Uzumaki by: Junji Ito translated by: Yuji Oniki

 

“Spiral into horror” is the tagline printed on the cover of Junji Ito’s Uzumaki, a three-volume manga collected about the isolated town of Kurouzu-cho and its slow destruction.  Structurally, it’s an odd story to read.  The last third or so is an explicitly connected narrative, essentially one connected story after two thirds of the novel has been short horror stories set in Kurouzu-cho, usually ending with the subject of the horror dying in a way that is related to the shape of a spiral.  Ito’s use of the spiral throughout Uzumaki is to represent the existential horror of living in an uncaring society and universe.  Kurouzu-cho is an isolated town, far from the metropolitan centers of Japan, full of uncaring adults who will push away any sense of community and children who learn far too early to emulate their parents.  The ending of Uzumaki is nihilistic to the extreme, the protagonists lose and the town falls into the spiral at the center of the town.  Protagonists Kirie and Shuichi give up any chance of getting out and become formless parts of the spiral, the town folding in on itself before the narration indicates that this has happened before and will happen again.  It cannot be changed.  It cannot be stopped.  The spiral will return.  There is no hope.  Included in the back of the volume is a deleted chapter where the horror is explicitly cosmic, the spiral of the galaxy.  Uzumaki is nihilist in the extreme, life is full of pain and then you die, your entire world going with you.  The ending leaves the reader empty, ultimately the horror cannot be explained.  This is cosmic horror where the cosmic horror comes directly from the Earth and those around them.  The beginning of the story is a standard, if well written horror story of a family becoming obsessed with a spiral before it drives them to mutilation and suicide.  It’s psychological and creates a mission statement for Uzumaki while standing on its own as a complete story.

 

As is typical for manga, Ito is writing, drawing, and lettering Uzumaki, however the lettering is redone for the English edition with the translation coming from Yuji Oniki.  The translation does indicate the style is quite clipped, dialogue and narration is quite clipped.  There is this sense that the characters are being continually cut off, adding to the isolating effect of the horror.  Ito’s strongest suit is the art.  Uzumaki is a tale of body horror, the spiral becoming the symbol of twisting the human form into something inhuman.  There are two particular installments of the series that bring the body horror to its most gruesome.  First is “The Snail”, the tale of a boy who only comes to school when it rains, before not coming all together.  He gets slower, more hunched over, before transforming into a giant snail.  It’s one of the simpler pieces of horror, though becoming a snail seems to spread and eventually plays into becoming a food source when the town is completely falling apart.  Ito masters the use of the still image, the horror in the chapter coming from very specifically avoiding the sue of motion in the art.  This is particularly tricky to pull off, the best art in this type of storytelling relies on implied motion that is absent here.  Second is “The Umbilical Cord” which plays upon the fears of childbirth and the reduction of women into being incubators for children.  There is also a parasitic fungus that represents the spiral and the perversion of the children, taking certain visual cues from Village of the Damned and Rosemary’s Baby for inspiration.

 

Overall, Junji Ito’s horror is the horror in the pointlessness.  There is an underlying sense of isolation being what kills, the outsiders are subjected to the terror before the universe peels back what makes people exist.  Uzumaki excels at body horror because the story’s depth comes from simplicity.  The intention is to leave the reader with this pit of hopelessness as a warning for the cycles of terror that befall humanity.  And in that deep despair the reader has to reach inside themselves to find some sort of hope and that’s what makes it beautiful, but only as a complete picture.  9/10.

The Mind's Eye by: Rene Echevarria from a story by: Rene Echevarria and Ken Schafer and directed by: David Livingston

 

“The Mind’s Eye” is written by: René Echevarria, from a story by: Ken Schafer and René Echevarria, and is directed by: David Livingston.  It was produced under production code 198, was the 24^th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 98^th episode overall, and was broadcast on May 27, 1991.

