Metamorphosis

The superior-being-encounter scenario is dealt with in a most unique fashion in this episode. Much like the previous (and many before) the Enterprise crew encounters a non-corporeal alien who helps to dramatically define aspects of humanity by juxtaposition.

This episode deals with the experiential necessity of humanity in a much more concise and legitimate fashion than "Catspaw" had brushed the subject. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are transporting a disease-stricken female space-commissioner when they are intercepted by a small panetiod emanating a strange energy.

It is revealed that this energy is a being called "The Companion" that has preserved 150 year lost space traveler Zefram Cochrane and captured our crew to keep him company. While Kirk initially attempts to brutally overload this being's energy in order to escape -- a catastrophic failure -- McCoy suggests a more diplomatic approach using a modified universal translator to communicate with the being.

Kirk attempts to reason with the being, telling it that the commissioner will die if it does not let them go. The companion's dedication to Cochrane (and it's female voice) make apparent a love connection between the now century-plus companions.

The thematic interest emerges when Kirk's negotiations with the being continue to fail. Here is a creature that has no body, and has established a relationship with a living man. Knowing only this form of singular existence, "she" does whatever is necessary to preserve the Cochrane's life and happiness.

Our species can only survive if we have obstacles to overcome. You take away all obstacles. Without them to strengthen us, we will weaken and die.

Kirk drops this doozy on her to little avail. It is not until she assumes the body of the dying commissioner (saving her life in the process) that she is able to comprehend the need of the crew. I found this materialization or merging to be the most compelling aspect of the episode, and find myself wishing it had appeared earlier than the third act, so as to be explored with more depth than it was afforded. She allows them to leave, and in a touching moment, Cochrane elects to stay with her.

While this is a fairly compelling piece of character drama, I'm curious as to why this being based on isolated intellect was never dramatically juxtaposed with Spock. It seems like a natural enough connection, considering what Spock has represented in previous Trek outings. Here Spock is rather pushed into the shadows, with Kirk and McCoy in the fore. Perhaps the writer felt that the most beneficial connection to be made was with the most passionate Human characters, and that inclusion of Spock might require further narrative-crippling definition of the Companion creature.

As it stands, the story is quaint and moderately thought provoking, handling the human themes with tremendously more ease than the campier Trek installments like last week's "Catspaw." It expounds on it's own thematic content in the episode's dialog, leaving little implication to extrapolate on the viewer's part. Not to say that is a necessary quality in a Trek episode, but as this is a critical analysis blog, I find it leaves me with little to add beyond a hearty recommendation.

Catspaw

A disembodied message shepherded by the death of a nameless crewmember forebodes a CURSE on the Enterprise.

Kirk beams down -- with Spock and McCoy flanking him in the iconic configuration -- to the planet-of-the-week for the purpose of investigating the disappearance of Scotty and Sulu. They quickly come upon the first of several traditional "Halloween" tropes in the form of three warning witches (ala Macbeth.) The episode to this point seems to take on an almost aimless structure with vague mysteries for the sole purpose of portraying a mood rather than any sort of conceptual complexity.

After being imprisoned in the picturesque dungeon, they come across possessed versions ofScotty and Sulu. Thankfully Kirk wastes no time in acknowleding the illusory nature of his surroundings. He is taken to Korob, the leader of this place, who questions Kirk's insitance on questioning that which is presented to him, rather than simply accepting it.

"You are the different one, Mister Spock. You do not think like the others. There are no colours to your patterns of logic. There's only black and white."

I applaud the writer for peppering a conceptually mediocre episode with insightful bits of dialogue that go beyond any such aspirations of the plot. They help to make palatable that which could have been relegated to a true guilty-pleasure of an episode.

It is revealed that Korob (inexperienced with humans) is testing our intrepid trifecta in some way. The nature of these tests is pushed to the wayside when we are introduced to Korob'ssultry assistant, Sylvia. There is a vain (but understandable) attempt to shroud the pulp nature of this episode's goings-on with references to the equivlent "Magic" in earth's mythology. This is attempt is trasnparent, however, as the actions of the plot never transcend those same instances of "Magic" in our familiar mythology. Calling it their "science" does little to better it.

