Timeless by: Stephen Cole

 

Stephen Cole is responsible for ending this grouping of Eighth Doctor Adventures surrounding the collapse of the multiverse and further plans of Sabbath.  Timeless is not a novel lacking in ideas or interesting imagery.  Cole brings the TARDIS team back to Earth and Trix MacMillan closer to the forefront, she even gets upgraded to proper companion status by the end of the book, with Anji Kapoor after multiple books foreshadowing that her time in the TARDIS is coming to an end finally gets to go back to her ordinary life.  There is something quite odd about this book being the first time a companion of South Asian descent leaves the TARDIS with a child in tow that they don’t necessarily want, but at least in this case the justification is there and Anji isn’t deprived of her agency in this story.  Timeless is a novel with some incredibly odd parallels to “The Reality War” and with Russell T. Davies use of the Wilderness Years ideas, I wouldn’t be surprised if the influence in the rewrites of that episode were intentional. This is because at the core of Timeless there is the destruction of Gallifrey that is hanging over the Doctor’s head as a failure, while the book’s stakes are the already collapsing multiverse.  The child, Chloe, is heavily implied to be a Time Lord along with Erasmus, both being stand ins for the Doctor and a companion.  Erasmus is missing a heart and Chloe still retains that sense of childlike wonder that fits a generic Doctor Who companion.  Between them they also have a dog, which feels like a comment on the extreme popularity of K9 in the public consciousness.  Cole is actually quite good at making Timeless work with the rather large stakes it is playing around with.

 

Where Timeless falls flat and never quite reaches its full potential is its pace, the first half of the novel is incredible.  It’s where most of the commentary is included and the mystery on exactly what Chloe and Erasmus are is fascinating.  Sabbath working with something that is seemingly bigger than himself, ultimately to be betrayed, is emblematic of where the back half of the novel falls apart.  Mainly because the conclusion plays too close into typical Doctor Who when Cole had been going so far into pushing the story away from Doctor Who.  There is a sense that the status quo has not been restored which keeps this as quite a good novel all things considered, but it is also so clearly meant to be the reset that was coming.  There is also a strong possibility that, as this novel was released a month before the revival of Doctor Who was commissioned and the BBC had already been making moves to bring the show back, the editorial staff were desperate to move things towards something more standard in case the book range was concluded unceremoniously.  In terms of publishing the release schedule had diminished to one novel a month after Time Zero and would remain that way until the end of both the Eighth Doctor Adventures and Past Doctor Adventures at the end of 2005, with a five-month break in the first half of 2005 to allow the revival to air.

 

Trix MacMillan as a character is quite fascinating.  Yes, she had a major part to play in the previous novel, The Last Resort, but under the pen of Stephen Cole she immediately becomes a fascinating pairing with Fitz.  As a pair, they are both larger than life, Trix throwing herself into the disguises and performing roles to save the multiverse with Fitz.  Anji as a part of the companion trio in Timeless finishes her run once again as the rational, serious companion who is set up to be more concerned with getting the job done than having a good time while saving the world.  Fitz and Trix clearly mask their inner lives while Anji has her serious influence on the Doctor.  The Doctor does begin the novel very much against Fitz’s weird scheme to make films remembering each universe they have been through, Fitz coming from the perspective of everybody deserving to be remembered.  Having the TARDIS team entirely in states of emotional distress in Timeless is what makes the first half of the novel work so well, everything is falling apart and while each character is on the same page in saving the multiverse.  There is this moment where the Doctor finally softens, seeing how rude he is being, and it might just be one of the best moments for the Eighth Doctor in this book range.

 

Overall, it’s the first half that makes Timeless worth reading, even if this is a book that Stephen Cole is using to hang on a wire.  The Eighth Doctor Adventures are entering their last leg with a brand new TARDIS team, but it’s telling a story that will be told again far worse in two decades time on television.  Sabbath, while characterized quite well, does become a bit too close to the Master in what Cole is doing and the restoration of the Earth is walking a very fine line between moving the story forward and retconning a lot of the ideas the Eighth Doctor Adventures have been playing with.  It is the ides present in the subtext about the universe lacking the Time Lords and the War both looming and already happening that makes the novel interesting to talk about when Cole wraps it up in standard Doctor Who.  6/10.

In Theory by: Joe Menosky and Ronald D. Moore and directed by: Patrick Stewart

 

“In Theory” is written by: Joe Menosky and Ronald D. Moore and is directed by: Patrick Stewart.  It was produced under production code 199, was the 25^th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 4, the 99^th episode overall, and was broadcast on June 3, 1991.

