gets, upon his demise, a kind of “the horror, the horror” moment, at least in visual terms.  

But most importantly, Krall is a strong contrast to our Starfleet crew.

He is a twisted reflection of Kirk, at least on one level.  Kirk fears getting “lost” as captain of a starship, engaging in an enterprise with no end, and with no relativistic direction. Krall is the embodiment of such a lost captain; one who goes up river, or into the nebula, and strikes out to make his own kingdom or fiefdom. He cannot live in modernity.

And Krall, again in keeping with his literary antecedent, views alien races (read: the natives) not as equals or as beings to respect, but as people to conquer; to destroy. Like the Enterprise crew, he is “of” civilization, and yet falls victim to ethnocentrism; the belief that other cultures are not as worthy as his own. This is especially ironic considering how he willingly and repeatedly sacrifices his human appearance for longevity.

Star Trek Beyond thus diagrams a pitched battle between the forces of egalitarian progress -- represented by the U.S.S. Enterprise crew -- and the regressive forces of nativism/racism/imperialism. This “war” is waged at the aforementioned Yorktown, a place that -- if it survives -- will be remembered, perhaps, as a true test of the Federation’s unity (just as the 1781 battle of Yorktown cemented the unity of the Colonies).

I find it fascinating how Star Trek Beyond’s screenplay suggests a knowledge of history and literature, and more than that, finds a way to give those influences valid context inside the Star Trek world. 

It’s no accident, either, that the film picks and chooses its original series references carefully.  

In my introduction, I noted the line about the unknown being something, simply, “temporarily hidden.”  

That is an exact quote from Pine’s Kirk in Star Trek Beyond.  It is also, importantly, a quote from Shatner’s Kirk in the original Trek episode, “The Corbomite Manuever.”  

That episode concerns the Enterprise crew grappling with a fear of the unknown, until the light of understanding dawns.  There is even a crewman in that installment, named Bailey, who becomes convulsed with fear…until steadied by Kirk.  Star Trek Beyond chooses wisely indeed, this particular allusion, because the film concerns what happens when people are fearful.  The “other” becomes someone not merely different…but terrifying…a force to be destroyed.  

This is precisely how Krall sees the universe.

There are other original series references in Beyond that will draw positive reactions from longtime fans.  These come from “Amok Time” (“in a pig’s eye!”), “Who Mourns for Adonais” (the giant green space hand quip), and “A Private Little War” (“Lucky his heart is where his liver should be, or he’d be dead right now.”) That last one, especially, plays into Beyond’s theme of being strong because of differences, not in spite of them. McCoy credits Spock’s survival to his Vulcan anatomy. Were he human, he would have been killed.  

He is strong, literally, because of his differences from us.

The theme of “differences making one strong” weave in and out of the Beyond narrative at different points. Jaylah is a thickly-accented alien of unique appearance, for example. She could be treated as an enemy, but Scotty treats her as a friend, and her knowledge and abilities become part of the key to defeating Krall. 

Strictly-speaking, Kirk doesn’t “need” Jaylah alive to defeat Krall at Yorktown. By that point, she has done all she can do, really.  But Kirk treats her as a necessary member of the team, and risks his life to rescue her, in one of the film’s many dynamic action sequences.

Star Trek Beyond also references today’s post-War on Terror threats with Krall’s method of ambush. He launches an attack against the Enterprise with thousands of bee-like fighter crafts which carry quite a “sting.” 

There is no typical ship-to-ship combat here (a nice way of keeping things fresh and inventive, certainly). Instead, the Enterprise is overwhelmed by a force of chaos the crew can hardly understand.  Welcome to the world of modern, unconventional warfare. Two forces, with significantly different strategy and tactics, collide.

Historically-speaking, I couldn’t help but think of this ambush scene as being reflective of the U.S.S. Cole incident.  That American Navy destroy was attacked by terrorist bombers in October of 2000.  

But the situation is analogous. A powerful force, representing a vast organization or nation-state, is suddenly and unexpectedly jeopardized by a small but zealous force of vicious fighters using the techniques of asymmetric warfare.

