Day of the Dove by: Jerome Bixby and directed by: Marvin Chomsky

 

“Day of the Dove” is written by: Jerome Bixby and is directed by: Marvin Chomsky.  It was filmed under production code 66, was the 7^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 62^nd episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on November 1, 1968.

 

As Star Trek’s third season is well underway, it’s been quite interesting to note the shift in quality.  While there have been largely two episodes that I would call bad with “Spock’s Brain” and “And the Children Shall Lead”, there have also been three episodes that have been downright good and interesting, something that genuinely was not expected from the show at this point.  Largely this is because as the third season progresses, the production team for the show as a whole will shift into largely new writers.  “Day of the Dove” is one of the few episodes from a returning writer, and a returning writer who had written one of the best episodes of the previous season.  Jerome Bixby returns to the series for his third episode and like “Mirror, Mirror”, “Day of the Dove” is interested in exploring the darker aspects of the main cast by putting them in a situation made to test them.  This is another episode with a godlike alien in control of our main characters, putting them up against the Klingons in a situation where the Enterprise itself is under siege and the goal is to completely overtake our heroes.  The high pressure of the situation also brings an interesting aspect of unreality: ordinary items are transformed into medieval weapons as well as the phasers following suit, the power is slowly being drained, and the crew are being dragged into insanity with the dark, unconscious thoughts being brought to the surface.  There is already the hatred of the Klingons as enemies of the Federation, but as the episode progresses this becomes towards other members of the crew including outright bigotry.

 

“Day of the Dove” can be applauded for not shying away from attempting to show bigotry and portray the human characters at their individually lowest: seeing the crew attack each other is always going to feel off and once a female Klingon prisoner, Mara played by Susan Howard, is captured she is seen being assaulted.  Now this assault is difficult to watch and while not particularly portrayed well, it’s still an assault done for shock value showing how the usually good characters have gone bad and Mara doesn’t get nearly as much agency, it adds to the madness and uniqueness of the episode which is essentially mashing “The Naked Time” and “Arena” together.  Bixby’s script is odd, however, in the way that it ramps up tension and insanity among the crew.  The early scenes of the episode actually take place on a planet with the Enterprise crew and the Klingons each receiving a distress call and a Federation settlement being disintegrated along with a Klingon ship.  This should be enough to hang the episode’s plot on, but the tensions immediately rise with the insanity of Chekov having an imaginary brother that is portrayed on-screen with hilarity because William Shatner’s performance as Kirk can do nothing but go over the top for these moments.  Shatner’s over the top performance is something the entire episode builds to, the climax sees Kirk and the Klingon commander Kang, played by Michael Ansara, throw down their weapons and laugh with each other so the godlike alien just goes away, the resolution being the final shot of the episode.

 

Jerome Bixby is clearly interested in writing a Cold War allegory, the Klingons since “Errand of Mercy” are a stand in for the Soviet Union and “Day of the Dove” is another aspect interested in exploring if the Cold War went hot.  These are themes Star Trek have tackled before and certainly will tackle again whenever the Klingons appear, but this being an episode that ends with the Klingons and humans shaking hands means for an interesting view from Bixby of how the war may progress, both sides coming together in aid for the greater good.  The greater good for this one is sadly a godlike alien entity of energy that’s causing the tensions in the first place.  Bixby doesn’t really capitalize on this aspect in any real way, just focusing on the damage the entity causes.  “Day of the Dove” also redesigns the Klingons, for the worse.  While before this they were already portrayed by white men in yellowface with specific orientalist features, “Day of the Dove” becomes incredibly difficult to watch because the redesign darkens the makeup to brownface, with black paint being used for the actors’ hands, at least for the male Klingons while the females are largely left in the yellowface tones.  While Michael Ansara as Kang and Susan Howard as Mara aren’t putting on accents, and indeed are still ruthless villains, the racism makes “Day of the Dove” all the more difficult to watch, especially since half the guest cast are Klingons and in the makeup.  Marvin Chomsky’s direction is also insistent on framing the Klingons front and center so they are on-screen far more than you might expect (though Chomsky has improved since “And the Children Shall Lead”).

