The Last Jedi 3: Canto Bight

So let's briefly talk about Canto Bight, the casino planet where the new character Rose and Finn visit on a side mission.  Obviously one of the weaknesses of this sub plot is that it is profoundly unsuccessful.  Rose and Finn do not make contact with the person they are supposed to find, and as a result the entire plan is a failure.

What was actually lost, however, is something musch more important.  The one thing that needed to happen at this point in the oveall story is that we needed a moment when the main characters are adventuring together, when they learn about each others strengths and weaknesses, where they learn to trust one another and where they form the backbone of the team that will eventually rise in importance to face the ultimate evil.

In Empire Strikes Back, this was the long journey escaping from the Imperial ships where Han and Leia hide in the asteroid belt, where they escape from the asteroid worm, where they escape from the star destroyers by pretending to be space debris.  "You do you have your moments," says Leia.  "You may not have many of them, but you do have them."  This is a key establishing scene where we all recognize that Han really is an accomplished pilot and smuggler.  He's not just a lightweight who's all talk, like we think in the begining when he's bragging to Obi-wan in Mos Eisley.  And more than that, we identify Han, Chewie, and Leia as a force to be reckoned with; as an effective team full of resourcefulness, cunning and strategy.  Later, when we see them attacking the shield base on the Endor moon, we already know that they bring some competency to the table.

Now, here's the problem.  We need a similar moment in this trilogy as well.  This canto bight scene was the moment when we had Finn and Poe go off and have adventures together and we see them learn to trust one another, and we demonstrate their competence as heroes.  Maybe everything doesn't go as planned, but they come out of it as a team and they grow in stature not only as part of the Resistance, but also in the eyes of the audience as well.

Except that none of this happens.  This was the reality of what was missed by framing that scene as we did.  Rian Johnson said that he originally wrote that scene for Fin and Poe.  Later, he changed it to better match the ethos of the film, introducing Rose instead.  What we sacrificed, though, is that we lost the team-building moment between Fin and Poe.  Right now, they seem fundamentally unrelated to one another. Previously, Fin went off with Han Solo to Starkiller base, and Fin and Poe haven't crossed paths in any meaningful way since the opening scene of Force Awakens, so we haven't established that they really know or like or trust one another.  Certainly after the Canto Bight fiasco, Poe has even less reason to trust Fin's capabilities than he had before.

And the truth is that neither does the audience.  Everything that Fin and Rose attempted, from parking the ship, to contacting the slicer, to escaping on horseback, all of it was a failure and ultimately pointless.  Even the audience, who are wholeheartedly behind Fin, really don't know what strength he brings to the table.  What is his competency that makes him valuable to the Resistance?  This was the story's chance to demonstrate it for the sake of the audience and the narrative.  Instead, we demonstrate his incompetence.

This same opportunity was present for Rose, as well.  I enjoyed Rose as a new character, and recognize that character type from anime stories: the un-glamorous and slightly annoying but loyal sidekick. But even though I like her, I still don't know what Rose brings to the table.  The same ambiguity that Fin struggles with is a problem with Rose's character as well.  Is she part of the team, with Fin and Poe?  The story is unclear.  The problem is that the story didn't set up enough hooks to tie Rose into the greater story line.  Rather than wondering with breathless speculation about how Rose might develop in the next movie, the audience wouldn't be surprised if we never hear about Rose again.  That's how little hinges on her character.  Is Rose a Lando figure, or is that DJ?  At this point, we shouldn't be guessing.  But literally nothing else about Rose is interesting in any way, and her presence doesn't set in motion any plot premise or suggest any payoff for the final movie in this trilogy.

And this is the larger problem with the trilogy as a whole.  At this point in the trilogy, we should be thoroughly introduced to these new characters and ready to hand off the narrative from the old guard to the young heroes.  But currently, Rose is a dead end, in a movie where we should be establishing plot arcs and giving each of our principal characters motivations.  At this point, each of them is a blank slate, one the Last Jedi has carefully scrubbed clean.

The Last Jedi part 2

So I just want to look very briefly at the bigger picture about where Last Jedi fits into the broader landscape. It is a tragedy in three acts.

Act One.  In the late '70s Lucas has a vision of bringing to the big screen a heady mix of four key components:

• Hard science fiction. By this I mean, a populated galaxy with multiple inhabited planets and many diverse alien species.  Space ships and blaster pistols, robots and androids.
• A fantasy mythos with a powerful Force that allowed its practitioners seemingly magical powers not only to move things but to have visions and intuit the future. 
• A mystic order of ancient knights and their apprentices bound by a code of  honor and family lineage and opposing a depraved and twisted mirror of itself in the Sith.
• A central conflict between good and evil, between the black of Vader and Palpatine and the white of  Princess Leia and Luke. With the freedom-loving, underdog Rebels facing impossible odds against an evil Empire and eventually triumphing.

The resulting storytelling was electrifying in the way that it energized the imaginations of the audience.  Over the course of the trilogy, each of those elements was faithfully preserved and expanded.

It's easy to forget, or underestimate, the impact that Star Wars had on its fans, during the 80s.  Fans all over the US were literally camped out in front of theaters for days waiting in line to get be the first to get into theaters on opening night.  And the reason they were there was unique to Star Wars.  Something about the seriousness with which Star Wars treated its subject material spoke to science fiction fans. Star Wars captured the nobility and heroism of the best adventure story, but coupled it with credible and realistic sets and special effects, a combination that wasn't really present in original Star Trek or the other science fiction films of the day.  There had been campy teen films, and the bizarre 2001: a space oddessy, but the perfect combination of heroic adventure and technical filmmaking was elusive until Star Wars was released.

Act Two. In the late '90s  Lucas returned to dust off the franchise and make a canonical trilogy once again.  Once again he used the successful combination of science fiction and fantasy, but this time he began to stretch the third pillar when he explored the order of ancient knights called the Jedi.  And he seemed to abandon the stark contrast between good and evil.

This second trilogy was less well received, due in large part to some directorial and narrative sloppiness on Lucas' part.  More detrimental to the narrative, though, was that rather than focusing on the struggle between good and evil, we became embroiled in semi-evil trade disputes and the moral ambiguity of Separatists vs the Republic.

It was largely acknowledged that the Prequel trilogy was not as good as the Original trilogy.  The news that a new trilogy was being made after the hiatus of over a decade had left original fans giddy with anticipation, but their soaring enthusiasm only served to deepen the eventual disappointment.  Tightly focused stories of the original trilogy gave way to endless light saber duels and pointless mass battles

Act Three.  It was with a wary sense of hope that Star Wars fans learned of the transfer of control from Lucas himself to Disney.  Finally, they thought the lack of Lucas' self-indulgence would get the franchise back on track and open it up to more stories in the vein of the Original Trilogy.