But Star Trek Beyond succeeds as Star Trek not only because of its social commentary and allusions to literature and history, but because writers Simon Pegg and Doug Jung have absolutely captured the essence of the franchise’s diverse characters, and their relationships. 

It is a pleasure to report that Pine, Quinto, Urban and all the others have become their characters in a dynamic, delightful way.  In the original Star Trek, there was always this sense of esprit de corps -- of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants ingenuity in the face of danger and insurmountable odds.  

This film nails that spirit like no film in the franchise since the aforementioned The Undiscovered Country.  Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura and the others live and breathe again, and showcase, for fans, the promise of Starfleet. 

Even when the people around you are different in color, sex, or planet of origin, they are worthy of, loyalty, empathy, compassion, and, finally, love. 

That pointy-eared hobgoblin who drives you crazy can be, simply, the best friend you’ll ever know. 

Although I can’t believe this, there are those fans who complain of too much action in Star Trek Beyond.  There is indeed, plenty of it, but what there is really a lot of here is, simply, characterization…of the crew as individuals, and the crew as teammates.  

Again, not since Star Trek IV have we seen the crew on individual adventures, but working towards a task accomplishing “the needs of the many.”

And the message -- of all these unlike parts working together for the betterment of us all -- is transmitted, expertly, particularly in the film’s coda.  

We hear the traditional Star Trek narration. You know the words by heart: “Space, the final frontier…”

But for the first time, this fifty-year old narration is not spoken by merely the captain of a starship.  

Instead, the entire command crew delivers it sequentially -- handing-off the words from Kirk to Spock to Bones, to Scotty, and so on -- thus proving again, that the diverse characters of Star Trek are joined in a noble purpose, for the sake of us all. They are united, not diversity. And in their unity they are indomitable.

I am thankful we got a great and timely Trek in Star Trek Beyond. 

Star Trek Week 2019: "The Royale"

The main problem that plagued Star Trek: The Next Generation during its first season, as I perceive it, is that the crew of the Enterprise-D appears rather smug and self-satisfied.

In various episodes our heroes rail against patriotism ("Encounter at Farpoint"), eating red meat ("Lonely Among Us"), patriarchy and matriarchy ("Angel One,") and even capitalism ("The Last Outpost," "The Neutral Zone.")

I have absolutely no beef at all with any of that social commentary, or any of those particular ideological stances.  I welcome the gadfly approach to exploring issues of the late twentieth century.

Rather, my problem is in how the social commentary is often broached.  I realize the humans of The Next Generation are "evolved" ones (and I like that idea too...) but in too many episodes, these 24th century humans lecture, preach and harrumph about how man overcame his age of "barbarism."

There's a looking-down-their-collective noses at races like the Anticans and Selay, or the denizens of "Angel One" that is, frankly, unappealing, and a bit too self-congratulatory.

When this smug vibe is coupled with the fact that the Enterprise is the flagship of the Federation, and therefore technologically superior to almost all comers (including the new enemy, the Ferengi), a real sense of drama and conflict bleeds away from many first season installments of Star Trek: The Next Generation. 

Everything seems too easy for this team.  Specifically, the Enterprise crew often defeats the bad guys without too much difficulty, and usually through extended "talk."  Riker convinces an Ancient Guardian, Portal, not to be hostile -- through talk -- in "The Last Outpost."  Picard resolves a dilemma with a silicon life form -- again by talk -- in "Home Soil."  

Over and over, a spirit of danger and adventure -- a core element of the original Star Trek series -- seems missing from the first season of The Next Generation.  Getting through some of these early episodes (like "Haven," or "The Battle," or "Code of Honor," or "The Last Outpost") is really a tough slog.

But I give kudos to the creators and writers of Star Trek: The Next Generation because, by the end of the first season, they were clearly working out the kinks in the less-than-satisfactory format.  Episodes such as "Heart of Glory," "Skin of Evil," and "Conspiracy" ramped up the danger level in the stories, and boasted a more unpredictable aura than the first segments.