 

Overall, “Day of the Dove” just nearly gets by on how ridiculous the premise and execution of the idea are instead of being particularly good.  Once again this is a third season episode whose best moments are in the regular supporting cast, both Nichelle Nichols and James Doohan have moments and Walter Koenig’s insanity with Chekov’s non-existent dead brother is something that has to be seen to be believed.  The ideas that author Jerome Bixby sets down, however, are quite half-baked and part of that may be because of Gene L. Coon had completely left the show at this point.  This is compounded with the Klingon designs being at their most bigoted, it undercuts an episode that really wants to be anti-racist and is already not thinking through those themes to their fullest extent leading to a very mixed experience.  5/10.

Spectre of the Gun by: Lee Cronin and directed by: Vincent McEveety

 

“Spectre of the Gun” is written by: Lee Cronin, a pseudonym for Gene L. Coon and is directed by: Vincent McEveety.  It was filmed under production code 56, was the 6^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 61^st episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on October 25, 1968.

 

If I had a nickel for every 1960s science fiction series whose third season had an episode focused on a pastiche of a gunfight at the O.K. Corral, I would have two nickels which is not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.  Yes “Spectre of the Gun” is Gene L. Coon’s last full script for Star Trek, under the pseudonym Lee Cronin, and with his last script he decides to do a pastiche of a western.  Now the television western has a very long history, its roots of course being in the many, many western films of the period, but by the 1960s the film western was largely a foreign concept as it transitioned to the spaghetti westerns pioneered by Sergio Leone and other Italian filmmakers.  Doing a pastiche of the genre is honestly not something that one would expect Star Trek to do, but Gene L. Coon had an idea for a script involving aliens transporting the crew to a version of the Earth’s past as a trial for opening relations with the Melkotians, yet another race of seemingly god like aliens who are able to create these psychic landscapes to inhabit.  It’s essentially running on a similar theme to “Arena”, even down to the general message of anti-violence and humanity’s potential to overcome the violence revealed at the last minute of the episode.  This is also another episode where a regular character, this time Walter Koenig’s Chekov, is killed and this holds the key to the fact that it’s a psychic projection.

 

Where the episode shines is actually in its production design, something essentially forced by the decreased budget of the third season.  Coon clearly hoped to have this episode shot at least partially on a suitable location, but because of the budget the script is confined to studio sets.  Because of this, none of the built sets are complete buildings, instead largely facades while the interiors can be seen without walls.  There is a clock which is floating in midair which is essentially our countdown to the gunfight, the bar is there but there’s this constant red background.  The red background may be intended to represent the Arizona sunset, but it’s another piece of theatricality in the episode because all of this is clearly a sham.  That aspect of the episode is fascinating to watch, especially added to with the guest cast largely giving performances that feel uninterested in actually giving a performance.  It almost reflects the tired nature of the Western in ways that I’m certain production did not intend.  James Doohan and De Forrest Kelley are the standouts from the main cast here as well, largely giving in to the historical setting and theatrical nature of the episode.  Scotty gets to have fun trying good old bourbon from the period while McCoy attempts to reason with Doc Holliday to create tranquilizers to save themselves, both very fun scenes to watch.

 

The direction of the episode is the last by Vincent McEveety, a stalwart director and this time the direction is no less interesting because of the slashed budget.  Because of the half-finished sets and the studio bound nature of the episode, McEveety continues his use of interesting and rather odd shots throughout the episode to keep things visually interesting.  Obviously, the big problem with “Spectre of the Gun” is that it’s an episode where there is very little new ground to cover for Star Trek.  There is almost a hint at the end with Kirk and Spock musing about the fact that Kirk still had violent urges and was willing to kill the Earp’s, even though the climax involves Spock mindmelding with the crew to fully commit to the setting being false and the bullets being not real.  It’s a shame that it came right at the end because it feels like a logical aspect of Kirk’s character to follow up on, though because this is the last script by Coon I fear it will be forgotten in the largely episodic nature of the show.