The first installment of the new trilogy, Force Awakens seemed to make good on this promise.  It introduced a new cast of young Rebels to fight the malevolent First Order, and gave homage to the four pillars of the original series:  hard science fiction in the form with new worlds and a giant Star Killer base, a mystic Force that called to Rey in newly discovered powers and visions, a shadowy figure of the legendary Luke Skywalker whose discovery would potentially lead to continuing the Jedi traditions in Rey, and finally an evil mirror in the dark side Snoke and his reckless apprentice Kylo Ren.

While some complained about obvious parallels with Episode IV, it was largely welcomed as a return to the storytelling of Star Wars' glory years.  One of the most powerful thing that Force Awakens accomplished was that it got the Star Wars fans engaged with the story again.  The audience began to identify with the characters in a way that it hadn't throughout the prequels.  They began to become attached to the struggles of Poe and Finn, began to develop a healthy awe for the emergent Force powers of Rey.  And it was this identification with the characters, coupled with the obvious leading of FA director Abrams, that led to speculation about past history and future developments.

Once again the audience was longing for (rather than dreading) the next episode's release, wondering where the story will lead.  This was far different from the dark years during the prequel trilogy, where the audience was dreading, rather than anticipating, the next installment, wondering instead how badly it would break cherished icons, how cringe-worthy the next Anakin-Padme interaction would be; wondering when the next major character would be Jar-Jarred.  This was a fandom that was keeping its source material at arms length like an angry cat, never knowing when it would purr or scratch.

The disservice that Last Jedi did to the fans was that just when they though it was safe to invest in the story again, that it was safe to grow attached to the main characters again, Episode 8 made them go through it all over again.  It was like an abusive boyfriend seduced us back and then immediately beat us up.  And then, after it was over, began to gaslight us that it never happened, and that we're to blame for clinging to nostalgia.

So you know what I'm NOT looking forward to?  I'm NOT looking forward to the single movie next year.  I have no desire to see how badly they are going to screw up the character of Han Solo. They've already turned him from being a competent and dangerous smuggler who doesn't turn his back on his friends, to a deadbeat incompetent, inept charlatan who can't keep his life together and who ran out on his wife and abandoned his son when things got rough.

That's what they've already done to him.  Can you imagine what revisionism and ret-conning is going to happen when they get their fingers into his backstory?   Just for comparison, look what they did to Luke.  Does anyone doubt that something much darker and more unseemly awaits Han?

And while I'm thinking about it, I have no desire to see what Rian Johnson does with an entire Trilogy on his own.  I'm not saying that I'm rage quitting the franchise and that Star Wars is dead to me.  I'm just saying that I'm back to keeping the franchise at arms length again.  This is probably not an opening night kind of relationship, anymore.  And, sadly, I think that is exactly where the show runners want us to be.

The Last Jedi

So this is my initial reaction to seeing Star Wars The Last Jedi on Friday night.  I'm sure that my impressions of the film will change over time and as I see it over again. I know that's true because I've already expreinced a shifting of my responses even during the few days since watching it, and I suspect that process to continue for at least several weeks.

Initiall, as I left the theater, I had a positive reaction to the movie.  If someone were to ask me my opinion as I left the theater I would have said that, while I had some specific concerns, overall I enjoyed the movie.  But only two days later, I'm feeling very dissatisfied.

I want to get the major concerns out into the open first.

1. No Golden Narrative Thread.
One of my greatest concerns is with the way that this trilogy is being handled.  No one seems to be exerting narrative control over the trilogy.  It is as if the two directors were at war with one another over the direction of the trilogy, and indeed, of the direction of the new Star Wars franchise. Even if we didn't appreciate all the directorial blunders of George Lucas' prequels, at least George had an artistic focus that was consistent about the Force, and about the nature of good and evil in the universe.

I say this because JJ Abrams laid out very specific narrative elements in the first movie, The Force Awakens, that weren't simply ignored in the second of the series, but were actively dismissed.  It is as if Rian Johnson went out of his way to take the plot points that Abrams laid out as important and to dismiss them arbitrarily, or even to mock the audiences expectations of an answer.

A classic example of this was the character of Snoke, the arch bad guy behind Kylo Ren in Force Awakens (FA).  He was effectively presented as an evil and power-hungry leader of the First Order, with a mysterious origin and a shadowy influence over Kylo's turn to the Dark Side.  There was a wealth of potential story to be mined there and it encouraged fan speculation in the intervening two years between installments.  Instead, however, Rian Johnson ignored it all and summarily killed Snoke in the middle act of Last Jedi (LJ) without any explanation whatsoever.

Similarly, Abrams carefully introduced the mystery of Rey's parents: who they were, and why she was left on Jakkuu.  In fact, it was one of the defining beats in Rey's character arc; she spent the entire first episode searching for her place in the galaxy.  In LJ, Rian decides to deal with this question by saying that it wasn't important.  Rey's parents were nobodies, and she was basically alone in the universe.

The problem here is not that Ray's parents weren't notable, or that Snoke was a minor Sith.  It is that the first of the trilogy insisted that these were important narrative questions that the story would answer, in much the same way that Luke's parents and Palpatine's rise to power were important in the first trilogy.  As with all narrative seeds, they were promises to the listener that there would be a payoff in the end that will complete the narrative arc and reward the audience.  The cycle of promise and payoff is the ultimate contract that the storyteller makes with the audience, and in this case all it led to was broken promises.

2. Contempt for Traditional Star Wars Themes
It was as if Rian Johnson treated with disdain many of the elements that he inherited when he agreed to direct the second film.  And this is the second major problem that I had with Last Jedi.  The quintessential elements that define the Star Wars universe were treated with almost violent contempt.

Luke Skywalker, the hero of A New Hope, was now a washed up old drunk living under a bridge, drunk on his failure and living out his life as an anti-social hermit.  Rather than retreating from the struggles of the Rebel Alliance to discern some greater enlightenment, Luke was cowardly and self-loathing, having abandoned the Force and his responsibility as a Jedi.

I felt as though Rian took delight in taking this noble-hearted paladin of the Jedi Order, the defenders of goodness, a guardian of peace and justice in the Old Republic, and seeing how far down into depravity he could crush him.  It seems common in Hollywood to treat with contempt struggles between good and evil.  They are derided as being trite and simplistic.  Luke's fall from grace makes him more complicated, more interesting in Rian's eyes.

It seems that Johnson is not alone in that, because Han is also transformed from a fearless and inventive smuggler living life on the edge, into a deadbeat dad, someone who can't handle married life and runs out on his son.  This vision of Han as a cheat and swindler is far different from the character we left as General of the Endor assault.  All the ground that the character had gained during his arc in the original trilogy had been squandered and abandoned by the time of Force Awakens.  Similarly, Leia here is a tired old soul, struggling to hold the rebellion together as her allies slip between her fingers.

