I can pretty safely call this the birth of the "light" Star Trek episode. Even though previous episodes may have featured concepts or other elements that were a bit silly, they were there to further the drama or advance character. It was the execution that made them legitimate.
Here is an episode that has none of that. It doesn't quite present itself as an issue, however, because it never attempts to be anything more. No signature Trek ambition makes for an odd but enjoyable excursion as the Enterprise travels to an amusement park planet that reads the crew's thoughts with a device that looks like a cheap TV antennae, then quickly produces whatever it is they are thinking of.
The tone of the show is set in the opening teaser: tired and sore Kirk is complaining to Spock of back pains. As his yeoman begins to massage his back, he assumes it is Spock, to no protest. I find it amusing that he is okay with the on-duty massage initially, but orders it stopped when he finds out it wasn't Spock. "Dig it in there, Mr. Sp--"
This silliness embodies the entire episode, which plays more like a classic Shakespearean comedy in the vein of "Midsummer Night's Dream." It even has what is now considered a storytelling cop-out: the deus ex machina. After the crew encounters all sorts of crazy shenanigans with The White Rabbit, old lovers, a samurai, a tiger, and Don Juan, they are saved by the appearance of a caretaker who makes everything right. Actually, the appearance of this character makes the episode itself pretty inconsequential. This minimizes any offense viewers might have taken by its flightiness.
Another thing that amused me, unintentionally, was that even the facts we learn about some of the character's pasts through their fantasy do absolutely nothing to further their character! We meet an old lover of Kirk's, but this relationship not only goes nowhere, it gives us no more understanding of him than we had before. This becomes funny when McCoy's budding relationship with Yeoman Barrows teeters on genuine feeling ... an interaction which is afforded only a fraction of the Kirk/Ruth screen time!
There's also a whole slew of funny interactions, both on the planet and off. Such as Spock describing an irritable crewman who refuses shore leave. Kirk demands that his duty take precedent, and that the crewman relax. "What's his name?" To which Spock replies, "James Kirk." This sets up a quote from Kirk that caps off the episode:
"The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play."
In a brief (but appropriate for Shore Leave) drop of my analytical guard, I will admit to this being one of my three favorite episodes as a child. No surprise, right?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Menagerie
More court drama aboard the Enterprise!
This two-part episode features Spock willfully committing mutiny by hijacking the Enterprise in order to transport the now-crippled Captain Pike to the planet Talos IV. Pike was the previous captain of the Enterprise whom Spock served under. Seeing him act with some mysterious form of allegiance to his former Captain really holds together the "bookend" sections of these episodes.
You see, this episode regurgitates footage from the original, unused pilot episode for Star Trek in which Pike was the lead. They've wrapped a new story around the episode. One which, to my mind, feels too obviously reverse engineered for the purposes of using the old footage. No matter how interesting Spock's dedication is, it can't make up for the inherent shortcomings of the pilot. Especially when the two seem so completely disparate.
Since I consider these stories paired but entirely separate, lets then talk about that pilot, The Cage. The story deals with the crews encounter with a highly advanced species. The concept itself is pure science fiction, evoking the best of Forbidden Planet and the like. Unfortunately, it did little to advance character. These alien beings allow us to journey into Pike's psyche. However, learning facts about a character is not the same as developing one. It will satisfy fans of strict sci-fi more than anyone else.
The content of the pilot itself, however, is nothing to be sniffed at. The concepts dealt with (perception, reality, choice) are ambitious for their time. They are rife with storytelling potential. Unfortunately, they were dealt with in a way that feels a little inaccessible. This lead to many criticisms, specifically from the studio that felt it was too "cerebral." I can reconcile this overly simplified criticism with my own discontent with the episode's execution.
Thankfully, the bookend segments with Spock and his trial, on their own, are quite well done. They use the events of the pilot as a catalyst for drama. When you navigate away from that to show the catalyst in intimate detail, it becomes tiresome and feels unnecessary.
"Captain Kirk, Captain Pike has an illusion, and you have reality. May you find your way as pleasant."
This two-part episode features Spock willfully committing mutiny by hijacking the Enterprise in order to transport the now-crippled Captain Pike to the planet Talos IV. Pike was the previous captain of the Enterprise whom Spock served under. Seeing him act with some mysterious form of allegiance to his former Captain really holds together the "bookend" sections of these episodes.