 

The pop culture depiction of enemy agents brainwashing a hero to infiltrate and assassinate has its roots in The Manchurian Candidate, a book and film that Star Trek: The Next Generation directly plays homage to in “The Mind’s Eye”.  As an episode, “The Mind’s Eye” is quite good, it’s best scene is actually the final scene after the resolution where Geordi La Forge, his brainwashing broken, is receiving counseling from Deanna Troi, indicating that there is still lingering trauma.  He remembers his time on Risa, memories implanted by the Romulans attempting the assassination of Klingon governor Vagh.  It’s a tiny little character moment, but like The Best of Both Worlds and “Family” it’s one of those little moments that have been cropping up in Star Trek: The Next Generation since the previous season.  The smallness of the moment is enough in René Echevarria’s script to stick out as integral for making the episode work.  It also gives LeVar Burton a chance to really put his heart into the performance of loss and just how terrifying it is to be aware of a loss of control.  That loss of control of oneself has become a recurring idea in this season of the show, for better and worse.  Giving Marina Sirtis the small chance to play Troi as an actual counsellor is also a breath of fresh air, especially after the previous episode reducing the female characters to relationships with men.  It’s the only thing of note that Troi does in “The Mind’s Eye” and yet it feels like an important piece for her character.

 

Echevarira’s script for “The Mind’s Eye” is a fairly simple story, it is a Cold War style brainwashing thriller with Geordi as the victim.  The Manchurian Candidate is directly paralleled in the plot and in David Livingston’s direction.  Livingston lights the episode like a film, quite dramatically.  The brainwashing sequence is quite horrific for an episode of television broadcast in 1991, Livingston framing Geordi’s face in the center of the screen and adding a small amount of light to his eyes in such a way that emphasizes the trauma.  Geordi’s disability is being used against him, all shown through Livingston’s direction and that framing of the eyes.  Because Geordi’s visor is taken away, Burton is wearing the contacts that completely make his eyes sclera which have been used before, but here they become representation of him losing himself to the brainwashing.  Through the rest of the episode, the brainwashing is played as sinister as Geordi La Forge is depicted as going about his duties as per normal, with no indication of brainwashing outside of actions that the audience would recognize as sabotage.  Echevarria does spend much of the time on the B-plot of the episode with governor Cah and Klingon ambassador Kell.  It’s mostly a reflection on where Worf’s honor is and how Picard and the Enterprise are still upholding his position as security chief.

 

There is a reading of “The Mind’s Eye” as setup for future plotlines on the show.  Now when writing these reviews I actually do not know where the future of Star Trek: The Next Generation is going, this is the first time I have seen the show.  This is an episode that by placing so much emphasis on Worf’s honor feels like setting up either the season finale or a future event episode of the season.  The conclusion is that ambassador Kell, played by Larry Dobkin, is in fact in league with the Romulans in orchestrating the assassination attempt and that in Klingon society there are some secretly glad that Worf, despite losing his honor in the process, acted in the way that he did.  There is also the quite odd casting choice of Denise Crosby as a shadowy figure during the brainwashing.  This is one of those appearances that is clearly meant to fuel speculation as to what the Romulans are planning, the audience picking up that it is Crosby, but not quite clear on who she is playing.  There is not really an obvious choice for the role and Crosby in the short performance does not play it as Tasha Yar, and while I would like to speculate that it is an evil, mirror universe version of Tasha or something else, it is clearly a tease that only a television show could do.  Hopefully this is a tease that will pay off this season as it would be odd to build it up only two episodes before the finale for a plot point that could come at any point in the fifth season.

 

Overall, “The Mind’s Eye” is made memorable because of much of the style elevating the substance.  Directly writing a pastiche of a piece of pop culture is actually a good trick for television and David Livingston is a director whose style is incredibly cinematic.  This is an excellent tutorial in how to dramatically light an episode of television.  It’s quite a good episode even by being at its core a basic pastiche of The Manchurian Candidate.  7/10.

The Burn Line by: Jonathan Sims

 

The Burn Line is the third novel from Jonathan Sims.  Sims is a writer whose most well-known work is The Magnus Archives, a horror podcast that ran from 2016 to 2021, gaining a not insignificant online fandom.  It was a podcast that I discovered at the right time in my life for the horror to resonate quite well.  This is my first exposure to Sims’ prose work but the similarities in style cannot be denied.  While The Burn Line is a novel primarily in the third person there is a creeping dread, playing on the fear of the unknown.  Five strangers encounter each other on a subway line while the city of London is under a heatwave.  Something terrifying happens, however, none of them are able to recall exactly what they encountered, the gaps in their memories.  It is only when one of them suffers a loss of a friend that the group begins to be brought together and memory begins to trickle events back into place.  The first part of the novel, taking up approximately 80 pages is that initial event told from the perspective of our five characters.  Sims’ work in short fiction and podcasting is excellent at making each narrative voice distinct with particular emphasis on their background.  There is a sense of wrongness when each character steps into the train carriage, entering a world that none of them are meant to see and on the surface far more complex than what their everyday life would allow.