 

Overall, despite several elements of “Spectre of the Gun” going over old ground for Star Trek, the old ground is actually traveled quite well.  Gene L. Coon is still a wonderful script writer who knows how to inject interest in a script and clearly is delighting in the historical setting.  Vincent McEveety is also having a lot of fun with injecting a surreal theatricality into the unfinished sets and the regular budget cuts of the series.  What’s really holding this one back is a supporting cast that isn’t interested in connecting with the material seriously, potentially because of how bloated the Western genre had become, potentially because Star Trek was having the reputation of an overbudget show.  The potential energy is there, but the lack of it becoming kinetic brings the episode down to a simple hour of fun and not one of the great’s it could have been.  7/10.

Defiant by: Brandon Sanderson

 

So here I am at the end of my over one-year long series of reviews to the works of Brandon Sanderson.  Defiant was the last novel released by Sanderson, not as part of the secret projects but through his regular young adult publishers, and ending the Skyward series overall.  The Skyward series had been good, each of the books were enjoyable if a familiar spin on a popular story of the hero’s journey mixed with stories of the boy and his dragon.  Defiant takes things in a different direction.  The novel is essentially 400 plus pages of the climax of a Brandon Sanderson novel and honestly since that’s where Sanderson excels, in exploring the climax of a story from the multi-layered perspectives of characters.  Defiant still lies in the young adult space, however, with Sanderson largely staying in Spensa’s perspective until the final climax against the Superiority where the perspective shifts through several.  This is largely because to justify the big ending of all the heroes Spensa has met through this series comes to save the day and free the universe the reader genuinely needs to see where the other characters are reacting to Spensa’s capture disguised as a diversion.  After three books of buildup with these characters, and three novellas cowritten with Janci Patterson, Sanderson also makes it very clear that by the end this series is still a fairy tale for children.  The bad guys get punished in the end in a mirror darkly from where the series began, a surprisingly dark ending being potentially read as being okay with retribution and revenge on the oppressors.

 

Defiant at several points feels almost like Sanderson reflecting, however unintentionally, on Suzanne Collins’ Mockingjay, a novel that reflects on the nature of war and becoming a symbol.  The protagonist of The Hunger Games trilogy, Katniss Everdeen, becomes a symbol against the oppression, a similar path that Sanderson has set out for his protagonist Spensa Nightshade: she becomes a symbol after integrating with a rebellion.  While Katniss finds the system of the rebellion perhaps equally as oppressive as the Capitol, Sanderson’s Defiant responds by asking what would happen with a rebellion that is determined to keep themselves in the right.  Sanderson has the humans struggle with a young leader, Jorgen is having his own character arc of continual following of protocol, struggling with Spensa’s impulsive attitude and mastery of her own cytonic, and having to deal with what comes next.  Defiant wants to genuinely ask what comes next.  Spensa’s internal narration has become less willing to kill, less willing to be a warrior, and less willing to remember her grandmother’s stories’ conclusion while finding her own solution.  Spensa is continually baited into engaging with the Superiority, largely in a way that plays on her insecurities.  It’s kind of surprising that with the end of the series and the opening of the universe into a legacy series to be written by Patterson, leaves Spensa behind in the end.  Like Mockingjay before it, there is a sense of purpose and belonging in the finality of the novel, though a very different finality to Collins’ work.  The title of the novel is integral: the war is the one last act of defiance to find freedom and the first real time that humanity’s future history is explored in the novel.

 

Overall, if you’ve been following the Skyward series from the beginning, Defiant will not disappoint.  It’s actually the novel in the series where it feels like Sanderson has improved since the four secret projects and The Lost Metal gave readers some of his best work.  It’s a simple rebellion plot that’s largely musings on what will come after, but it works so well because it’s come after three novels and three novellas to really work through that baggage.  It’s not perfect, the final fate of the Superiority is dark but presented in this almost comic light with one of my favorite little character interactions of the novel.  The series has peaked here and while there is intrigue for myself to continue, it feels like what should be a proper ending that any follow up is honestly going to have to struggle with continuing.  9/10.