And if you had to give Star Trek: The Next Generation's second season catalog a name or theme, I would call it, simply, "A Kick in the Complacency." 

That's the term Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart) famously coined in the stellar episode "Q-Who," which introduced the cybernetic organisms, the Borg, to the series.  Surveying the episodes of the second season, you can detect how a number of the stories explicitly involve pulling the rug out from under the Enterprise crew, and showcasing the fact that outer space may be wondrous...but it's also dangerous and mysterious.

And even more importantly, the Enterprise isn't always the big man on campus.  Other forces out there in space may be superior in terms of their understanding of the universe and technological capacities.  The upshot of many of these episodes is that the crew's smugness is kicked off rather dramatically. And that's a very good thing for the development of the series, which would hit its stride (and apex) in Season Three.

The "Kick in the Complacency" episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation's second season include "Where Silence Has Lease,"during which the Enterprise explores a black spot in space that seems to twist and defy the principles of physics.  Then there's "Elementary Dear Data," wherein Starfleet technology and a slip-of-the-tongue on the part of a fallible human being (Geordi) create a deadly menace for the Enterprise.  Similarly, "Unnatural Selection" showcases how Dr. Pulaski's (Diana Muldaur's) hubris nearly gets her killed, vis-a-vis a deadly disease. 

The "Kick in the Complacency" segments reach their pinnacle with "Q Who, " which finds the Enterprise outmatched in every conceivable way during that initial encounter with the Borg.   But two relatively unpopular episodes are also necessary steps in that journey towards this zenith.  These programs are "Time Squared" and "The Royale." 

In "Time Squared," the crew is  asked to solve a life-and-death riddle that involves "anti-sense," to put it mildly.  No easy answers are provided regarding the hows and whys of the story.  In this tale, an incarnation of Captain Picard from six hours in the future returns to the present, with a warning of the Enterprise's destruction.  The incident is baffling, but Starfleet officers should occasionally be knocked for a loop by a WTF moment in outer space, and that's what "Time Squared" gives a pensive, traumatized Picard.

But for today, I've picked "The Royale" as the tale of this nature I wanted to focus intently upon. 

As I mentioned above, it seems everybody hates "The Royale."

Episode writer Tracy Torme hates it.  Fans despise it.  Critics don't like it either.  You may even find it named on lists for the worst ten episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

And yet, I'll be honest, I've always enjoyed "The Royale" given the parameters of the "kick in the complacency" second season.  This episode fits that recurring theme well, and more than that, adheres beautifully to the Star Trek tradition of presenting "fish out of water" comedies.

To briefly recap the plot, "The Royale" commences as the Enterprise, on a clue from the Klingons, discovers the debris from a 22nd Century NASA ship in orbit around remote Theta 8.   While studying the mystery of Fermat's last theorem, Captain Picard orders Cmdr. Riker to take an away team to the planet surface, where a single structure has been detected in an oxygen-nitrogen envelope (beneath planet-wide ammonia storms).

Riker, Data and Worf soon discover that the structure is a 20th century hotel and casino, the Royale.

Though human in appearance, the beings inhabiting the structure are not authentic life forms.  And yet they seem to be marching along on their own bizarre story lines.

Riker, Data and Worf find a clue regarding this mystery in one of the hotel state rooms. They discover the skeletal remains of Colonel Richey, an officer on the destroyed NASA ship.

Richey's diary reveals that aliens interfaced with his vessel and accidentally killed all the Terran crew members save for him.  Apparently in payment over their accidental actions, the aliens built Richey a world based on a book -- The Hotel Royale -- they found aboard the NASA ship.  Then, they deposited Richey in that world....where he would spend the rest of his days.

They thought they had built him a paradise, but it turned out to be Hell...

Trapped in the Royale, Riker, Data and Worf realize that the key to escape rests in resolving the (bad) novel's major plot points.  From the Enterprise, Picard and Troi help out by reading the novel...which proves trying.