3.  The Failed Transfer of Leadership
While the first of the trilogy had to re-work some old ground to reclaim the disillusioned Star Wars fans, this second installment needed to be all about the transition to the new heroes, to Rey, Finn, and Poe.  Relegated, somewhat, to the background in Force Awakens behind the larger-than-life presence of Han Solo and Chewbacca, this was the moment for Poe and Finn to shine.

Instead, Rian Johnson purposefully went out of his way to diminish the impact that these characters had on the plot of Last Jedi.  Poe spent the entire time trapped on board the Resistance command ship, being an uncharacteristic jerk to Leia and Holdo.  For his part, Finn got to leave the ship on a spectacularly unsuccessful mission that he botched almost from the jump, and that had zero impact on any major plot development.

The problem with Canto Bight is that it didn't allow Finn to develop any core competency, something that the ace pilot Poe Dameron already possessed in abundance. Action/adventure stories are about character's competencies, while Dramas are about character's weaknesses.  Part of what the audience is struggling with is that we were expecting an action-adventure film, when the directors actually intended to give us a drama/soap opera.

I felt that Finn and Rose were a great pairing, its just that neither of the two were particularly competent at anything, and both together were singularly unsuccessful in completing their mission.  I didn't dislike the sortie to Canto Bight, but it was so pointless that it's hard to argue that it led to any particular character development in Finn.

Ultimately, this prevented these characters from taking center stage during this key transition.  I would like to say that Poe developed as a character from the overly aggressive cockpit jockey to a commander more worthy of leadership.  And that Finn moved from having a tendency to run from trouble, to someone who was willing to go out on a limb to help his side.  The truth, however, was that Finn had already covered this ground in Force Awakens, and to find him running away again in this movie was an unjustified move backward.  Finn had already learned this lesson.

Similarly, Poe was already a good leader, and we needed to introduce this flaw in his character in order for us to have something to fix.

Continue to Part II

Narrative Threads

Storytelling is about setting in motion narrative threads or arcs.  It is about the balancing of promise with payoff.

Whenever you introduce a question in to the narrative, you are making a promise to the audience that if they invest in this promise, the story will reward them before its all done.  The story will pay off that promise with a reward of insight or enlightenment.

This is why plot holes are so unbalancing to a story.  Each one is an example of a broken promise.

Failed stories add on too many promises, and then fail to resolve them.  They make flat characters whose potential is wasted.  Their authors get distracted by a new idea and abandon previous promises and make a bunch of new ones.  And sometimes storytellers simply have possibility-laden promises with disappointing payoffs.

What is Story?

It's time to get a few definitions out of the way.  I've been talking about story structure, and reviewing some easy story examples from popular TV shows, all without laying down a concrete understanding of what a story is.  All that stuff that your sophomore English class made so incredibly boring is actually a little bit interesting when applied to something other than East of Eden, or A Room with a View or another book you were force to read because it was good for you

Also, people who have taught English pedagogy in the last 30 years are all incredible stuffed shirts who got a lot of stuff just wrong.  There's no more charitable way to describe the horrible wreckage that they have made of discussing storytelling, a topic that should be fun and enlightening and invigorating, and should make you want to read more, to see more plays and movies and discuss them with your friends.

So lets get started with a few simple building blocks, on which most discussions rest.

1.  What is a story? 
This should have an easy answer, and it does, but so many people try to torture this into something that fits their pet theories that it becomes hard to understand.  Here it is:  a story takes a character and places it within a setting, from which a conflict emerges that is first developed and then resolved. 

From this definition, you can see that a story is a very particular thing; it's not just an assemblage of words meant to entertain.  Take away the character, for example, and you could have an entertaining piece of prose, but it would no longer be a story.  The same is true for any of the story components; you can't have a story without a resolution, or a conflict.  These could be informative and worthwhile but they aren't a story.

And this is actually the common definition that most people refer to, even unconsciously, when they think of a story.  We're not talking about artificial constructs like rising action or denouement.  When someone says, "Tell me a story." this is what they are most likely referring to.  And this pattern is what will bring them the most satisfaction, whether that is a story shared around the dinner table or an action adventure movie seen in a theater.

 A story incorporates specific elements including tone, theme, plot, crisis, etc.  It uses these tools while filling the fundamental requirements.

2. What is a narrative?
So what do you call something that doesn't meet this simple criteria?  Typically you refer to it simply as a narrative.  A narrative is any passage of text, so its a much broader category.  So for example an author writes a book that turns out to be mostly descriptive passages of the setting.  There's nothing wrong with that, it simply isn't a story.  Moby Dick, for example, spends long passages in describing the workings of a whaling ship, when no actual story is being told.  It is only after this "setting" is carefully described that Melville gets around to his story about the sea captain and the whale.

3. What is a plot?
The plot is the series of events that happen throughout the course of the story.  That's it; nothing more complicated than that.  There was a time when English teachers talked about chronological sequences or how some events could be relayed out of chronological order, but all that is mostly nonsense.  A plot can be constructed in or out of chronological order, it's all the same.  Each is a viable option

In the same vein, we used to talk about a plot as only being an unbroken chain of cause and effect.  But that isn't strictly required, either.  Many events occur that weren't caused by the previous event and yet they are an integral part of the plot.  However, the events are often tied together in some way.

Similarly, we used to talk abut plot in terms of exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution.   But the truth is that this concept is a bit misleading because it makes everything seem to be equally important, and equally long.  The rising action is usually far more important and far longer than the falling action, so the  mountain-like diagram doesn't represent a story very well at all.  But it's another attempt at grappling with what might be an overly difficult concept.

4. Why look at this stuff, anyway?
So I've presented simple definitions, and talked about older concepts that aren't strictly observed anymore.  Why bother?

The answer is that these are the markers we use to analyze a story.  And they can help us figure out why a story might be more or less satisfying, which is the ultimate analysis of why a movie was good or bad.While those "rules" aren't strictly required, the choices that authors make concerning them are all very interesting. 

For example, you might watch a movie and realize that it doesn't contain the basic requirements for a story.  For example, the conflict that arose in the beginning of the story might not be the conflict that is resolved in the end.  Or a story might switch main characters halfway through the narrative.

A very skillful author might get away with this and the story might still be a success, but if you come away with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction, these are the first places you might check.  And really that's the main reason for considering them at all. If a story likes to play fast and loose with the plot, if it tries to skim over characterization, those are warning signs.  They don't mean that the story is doomed to failure, and authors take chances all the time with structure.  But these are going to be some of the first places that we look.