 

The burnout of the working class is central to The Burn Line.  Each of our protagonists are at some stage of burnout with different intensity and from a different source.  Each is attempting to cope with it somehow from Elise getting a new job, to Senyo taking the few moments to appreciate his wife.  It’s the drudgery of day-to-day life, exacerbated by living in a post-COVID lockdown world.  Sims noting Elise wearing a mask keeps the pandemic in the forefront of the reader, existing in a changed world where young adults have lived through once in a lifetime historical event after once in a lifetime historical event.  Four of the five are holding onto their lives in a way the typical reader will understand, living life day to day with some semblance of security.  Aaron, the most compelling of the protagonists and the first to realize that there is something supernatural preying on people, is where most readers would recognize rock bottom.  He is homeless; however, Sims recognizes that homeless people are people, treating his narrative as human as the others.  He does not perceive himself as being at rock bottom, there is an awareness in the narrative of how easy it is for someone to lose their home.  Each of the other protagonists are equally far away from becoming homeless, working paycheck to paycheck.  It is their class solidarity that makes them aware of the evil lurking under the streets of London, and the narrative is one that punishes those who break that solidarity.  Aaron’s treatment by the narrative is quite kind, he is not singled out for prejudice.  Each protagonist has some aspect of themselves that the others have underlying biases.

 

The structure of the characters do match quite easily into classic fantasy tropes of the five man band.  Aaron representing the heart, Elise and Tash the brains and the brawn, Will the lancer, and Senyo the leader, though with the way that Sims plots The Burn Line in line with mid-century science fiction and horror this may be accidental and a simple nature of tropes becoming universal.  It is a structure that does work quite well for The Burn Line even if an understanding of the trope can give you for where the plot is going.  Structurally, the novel is also split into five parts and the twist at the midpoint is predictable.  The type of horror that Sims is working with shifts from a cosmic horror to all too real horrors of monsters, those monsters representing the upper class quite obviously.  Sims is not a writer who works in subtlety when it comes to the major themes and motifs of his work, and that does act as a double-edged sword.  It is the characters where the subtleties lie and where readers will find their most enjoyment.  Sims’ prose is also clearly meant to be read aloud instead of in a book, again a holdover from his experience as the writer of The Magnus Archives.  This is particularly great for maintaining the atmosphere when the switch in approach occurs.

 

Overall, The Burn Line is a quite good little horror novel.  Thematically it is covering material that stretches to the beginnings of the genre but only in a way that works through a post-COVID lens.  Jonathan Sims centers human kindness as what is going to be responsible for saving us all and while that is a little cheesy in places it does help sustain and draw the horror.  7/10.

Technical Hitch by: Dan Abnett with pencils by: Art Wetherell, inks by: Cam Smigh, and lettering by: Stuart Bartlett

 

“Technical Hitch” is written by: Dan Abnett with pencils by: Art Wetherell, inks by: Cam Smith, and letters by: Stuart Bartlett.  It was released in The Incredible Hulk Presents issue 5 (November 1989) and is reprinted in its original form in Doctor Who: Nemesis of the Daleks by Panini Books.

 

Once again this is a Doctor Who comic strip with a good idea at its center but very little substance because of the short page count.  This is the fourth story published in The Incredible Hulk Presents, the second and final from Dan Abnett who would continue writing for Doctor Who Magazine on and off in the early 1990s.  “Technical Hitch” has one idea at its core, a man traveling in deep space has been put in virtual reality to psychologically survive the journey and the computer has malfunctioned.  It has left him alone and he is slowly going mad, though not the type of insanity that lashes out and becomes violent.  The Doctor arrives, assesses the situation, fixes the computer, and then leaves.  There are five pages for the story to be told and Abnett does at least attempt to be lighter on dialogue as to not get bogged down so the art by Art Wetherell and inks by Cam Smith can be interesting, but there is not a lot of actual depth to the story.  An artificial reality coming from a computer is something that was on the minds of Doctor Who writers, the New Adventures would actually use this as a setting for several novels, especially early in the line.  There is likely little connection between what The Incredible Hulk Presents is doing compared to the New Adventures, Abnett never contributed to any of the Doctor Who book ranges until well into the revival.  “Technical Hitch” struggles because it does little with the actual premise outside of presenting it, the resolution happening as soon as the idea is put on the table and this makes for less engaging reading.  There is also a lack of identity that makes this Doctor Who, fitting in with earlier strips featuring the Seventh Doctor making him a largely passive side character in his own strip.