You see, this episode regurgitates footage from the original, unused pilot episode for Star Trek in which Pike was the lead. They've wrapped a new story around the episode. One which, to my mind, feels too obviously reverse engineered for the purposes of using the old footage. No matter how interesting Spock's dedication is, it can't make up for the inherent shortcomings of the pilot. Especially when the two seem so completely disparate.
Since I consider these stories paired but entirely separate, lets then talk about that pilot, The Cage. The story deals with the crews encounter with a highly advanced species. The concept itself is pure science fiction, evoking the best of Forbidden Planet and the like. Unfortunately, it did little to advance character. These alien beings allow us to journey into Pike's psyche. However, learning facts about a character is not the same as developing one. It will satisfy fans of strict sci-fi more than anyone else.
The content of the pilot itself, however, is nothing to be sniffed at. The concepts dealt with (perception, reality, choice) are ambitious for their time. They are rife with storytelling potential. Unfortunately, they were dealt with in a way that feels a little inaccessible. This lead to many criticisms, specifically from the studio that felt it was too "cerebral." I can reconcile this overly simplified criticism with my own discontent with the episode's execution.
Thankfully, the bookend segments with Spock and his trial, on their own, are quite well done. They use the events of the pilot as a catalyst for drama. When you navigate away from that to show the catalyst in intimate detail, it becomes tiresome and feels unnecessary.
"Captain Kirk, Captain Pike has an illusion, and you have reality. May you find your way as pleasant."
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Court Martial
This is a fantastically well rounded episode; firing on all cylinders with with what could have been a straightforward court drama.
Kirk is accused of a breach of protocol which results in the death of a crewman. This alone could sustain an hour long episode, but the concept is fleshed out to include some real humanity. The ship's computer records a sequence of events that implicate the captain, who claims it did not happen as such. The writers use this as a opportunity to pit man against machine, a theme already resonating in Star Trek's run.
Kirk's lawyer is the personification of this conflict. A brilliantly drawn and performed character, he is bookish and distrustful of modern computerization. He is introduced to us in a sea of books, the perfect visual image to associate with him. He's passionate and fun to watch. His costume is also wonderfully in character.
As if this excellent conflict weren't enough, another side character is given a great amount of interest. The prosecution attorney is one of Kirk's many female conquests. Still quite taken with the captain, she is torn between obligations to her job and the remnants of romance. It's a small role with a great opportunity for drama, and it is seized beautifully by the equally lovely actress portraying her.
There's a great sequence when Spock finally uncovers a way to prove Kirk innocent by playing Chess. You see, when playing against the supposedly infallible computer, the best he should be able to achieve is a draw. However, Spock is able to beat the machine FIVE TIMES. The computer has been meddled with, and the hunt is on for the one officer who could have altered it: the crewman presumed dead!
High drama ensues as the ship is searched before the court. The writer's do their duty by brilliantly heightening the tension. Not only is Kirk on the hunt for a man filled with vengeance, but in order to locate him they must disengage the ship's engines. As the orbit decays, Kirk has limited time to find his foe before the ship plummets to it's destruction.
Creating the plot-based necessity for the tension-building time limit is a legitimate and entirely earned method of dramatic enhancement. The audience doesn't feel played when there is a perceived need to have the engines shut off. It has been handled here far better than previous episodes where the methodology was obvious and transparent.
The episode ends with a truly funny (and entirely not forced) moment between the show's trio. Kirk and his lady-attorney-friend share a kiss on the bridge. After she leaves, and he returns to the captain's chair, flanked by Spock and McCoy, his only words are:
"She's a very good lawyer."
To which Spock Replies, "Obviously," and McCoy, "Indeed she is."
Kirk is accused of a breach of protocol which results in the death of a crewman. This alone could sustain an hour long episode, but the concept is fleshed out to include some real humanity. The ship's computer records a sequence of events that implicate the captain, who claims it did not happen as such. The writers use this as a opportunity to pit man against machine, a theme already resonating in Star Trek's run.
Kirk's lawyer is the personification of this conflict. A brilliantly drawn and performed character, he is bookish and distrustful of modern computerization. He is introduced to us in a sea of books, the perfect visual image to associate with him. He's passionate and fun to watch. His costume is also wonderfully in character.