Story Structure

So, I've talked at length about story types and about how they shape and satisfy audience expectations, which is the craft of all storytelling.  In essence, we are trying to get behind the question of why the audience finds certain stories to be satisfying while others leave them feeling unsatisfied, feeling disappointed.

We all know that feeling.  The feeling you get when walking away from a movie like Suicide Squad and thinking, "I was really looking forward to it, and it was funny and exciting and had some great scenes in it.  I loved Harley Quinn.  Why was it such a lousy movie?"

Each of the individual elements seems strong, seem to be exactly what we want: characters, attitude, pyrotechnics, aerial hyjinks.  By many standards, it was a successful film. But overall, the whole movie was lacking something that isn't revealed by close inspection. It requires a broader view.

What we're missing is what is delivered by the storyteller's art.  The art of the story is about creating narrative elements and weaving them together in a way that creates a larger meaning.  It takes disparate elements and relates them to one another.  Then it makes those relationships meaningful.  Then it takes those meaningful relationships and arranges them in a coherent shape. These relationships, and the resulting shape is what we call story structure.

Trying to explicitly describe coherence is awkward, but its what critics mean when they refer to story arcs, character arcs, story seeds and payoffs.  We talk about flat or two dimensional characters all the time, characters that do one thing and only one, and who never change or improve or expand during the course of the story.  A story cannot consist of a string of random and unrelated events.  By definition, it has to do more than that; it has to engage with a conflict and hammer out a resolution

One such attempt was made by Joseph Campbell in his book Hero with a Thousand Faces.  It is an effort to describe why some stories feel more satisfying, resonate more with the audience than others.  Campbell suggests that the Hero's Journey is a unifying story structure that brings complex elements together in a narrative circle.  Campbell asserted that this structure was universal in that it was found in stories from many different cultures, and often found in the most fundamental culture-defining myths of those cultures.

In a sense, Campbell starts by claiming that these stories are what audiences find satisfying. Whether or not modern critics want them to embrace them, their universal presence, the fact that cultures return to them again and again from Biblical stories of David in 1025 BC to 11th C. Russian folktales to modern Hollywood movies, reflects the fact that there is something about hero's journeys that are compelling and satisfying.  So for example, he doesn't assert that we ought to find these narrative elements meaningful for some reason that he articulates.  Instead he demonstrates that we do find these elements meaningful and then speculates as to why that might be.  Having first demonstrated their omnipresence, Campbell then goes further to try to explain what he thinks is behind their appeal.

However, the Hero's Journey is by no means the only attempt to define this kind of structure.  Hollywood screenwriters have made multiple attempts at codifying a magic structure that will sell movies to producers, and presumably the audience.  For example Save the Cat narrows down all screenwriting to 10 basic story lines, and gives the important elements of each.  Similarly Something Startling Happens reduces all successful movies to 120 moments, or beats that have to happen in order for the audience to remain engaged.

The problem with all such screenwriting aids is that they can often deliver structure without substance, such as with Suicide Squad mentioned above.  When structure is entirely divorced from narrative meaning, you get the equivalent of a Monty Python skit where a clown wanders through a medieval village because we need something startling to happen.  Similarly, the criticism of the Hero's Journey is that it creates stories that are predictable and audiences feel that there is only one way for the story to progress.  Narrative First says that insisting on rigid structure "imposes story-telling conceits upon a writer’s personal expression."  And yet, we very often find that writer's personal expression is itself unsatisfying.  The writer's need to speak doesn't mean that what he has to say is meaningful.

I think the answer is that the Hero's Journey represents one successful pathway to creating a satisfying story, though perhaps not the only pathway.  

Star Trek TOS Requiem for Methuselah. S3 E19

Synopsis: McCoy needs a supply of the rare element Ryetalyn, to combat a virulent epidemic on board the Enterprise.  Three crewmen are dead and 27 others are in the grip of Rigellian Fever.  However, the crew has located a supply on an isolated planet.

Beaming down to the surface, the trio are met by an unwelcoming man who demands that they leave immediately.  After a brief bit of posturing, Flint, apparently moved by memory and compassion,  invites them to his home while his robot gathers the ore.

Spock and McCoy remark on Flint's extensive collection of original literature and artworks, while we see Flint conferring with a young woman, Rayna, who wants to meet the crew against Flint's better judgement.  As McCoy oversees the ryetalyn purification, Kirk and Spock become acquainted with their host, with Kirk becoming increasingly enamored with the lovely Rayna.  Spock again remarks that the music he played was an original work by Johannes Brahms, though it is unknown.  McCoy declares that the ryetalin has been tainted by impurities and a new sample must be procured.

Kirk meets Rayna in the laboratory and begin to kiss, when M-4, the guardian robot attacks Kirk, who is only saved by the intervention of Spock with a phaser.It becomes apparent that Flint has an ulterior motive for allowing Rayna and Kirk to interact, but the relationship has gone to far, as Kirk urges Rayna to leave Flint and go with him on the Enterprise.

Searching for the processed ryetalin, Kirk discovers in Flint's lab a copy of Rayna, who is apparently an artificial life form that Flint has made to appear human.  While Kirk is enraged by this discovery, Spock puts together the fact that the long-lived Flint actually is Brahms and DaVinci and other geniuses as well, who has grown weary of life on Earth.  Rayna was to be his perfect and undying bride.  However, now that Kirk and the others know his secret, Flint is unwilling to let them leave.

Kirk and Flint struggle in a symbolic contest for the affections of Rayna, who, unable to make a choice, dies of uncertainty. Later, on the Enterprise, the plague is under control though Kirk is still in the throes of love-sickness.  McCoy announces that Flint has once again resumed the aging process and will eventually die, leaving us with a bittersweet ending as Spock engages in a brief meld with the sleeping Kirk, instructing, "Forget..."

Analysis

One of the recurring problems with Early Trek deals with the fundamentals of storytelling.  The erly series ws more interested in creating a tableau, a vista of a troubled world or a troubled future, without offering any kind of story development or resolution  The creation of the scene is all that the episode offers, and once it has detailed the last corners of this new reality, it leaves us there to contemplate the wonder and despair that such a scene engenders.

So this episode spends most of its time carefully explaining the situation that Flint faces, drawing on the medieval tale of the undying Roman Centurion.  Flint does not age and so has lived several lives, and particularly notable lives of great creators in Earth's history.  His one tragedy is that his companions are doomed to grow old without him, and he has watched several of them die while he is helpless to prevent it.  Now, he has created an android to be his companion, but he needs Kirk to awaken the spark of love within the automaton.  It's an interesting concept to contemplate, but it isn't a story on its own.

And there are fascinating ramifications.  Flint creates the perfect Rayna, and spends decades instructing her in all the knowledge he has accumulated, but he cannot stir in her the emotions of love, emotions he needs from her to be his perfect mate.  But he discovers that Kirk can spark those emotions and though he is playing with fire, he goes ahead with the experiment because it is the one thing that Rayna lacks.