 

Overall, “Technical Hitch” isn’t bad and there is potential for an interesting plot were Dan Abnett given more than five pages to tell a story.  It is yet again falling down the same problems as the other The Incredible Hulk Presents strips, and doesn’t have strengths to make up for it leaving a mediocre experience.  5/10.

The Host by: Michel Horvat and directed by: Marvin V. Rush

 

“The Host” is written by: Michel Horvat and is directed by: Marvin V. Rush.  It was produced under production code 197, was the 23^rd episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 97^th episode overall, and was broadcast on May 13, 1991.

 

“The Host” is a difficult episode to discuss.  It’s another example of the final scene recontextualizing what the episode is doing, and once again that recontextualization is a regression.  There is a web of issues, all of them coming down to the issues that Star Trek: The Next Generation has built up over its four-season run.  The smallest of these is the subtle misogyny of “The Host” being another episode focused on a female crew member that reduces their wants and needs down to a romantic relationship.  This is an episode focused on Dr. Crusher in love with an alien ambassador, Oban, and that is not inherently a problem.  The issue is that these types of episodes are overrepresented with the female characters on Star Trek: The Next Generation.  While the male characters are given romance at the center of their episodes, those episodes are allowed to define those characters more than being in a romantic relationship.  “Captain’s Holiday” for instance is about Picard learning to relax even if he has the romance with Vash as a major part of the plot.  Even the terrible “Galaxy’s Child” adds Geordi LaForge’s confidence issues to his obsessions.  “The Host” is all about Dr. Crusher having a romance, established in the opening scene of the episode, going through the wringer and eventually falling apart without any sort of development or deepening of Crusher’s character.

 

To give “The Host” the benefit of the doubt, there is an interesting science fiction concept at the heart of the episode, and one that easily could have been affirming instead of terribly regressive.  The Trill are a species that exist in consensual, symbiotic relationships with their hosts.  As established they lack a gender, taking on the gender of their hosts.  This is treated in the episode as a twist.  Oban falls ill in the first act of the episode and the Trill cannot send a new host so Riker volunteers to be temporarily host until a new host can arrive.  This is the first steps so Crusher’s relationship can fall apart, Crusher being rightly uncomfortable that the person she fell in love with is now inhabiting the body of a colleague and close friend.  There is already some outdated language here, Odan kept their nature as a Trill a secret and Crusher being outraged that this was kept secret.  There is a metaphor being used here against transgender people who keep their trans identity a secret for their own safety, there are cases of trans panic of people being murdered after entering intimate relationships.

 

The language used in “The Host” echoes those sentiments beat for beat.  There is also the issue that Odan is not actually characterized outside of their species.  Some of this is down to the casting of Franc Luz in the role, he does not give a good performance and seems to have been chosen for his physical attractiveness.  Gates McFadden is clearly showing the range to portray complicated emotions, the best material is when Crusher struggles to see Riker as a potential romantic partner.  Crusher is even allowed to overcome her issues and accept Oban in the body of Riker indicating that Star Trek: The Next Generation has at least some understanding of a fluid identity and the depth required to make long term romance work.  There is even a particularly great conversation between Crusher and Troi about relationships and how complicated they can be, both romantic and familial.

 

Crusher ends the episode rejecting Oban because their next host is female.  Within the final minute, and I do mean minute, of the episode any good will that had been built up is taken away.  The dialogue is specific that humanity is not advanced enough for this type of relationship, implying that queer relationships are not something that is on the cards for humanity.  This is an episode that was broadcast in 1991, queer characters, while not yet mainstays on television, certainly were not unheard of at the time.  Even transgender characters on television and in film were featured in mainstream movies.  This was a year before the release of Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game, a major box office success nominated for several Academy Awards featuring a major transgender character.  While representation at the time varied, The Crying Game itself falls into transphobic tropes, it existed.  But for Star Trek: The Next Generation, an explicitly queer identity is something that is repulsive for our point of view character.  It is something that is meant to be hidden, humanity too primitive to entertain the notion.  This is a particular ball that Star Trek has dropped several times before and will likely drop several times after, one aspect where the inability to portray a queer character explicitly on screen, not through the veil of metaphor.