As if this excellent conflict weren't enough, another side character is given a great amount of interest. The prosecution attorney is one of Kirk's many female conquests. Still quite taken with the captain, she is torn between obligations to her job and the remnants of romance. It's a small role with a great opportunity for drama, and it is seized beautifully by the equally lovely actress portraying her.
There's a great sequence when Spock finally uncovers a way to prove Kirk innocent by playing Chess. You see, when playing against the supposedly infallible computer, the best he should be able to achieve is a draw. However, Spock is able to beat the machine FIVE TIMES. The computer has been meddled with, and the hunt is on for the one officer who could have altered it: the crewman presumed dead!
High drama ensues as the ship is searched before the court. The writer's do their duty by brilliantly heightening the tension. Not only is Kirk on the hunt for a man filled with vengeance, but in order to locate him they must disengage the ship's engines. As the orbit decays, Kirk has limited time to find his foe before the ship plummets to it's destruction.
Creating the plot-based necessity for the tension-building time limit is a legitimate and entirely earned method of dramatic enhancement. The audience doesn't feel played when there is a perceived need to have the engines shut off. It has been handled here far better than previous episodes where the methodology was obvious and transparent.
The episode ends with a truly funny (and entirely not forced) moment between the show's trio. Kirk and his lady-attorney-friend share a kiss on the bridge. After she leaves, and he returns to the captain's chair, flanked by Spock and McCoy, his only words are:
"She's a very good lawyer."
To which Spock Replies, "Obviously," and McCoy, "Indeed she is."
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Galileo Seven
As if in answer to my issues with last episode's "Kirk escapades", here comes an episode where our captain steps aside. This tale of a lost shuttle of seven passengers hones in on Mr. Spock, a character that has earned his iconic status with the fascinating tension and conflict that define him.
Up until this episode, the paradoxical nature of Spock's human/Vulcan heritage have only been used in passing. This marks the first time I can really point to it and say it was used fully, to its dramatic potential. You see, Spock being in charge of this stranded landing party gives him a command position. The storytellers have cleverly and appropriately used this as a window into the issues of logical thinking in the heightened decision-making position he finds himself in.
The adverse reaction of the other crewmembers to Spock's logical thought process bring about heated interactions. None more so than after the death of a crewman by one of the planet's natives. Spock finds himself pitted against situations that require more of him than he is traditionally able to facilitate. He finds himself puzzled when his logical deductions not only fail, but respect for him is lost in the eyes of the crew. This hits home the importance of human judgement and intuition; a subject dealt with on the show previously, and inherent to the very fabric of Star Trek.
"Mr. Spock, life and death are seldom logical."
"But attaining a desired goal always is, Doctor."
There are a lot of nice pearls like that one sprinkled throughout the episode. The beat for beat drama is played very well on all sides. From the writing to the performers, there's a lot of character dynamic being explored here. While I find this delightful, I can't help but wish that the adventure aspect of the show was as polished. The limited budget of the show can be put to blame, I'm sure. Thankfully, the prioreties of the story have been put first, allowing fo the audience to forgive any budgetary shortcomings.
The tension of the stranded shuttle's situation is enhanced by a time limit introduced early in the show. The Enterprise is en route to deliver medical supplies, so a rescue effort can only be allotted a short period of time. Kirk's search for the crew is played against the annoying protest of a stern commissioner assigned to accompany the Enterprise. This is almost too apparently placed in the episode to heighten the stakes. Most of the interludes with Kirk and the commissioner are re-iterations of the same basic concept, leaving me wanting to see what Spock and McCoy were up to on the planet.
The episode wraps up nicely, with a beautifully desperate act performed by Mr. Spock that ends up saving the crew. Mr. Spock stared into the face of death with his human comrades, and was clearly affected by their criticism of his leadership. His hard Vulcan upbringing was worn down to reveal the human half we've seen shining through the cracks. He grew to appreciate the immediacy of intuition and, to some minute degree, even if he denies it outright, the value of illogic.
As a last note, I'll say I found it bizarrely inappropriate to end on the bridge crew laughing at Spock. It seems to be a trend to end the show with everyone on the bridge laughing. It's kind of a corny thing I ignore, but this time it came off as kind of cruel.
I'm sure Spock can handle it.