"You seem to do with your mind what we do with tools."

Spock deduces that Korob has tapped into the subconcious of the crew accidentally in an attempt to create an environment they would accept. A fallout between Slyvia and Korob reveals that they are in fact superior beings new to the realm of sensations. Unfortunatley, her reaction to this new existence is more perverese than her collegue's.

Slyvia wishes to join with Kirk and fill in the gaps of her knowledge on the sensation of Power by combining their minds. She tempts him with her own knowledge of things beyond his wildest dreams. Kirk, in the only measurable act of heroism contained here, uses her for information on the device (a magic wand) that allows them to maintain their corporeal form and hold them captive.

Had this not been the third or forth time the concept of superior-beings-meddling-with-the-silly-humans had been presented, its light brushes with the subject might hold more value. However, the superior and more in-depth handling in previous episodes renders the viewer searching for other points of interest to identify with in the character or plot content.

The only faint idea that could be associated exclusively with this episode is through Sylvia's need for humanity's own dreams and ambition. Her "superior" intellect still knows nothing of true existence, as she lacks the experience of being alive. Also, the revelation of the creature's true forms, rather than the vibrant light orbs of episodes past, are helpless bugs. They die without the control of their illusion when reality is forced upon them by Kirk.

Interpretively, this can be seen as broaching themes of experiential (a posteriori) knowledge vs. inherent (a priori) knowledge. By these terms, Trek comes down firmly on the side of a posteriori knowledge, which of itself doesn't mesh with the more reconciliatory idealogies presented in previous Trek outings. (Not to mention Spock's strictly logical rationalist presence.) Considering the surrounding events of the episode, this interpretation is a strech at best, culled from bits of stray dialogue more likely present to lend credibitlity rather than imply a thematic statement.

Even though this episode's air date was pushed back to coincide with Halloween, it was the first produced of the second season. I find myself wondering if it is mere coincidence that, by production order, the season begins and ends with episodes featuring a black cat with a bejewledcollar and silent intellect. Forgive the aside, but it was such a peculiar observation, I couldn't help but include it. Perhaps also an effort to add weight or connectivity to an episode that is, by most measures, completely disposable.

To that end, this episode also birthed one of my favorite buttons that I wear on my jacket to this day: the image of Spock chained up in the dungeon with the words "Hang In There!" above him is worth only slightly less than the episode itself.

Operation: Annihilate!

This cheesy Trek may be repulsively silly at first, but reveals a surprisingly sensitive, character-based climax.

The episode suffers from its conflict-of-the-week being almost entirely disparate from its dramatic heart. This creates a very unbalanced narrative structure that pushes all of the meat to the last half of act three. The majority of the episode concerns itself with the mystery of the flying-scabs-that-latch-onto-people's-backs-and-make-them-crazy.

The scabs aren't really scabs, of course, but enlarged single cells of a greater organism from another galaxy. They're going from system to system, using the bodies of unsuspecting humans to do their bidding or perish. Mr. Spock is attacked and is only able to fight back through use of his advanced Vulcan mental discipline. This character struggle seems misused for the visceral display of Spock's attempt to take over the bridge rather than a legitimate opportunity to display Leonard Nimoy's acting ability.

The use of Kirk's brother Sam as cannon fodder for these creatures in the opening of the episode seems forced. Even worse, it's used to surprisingly little effect. While Kirk may initially voice concern for the solving of this issue to save his nephew, he quickly acknowledges the larger implication of saving the entire planet below. The dramatic struggle for his character fizzles with little effect on the story proper.

The depiction of the Kirk-Spock-McCoy relationship towards the end of the episode is spot on but brief. Reduced to a single conference room sequence, we see Spock and McCoy present two entirely unsatisfying options to Kirk as to how the situation might be remedies. Kirk refuses to accept either and demands a third option. Simple, brief, I wish there was more of it. It was the only drama that was really founded in the story this episode contained.

The other standout piece of conflict belongs to McCoy, and has no intrinsic relation to the story. It could have been placed in any episode. When testing ways to defeat the creature, McCoy uses Spock as a test subject before preliminary results had been viewed. This oversight causes Spock to be blinded. The way in which his guilt is depicted dramatically through the final scenes is so sensitively done it betrays the sloppiness the permeates the entire episode leading up to it.