 

Overall, there is at the very least an interesting premise at the center of “The Host.”  The Trill are apparently a larger part of the Star Trek universe, but this is an episode that reads as regressive and easy to dismiss as transphobic nonsense.  That undercuts just how many bigoted ideas are sneaking in underneath the blatant transphobia.  The silver linings are that the writer and director did not contribute to further episodes of the series.  There is a moment where you think the episode might actually allow some nuance into the topic and have attempted a sympathetic metaphor for the trans experience.  Gates McFadden is trying her best with the material, material that clearly frustrates her as an actress as she was not a stranger to protesting the misuse of her character.  This just becomes a cruel episode of Star Trek.  3/10.

War World! by: John Freeman with pencils by: Art Wetherell, inks by: Dave Harwood, and lettering by: Annie Halfacree

 

“War World!” is written by: John Freeman with pencils by: Art Wetherell, inks by: Dave Harwood, and letters by: Annie Halfacree.  It was released in The Incredible Hulk Presents issue 4 (October 1989) and is reprinted in its original form in Doctor Who: Nemesis of the Daleks by Panini Books.

 

John Freeman actually attempts something interesting in the five pages of “War World!”.  This is a story that becomes memorable because of its twist, subtly making a statement about what can make something a sentient being.  Again, The Incredible Hulk Presents only allot Doctor Who five pages per issue and only two of the stories were spread across multiple issues.  Freeman does have more to put in “War World!” than the previous two stories, the Doctor immediately being catapulted into a war between “humanity” and faceless, unfeeling robots.  Art Wetherell’s design of the robots is clearly an homage to The Day the Earth Stood Still which is intended to strengthen the theme of sentience.  There is not much to actually discuss without the twist, humanity is presented as still having a flourishing creative culture during the war.  Works of art have been preserved in bunkers and the robots are the enemy because they cannot appreciate art and are only slaves to their program.  The twist is that humanity is also a race of robots, those given the image of humanity. The thematic depth, to be fair, is perhaps being stretched.  The twist happens on the last page of the story and Freeman runs out of time before there is anything extra there.  The surface read is on the futility of war, something that Doctor Who had done quite a few stories exploring including when this was released on television with Battlefield.  But proposing the idea that a humanoid robot could be considered human because of their ability to create and it not be derivative or theft does resonate slightly more in a world overrun by generative AI.

 

Overall, “War World!” is at the very least a story with an interesting idea in its core.  The idea does not get explored in any meaningful fashion due to having absolutely no time and introducing it in the final moments of the story.  Art Wetherell’s pencils are simplified but still stylistic enough and serve the story quite well especially considering the quick turnaround time of these weekly issues.  6/10.

Half a Life by: Peter Allan Fields from a story by: Ted Roberts and Peter Allan Fields and directed by: Les Landau

 

“Half a Life” is written by: Peter Allan Fields, from a story by: Ted Roberts and Peter Allan Fields, and is directed by: Les Landau.  It was produced under production code 196, was the 22^nd episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 96^th episode overall, and was broadcast on May 6, 1991.

 

In September 1990, Gene Roddenberry suffered a stroke.  This was a clear turning point in the decline of his health.  He had already stepped away from being the showrunner of Star Trek: The Next Generation before the end of the first season, appointing Maurice Hurley to replace him in the second season, who would in turn be replaced by, in succession, Michael Wagner and Michael Piller.  Roddenberry would pass away October 24, 1991, partway through production of Star Trek: The Next Generation’s fifth season.  “Half a Life” was produced and broadcast five months before the passing of Roddenberry, but the future specter of his decline hangs over every scene, and it is better for it.  The premise of the episode involves the Enterprise hosting an experiment for Dr. Timicin of Kaelon II, played by David Ogden Stiers.  Kaelon II orbits a star that is close to collapse, the planet having perhaps half a century left before it will be consumed.  The people of Kaelon II are bound by ritual and tradition.  Once they reach the age of 60, they undergo the Resolution, state-enforced euthanasia surrounded by loved ones as to not become a burden on their loved ones and society at large.  Euthanasia has always been a difficult issue to tackle.  It is a societal issue that my own personal views are complicated and are not entirely relevant to this episode.  “Half a Life” actually takes a rather nuanced view on the practice, while it comes firmly on the side of the Resolution being wrong despite its roots in an old civilization’s traditions, it does not exclude the possibility of euthanasia as an option for the individual to take.  Instead, this is an episode uses Timicin’s Resolution to explore two themes: how society treats the elderly and coming to terms with one’s own death.