 

There’s a shot in “In Theory” where a female officer is partially merged through the floor of a hallway and that little bit of body horror is tonally just not nearly as effective as it should be.  This is an episode that is most notable for being the first episode directed by Patrick Stewart, making him the second cast member of Star Trek: The Next Generation to helm an episode.  Stewart shoots “In Theory” closer in tone to an episode of a sitcom which is apt, outside of that major piece of body horror that is snuck into the B-plot of the episode, as the A-plot is a stock sitcom plot.  The premise is that Data is once again experiencing an approximation of a human emotion and falling in love with a fellow crew member.  This time it is guest star Michele Scarabelli playing Jenna D’Sora, equally becoming attracted to Data’s blunt yet incredibly kind personality.  D’Sora has also just broken up with a boyfriend and asked Data to remind her exactly why she left him.  Yes, this is an episode where Data is framed as a rebound relationship throughout, ultimately leading to the relationship falling apart through no fault of his own.  The breakup scene at the end of the episode is quite good for playing a breakup as two responsible adults understanding that a relationship was started for the wrong reasons in a subversion of the typical sitcom framing that much of this plotline is playing into however unintentionally.  It’s a healthy understanding of relationships and while the ending is tinged to be bittersweet for Data, the episode does show him being quite willing to be an attentive partner and listen to what she is saying.

 

Modeling a healthy relationship while framing the episode with a sitcom plot does create disconnect tonally in how the episode is meant to play out.  Joe Menosky and Ronald D. Moore have both been responsible for quite good examples of character drama, however, “In Theory” has a script that is not really going for the dramatic while Stewart’s direction is shying away from the comedic.  There is a scenario where Data is being almost too attentive to D’Sora’s desires and needs.  Brent Spiner does get the chance to play Data as close to flirty as possible, dialing up the charm with the slight overenunciation of the dialogue.  The romantic farce of the episode that is meant to fuel the relationship is this overcorrection in being an attentive partner after Data making some initial missteps in the relationship.  These again are not framed as malicious or in the typical sitcom male archetype of being inattentive, just the usual explanation of Data not quite understanding typical acts of humanity.  Menosky and Moore clearly wish for the audience to find it funny, but it is framed just as Data being Data.  There is the issue that at this point a plot like “In Theory” has been done before with Data, though not necessarily better.  The relationship in this episode is almost written as a continuation between the relationship between Data and Tasha Yar from the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation.  D’Sora is a guest character, however, she is styled quite similarly to how Yar was styled, Scarabelli is a tall, thin blond playing a crew member who has had difficulty in previous relationships.  That is the extent of her characterization, something that is becoming a recurring issue with single episode love interests, falling into some of the issues as the romantic interest in “The Host”.  That isn’t to say that the A-plot is bad, it is not, it’s just an incredibly standard plot that is going over ground that has been done with Data elsewhere, for better and worse.

 

The aspects of the A-plot that work quite well are whenever Data interacts with a recurring character, going to his friends and colleagues for advice into how to pursue the relationship.  The best interactions are with Worf, Michael Dorn picking up on the comedy of Worf’s protective response over D’Sora, and with Keiko and Miles O’Brien, that couple getting to be explicitly funny while Rosalind Chao and Colm Meany play their roles in love.  For the dramatic weight, Whoopi Goldberg as Guinan is given a guest spot providing more serious advice for Data, something that’s just become her role on the show at this point, but it’s a nice little scene.  The B-plot of the episode is tonally quite different from the A-plot, it is about a poltergeist of sorts on the Enterprise.  Objects, and Data’s cat, begin to phase through other objects on the ship because it is close to a specific nebula that is causing distortion in the space-time continuum.  This is an oddly specific science fiction plot to be used on a simple B-plot.  It’s material that could easily be elevated to an A-plot for Star Trek: The Next Generation, even centering Picard as the hero who needs to attempt a noble sacrifice to resolve the distortions.  There is the obvious hypothesis that because Patrick Stewart was slated to direct this slot, this idea was put into a B-plot simply because he needed to have a reduced screentime, but unlike the episode’s directed by Jonahtan Frakes, Picard does appear quite a bit even in the A-plot of “In Theory”.  It’s not a bad plotline, but again it makes some particularly odd decisions.

 

Overall, the prominence of “In Theory” really comes down to the fact that Patrick Stewart is in the director’s chair.  Outside of that it is a perfectly serviceable episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, though when compared to previous episodes focused on Data it is significantly less interesting and with less to say from writers who are usually overflowing with interesting ideas.  The sitcom framing being contextualized in the dramatic world of Star Trek: The Next Generation is the biggest downside to the episode which could have been better.  Despite being a largely enjoyable time, this is going to become one of those episodes that gets lost in the shuffle.  6/10.

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.