In an effort to relive my early teens, I am re-watching old episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It is both better and worse than I remembered it, as was my youth most likely.
_____________________________________
Seriesdate: 5.05
Disaster
That episode where the engineer and the doctor don't know what "radiation" is, Picard jacques a shaft and appoints a radish officer, Data gives Riker head after they both steam their buns and Worf has a human as take-out. But more importantly, we get to stare at Sirtis' seat of command for a good long stretch-pants as she struggles to make a hard. (decision) Y'see, a filament done quantumed-up the Enterprise's systems, isolating various crew members in separate parts of the ship without communication. Solid precept hampered by groaningly contrived writing forcing all the characters into stupid decisions and forced ignorance for the sake of drama, but ultimately salvaged by the actors who judiciously played down the more ludicrous bits instead of piling ham on cheese.
Picard's stuck in a soon-to-fall elevator with three rugrats and pulls a "go on without me" because he sprained his ankle, though I suppose you shouldn't expect anything more original from whoever came up with the very Scie Fie scenario of a stuck elevator IIiiinn sspaaaaaAACE! And it's not even a space elevator! Also, note that no matter how many systems get fried, how little power they have remaining, the one technology that never, ever fails is the artificial gravity.
Worf has to deliver Keiko's (Obrien's (the transporter chief's) wife's) baby at the bar, which is mostly an excuse for a woman to tell a man he doesn't know what he's doing and waste five minutes of air time groaning. Don't ask where Guinan the centuries-old mystical barkeep / renaissance woman was during all this. Presumably Sister Act-ing or something.
Data
and Riker traverse a dragonless dungeon of access tubes littered with environmental
hazards. At one point Data offers to
block a half-million-amp electrical arc with his plastic body, since he can detach his head. So he steps into the
dramatically sparking electricity and only AFTER has Riker detach his
head. Positronic logic at work, ladies and gentlemen.
Troi as ranking officer on the bridge has to exert some uncharacteristic authority over O'Brien and the rebellious Ensign Ro. The engine's antimatter's about to matter in a 'kaboom' sort of way so they must choose whether to save themselves or keep attempting repairs in case others have survived. Compared to the rest it sounds almost reasonable, except we conveniently forget Troi's oft-demonstrated telepathic detection of life even from orbit, much less across a few bulkheads, and you'd think a thousand panicking monkeys would at least tweak the needle on her emotive compass. As usual, TNG's need to hand-wave, nullify or simply ignore the Trois' mentalism only further supports my point that telepathy is a dead end for science fiction.
But my favorite plot thread, for sheer redundancy of lack of common sense, has to be LaForge's and Crusher's.
"The radiation level is about 20% lower at this end of the bay. Let's move the containers over to here."
Now, first off, assuming that Minas Morgul miasma there outputs a radiating force it should be subject to the inverse-square law, partly absorbed upon reflection and mitigated by shielding, so you shouldn't need a tricorder to immediately huddle against the farthest corner from the breach along the same wall. Also, prop up some inert matter as shielding... like that freaking cargo pallet you're standing on, Bev! The pallet! Use the pallet, Bev! THE PALLET! THE PALLET!
This whole spiel might seem less ludicrous if they hadn't demonstrated energy shielding in the form of Data's nonconductive corpus just five minutes prior. Hell, they could even rotate some of the drums to shield others in turn then huddle behind them, assuming secondary radiation's less dangerous. Even if the fire's venting particles to fill the room, venting it away from themselves or at least not basking in its glow would buy them precious time.
If you're inclined to excuse such nonsense by claiming nuclear physics was too far over their wee little screenwriter heads back in the days of televisual yore (1991) consider that Robert Heinlein gave a more realistic account back in 1949. But, so long as you despise your audience enough, there's no common denominator too low.
After amusing themselves rolling explosive drums over the floor in front of a radioactive plasma breach, the engineer and doctor decide instead to simply vent all the air out of the cargo hold to vacuum the boom-boom into space and starve out the plasma fire, but they'll be safe... by clinging bare-handed to a metal ladder... in rapidly expanding air... instead of bracing themselves against the computer terminal they need to use to re-gas themselves anyway. Quoth the "doctor":
"Once the air is vented, the first thing you'll feel is an extreme pressure on your lungs. You have to resist the temptation to exhale."
- which of course would burst your alveoli and drown you in blood, a fact they wouldn't even have needed to confirm with any university professors, but merely with the nearest beach bum handing out scuba-diving certifications. Good night, everybody!
All in all, noteworthy script for attempting to fit five plot threads into a standard 45mins+ads show, but not for any success in pulling it off.
_____________________________________________________________
Seriesdate: 7.15
Lower Decks
Personally I would consider this interpersonal tapestry relatively dull, but it pulls off a damn good climax via a rarely utilized focus shift to a cast of five rando' mooks. Well, technically one of them's the same Bajoran from The First Duty (where Wesley finally gets a long-overdue browbeating) having completed her degree in murderonics or whatever it is military schools hand out and joined the Enterprise. Initially set up as competing for a promotion, <something happens> to shift our attention to their individual relationships with their superiors and the inherent struggle of building loyalty and trust within a closed environment. From the mundane interference in each others' personal lives (Crusher's assistant) to the counterproductive careerism (Riker's suck-up) to dealing with an underling too clever for his own good (LaForge's pet Vulcan) to the momentous decision to send a dedicated young graduate with a troubled past on a mission far over her head, the episode eagerly takes a step farther than TV clichés would normally allow.