 

In the metatext of “Half a Life” this is Majel Barrett’s chance to come to terms with the love of her life being on death’s door.  While writer Peter Allan Fields may not have intended it this way, using the character of Lwaxana Troi, visiting the Enterprise as a convenient way to travel, as Timicin’s romantic interest creates the idea that this is on some level about the impending death of Gene Roddenberry.  Timicin does die at the end of the episode, despite Lwaxana Troi’s arguments and persuasions to buck tradition and avoid the Resolution, he cannot find himself becoming a revolutionary and try to change the planet.  When faced with exile and ostracization, plus the threats posed to the Enterprise by Kaelon II’s leadership, he decides to go through with his death.  Barrett’s performance is incredibly layered.  In her previous appearances, Lwaxana Troi represents a female character type that was uncommon on television at the time.  She is a powerful woman who is confident in her sexuality despite being of an advanced age, Barrett being in her late 50s, in a series that portrays that sexuality as normal.  Female sexuality in media has a tendency to be reserved or demonized if it is portrayed, and Lwaxana goes against the many stereotypes.  “Half a Life” is as romance for the character that Star Trek: The Next Generation treats with the most possible gravity.  Lwaxana is given several passionate monologues demanding somebody do something about these barbaric traditions and begging the man she loves to live, if not for her but for the rest of his people.  While it is impossible to know how much of Barrett’s performance is coming from deep within herself as she is losing the man she loves, there is a clear passion here and the material serves her well.  After the first act of the episode, Lwaxana’s comedic tendencies are downplayed, or outright gone from the character.  Her final act of being with Timicin when he goes through with the ritual is a beautiful final line for the episode as well, again not condoning the practice, but accepting that death is inevitable and it is better to be able to share in those final moments, to face grief head on instead of hiding it away.  What brings Lwaxana to this decision is a beautiful scene shared with Marina Sirtis as Deanna Troi, Sirtis getting some of her best material in a script that has both women understanding one another’s shared grief.

 

David Ogden Stiers as Timicin is an equally layered performance.  Several reviews of mine have discussed how Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation often drop the ball when it comes to the discussion of aging, but Timicin as a character is treated with dignity.  He is a scientist and a gentleman, Stiers playing him as gradually falling in love with Lwaxana Troi after knowing her only a couple of days, but that is enough.  He is a character in his twilight years of life, presented as in good physical health despite the impending death and tirelessly working as one member of a society to save the world.  There is a nobility in the work that he is doing which is given an added angle of humility as he is already building upon the work of people who have already lived their 60 years and the work will be continued beyond his.  Lwaxana uses that work as an argument against going through the Resolution.  The passionate claim that the Resolution is as if no work is being done to save the planet because why bother living if every individual is given a predetermined death date.  Timicin does not see the nihilism baked into his people’s beliefs and traditions until this moment and it is ultimately the bargain to save more lives that makes him seek asylum on the Enterprise.  “Half a Life” is also special because in Timicin committing to the Resolution, the statement it is making becomes a tolerance of a situation and the sad truth of the late 1980s and early 1990s that societal change takes time.  One man may get the ball rolling, even with their own stumbles and changes, but progress is not linear.  Timicin’s life’s work still needs to be completed by somebody else in the end.

 

Overall, “Half a Life” is only elevated by what Majel Barrett and David Ogden Spiers bring to their respective roles.  The commentary on euthanasia and the choice on when to die is given the nuanced take it deserves and for once the decision to leave questions unanswered as to how to proceed in the situation is a bonus to the episode.  It is elevated to one of the strongest episodes of this season because of the metatextual element Barrett brings with Gene Roddenberry’s declining health and coming to terms with a death that Barrett clearly knew was going to happen.  Lwaxana Troi is one of the best recurring characters on Star Trek: The Next Generation and this episode is definitive as to why.  9/10.