After the away team escapes, Riker wonders about the whole incident, and Picard concludes that some mysteries simply have no logical resolution...

The first and most significant thing to understand about "The Royale" is how well the episode fits into Star Trek convention.  The franchise boasts a long tradition of bewildered crew members interfacing with other time periods from human history.  We see this in programs such as "Tomorrow is Yesterday" and the film, Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986).  The fish-out-of-water humor in such tales allows us to see our confident Starfleet heroes from another perspective; from a perspective of vulnerability.  They are truly strangers in a strange land, trying to account for human culture at an earlier stage of development.

What's commendable about "The Royale" (in the same way that "Spectre of the Gun" is kind of cool) is that the writer has not relied on the commonly-seen Trek tropes of either time travel or the "holodeck adventure" to vet this particular fish-out-of-water story.  Instead, Torme (Keith Mills on screen) wraps the human adventure inside an alien-based mystery.

In specific terms, "The Royale" finds humor in Worf and Data's responses to the hotel/casino staff and clientele.  Already out of place among 24th century humans, the Klingon and Soong android are even more baffled (and in Worf's case, irritated...) by human behavior inside the strange structure.  The future depicted in Star Trek is not a hedonistic one (usually, save for Risa...), but this casino is a den of hedonism.  Here, humanity is at his worst: avaricious, thieving, gluttonous.  It's a strong contrast to the Utopian world we see on the Enterprise.

Some good character humor also emerges from Picard, aboard the Enterprise.  This is the guy who is, for lack of a better word, a dedicated scholar.  The good captain knows Shakespeare backwards and forwards (as "Hide and Q" demonstrates), and considers James Joyce light reading ("Captain's Holiday.")  Here he's forced to dive into a bad dime-store novel, and it's clear he's impatient with the process...and the subject material.

But in addition to "The Royale's" sense of humor (which involves Worf using a 20th century telephone and Data playing blackjack), the episode works admirably as a kind of spine-tingling mystery.

"In our arrogance, we feel we're so advanced," Picard notes early in the episode, and that's the "theorem" of "The Royale."  The crew encounters an alien "shrine" that seems to make no sense because it is based entirely on a limited, alien understanding of our culture.

This is one strange corner of the universe, both a little funny, a little scary and a little sad.  And it suggests nicely that not all "first contacts" go smoothly, or as expected.

I also appreciate the idea portrayed here, and carried over from "A Piece of the Action" on the Original Series, that no one book should be used as a model for an entire culture; that no single tome should be taken literally as the guide to life.

And yes, I absolutely view this as a  pointed commentary and critique of people who interpret The Bible (or any religious book) literally.  Meaning that the Earth is only 6,000 years old and Jesus rode dinosaurs around the streets of the Roman Empire.   In ways "subtle and gross," to quote Q, "The Royale" reminds us that no one book explains the mystery or wonder of human nature.  Humanity is more complex than any one vision contained between two covers.

In that light, "The Royale" is one of the few Star Trek episodes that can be legitimately called surreal or absurdist.  Here, you have the unexpected juxtapositions one expects of the surreal (a 20th century casino on an inhospitable planet, a revolving door in the middle of a black void, etc.), but more than that, a meditation on the human tendency to seek the meaning of life in a situation wherein such a conclusion is unknowable.

In "The Royale," a terrible, dime-store book becomes the basis for alien contact and the continuance of human life, but the book itself is a collection of conventions and cliches.  How could anyone think life is really like a bad crime novel?  Well, if you're an alien...you wouldn't pick up those nuances, I suppose.  Cliches are cliches because we encounter them so often. Presumably, aliens would not recognize them as such because they've never read a book from Earth.

I also appreciate the episode's conceit that  the aliens tried to inject some meaning into their accidental actions, but by doing so robbed Richey's remaining days of meaning and thus only compounded their error.   It's a pretty deft formulation, I submit.