While the ending's a bit sappy and early scenes painfully slow (e.g. drinking with Riker) in one respect at least the focus shift to a new character was exploited far beyond expectations. If an established hero's sent on a dangerous mission, especially mid-way through a season, you know he's going to make it. No tension. TNG suffered from that issue same as any other serial, and conversely, inherited from the original series also the other extreme of "redshirts" who'd barely get one line before biting the dust. Sito Jaxa on the other hand interacts for half an hour with the rest of the cast before her call to adventure. Brilliantly, she's played fairly low-key compared to the more colorful "downstairs" crew (perfectly logical once you hear her side of the story in the aftermath of The First Duty) only gradually outshining them through not just "quirky" but meaningful development. By the time she gears up for action, the audience is just invested enough in her success to wonder at it.
________________________________________________________________
Seriesdate: 6.10 - 6.11
Chain of Command
One of the series' lauded high points, and not without cause. However, after a stuningly blunt opening (replacing Picard with a new captain) it drags a bit for its two-episode scope. Turns out he, Worf and Crusher are being sent on a hush-hush mission to sabotage a Cardassian bioweapon ("metagenic" - for which Crusher gives so hare-brained an explanation as would sully my blog by its repetition) and so they spend the rest of the episode spelunking in black catsuits, but not before some painfully awkward PG-rated seduction of a Ferengi by Crusher.
The "A" plot consists of the other officers struggling to meet the replacement's demands, frustrated at his unwillingness to take any advice or address valid concerns, while he negotiates with a Cardassian delegation in a manner befitting a drunken Klingon. Then, in the last five minutes, it turns out the bioweapon was a fake to lure Picard in for capture, and the A and B plots suddenly flip.
 |
| Oh, now I get the title! |
The second half revolves around Picard being tortured by the Cardassians, and given it largely hinges on the interplay between two good actors while giving a surprisingly concise summary of the manipulative angle of torture, it quickly became another feather in Stewart's cap. Certainly Picard's pyrrhic proclamation "There! Are! Four! Lights!" has been making its rounds on the internet alongside "I am Locutus of Borg" ever since.
In the background, Riker and the new kid in the big chair fall out then fall back in just in time to gain some leverage over the Hardassians and secure Picard's release. (Oh, and save a planet.)
___________________________________________________________________
I
set out for examples of TNG's take on martial obedience and inter-rank
relations and I don't think it's any accident that all three turned out
to feature Cardassians and/or Bajorans. Deep Space Nine launched immediately after Chain of Command aired, and establishing a whole new series' fundamental power play lent itself well to conflicts or rank and privilege. Which was quite welcome, given TNG suffered severe growing pains in that department. The original series set a terrible precedent with James T. Crotchgrab the rule-defying interstellar bad boy, and at first TNG seemed to head in the same direction, discussing rules like the prime directive only when it would give its heroes something to break. Never mind that when you spend your days locked in a crate in hard vacuum fifty light-years from the exact center of nowhere, most of the rules you have to follow are quite literally a matter of life and death... even before the psychic cyborg space whales show up.
Still, TNG struggled to balance dramatic conflict with believable interactions which varied from episode to episode depending on whether individual writers remembered it's supposed to be a military vessel. Even ignoring Wesley's specialness, Riker for instance gets alternately painted as either a hard-nosed, hypercritical overachiever (Lower Decks) or an insubordinate maverick (Chain of Command) with no in-character justification as the plot demands.
Picard is either an awkward authority figure incapable of dealing with humans except through ranks (Disaster) or a savvy manipulator always a step ahead of his underlings (LD).
Troi is either bravely charging into her superiors' offices to set them straight in their relations with others (LD, CoC) or fretting herself over giving even one order to her underlings (D) and never mind she spent the first couple of seasons fainting and swooning.
Crusher... is so consistently a mother hen you have to wonder what the hell she's even doing on a military vessel.
Worf makes an interesting case, as many have noted his informed competence, pugnacity and loyalty are most often used as mere set-ups to show him failing or being pushed into a situation where he questions his principles. In all three of these examples however, his martial sensibilites allow him at least some success.
(D) - he does a bang-up job organizing the bar and setting a broken bone, but in order to be browbeaten by a female he has to fail at midwifery.
(LD) - he wisely trains his underling and succeeds in reminding her to question authority when it is unjust, which earns her Picard's respect and trust. Then, his interpersonal acumen forgotten, he has to be coddled by the other low-ranking crew at the end.
(CoC) - he knocks out a Cardassian or two, but mostly he's brought along so we can feel the pathos of brave, loyal Worf forced to run from the fight and abandon his boss.
In Data's case his equanimity and consideration sap his interactions of any tension inherent in defying authority. Even when he seemingly refuses orders, as in Clues, it's only because an external set of circumstances legitimize his actions. So in all three of these examples, he mostly... exists.
Geordi, for much the same reason as Data, is too reasonable a person to fuel much drama. Even in (CoC) he's shown kvetching only because of the physical impossibility of carrying out his orders as he'd wish. In (D) he and Crusher notably spend all their time agreeing with each other where all the other characters voice reticence or frustration.
The Cardassians I've always thought a bit superfluous in TNG as they overlap too heavily with the Romulans. Though one is supposed to be a decadent empire and the other an upstart military junta, a rising empire, in the end their episodes play much the same, with orders being barked and shadowy schemers twiddling their fingers. In fact, aside from a less-defined plot and better acting, you'd be hard-pressed to differentiate the villains in (CoC) from those in The Mind's Eye two years earlier.
Rarely did TNG grasp power dynamics as in (CoC) Picard's defiance of his tormentor. Faced with absolute, malevolent authority, he reframes the situation mentally, unveiling the Cardassian as a desperate, terrified child overcompensating by abusing whatever power he gains over others where Picard himself in (LD) twice uses his influence to widen another's personal choice.
No comments:
Post a Comment