Is There in Truth No Beauty? by: Jean Lisette Aroeste and directed by: Ralph Senensky

 

“Is There in Truth No Beauty?” is written by: Jean Lisette Aroeste and is directed by: Ralph Senensky.  It was filmed under production code 62, was the 5^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 60^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on October 18, 1968.

 

I have the sneaking suspicion that Star Trek’s third season is going to flip flop quite often in terms of quality.  After two weeks of mid to outright awful episodes, I have come to “Is There in Truth No Beauty?”, which while not an episode much spoken of, is an episode that perhaps should be given a second look by fans who may have forgotten it in what it’s generally surrounded by.  Jean Lisette Aroeste, according to Wikipedia, was a librarian who sold this and one other script to Star Trek with no prior television experience.  It’s something that feels out of place considering television today is rarely that easy to break into, so Aroeste managing to sell two scripts and be one of four writers to do so for Star Trek is already an achievement.  Aroeste’s Star Trek work would also be the only work in film or television, continuing her career as a librarian.  Now, not coming from a television background explains what is holding “Is There in Truth No Beauty?” back from reaching the heights of some of the best Star Trek episodes.  This is an episode that structurally has some rather large issues, mainly because the general plot of the episode shifts between the acts as problems arise and are resolved.  While it’s not uncommon for a new problem to arise at the end of the second act of a story, a risky gambit at the best of times, the plot of the episode largely shifts at the end of the first act as well, leaving some of the ideas Aroeste is exploring limited into essentially 20-minute segments.

 

“Is There in Truth No Beauty?” is largely a piece of very human drama about a woman attempting to live in a world that clearly does not understand her.  Dr. Miranda Jones is a psychologist, played by Diana Muldaur, putting her career over being a man and working with a Medusan ambassador, Kollos, a character that cannot be seen without going mad and only Jones and Spock seeing them through a visor.  Jones is perhaps one of the most fleshed out female characters in Star Trek, despite being a one-off character, largely being defined as a woman who wishes for more of her career and connection with helping the wider galaxy over tying herself to a man.  Muldaur’s performance is particularly fascinating throughout the episode, she is constantly being the one to discuss her own goals and retort to the crew largely diminishing her down to her looks.  It’s particularly fascinating since Star Trek has this problem of not really characterizing the female characters, Jones still ends the episode in a mind link with Kollos but Aroeste is clearly attempting to avoid the connection of women being defined by men.  Kollos, while portrayed by Leonard Nimoy as Spock in the initial mind meld in the third act of the episode, is characterized as truly alien, not understanding the need of senses nor necessarily understanding the madness they impart.  The second and third acts also strand the Enterprise leading to the mind meld, which is where the regular cast is generally occupied with conflict which is perfectly fine conflict but leads to large sidelining of the main cast.  It also has the fascinating reveal that Dr. Miranda Jones is blind, making her a disabled woman actively working in a world that is against her.

 

The first act is particularly the strongest, and the one with the most human drama, as Jones is pursued by the affections of Larry Marvick, played by David Frankham.  Marvick’s descent into madness is excellent, Ralph Senensky’s direction throughout this sequence and the final act is particularly great at setting up interesting shots and lighting to portray the madness, enhancing an already great performance.  It’s the part of the episode that largely explores Jones’ telepathic abilities and establish what may be the central theme of Star Trek’s vision of the future in a handy little catchphrase: Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.  The only thing bringing that down is the fact that it is introduced in a handy little badge integrated to clearly sell replicas for the general audience.  As an idea, however, it’s something that is utterly fascinating and utopian, despite the fact that much of Star Trek has actively gone against that due to the biases of series creator Gene Roddenberry and the television culture of the time, and culture of the future of the franchise.

 

Overall, it’s genuinely surprising to me that the larger Star Trek fandom doesn’t seem to appreciate what “Is There in Truth No Beauty?” is largely going for.  Taking cues from The Tempest and from a writer clearly interested in pushing what she sees as deficiencies in Star Trek it’s actually a very interesting human drama that doesn’t quite fit within the usual fare for the show.  Structurally there are certainly issues with the script, and some of the messaging feels as if the editing by the series’ regular crew dulled some of the edges.  It’s actually a pretty good time if lacking in action and in need of a bit more structural stability and thematic exploration o push it into great territory.  7/10.