This episode always reminds me of Data from TNG, because of the obvious parallels.  It is one of the iconic references for much of science fiction:  the undying man, the perfect artificial intelligence with the potential for vast repositories of knowledge, the sentient android, the robot who doesn't know that she isn't human, shades of Blade Runner.  The same considerations are explored with Data's mother Juliana.  There is the seeds of many sci fiction elements present.

Unfortunately, there are also some regrettable elements present as well, the most obvious one being Kirk's behavior.  Knowing that the lives of the entire crew of the Enterprise are at stake, why does Kirk insist on pursuing some inappropriate romantic relationship with Rayna?  With the responsibility of the ship on his shoulders, his choices are completely unreasonable and nearly inexplicable.  And Spock reminds him of this on more than one occasion.

Sure, Kirk is a soft touch for a pretty face, but he has always put the good of the ship above his own needs.  Why then is he antagonizing the one person who has the cure for the plague that has cursed his crew?  Rayna is beautiful and intelligent, but that doesn't give Jim some license for flirting with her, for taking advantage of her obvious naiveté.   This is so out of character for Kirk that it defies  belief.

Of course it is selfish to jeopardize the lives of 400 people for his own desires, but it also seems particularly ungentlemanly of him; primarily to force kisses on this obviously innocent woman ("you are the first men that I have met...") and more generally to consider all females in the galaxy open game to his hunting season.  I also feel a little bit of sympathy for Flint.  Even before he fully understands the current relationship between Flint and Rayna, Kirk has already started to break the two apart, wearing that wolfish Lothario grin as he moves in. Normally, we'd call someone like him a homewrecker.

We all know that Kirk is married to his ship, from the string of broken relationships he's left across the galaxy.  Some of his trysts escape with their lives or their sanity, while many of the others aren't so lucky.  So why does he think that things will be different with Rayna?  He's just going to drop her off on the nearest starbase after he's bored with her, so he can go back out to the stars.

I picked up on a background vibe that was subtly condemning Flint.  It was somehow inappropriate for him to create an android to be his companion.  Kirk suggested that he was saving Rayna from the clutches of this evil creator, and there's a suggestion that somehow Flint got what was coming to him at the end when he was once again fated to resume the normal aging process.  But I was never convinced that Flint deserved our censure, or that Rayna was some kind of an abomination, or that Flint shouldn't try to create another incarnation of her. She was a creation that rivaled the triumph of Dr Noonian Soong in his creation of Data, and Data is not diminished at all by that fact.  I can only imagine what a holy union there could be between Data and Rayna.  They are truly soulmates who would be perfect for each other. 

I squarely blame Kirk for Rayna's death.  He's a captain who's lost his way like so many of the others we've encountered in the series.  Logically, Spock should not only question his actions but also report him for his irresponsible behavior and possibly try him for murder.

Star Trek TOS The Way to Eden. S3 E20

Synopsis
The Enterprise is sent to retrieve a small group of idealists who have stolen a space ship intent on finding the planet of Eden, a mythical idyllic location that is free from the technological influence of the Federation.  Among the group is Tango Rad, the son of a Federation ambassador, and their leader Dr Sevrin, a famed for his research in acoustics, communications, and electronics.  The Enterprise does locate the stolen ship but the group refuses to acquiesce when they are caught in a tractor beam.  Scotty is able to transport them off the ship before it explodes.

Once on board, they prove to be an unruly and unreasonable group, but Spock seems familiar enough with their traditions to begin a conversation.  Kirk sends them down to sick bay for a thorough checkup but they prove resistant.

  
Analysis
In reviewing the original series, I have specifically avoided any cultural context from the 60's when they were written and broadcast.  While these episodes would be appreciated differently in the context of what was happening at the time, I can only understand them from my own personal perspective.  The goal is not to attempt to appreciate them for what they represented to previous audiences, but to explore what they offer to me, in the present day.


For their time, they reflected the struggle of the culture, but they also represented a relatively young medium.  Serialized television of this style was young, since the 1950s.  Color television was an innovation of the middle 60's.  Realistic science fiction was an inspiration of the 60's, with imaginations fueled by the Apollo space program.  And the cultural awareness of race, war, equality, and youth was reaching an importance that was novel for the 20th century.

But to a viewer in 2017, the medium has had decades to explore how to tell stories in this medium, and has educated audiences in conventions and practices that were unknown to naive audiences huddled around their small, usually black and white screens. The amount of story we can tell to modern audiences in an hour is much greater than the 60's audience was accustomed to, and the mere novelty of showing colorful and bizarre images on the screen was an entertainment that just doesn't hold the same appeal to modern audiences.

All the preceding is why I find it so difficult to analyze this particular episode.  This more than any other seemed to rely on the understanding of the day

Star Trek TOS The Lights of Zetar. S3 E18

Synopsis: The Enterprise is given a mission to Memory Alpha, an installation set up by the Federation solely as a central library containing the total cultural history and scientific knowledge of all Federation planetary members.

The Enterprise is delivering equipment and a specialist named Lieutenant Mira Romaine to Memory Alpha when it encounters what appears to be a "storm," though it is unusual in its intensity and in its ability to exceed light speed in its pursuit of the ship.  The storm, characterized by an intense visual display of lights, does invade the bridge, affecting everyone there.  It seems to have a particular effect on Lieutenant Romaine, causing her to collapse.

After leaving the Enterprise, the "storm" heads directly for Memory Alpha, and reaches there before Kirk can arrive. When the away team reaches the facility, they find the memory core burned out, and all personnel dead or dying.   Mira Romaine begins to have premonitions, such as the sight of the dead personnel on Memory Alpha, or the knowledge that the alien storm was returning, reflecting a connection between herself and the alien lights. Mira also has a problem beaming back to the ship along with the others.

With everyone back aboard, the Lights have returned and begun pursuit of the ship one more. Kirk fires phasers at it and ends up causing pain to Lieutenant Romaine. Clearly there is some connection betweeen Romaine and the lights that Spock now identifies as a collection of 10 distinct life units. When the lights overtake the ship, Mira is overcome by the life units who occupy her body and speak with her voice.  

The Lights identify themselves as being from the planet Zetar.  Specifically, "the desires, the hopes, the mind, and the will of the last 100 of Zetar."  These remnants of Zetar insist that they must be allowed to survive, by any means necessary.  Kirk, however, tells them that the price of their survival is too high.

Scotty puts Mira into a kind of pressure chamber, and Spock increases the pressure, eventually driving the lights out of Mira and destroying them.  

Analysis

There is no question that this is one of the better episodes of the third season, but somehow I always manage to fall dead asleep about halfway through.  This is entirely my own fault, I am sure.  