Up until this episode, the paradoxical nature of Spock's human/Vulcan heritage have only been used in passing. This marks the first time I can really point to it and say it was used fully, to its dramatic potential. You see, Spock being in charge of this stranded landing party gives him a command position. The storytellers have cleverly and appropriately used this as a window into the issues of logical thinking in the heightened decision-making position he finds himself in.
The adverse reaction of the other crewmembers to Spock's logical thought process bring about heated interactions. None more so than after the death of a crewman by one of the planet's natives. Spock finds himself pitted against situations that require more of him than he is traditionally able to facilitate. He finds himself puzzled when his logical deductions not only fail, but respect for him is lost in the eyes of the crew. This hits home the importance of human judgement and intuition; a subject dealt with on the show previously, and inherent to the very fabric of Star Trek.
"Mr. Spock, life and death are seldom logical."
"But attaining a desired goal always is, Doctor."
There are a lot of nice pearls like that one sprinkled throughout the episode. The beat for beat drama is played very well on all sides. From the writing to the performers, there's a lot of character dynamic being explored here. While I find this delightful, I can't help but wish that the adventure aspect of the show was as polished. The limited budget of the show can be put to blame, I'm sure. Thankfully, the prioreties of the story have been put first, allowing fo the audience to forgive any budgetary shortcomings.
The tension of the stranded shuttle's situation is enhanced by a time limit introduced early in the show. The Enterprise is en route to deliver medical supplies, so a rescue effort can only be allotted a short period of time. Kirk's search for the crew is played against the annoying protest of a stern commissioner assigned to accompany the Enterprise. This is almost too apparently placed in the episode to heighten the stakes. Most of the interludes with Kirk and the commissioner are re-iterations of the same basic concept, leaving me wanting to see what Spock and McCoy were up to on the planet.
The episode wraps up nicely, with a beautifully desperate act performed by Mr. Spock that ends up saving the crew. Mr. Spock stared into the face of death with his human comrades, and was clearly affected by their criticism of his leadership. His hard Vulcan upbringing was worn down to reveal the human half we've seen shining through the cracks. He grew to appreciate the immediacy of intuition and, to some minute degree, even if he denies it outright, the value of illogic.
As a last note, I'll say I found it bizarrely inappropriate to end on the bridge crew laughing at Spock. It seems to be a trend to end the show with everyone on the bridge laughing. It's kind of a corny thing I ignore, but this time it came off as kind of cruel.
I'm sure Spock can handle it.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The Conscience of the King
Shakespeare's work has survived for hundreds of years already, why not a few hundred more? In Star Trek's future, the Bard's plays continue to entertain and occasionally bore, as is the case with our Captain Kirk. He doesn't seem to be terribly interested in "Macbeth" until his comrade accuses the lead actor of being a notorious murderer. I find Kirk's orignal lack of interest downright histerical.
This comrade of his has lied to Kirk to get him to divert the Enterprise, with some silly story about a proposed end to famine. You see, only eight or nine people ever saw this nefarious Kodos. Kirk and this man are two of these nine. He needs Kirk to corroborate his suspiscions. I can't blame this guy for being so vehement, because if I was a wanted mass murderer who faked my death, a space-traveling group of Shakespearean actors would be my first hiding spot.
Kirk goes to a party where this actor is to be, and if you listen closely you'll here a jazzy lounge version of the Star Trek title theme. My interest in 1960s pop culture eats this up, but my interest in science fiction and character drama finds it perfect indicative of my issues witht he episode: it's more a remnant of its time than it is solid storytelling. Kirk falls for the actor's daughter -- quickly and almost unbelievably -- and there's a fair amount of tension squeezed from that fact, but it just isn't strong enough to disguise what reveals itself as a rather straightforward whodunnit.
Also, this episode is a big Kirk show; stalling the forward momentum we'd built up with the crew as characters. This was admittedly little, but still strong enough to warrent an unfillfilled desire from the audience's point of view. Usually these Kirk-escapades reveal enough about his character to make it both interesting and justified. I don't feel like we left this episode knowing anything more about the captain, despite the copious amount of screentime he is given. Not to say he's the only actor on screen.