And the Children Shall Lead by: Edward J. Lasko and directed by: Marvin Chomsky

 

“And the Children Shall Lead” is written by: Edward J. Lasko and is directed by: Marvin Chomsky.  It was filmed under production code 60, was the 4^th episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 59^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on October 11, 1968.

 

Children as the source of horror has a long tradition in the genre: from representing the fears of parenting and childbirth to just providing some creepy imagery masters of the genre understand how to effectively make kids creepy by subverting their general cuteness as well as the general parental nature of humanity towards them.  Edward J. Lasko is clearly not one of these masters.  His sole contribution to Star Trek, “And the Children Shall Lead”, attempts to put children as the source of horror, making them responsible for the mass suicide of their parents and ready to conquer the universe for this random god like being called the Gorgan.  This could be something terrifying but Lasko’s script is one gets off on the wrong foot by not giving any real weight to the fact that all of these people have committed suicide outside of the mystery that opens up.  There is almost more concern on the fact that the children aren’t actually reacting properly to the death of their parents, which to be fair is something that is odd and DeForest Kelley gets his one good scene as Bones for the episode, but it doesn’t add to the episode.  The answer to the mystery is just this random god being that wants to take over the universe.  The Gorgan is given absolutely no real explanation or motivation, it’s just evil and when it is defeated it becomes incredibly ugly, perhaps because this might be attempting to say something about beauty standards but I cannot actually tell what it could actually be.

 

The Gorgan is also played by Melvin Belli, who is not an actor.  Belli was a lawyer, though one with several clients who were movie stars.  Before this his experience in showbusiness was as executive producer on the film Tokyo File 2121 and some television appearances, but watching “And the Children Shall Lead” you really can’t tell he has any experience.  It could be director Marvin Chomsky not directing his actors properly (Shatner’s performance has some issues) while Belli reads every line in this flat monotone, amplified by an effect to make it sound booming like a god when it really does not work.  The Gorgan, through the children, makes the crew of the Enterprise hallucinate random horrors and secretly do its bidding through magic which is never actually explained, not even a feeble attempt of saying it’s science of words manifesting physically.  The sequences of hypnosis are particularly repetitive, Sulu sees several swords on the viewscreen scaring him into no moving the Enterprise off the course they set for it and Uhura seeing herself as ugly, old, and wrinkled.  The repetition feels as if the episode was running short, and the children just do this weird motion with their clenched fists to enact the magic which looks goofy.

 

In fact, much of the episode looks goofy whenever it isn’t on the normal Enterprise sets.  Now Season 3 of Star Trek was severely cut in terms of budget, but the flag for the Federation is made of felt and the episode overall looks particularly cheap despite being one that should have been easy to make on existing sets.  William Shatner as Kirk essentially has to lead the episode as he is the only one not tot be taken over by the children, and it's clear that he is not taking the material seriously.  Almost every line from Kirk is done to be over the top, which at least makes an emotion when compared to Melvin Belli who has absolutely no presence, but it’s not a performance you would expect from William Shatner.  Shatner as an actor is actually really good when working with children, “Miri” proved that, but “And the Children Will Lead” gives Kirk exactly one real scene of interacting with the kids and the resolution involves Kirk making them cry for some reason.  It adds this cruel edge to the episode in a way that’s attempting to maybe say something about the nature of grief and loss, but I’m honestly grasping at straws as to what that is supposed to be.

 

Overall, while “Spock’s Brain” is the episode that people say killed Star Trek and is derided as the worst, it took only three weeks for the third season to get worse in terms of quality.  “And the Children Will Lead” is playing with ideas that have been done before way back in the first season under better writing teams.  It’s a weak script under a director who is serviceable, mainly because it’s difficult to shoot the Enterprise sets too badly, being brought down further by some baffling performances.  The episode is honestly meaningless and that’s a problem because it doesn’t even meet the bar of being fun, campy escapism.  2/10.