Part of the issue is that this is a dialogue heavy episode, with much of the plot development coming through discussion and conversation, but I think a deeper problem is that there is very little continuity between the problem and its resolution.  The problem is Coherence.

While unusual and interesting things happen, they don't appear to fit together in a meaningful way that creates a larger story.  The lights kill everyone at the Memory Alpha facility but not on the bridge of the Enterprise, and we don't really know why.  Even when the question was asked during the episode, only a vague answer (they resisted) was offered.  One of the researchers, and earlier Mira herself, begins speaking in a distinctive creaking sound with exaggerated facial gestures.  But again we are given no explanation as to why this is meaningful, and it doesn't form a piece of the larger puzzle we put together at the end. Why was Mira left behind when the party returned to the ship?  We never got a good explanation of what happened. In short, the clues we receive along the way are vague, revealing little that is concrete about the problem.  

Compare this with, for example the episode where Kirk heard an insect-like buzzing, which was later revealed to be the vastly sped up aliens taking over the ship.  By introducing that effect early, we are able to connect the later story with the former in a satisfying moment of epiphany.  "So that's what Kirk was hearing!"  Only in this episode, we get no similar payoff.  We  don't know why Mira was making the same grotesque faces as the victim at the library.  And that piece of the story never makes sense.

Early in the story, Spock declares that there are 10 life forms that make up the lights. Later, the Lights themselves declare that they are the "last 100 of Zetar," introducing an odd and unnecessary contradiction. Are there 100 or 10?  And why introduce these numbers into the narrative if they don't matter in any way?

Kirk decides to put Mira into a pressure chamber, but that's not based on any experience we've had with the aliens up to this point.  It is solely his own idea. 

Because these clues to the mystery are so poorly explained, they don't really point in an actionable direction, and we don't really use them in formulating a solution.  As a result, the audience is strangely detached from the final resolution.  No particular reason was offered for why pressure would cause the Zetarans to leave Mira, as opposed to heat, for example, or light or inducing a coma, or a number of other ideas.  And once having left, why did they remain in the pressure chamber?  They could pass through the walls of the ship, and through the ship's shields, so there was no reason for them to stay and be killed. The narrative fails because the solution doesn't grow out of what we've learned during the course of the story.


Memory Alpha
The concept of Memory Alpha as a repository of all knowledge in the Federation was a brilliant creative idea.  Unfortunately, it was an idea lost in this particular episode, because its actual function played no role in the developments of the story.  As far as I could discern, the outpost could have been a mining colony for all the impact it had on the narrative.  It's a shame that such a story rich idea was just thrown away, and thrown away literally since the Zetarns destroyed it unintentionally.  Spock kept going on about how irreplaceable it was, but that didn't motivate any urgency on Kirk's part, who didn't make any overt move to try to protect it or salvage any of the data.  

If Kirk was so complacent, it's hard for the audience to generate some sadness about it.  All that was left was for Spock to shrug as if to say, "You humans are the reason why we can't have nice things."  At the end of the episode, they intended to drop Mira back at Memory Alpha, presumably to install that new equipment she brought into the smoking hardware of the central memory core that the Zetarans just fried. 

All the other station personnel were killed, and with the emergency beam out, the away team just left them to decay. So I'm guessing Mira has a little bit to clean up before she can get started on what will doubtless be a lonely job.  Let's kick off months of isolation with the disposal of a half-dozen bodies before moving on to cataloging just how much of the vast wealth of the Federation's knowledge has been carelessly lost due to the hubris of politicians who don't want to create a bad impression.  It's just what Dr. McCoy ordered, to get over a little psychological distress.  Good, honest work.

One odd thing was the continual references to Mira Romaine as "the girl," which seems unnecessarily patronizing.   Part of her characterization was a narrative that Mira was a young officer, a fresh Starfleet commission, perhaps unused to the rigors of space and the discipline of the chain of command.  This was the reason suggested for why she was abrupt and almost disrespectful with senior officers.  I think it was to reinforce the idea of her youth and inexperience that Kirk and Mr. Scott kept referring to her as a "girl."  It was also suggested that this brashness on her part enabled her to fight off the attempts of the Zetarans to take control of her mind.

Scotty was alternately delightful and annoying.  Mira was good as an outspoken fresh graduate, and made the most of her scenes with Mr. Scott

Rating:  3 out of 5.  I want to rate this higher but it needed a more coherent story.

Star Trek TOS That Which Survives. S3 E17

Synopsis:  the Enterprise has located a planet that seems to defy all logic.  It is about the size of a moon and is very young but has an atmosphere and vegetation like an earth-type planet that is larger and much older.  Just as they beam down to investigate, Kirk, McCoy, Sulu, and geologist D'Amato are surprised by the appearance of a woman in the transporter room.  After they dematerialize, the purple woman touches the transporter chief and kills him instantly.

The Enterprise is displaced 1000 light years away and begins the return trip to the planet.  The Purple woman appears again, this time questioning one of Scotty's engineers before killing him as well.  The Enterprise begins accelerating out of control, meaning that the ship will explode if something isn't done to correct it.  Scotty undertakes the dangerous task, while Spock analyses data from the displacement.

Back on the planetoid, the Purple woman begins to appear to the away team.  First D'Amato is killed, and then Sulu is attacked but escapes when Kirk intervenes.  The Purple woman is only programmed to kill a specific target, and is harmless to others.  After dodging other purple assassins, the away team finds a door leading to the interior of the planet and the central computer.  Inside, three purple assassins appear, one for each of them and they spend some time dodging away.

On the Enterprise, Scotty's initial attempt to fix the ship has the opposite effect until Spock's analysis reveals that the spatial displacement also knocked the ship out of phase.  Evidence of this is what Mr. Scott observed when he said that something felt wrong with the ship.   When Mr. Scott reverses the polarity of his probe, the repair attempt is effective.

On the planet, Kirk and the team are about to be touched by the assassins when Spock and a security officer beam down, and shoot the controlling computer with a phaser.  Then a recording plays of the purple woman who is revealed to be Losira, the last commander of this station. She explains that this planetoid is the remains of an artificially constructed outpost that had contracted a deadly disease, killing everyone and leaving the automated defenses active.  McCoy surmises that the entire species had been wiped out by this disease, and this outpost was all that remained.

Analysis
Taken in its entirety, this was an entertaining episode, with both the action on the Enterprise and the action on the planet working together to tell a coherent story. The structure is right, the cast is right, it's just that there isn't enough there to give it any punch.  After a few minutes, it just felt like padding.

Kirk directing his team on the planet seemed repetitive and each time we went back to them, basically the same things happened and the story did not advance.  Yep, stuck on a desert planet with no food or water, better look around.  Yep, let's say the same thing over again 3 minutes later.  Still on the planet, no answers, no clues, the team still working over old ground, the purple woman appears for D'Amato and still we learn nothing.