Why didn't Star Trek  tread more often into the surreal?  Well, that's the rub, and part of the reason that I suspect "The Royale" is disliked by many fans.  Famously, Star Trek is about mankind mastering his destiny, discovering the meaning of life, conquering technology, medicine and space itself.  Surrealism could be interpreted as an opposite philosophy.  Absurdism suggests say that no such domination of existence is possible, because life is inherently meaningless.   Magic in Star Trek is merely technology we don't understand yet, a point of development we have not yet reached, but the underlying message is that we WILL get there, one day.  If the universe is surreal in nature, then this is not the case at all.

Ironically, Star Trek: The Next Generation is at its dramatic best when the paradise of the UFP is challenged, when there is an acknowledgment that the human equation has not been solved, and when the status quo is up-ended.  The "Kick in the Complacency" episodes remember that the human adventure is merely "beginning" and not yet settled.  Stories like "The Royale" are indeed about the human adventure just beginning; about the starting point of self-knowledge not the ending point.  It's my bias, but I  tend to prefer that point of attack in terms of sci-fi drama.

There was a great Twilight Zone episode entitled "Elegy," about astronauts encountering a planet of apparently frozen humanoids, carefully posed (by someone) in the midst of their daily routines.  The planet turned out to be not a wax museum, nor a moment of frozen time.  Instead, the humans were all dead and stuffed by a kind of galactic funeral director/taxidermist.  In some sense, "The Royale" captures the same absurd vibe as that episode.  It features a world that shouldn't be threatening...but is.  And that threat exists because aliens are not always understandable.

Some mysteries just can't be solved, as Captain Picard reminds us in "The Royale."

I believe that in "Kick in the Complacency" episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation such as "The Royale," the series began to restore the necessary danger to the enterprise (ahem) of space travel.  A core component of drama involves the notion that our heroes always must be endangered.  They can't always possess the upper hand, or the most powerful phaser banks.  Real drama is wrought from facing an enemy who is more powerful, or who holds all the cards, to use a "Royale"-based metaphor.

In the final analysis, "The Royale" is spiky and weird and funny, and a bit disturbing, and it reminds the audience that human beings -- no matter how advanced or evolved -- can't always see and understand the mysteries of the infinite.

No, "The Royale" certainly isn't one of the twenty-five greatest Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes, but it fits in well with the second season's overall milieu.  It's good for a re-watch on these terms especially in conjunction with "Time Squared and "Q-Who."  That's the great thing about Star Trek existing as a long-lived TV series rather than a movie series.  There's time to visit these strange, oddball corners of the universe, and no need to tell a "huge" story about universal Armageddon every week.

"The Royale" may be off-message, a narrative detour of sorts.  But it's one worth taking, at least every now and again, especially when you a need a kick in your own complacency.

Star Trek Week 2019: "The Paradise Syndrome"

Stardate: 4842.6

The U.S.S. Enterprise visits a wild and natural M-class planet that is imperiled by a colossal, approaching asteroid.  The inhabitants of the planet (in some sources: Amerind) are all Native American tribes from Earth’s distant past.

Upon beaming down to the beautiful planet, Captain Kirk (William Shatner) reflects on the idyllic, simple, and peaceful nature of the world. Dr. McCoy (De Forest Kelley) calls his musings a “Shangri-La Syndrome” and says it is the result of over-work and stress.

The landing party, which also includes Mr. Spock (Leonard Nimoy), soon encounters a strange silver obelisk in a forest clearing, but its purpose and origin are not plain. Before beaming up, Kirk visits the obelisk alone one final time, and accidentally activates a trap-door entrance.

Once inside the under-structure, Kirk’s memory is wiped by a computer panel. On the surface, Spock and McCoy -- unable to find the missing Kirk -- are forced to abandon the search, and contend with the approaching asteroid.

An amnesiac Kirk soon finds his way out of the obelisk or “temple,” and becomes “Kirok,” a new tribe-member. Because of his advanced knowledge, he is soon made the medicine man of the Native American tribe, and married to the chief’s daughter, the lovely Miramanee (Sabrina Scharf).  This new arrangement does not meet with the approval of the former medicine man, Salesh (Rudi Solari).