The Sunlit Man by: Brandon Sanderson

 

The fourth secret project from Brandon Sanderson, The Sunlit Man, is the secret project for the fans as The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England was for Brandon and Tress of the Emerald Sea and Yumi and the Nightmare Painter were for his wife Emily.  The Sunlit Man is the Cosmere novel with the most connections to the larger Cosmere and once again is Sanderson putting reader at some point in the future of the series, potentially post-The Stormlight Archive (at the very least post the fifth installment at time of writing this review called Knights of Wind and Truth), and featuring characters from several planets.  The Cosmere has reached the space age and it is an utterly fascinating glimpse of things to come, this coming from a reader who doesn’t read the Cosmere for the massive connections but for Sanderson’s general mastery of modern fantasy.  There are several magic systems at play throughout The Sunlit Man, Hoid’s appearance in particular is fascinating and there is textual information in terms of his actual backstory, and it’s just a novel that ties the Cosmere together into telling a fascinating story of a man finding belonging.

 

This idea of someone finding belonging among people they do not belong to is a recurring idea in Sanderson’s work.  It’s the story of Viv in Mistborn, Kaladin in The Stormlight Archive, both sisters in Warbreaker, and as far back as Reod in Elantris.  The Sunlit Man is the story of Sigzil, a supporting Bridge Four character from The Stormlight Archive and apprentice to Hoid.  The apprentice has pushed himself away from Hoid, come into possession of a Dawnshard and been changed for it, and is just on the run.  It’s that last aspect that sets The Sunlit Man apart, this is a novel that from beginning to end feels as if there is no state of normalcy to begin from.  This is something that The Frugal Wizard’s Handbook for Surviving Medieval England actually attempted, but Sanderson used that as almost a springboard to make it work here.  Sigzil, going by Nomad due to his state, is suffering from a Torment and being constantly pursued by the Night Brigade, with his own Investiture allowing instant travel throughout the cosmere.

 

Nomad is a fascinating read: Sigzil while not underserved by The Stormlight Archive clearly had the potential to be a major player.  Much of The Sunlit Man is concerned with Nomad learning a sense of identity: part of the magic system on this world involves the specific loss of identity.  The world is one of heat and gems that can be implanted into people to bring them under the thrall of someone.  These sunhearts cause the person affected to lose their mind, and leaves them charred and burned.  The planet is one of heat and throughout the novel Sanderson excels at making the reader feel the specific kind of almost volcanic heat, despite the heat coming from the planet’s sun.  It’s an oppressive heat, perfect to work in tandem with the use of the Charred and the sunhearts to make a story about finding identity work.  Losing identity is supported by the numerous Cosmere connections: while Sanderson devotes time to characters native to the planet (including a trio almost representing the triple goddess of maiden, mother, and crone though not a goddess in the novel), it’s the many Rosharans, Scadrians, and Threnodites that make the planet itself feel like there is a loss in distinct identity.  There are ideas of choosing one’s own name, and adapting the name to fit what a person has become.  Sanderson uses Nomad among other characters to really explore the idea of the personal power of a name outside of the magic sense.  This does make it a little difficult at times to follow the fact that several characters are using different names in The Sunlit Man, but it also just makes the book all the more fitting.

 

Overall, The Sunlit Man is kind of a novel that works best when you don’t know what the actual plot is going in.  It’s a book that is not new reader friendly for Brandon Sanderson, while the plot is fairly simple, it’s steeped in so many Cosmere connections that you have to already be invested.  It has some of Sanderson’s most interesting thematic work, developing a common theme throughout his larger bibliography, a theme that has been explored in previous Secret Projects in different ways even.  It’s a book that I essentially read within a day on a very long train ride and because of that the rushing nature of the story also works incredibly well.  9/10.

The Paradise Syndrome by: Margaret Armen and directed by: Jud Taylor

 

“The Paradise Syndrome” is written by: Margaret Armen and is directed by: Jud Taylor.  It was filmed under production code 58, was the 3^rd episode of Star Trek Season 3, the 58^th episode of Star Trek, and was broadcast on October 4, 1968.