There's a killer little scene between McCoy and Spock, when the Vulcan first officer begins to doubt the captain's peculiar behavior. When McCoy offers him some Saurian Brandy, Spock utters another winner: "My father's race was spared the dubious benefits of alcohol." To which McCoy replies "Now I know why they were conquered." It's a funny, character bit, and guess what? It has nothing to do with the episode. A fun aside. A cheery non-sequitor. It isn't earned, and acts as a comparison that reminds you just how mediocre the surrounding epsiode is. Detective Spock and his doubting Doctor McWatson!
Uhura sings a song to the ill fated officer Reilly, the only other living whitness to Kodos' likeness. It's fun that they gave her something to do, but really? That's it? Sing with the harp, little lady, we'll get to you in another episode. Sing a tune that'll likely be dated by the time this episode airs. Okay, I may be getting a bit harsh here. I'm not searching for these things, but once you loose faith in the epsiode's storyteller, it's tough not to see them.
Spock attempts to convice Kirk of his stubborness against accepting the actor's true identity. This is soap stuff, unbefittingly mundane and unambitous for a show that's proven itself otherwise.
I offer the following exchange as evidence:
"Has the machine changed them? Made them just people instead of women?"
"Worlds may change, galaxies disintigrate, but a woman always remains a woman."
Damn.
This comrade of his has lied to Kirk to get him to divert the Enterprise, with some silly story about a proposed end to famine. You see, only eight or nine people ever saw this nefarious Kodos. Kirk and this man are two of these nine. He needs Kirk to corroborate his suspiscions. I can't blame this guy for being so vehement, because if I was a wanted mass murderer who faked my death, a space-traveling group of Shakespearean actors would be my first hiding spot.
Kirk goes to a party where this actor is to be, and if you listen closely you'll here a jazzy lounge version of the Star Trek title theme. My interest in 1960s pop culture eats this up, but my interest in science fiction and character drama finds it perfect indicative of my issues witht he episode: it's more a remnant of its time than it is solid storytelling. Kirk falls for the actor's daughter -- quickly and almost unbelievably -- and there's a fair amount of tension squeezed from that fact, but it just isn't strong enough to disguise what reveals itself as a rather straightforward whodunnit.
Also, this episode is a big Kirk show; stalling the forward momentum we'd built up with the crew as characters. This was admittedly little, but still strong enough to warrent an unfillfilled desire from the audience's point of view. Usually these Kirk-escapades reveal enough about his character to make it both interesting and justified. I don't feel like we left this episode knowing anything more about the captain, despite the copious amount of screentime he is given. Not to say he's the only actor on screen.
There's a killer little scene between McCoy and Spock, when the Vulcan first officer begins to doubt the captain's peculiar behavior. When McCoy offers him some Saurian Brandy, Spock utters another winner: "My father's race was spared the dubious benefits of alcohol." To which McCoy replies "Now I know why they were conquered." It's a funny, character bit, and guess what? It has nothing to do with the episode. A fun aside. A cheery non-sequitor. It isn't earned, and acts as a comparison that reminds you just how mediocre the surrounding epsiode is. Detective Spock and his doubting Doctor McWatson!
Uhura sings a song to the ill fated officer Reilly, the only other living whitness to Kodos' likeness. It's fun that they gave her something to do, but really? That's it? Sing with the harp, little lady, we'll get to you in another episode. Sing a tune that'll likely be dated by the time this episode airs. Okay, I may be getting a bit harsh here. I'm not searching for these things, but once you loose faith in the epsiode's storyteller, it's tough not to see them.
Spock attempts to convice Kirk of his stubborness against accepting the actor's true identity. This is soap stuff, unbefittingly mundane and unambitous for a show that's proven itself otherwise.
I offer the following exchange as evidence:
"Has the machine changed them? Made them just people instead of women?"
"Worlds may change, galaxies disintigrate, but a woman always remains a woman."
Damn.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Miri
This episode is sloppily plotted. The characters encounter a peculiar issue (as they usually do) and the entire episode banks upon our being interested in the extreme peculiarity of that issue.
The Enterprise discoveres a duplicate Earth (a setup left entirely unresovled) which has been deserted save for the children, who have survived for hundreds of years. The action of the episode involves the crew stumbling upon crumbs of information to finally (and arbitrarily) conclude that the inhabitants of this planet created a virus, the effects of which preserve the life of the children and brutally transform and kill the adults.