Meanwhile, Spock is not able to stop the asteroid’s approach, and realizes that the strange writings on the obelisk may hold the key to saving the planet, and Captain Kirk too.

The third season of Star Trek (1966-1969) undeniably had a rocky start with the silly (but quite colorful) “Spock’s Brain.” 

But the follow-up two episodes -- “The Enterprise Incident” and “The Paradise Syndrome” -- put truth to the lie that the third season was all bad, or generally of a low quality. These are two outstanding episodes, superbly acted, and brilliantly told.

In terms of “The Paradise Syndrome,” this story is something a relief for those who analyze and wonder about Star Trek canon and galactic history. Throughout the series thus far, the Enterprise has encountered, inexplicably, parallel worlds all over the galaxy. There are parallel Earth’s discovered in “Miri” and “The Omega Glory.” And Earth cultures such as Ancient Rome spring up on distant planets, as well, in stories such as “Bread and Circuses.”

Up until now, no compelling answer has explained this mystery.

“The Paradise Syndrome” proposes a fascinating solution. Basically, it posits the existence of an alien race known as “The Preservers” that seeded the galaxy with endangered humanoid forms. Apparently, this very advanced race had a special interest in Earth, and seeded Native Americans on the world encountered in this story. 

But if the Preservers -- so technologically advanced -- possessed the equivalent of Genesis technology, they might have terra-formed, literally, a new Earth for the world in “Miri,” since that planet possesses the same dimensions and continents as our world. That’s just my speculation, of course, but the introduction of the Preservers allows for a deeper understanding of Star Trek and its galaxy. It is fodder for endless speculation.

It’s true that The Preservers aren’t a perfect answer for the mystery, but it’s a far better one than the series had yet provided, and look, here it is in the derided third season.

Moving beyond this point of continuity, “The Paradise Syndrome” is a great Kirk story, and a heart-breaking one at that. Here, the amnesiac captain finds love with the gentle and sweet Miramanee, and even conceives a child with her. But by episode’s end, both his wife and unborn child are dead, destroyed by Salesh’s vengeance (and Kirk’s inability to activate the obelisk’s force field.) Even though this ending is likely a foregone conclusion, given TV formulas of the 1960s, the climax is of great emotional impact. 

The best quality about “The Paradise Syndrome,” however, isn’t even the pathos over Kirk’s tragic loss. Rather, it is the episode’s excavation of the man’s general or overall character. This story forces viewers to reckon with the fact that even without his memories, Kirk is recognizable as the same man he has always been.  He’s still a natural leader. He’s still brave, and ingenious. 

He’s still got, of course, an eye for beautiful women.  

And, finally, Kirk possesses enough self-confidence to believe, perhaps, that he is a God. How else to explain, after all, the things that he knows, but that his people, the Native Americans, do not?

It seems very true to the Kirk character that even seeking a simple life and escape from responsibility -- hence the aforementioned Shangri-La Syndrome -- he should immediately step into a void and become a leader, accepting new responsibilities. Spock said that captaining a starship is Kirk’s “first, best destiny” in The Wrath of Khan (1982), but what he may also be stating, it seems to me, is that Kirk is a leader, and must always lead.  

Even without explicit knowledge of the Enterprise, or Starfleet Command, Kirk proves that idea true in this story.

Although my next remarks will likely prove contentious for some, I find Kirk’s relationship with Miramanee in “The Paradise Syndrome” more emotionally affecting than his just-as-doomed relationship with Edith Keeler in “City on the Edge of Forever.” 

Perhaps this is so because in “The Paradise Syndrome,” Kirk truly lets down emotionally, casting aside the weight of the universe (and the timeline) and just gets to be…human. His relationship with Miramanee doesn’t seem forced or arbitrary (see: “Requiem for Methuselah,”) and it is believable to me that this man, far away from a life of constant danger and command, would seek out so kind and sweet a soul as Miramanee.  