 

Margaret Armen wrote her first episode of Star Trek in the second season with “The Gamesters of Triskelion”, an episode that I took particular ire with due to a rather uncomfortable plot about slavery full of sexual assault on top of collaring the only black person you have on your show.  Armen’s second script “The Paradise Syndrome” continues the trend of a racially uncomfortable A-plot and a B-plot that is superior in almost every way.  Now, Armen in between the episodes has improved because the script itself actually has some weight behind it.  The premise is classic Star Trek: there is an Earth like planet that the Enterprise discovers is in the path of an asteroid, the civilization is primitive and has not developed space travel or defense, but on a scouting mission Kirk falls down a hole and is rightfully abandoned so Spock can save the planet.  Kirk on the planet suffers memory loss and is brought into the society as a god destined to save the day and win the girl.  The Enterprise plot is once again the B-plot, obviously since William Shatner receives top billing so Kirk’s memory loss and integration into the society takes top priority, but it’s also the best thing about the episode.  Margaret Armen has this innate sense on how to write Spock and McCoy’s dynamic, slotting in Scotty as the third person in the trio just to add to some of the chaos.  It’s another example of a plot where Spock’s logic while the correct decisions does not lead to a smooth outcome: the Enterprise is unable to destroy the asteroid and it drains the ship’s power so two months pass before they get back to the planet.  James Doohan as Scotty has this amazing sequence of warnings and outbursts, plus the wry comments when the camera lingers on the engine rooms.  Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley are also excellent in particular, overcoming the fact that in terms of direction there isn’t actually much vision for the episode.  Nimoy and Kelley are actors who have fully internalized their characters and know just how to play the scenes, Nimoy in particular proves why he’s the strongest link in the cast.

 

Shatner, on the other hand, really struggles with the material.  The script from Armen clearly has the character of Kirk underlying the complete amnesiac Kirk, but Shatner insists on playing the character as an almost complete blank slate.  Shatner plays going to integrate and lead these people to some sort of safety as if his character doesn’t understand what he’s doing instead of a more appropriate why his character is doing these things.  Some of this should be laid at the feet of director Jud Taylor in his first of five Star Trek episodes: Taylor doesn’t really direct any of the actors to emote in any way and that is particularly the case of Kirk’s love interest played by Sabrina Scharf.  The script is doing the work and Shatner as an actor generally can make some sort of chemistry with just about any female pairing, but Scharf in particular is just difficult to watch in terms of performance which is only expanded by the elephant in the room.  The society on this planet is Native American and yes that does mean that a majority of the supporting cast are not Native actors.  The costumes are essentially every stereotype for a Native American that you’d imagine from a piece of media from the 1960s, the script explicitly saying it is an amalgam of three separate groups, not drawing really from any of them.  Credit where credit is due Armen is clearly attempting to be respectful, but in doing so ends up baking this script in ideas of the noble savage as well as making Kirk and the Enterprise essentially white saviors.  It’s a story that’s incredibly predictable, there is a native rival for Kirk who is a true savage that must be defeated and his love makes her noble sacrifice because Kirk needs an excuse to leave.  There’s also this particularly uncomfortable moment early on where the characters muse on the possibility of other more advanced humans just waiting to come in contact with the tribe, which in a show that has in multiple ways shown planets that follow the history of Earth may be implying the centuries of imperialistic bloodshed and genocide to befall these people.

 

Overall, however, despite those many red flags “The Paradise Syndrome” is at least an improvement over “The Gamesters of Triskelion”.  While it’s clear that the script hasn’t been looked over by the usual team since this is the third season, Armen actually has a plot that under a different circumstance and a better director would at least be engaging in both the A and B plotlines and the minority characters aren’t entirely treated for laughs this time as her previous script.  There’s still the issue of Armen being a white woman who clearly means well but hasn’t thought through the implications of the way she includes minorities in her scripts but it has lessened.  The performances and poor direction are what’s stopping this from at least being an average episode of Star Trek, but subpar is certainly a better achievement than last time Armen wrote for the series.  4/10.