The only drama stems from the fact that the children will eventually reach puberty and succumb to the virus. Meanwhile, the crew is infected, and has only a limited window of sanity to produce an antidote. The resolution of the situation is so unearned and unsatisfying I'm left breathless. Is this Star Trek?
McCoy finds some research papers and creates an antidote -- fatal if he's wrong -- which he tests on himself. It works and saves everyone. Gee, that was rather easy. The only other complication (not to suggest that more would ensure better drama) is the lost-boys-like child congregation's disdain for the crew leading them to steal their communicators. Which, really, births McCoy's necessity to test the unconfirmed antidote on himself. So, it's really just the one thing. There's a nice but ultimately inconsequential plea from Kirk for the children's help.
In retrospect, Kirk's relationship with the puberty approaching Miri is ... uncomfortable. Also, this episode has two -- count 'em, two -- idiosyncratic or noteworthy Spock lines. "It could be a beaker full of death" and my personal favorite:
"That little girl is at least three hundred years older than you are, yeoman ... think about it."
The Enterprise discoveres a duplicate Earth (a setup left entirely unresovled) which has been deserted save for the children, who have survived for hundreds of years. The action of the episode involves the crew stumbling upon crumbs of information to finally (and arbitrarily) conclude that the inhabitants of this planet created a virus, the effects of which preserve the life of the children and brutally transform and kill the adults.
The only drama stems from the fact that the children will eventually reach puberty and succumb to the virus. Meanwhile, the crew is infected, and has only a limited window of sanity to produce an antidote. The resolution of the situation is so unearned and unsatisfying I'm left breathless. Is this Star Trek?
McCoy finds some research papers and creates an antidote -- fatal if he's wrong -- which he tests on himself. It works and saves everyone. Gee, that was rather easy. The only other complication (not to suggest that more would ensure better drama) is the lost-boys-like child congregation's disdain for the crew leading them to steal their communicators. Which, really, births McCoy's necessity to test the unconfirmed antidote on himself. So, it's really just the one thing. There's a nice but ultimately inconsequential plea from Kirk for the children's help.
In retrospect, Kirk's relationship with the puberty approaching Miri is ... uncomfortable. Also, this episode has two -- count 'em, two -- idiosyncratic or noteworthy Spock lines. "It could be a beaker full of death" and my personal favorite:
"That little girl is at least three hundred years older than you are, yeoman ... think about it."
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Dagger of the Mind
This is top notch Trek, this is.
I found this episode inspired a slew of reactions. I was terrified, concerned, troubled, and moved. This episode deals with the the abuse of a man's status as a medical practitioner. The Enterprise crew clues into what's discovered to be the corrupt use of a mind-control device (is there any other?) on their visit to a penal colony.
An inmate (and former doctor, we find) escapes from the colony and makes his way onto the Enterprise, thus engaging our good Captain in the scandal. McCoy smells foul-play from the very beginning, after observing this patient's "condition." Kirk initially objects to McCoy's suspicions about the penal colony warden, Dr. Adams. In whats seems to be a plucky jab, McCoy assigns Dr. Helen Noel, with whom he has a history, to assist Kirk on the mission.
The immediate recognition and concern for his reputation Helen inspires in Kirk is very telling. It really helps to fill in a bit of his past, and cement the viewer's suspicions about Kirk's affinity for women. Obviously, in the course of the show (and pop culture) this becomes obvious. At this point in the program, however, this seems to be the first flagrant self-recognition.
Upon meeting the esteemed Dr. Adams, Helen is naturally impressed and rejects any sort of accusations. Kirk, thankfully, keeps his wits about him, and doesn't allow the charm of Dr. Adams to effect himself too much. Once the legitimate foul play is stumbled upon, Helen is forced to face the truth and act accordingly. If anything, I wouldn't have minded seeing this change of character expounded upon further. However, taking into consideration that this is an hour-long adventure series, I cannot blame them.
So Dr. Adam's mind control device was used on this poor escapee's brain, he's all fried and freaking out, so McCoy and Spock have to take care of him while Kirk investigates. It's a beautifully dramatic and heart-wrenching ordeal, watching this man suffer incalculable brain loss. The situation does birth, however, the first instance of the Vulcan Mind Meld. It's an intriguing sequence as Spock performs this alien ritual, calming the berserk victim.