I feel that Kirk admires Edith’s mind, and is attracted to her strength and resolve too. But his love of Miramanee seems somehow more genuine, or real. Accordingly, I find the episode’s climax absolutely devastating, as Kirk sits at her bedside, as she -- and their child -- die.  Kirk doesn’t have to “choose” to save a lover in this story. Instead, he is fully human, like any of us, watching and unable to prevent it as a love one is taken from him. With Edith, Kirk always knows, at least on some level, that he has to be the captain. With Miramanee, he can just be James Kirk.

Of course, your mileage may vary. And the stories aren’t in competition, either. I just mean to suggest that I find Kirk’s relationship with Miramanee to be the most affecting “love story” for the character of Kirk.

The good qualities of "The Paradise Syndrome" very much outweigh the bad ones.  For instance, the plot device of the obelisk force-field device seems strangely believable, in light of the Preservers’ predilections. Yet, on the other hand, it seems odd that the notes in the phrase “Kirk to Enterprise” would prove the exact “key” to opening the obelisk’s trap door. 

Another great moment in the episode involves Spock’s attempt to mind-meld with Kirk, and re-assert the Captain’s identity. Only it’s easier said than done. Spock discovers what we all know by now James Kirk is an extremely strong-willed and stubborn individual.

Star Trek Week 2019: "How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth"

STARDATE: 6063.4

The U.S.S. Enterprise tracks the origins of a mysterious alien space probe which recently scanned Earth and headed out into deep space.  The ship encounters on its path a giant space vessel surrounded by an "immense energy field."  

The incredibly-advanced ship, which can transform into a giant serpent, is the home of an alien called Kukulkan.  As ship's navigator Ensign Walking Bear notes, Kukulkan is also the name of a God from Aztec and Mayan legends: a winged being who came down from the sky and brought "knowledge" with him.  Unfortunately, this "God" is also a vengeful one, and demands that the Enterprise crew worship him...

Written by Russell Bates and David Wise, "How Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth" takes its title from Shakespeare's King Lear.  The rest of the quote goes "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child."  Therefore, this episode's title takes Kukulkan's perspective, and  refers to humanity as his "ungrateful" children.

This is an important aspect, actually, of Star Trek's creative equation.  On more than one occasion in the franchise, mankind is described as being a "child-like" species, one taking its first steps into a larger universe. 

And simultaneously, in episodes such as "Who Mourns for Adonis Adonais" -- a clear antecedent to this animated entry -- man is seen as ungrateful, but ultimately necessarily so.  None of us can remain children forever, and any parent figure, whether Apollo or Kukulkan, who asks us to do so is asking for something that can't be given.  "We've grown up now," Kirk tells Kukulkan here.  "We don't need you anymore."

Those words are a knife in any parent's heart, to be certain, but also an expression of the fact that the task of parenting has been accomplished in sterling fashion.  The goal of all parents is -- or should be -- to raise self-sufficient, self-directed beings, ones capable of thriving and growing independently.  Still, those words must hurt, and I like that Kirk very much acknowledges that hurt in the coda of this story by referencing the line from Shakespeare.

Although some viewers may perceive "How Sharper Than a Serpent's Tooth" as a rehash of other tales, I've always enjoyed this episode of Star Trek: The Animated Series, in part because I like the idea of God as an old, lonely being, a parental figure who doesn't know, in the end, when it is time to let go.  This makes the God in this case rather sympathetic.

Secondly, I like the new character, Ensign Walking Bear character, and his contributions to the story. I suspect that Walking Bear is the first Native American crew member we meet on the Enterprise, though the DC comics of the 1980s also featured a Native American named Bearclaw, if memory serves.  And of course, Chakotay was a major character on Voyager in the 1990s.

From a visual standpoint, this episode of the second season is also, surely, a budget-buster.  Kukulkan not only boasts an alien zoo (replete with a horta...), but a spaceship interior which can re-form into a giant interactive puzzle built from the architectural flourishes of various Earth cultures.

Next week: the final episode of Star Trek: The Animated Series: "The Counter Clock Incident."