Spock's blindness was temporary (No!), ending the episode on a sweet note between them on the bridge. One of the few times McCoy lets slip a compliment to the Vulcan first officer is a delight to behold.

"Please don't tell Spock I said he was the fleet's best first officer."
"Why, thank you, Dr. McCoy."
"You've been so concerned about his Vulcan eyes, Doctor, you forgot about his Vulcan ears."

The City on the Edge of Forever

The City on the Edge of Forever is one of the most beloved episodes of Star Trek. Its emphasis on character drama allowed it to move beyond normal viewer's interest and into the mainstream consciousness.

There is a single science fiction conceit in the entire episode: The Guardian of Forever. This time portal is used as merely the springboard for dealing with a character story with a great depth of feeling. One I feel may be almost too ambitious for an hour long television show.

Kirk must enter the time portal to repair errors to history created by a crazy drugged up doctor McCoy. (The Doctor accidentally injecting himself is a thrilling Trek teaser if there ever was one.) The plot follows that in order for history to be restored, Kirk must allow the death of a woman he has unfortunately fell in love with.

The ill-fated romance is a fantastic concept for drama, however the time it is afforded in this episode to be introduced, come to fruition, and act as a dramatic payoff is severely limited. Much of the relationship is relegated to informational dialogue ("I'm in love with Edith Keeler") rather than being narratively shown.

While the climatic payoff is ultimately successful, one could imagine a more effective third act in which everything was earned by naturally unfolding introduction in the prior two acts. This led to a particularly annoying contrivance in the personality of the Edith Keeler character. She is given a penchant for astonishingly accurate insight regard the future our lead character's come from.

I can understand the desire on behalf of the writers to create reasons the characters would be attracted to each other, but this one feels too explicitly convenient. Especially considering that her character is strong enough to survive without this invention. Her optimism alone (which is rooted in the plot via her importance to future history) would be more than enough to attract the attention of our dear Captain. Doubly so when cast against the bleak backdrop of the depression.

Again, this is all a byproduct of having more narrative needs than a single hour can adequately support. It is only natural that the slack be cut in one place or other. It's a great episode when the only sin it commits is over ambition.

Errand of Mercy

This episode brings up an interesting point, which itself precludes me from a completely traditional analysis of the episode. It is a great episode of Star Trek. The drama is potent, the structure is satisfactory, and the performances enjoyable.

However, this episode heightens an aspect of Star Trek that has been detectable but not obvious in previous episodes. It is almost entirely dialogue based. This is not a complaint of any kind. Dialogue based storytelling is just as valid as any other, but my analysis thus far has been placing Star Trek up against every other form narrative storytelling. While I maintain that this approach is valid and fair, the analysis I offer is rendered fairly useless if the episode itself expounds upon its own thematic content.

While the dialogue of past episodes has touched upon theme, I've always felt enough was implied that could benefit from a dissection here on the blog. For the first time, I feel as if the episode sums itself up fairly well. Now, this does not preclude me from offering criticism of how I perceive the effectiveness of the episode, but I've always tried to keep this sort of commentary to a minimum. (And, really, my only question after watching the episode deals with the seemingly omnipotent race depicted in the episode. If they will not tolerate conflict, and have the power to stop it on a galaxy-wide scale ... how can the show continue?)

This line of thinking led me to a revelation regarding audience perception of the new Star Trek film. Always looking at Trek (the series and film) analytically, this difference alluded me. Trek fans seem to be used to perceiving the stories of Trek in a dialogue-based fashion. Their pallet has been taught, over decades of series, to derive thematic content through almost exclusively textual means. Clearly there are diversions, but on the whole, most Trek installments expound on the theme in some form of dialogue acknowledgment.