In order to test his suspicions first hand, Kirk subjects himself to the machine secretly, with Helen at the controls. What ensues is a fairly humorous sequence in which Helen amps up the sauciness of Kirk's memory of their Christmas party encounter. In a bold and funny move, we actually see the newly created memory play out. What starts off as innocent quickly turns sinister and unfortunate as Dr. Adams interrupts. He then twists Kirk's mind to make him believe he's desperately in love with Helen.
Decent Shatner performance in these mind-chamber sequences, but the real kicker is the plot structure. Placing the tension of this action against the McCoy/Spock struggles on the Enterprise is very effective. Add to that the fact that the situation has escalated beyond pleasantries or facades, and you've got high drama: they're captives now. There's a sweet little moment where Helen could have very well taken advantage of Kirk's new and false infatuation with her, but she rises to the occasion and struggles to help him remember. Good stuff.
Eventually they create an escape plan, just as Spock has discovered the truth thanks to his Mind Meld. The episode soars in a final raid by Enterprise security against the penal colony personnel and Spock walking in on Kirk and Helen mid-kiss, making for a memorable end to a satisfying episode.
Well written and well-executed, this is a fine example of why Star Trek became the iconic success it is today.
I found this episode inspired a slew of reactions. I was terrified, concerned, troubled, and moved. This episode deals with the the abuse of a man's status as a medical practitioner. The Enterprise crew clues into what's discovered to be the corrupt use of a mind-control device (is there any other?) on their visit to a penal colony.
An inmate (and former doctor, we find) escapes from the colony and makes his way onto the Enterprise, thus engaging our good Captain in the scandal. McCoy smells foul-play from the very beginning, after observing this patient's "condition." Kirk initially objects to McCoy's suspicions about the penal colony warden, Dr. Adams. In whats seems to be a plucky jab, McCoy assigns Dr. Helen Noel, with whom he has a history, to assist Kirk on the mission.
The immediate recognition and concern for his reputation Helen inspires in Kirk is very telling. It really helps to fill in a bit of his past, and cement the viewer's suspicions about Kirk's affinity for women. Obviously, in the course of the show (and pop culture) this becomes obvious. At this point in the program, however, this seems to be the first flagrant self-recognition.
Upon meeting the esteemed Dr. Adams, Helen is naturally impressed and rejects any sort of accusations. Kirk, thankfully, keeps his wits about him, and doesn't allow the charm of Dr. Adams to effect himself too much. Once the legitimate foul play is stumbled upon, Helen is forced to face the truth and act accordingly. If anything, I wouldn't have minded seeing this change of character expounded upon further. However, taking into consideration that this is an hour-long adventure series, I cannot blame them.
So Dr. Adam's mind control device was used on this poor escapee's brain, he's all fried and freaking out, so McCoy and Spock have to take care of him while Kirk investigates. It's a beautifully dramatic and heart-wrenching ordeal, watching this man suffer incalculable brain loss. The situation does birth, however, the first instance of the Vulcan Mind Meld. It's an intriguing sequence as Spock performs this alien ritual, calming the berserk victim.
In order to test his suspicions first hand, Kirk subjects himself to the machine secretly, with Helen at the controls. What ensues is a fairly humorous sequence in which Helen amps up the sauciness of Kirk's memory of their Christmas party encounter. In a bold and funny move, we actually see the newly created memory play out. What starts off as innocent quickly turns sinister and unfortunate as Dr. Adams interrupts. He then twists Kirk's mind to make him believe he's desperately in love with Helen.
Decent Shatner performance in these mind-chamber sequences, but the real kicker is the plot structure. Placing the tension of this action against the McCoy/Spock struggles on the Enterprise is very effective. Add to that the fact that the situation has escalated beyond pleasantries or facades, and you've got high drama: they're captives now. There's a sweet little moment where Helen could have very well taken advantage of Kirk's new and false infatuation with her, but she rises to the occasion and struggles to help him remember. Good stuff.
Eventually they create an escape plan, just as Spock has discovered the truth thanks to his Mind Meld. The episode soars in a final raid by Enterprise security against the penal colony personnel and Spock walking in on Kirk and Helen mid-kiss, making for a memorable end to a satisfying episode.
Well written and well-executed, this is a fine example of why Star Trek became the iconic success it is today.
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