Spock and Scotty are trying to re-take control of the ship, which is a great story idea.  Spock comes up with a solution and Scotty volunteers to carry out the plan.  Again, Trek gold here.  It's just that it was too drawn out so that it felt padded and lost its drive.

I wanted to like this episode so much more that I actually did.  For example, Scotty reports to Spock that the ship doesn't feel right.  The audience instinctively believes the chief engineer  and knows this will lead to an important breakthrough.  But then, nothing and we are distracted by a development in a different direction.

The bottom line is that this should have been a hallmark episode:  a mysterious planet, creepy deaths, a deadly female assassin that appears at will and kills with a touch, a long-dead civilization with an automated defense that kills without remorse, or does it....  It has all the classic elements that should provide for an intriguing solution to an intractable puzzle, a brilliant discovery, dazzling displays of intuition, dogged persistence, and deductive reasoning.  And while we got the form, it lacked in substance.

Small asides:
1.  Spock's dialogue with the bridge crew, and especially Scotty, completely missed Spock's character.  Rather than making him appear devoid of emotion, it instead made him appear irritable, impatient, and annoyed.  Spock is a Vulcan dedicated to logic, not a cultural neophyte who is unfamiliar with human idioms and figures of speech.

2.   I was fascinated by the brief suggestion that part of Losira's character remained within the computer's re-creation of her as a weapon of assassination.  Some of Losira's compassion, value for life, and abhorrence at murder seemed to shine through, however briefly.  I would have loved to see this idea developed even more and incorporated into the ultimate solution.

3. Kirk snapping at Sulu seemed entirely out of place. And the extended burial scene for D'Amato seemed forced and awkward.  In the absence of any explanation offered by the story I must conclude that this was poor writing.

Rating 2.5 out of 5

Star Trek TOS The Mark of Gideon. S3 E16

Synopsis:  Beaming down to the isolationist planet Gideon, Kirk seems to be lost and the diplomats of the planet refuse to allow the crew of the Enterprise to search for him.  In fact, Kirk has been beamed to a duplicate of the Enterprise that is completely empty of any of the crew.  Wandering the empty corridors, he eventually encounters a beautiful woman named Odona who claims to have no idea who she is or where she comes from.

As Spock struggles with Starfleet's orders and the Gideon adminstration, Kirk and Odona continue to wander the empty ship until Odona collapses with an illness.  At that moment, the planetary leader, Diplomat Hodin, appears revealing that the mock Enterprise was all a deception to get Odona and Kirk together.  Previously, Kirk had Vegan choriomennengitis, a disease that almost killed him. Unless Odona receives treatment within 24 hours, she will die.

However, Hodin reveals that this has been their plan all along.  Gideon suffers from severe overpopulation and they have decided to introduce this deadly infection as a method of reducing the population.  Kirk must stay and continue infecting people, while Odona's death will be an example to the population and will inspire others to volunteer.

Finally, Spock has had enough of the diplomatic stalling and simply beams down on his own authority.  He finds Kirk and Odona and the three of them beam back aboard the Enterprise.  McCoy heals Odona, though she retains the microorganism in her system just as Kirk had and as the show ends she beams down to the planet to carry out her gruesome task of thinning the population.

Analysis:
Just as the previous episode had been about racism, the anvilicious message here was about the dangers of overpopulation.  As Hodin described it, because their culture valued life and refused to practice birth control, the planet had become severely overpopulated to the extent that there was room for nothing except merely existing a hollow life that everyone longed to leave but was prevented from doing so by annoying moral fixations on the sanctity of life.  This was written at a time when Paul Ehrlich's "population bomb" was on everyone's mind, a bomb that failed to go off when the predicted famine and disease declined to appear.  But in the meantime, the Catholic Church's discouragement of contraception took a beating from liberal intelligentsia.

That is the position that Hodin is referring to when he says:

HODIN:  The birth rate continued to rise, and the population grew, until now Gideon is encased in a living mass who can find no rest, no peace, no joy. ... But you see, the people of Gideon have always believed that life is sacred. That the love of life is the greatest gift. ...  We are incapable of destroying or interfering with the creation of that which we love so deeply. Life, in every form, from foetus to developed being. It is against our tradition, against our very nature. We simply could not do it.
KIRK: Yet you can kill a young girl. 

So in this episode we get a nice little moralizing speech about the benefits of sterilization, contraception, abortion, voluntary euthanasia, and forced population reduction because we definitely don't want to end up wandering in circles wearing those hooded onesies.

The story presented a trivial problem (Gideon trying to keep Kirk as a prisoner) with a very obvious solution (Spock beams down, despite protestations, and retrieves Kirk.)  The rest of the episode spent sparring with Hodin, endlessly repeating transporter coordinates, and wandering the empty decks of the Enterprise was meaningless and conveyed nothing.

And in the meantime the story introduced annoying plot inconsistencies.
1.  Why did the planetary government reconstruct the interior of the Enterprise in painstaking detail?  It provoked a few hours of confusion on Kirk's part, but they didn't maintain the ruse longer than that.  So months of work for a few hours of use seems like a bad trade off.  Where did they find the space for it on that ant hill of a planet.  Was it really worth it?

2.  Where did they obtain the detailed plans to the Enterprise interior?  How could this isolationst fringe member of the Federation possibly obtain these plans?

3.  That dumb Starfleet bureaucrat seemed to be particularly wrongheaded to the point that I was convinced that he was a Gideon plant and was genuinely surprised to discover that Uhura's transmissions hadn't been intercepted by someone on the planet with a Starfleet uniform.

4. Once again, the boys with the gold or blue shirts have absolutely nothing to offer in the way of a solution to this planet's problems.  They're just glad to fly away at the end of the episode, and put as much distance between themselves and the freakshow happening down on the surface.  We're not even going to address those volunteering to be infected by the deadly disease to relieve the population pressure by taking themselves out of the gene pool.  Very dark, Crow...

5.  There's no way either Spock or Scotty would have even hesitated to recognize that the transporter coordinates had been transposed. The Gideon schemers were exceptionally clumsy.

6.  Freebie:  Kirk beams down without a communicator?  The first thing Spock does is use his communicator to talk to Scotty on the Enterprise.  The whole elaborate ruse that the Gideons had set up could have been foiled in seconds if Kirk had simply followed procedure.

7.  Another Freebie:  if the health of people on the planet was so strong that they could regenerate organs lost to sterilization, how long would it be before the population developed an immunity to Vegan meningitis?


Rating 1.5 out of 5.  Not the worst episode ever, not the most offensive, but overall boring and without presenting the smart solutions that ST is known for.