I finally understand why detractors of the new, 2009, Star Trek film claim that it doesn't deal with "issues." (The themes that are integral to Star Trek's success.) It simply doesn't deal with them in the way they are accustomed. There's very little (read: almost none) recap or blatant explanation of theme in the movie. It is a purely cinematic experience. It is visual storytelling. The character's arcs, while not mentioned outright, are implied through the actions of the characters in the face of the opposition depicted. It is the choices made by the filmmakers out of which a theme can be derived, not dialogue.

This fundamental storytelling difference is alienating certain viewers, and delighting others. It doesn't boil down to the presence of action, or the recasting of actors, because beyond all that, the "drama-and-character-that-converge-to-imply-theme" of Trek is still there.

The Devil in the Dark

While this episode may not depict any monumental development or integration of character, I am happy to say it is not a regression. The forms of our crew, so well defined in the prior episodes, carry over strongly into this discovery-based adventure.

The exploratory nature of this episode is classic Trek. The crew is pitted against a life form that couldn't be more molecularity different from traditional life. This silicon based "Horta" creature is attacking workers in a mining facility that supports scores of planets with necessary minerals. The conflict is high as the Horta steals an integral piece of the facilities life support. A time-based enhancer of tension though it may be, it allows for an escalation of conflict that necessitates the intervention of our heroes. An instigating event that is the first clue on the path of discovery.

Here Kirk continues his role as moderator. Whereas the miners would be perfectly content destroying the creature they don't understand, Kirk is able to negotiate a treaty with the Horta. (With the help of a mind-melding Mr. Spock, of course.) It is this continuation of the theme of unity and reconciliation that makes the episode uniquely Trek, elevating it beyond the simple discovery of the unknown. It is the furthering of relations, communication, and understanding that take center stage. Through Kirk's uniquely arrived at conclusion, the facility is now able to produce record minerals with the cooperation of the Horta. (Which, as it turns out, was a mother protecting her children.)

Messages of tolerance of this type will not end with this episode, and become a staple of what defines Trek in the minds of so many. Thanks to such vividly drawn characters, we are able to be continually reminded of what they represent in the face of our own conflicts that often mirror the outrageous space-age adventure depicted in Star Trek.

This Side of Paradise

As if in answer to the previous episode, again Trek expounds upon the topic of ambition. Whereas then we were dealing with an opposition of unhealthy ambition, here we encounter an equally threatening lack of ambition: total contentment. It is this mature theme of moving past the duality of extremes that permeates this episode, and manages to also comment upon the main character's relationship.

The Enterprise crew comes in contact with what amounts to a commune of space druggies. The small clan of travelers are hyped-up on a spore-induced drug that grants them complete harmony, free of want and need. Thankfully, the implications of the anti-drug message are never exploited in any way beyond legitimate dramatic and thematic ends. I found myself dreading the setup, and then delighted that the obvious path was not taken.

When the crew gets subjected to the effects of the spores one-by-one, Kirk is able to observe enough to derive it's failing: Man was not meant for paradise. There is a brief allusion to Eden, a brush with biblical subtext. While the relative snub may seem like further evidence of the often postulated atheistic viewpoint of Star Trek, I rather see this as a balanced acknowledgment of the universal philosophy depicted by the tale of Adam and Eve. As this is a subject hardly exclusive to any one religion, it is not dwelled upon. Rather, it is integrated in plot and character based fashion.

Plot wise, Kirk is able to defeat the spore's extremism by canceling it out with equally extreme rage. The drama is plotted beautifully, as Kirk is forced to enrage Spock. Even beyond this, our favorite Vulcan is treated to an extra dose of attention this episode. Running into an old acquaintance with feelings for him, Spock's internal conflict is brought to the fore. While some may deride Spock's intoxicated enjoyment as silly, I find it tragically telling of his character and paramount in establishing him even further as an evolving person.

"If there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them."

That being said, his position in the "holy trinity" is not compromised. In fact, this episode acts as a pivotal installment in defining how Kirk, Spock, and McCoy relate. Ambition can only be realized through moderated action. Informed by the extremes that live within us (Spock/McCoy), yes, but acting only through careful reconciliation of the two. (Kirk) What better way to illustrate this than by dramatically showing the drearily unambitious consequences of excess?

McCoy: "That's the second time man's been thrown out of paradise."
Kirk: "No, this time we walked out on our own."