Star Trek TOS Let That Be Your Last Battlefield. S3 E15

Synopsis:
The Enterprise encounters a shuttle reported to be stolen from Starbase 4.  Tractoring it onboard, they discover a single occupant who is unusual because of the pigmentation of his skin.  He appears to be divided directly down the middle, with half of his face being white and the other half black.  He gives his name as Lokai.  Kirk questions him about stealing the shuttle, but he remains unresponsive and unrepentant.

Back on the bridge, an invisible ship is being tracked, which eventually deposits another visitor on board named Bele, also half black and half white.  Bele identifies himself as a commissioner in pursuit of Lokai, who is a political refugee.  He demands that he and Lokai be taken immediately to their planet, Cheron, where Lokai is sentenced to be executed.  Kirk refuses because of an emergency mission to the planet Arrianus.  Bele uses the power of mind to take control of the ship, and Kirk threatens to destroy the Enterprise using the self-destruct mechanism until Bele relinquishes control.

Again in command, Kirk re-directs the ship back to Arrianus where Scotty and the bridge crew are successfull in decontaminating its atmosphere.  With this completed, Kirk directs that the ship return to Starbase 4, but Bele insists that they communicate with Starfleet about Bele's request to travel to Cheron.  When Starfleet refuses, Bele again takes control with his mind, this time deactivating the self destruct circuits in the main computer.

Arriving at Cheron, Spock reports that all humanoids have been killed.  The entire species of black and white humanoids has been wiped out except for the two on the Enterprise.  After fighting with each other on the ship, the two Cherons beam themselves down to the planet to continue their struggle on the surface of the planet, the only two people alive.



Analysis

The two characters of Bele and Lokai, locked in eternal struggle, eternal pursuit; neither able to overcome the other nor be swayed by their arguments.

The characters are very skillfully created.  While our immediate sympathies were with Lokai, the pursued, the one who seems to be oppressed by the other, Bele. Bele seems to assert superiority based entirely on the pattern of his skin color, something that the audience instinctively recognizes as racism, and so we question his right to take Lokai prisoner.  We are further convinced that he’s bad, when he takes over the Enterprise and refuses to abide by the Starfleet directive.

However, the writers gave Lokai some equally unsympathetic scenes as well:  quick to take offense at Kirk’s questioning, quick to justify his own bad behavior (in stealing the shuttle), quick to condemn the Enterprise crew for not immediately flocking to his side when he urges them to kill Bele.

In the end, the show condemns each of them as being lost to their own hatred.  It shows the hopelessness of their situation with the condition of their home planet, where everyone has died. And it suggests that the two of them are destined to continue this struggle for eternity.  The chase scene running in circles around the lower decks of the ship serves as an allegory for their entire 50,000 years of existence, something they are destined to repeat down on the planet.

As a piece of social commentary, this was interesting if a little heavy handed.  I think it is brilliant that the superficial differences between them were intended to be so subtle that Kirk and Spock, and I would guess the audience as well, did not even notice until Bele specifically pointed them out, "I am black on the right side...  Lokai is white on the right side.  All of his people are white on the right side." I remember the moment of this reveal as electrifying in its triviality.  (Now, of course, the episode is so well known that the revelation is lost.)

I think it's a mistake to consider this a direct allegory of 60's racism, however.  That's too simplistic and does a disservice to the story.  The writers made the decision to create a distinctly different world that is not a direct parallel to the American civil rights era, and this gives them the freedom to tell a slightly different story for Lokai, with a different conclusion. In fact, we are never given confirmation that either of their stories are entirely accurate.

The problem was that there was very little actual story involved.  The message was conveyed almost entirely through dialogue, with dueling speeches between Bele, Lokai, Spock, and Kirk.  Instead, we were given extended and largely meaningless procedural scenes to fill the remaining time:  tracking the incoming ships, activating the self-destruct mechanism, purifying the planet Arrianus, Spock narrating their positions on the lower decks and eventual exit from the ship. Each of these was action without purpose, without tension, without story.  It’s like someone telling a science fiction story without actually understanding science fiction, and what makes it meaningful.

Equally annoying is that old favorite of The Original Series, the hyper-powerful species; one that is immortal and travels in an invisible ship that easily transports through the Enterprise’s shields, a species that can take control of the ship using their will alone, and repel phasers with an impregnable personal shield. The problem with these super powers is that they don’t allow the story to focus on the science fiction, on the physical mechanics of what is happening.  They don’t allow the crew to employ their knowledge and training to resolve the situation.  Instead, either Kirk attempts to argue with the antagonist, or the alien wanders off on its own as was the case in this story.

The story denied the crew agency.  Other than Kirk’s threat of self-destruction, which was eventually rendered moot, nothing the crew of the Enterprise did had any effect on the outcome of the story.  Once again, they were mere observers as the two aliens drove the action and engaged in their struggle.  Eventually, the Cherons got what they wanted and were delivered to their own planet, after which the Enterprise simply flew away leaving them to their own fate.

There are other minor continuity problems with this episode which stem from the director not really caring about them.  The most obvious of these is that the primary method to combat a hijacked ship is to stop the engines.  Ship design should have this as an integral component.  A hijacked ship should be dead in the water.

I also can't help but wonder where Lokai was, when Bele was taking over the ship with his mind.  If there are nothing but superficial differences between them, and Lokai was so adamant not to return to Cheron, it seems that he should have struggled with Bele for control of the ship.   Lokai's quiescence at that point was puzzling. 

In addition, when Spock comes upon Cheron, he describes bodies lying in the cities, but the vegetation and wildlife beginning to encroach on its borders.  I think the writers didn’t have a clear picture of what happens to bodies left out in the open, which would have been long decayed or scavenged by the wildlife, unless the final destruction came mere days before. Yet it takes years for vegetation to begin to encroach on a developed city, not weeks.

It is an important moment because Spock’s narration is the lasting image left in our mind – the fate of this planet of hate, and its two remaining occupants.  But it’s a conflicted image that doesn’t make sense.  Did the Cherons, after having been gone 50,000 years, miss their civilization’s downfall by a few weeks?  Are the burning buildings that appear as images to the running Cherons visions of what is happening on the planet? Or maybe they are simply a reflection of the hatred burning in their minds.

 Story element references:  In The Enemy Within S1: E5, Kirk is split into two halves by a transporter accident. and in The Alternative Factor S1: E27 the two versions of Lazarus are committed to an eternal struggle where neither can die and neither can win.  This is very similar to the struggles of the two left on the planet Cheron.


The Bottom Line :  They have some interesting characters and an exciting premise about racial hatred but no actual story to take place in that premise.  The Cherons come on board the Enterprise, travel to Cheron, and leave.  That's really all that happens.

Rating: 2 out of 5