Welcome back to Star Trek: Allegedly, our weekly recap of the newest bastard in the Trek TV brood: Star Trek: Discovery.
If you’re reading this, you’ve returned after checking out our first instalment for some ungodly reason—or you’ve randomly stumbled down a very deep and strange internet rabbit hole. (If it’s the latter, I urge you to TURN BACK NOW!) Anyway, you’re just in time for the second half of a two-part pilot that aired over a week ago!
Yeah, I know the 3rd episode has already aired. I’m dragging my feet on this. Sue me. There’s a threshold to the amount of abuse I’m able to sop up and regurgitate for your amusement.
But before we get into the recap, I wanted to discuss why I’m doing this—or, at least, the best reason I can come up with – accepting the fact that the simple answer may be straight up insanity, thereby precluding my own judgement on the matter.
I love Star Trek.
I love it more than any other creation of 20th century culture; more than rock’n’roll, Superman, and the internet combined. It is the exclusive inhabitant at the centre of a venn diagram made up of prescient science fiction, self-reflective social criticism, progressive utopianism, and, perhaps most importantly, wide-scale accessibility. It was fun, it was smart and it taught me things about humanity that I still rely on today. But this isn’t about just another bottle in the surf, stuffed with gushy sentiments decrying how foundational Star Trek was to me personally (that’s what my reddit account is for). The point is Gene Roddenberry created something transcendent in 1966, and more to the point, he recreated it 1987.
Look, I’m in my early 30s and was basically raised by Star Trek: The Next Generation, so if you sense some latent bias, that’s because it’s 100% there. As I grew out of a childish aversion to old things, I developed a true and profound appreciation of The Original Series as well, but TNG was my ground zero. I mention this because, in its creation, Roddenberry et al. were able to distil what was essential about his original series, while simultaneously updating the new show to ensure it was equally as relevant to its own time. Propelling the in-universe timeline ahead some 100 years wasn’t just about giving the new show enough separation from the old, so it could stand on its own two legs (it did that too). It gave them the narrative freedom to purposefully create a hazy, nondescript continuity between the two. What happened in those 100 years? I don’t care, and neither should you.
The basic logical problem they were faced with was that in 1966, Star Trek was a reasonable (if pulpy) vision of the future. By 1987, however, the ensuing 21 years of history now made it look antiquated, not simply for its production value, but for key sociological elements of the world itself. Take the role of working women, for example: You couldn’t make the logical leap that human history would progress the way it did from 1966 to 1987, and then swing back around to TOS’ outer space-Mad Men-boy’s club, at least, not while retaining a utopian label. As prescient as the original Star Trek wound up being, it was still a reflection of 1960s society.
Next Gen. had the late-80s/early-90s down pat. Hell, western society’s full-blown obsession with pop psychology was so prevalent at the time as to spawn the job of ship’s counsellor out of thin air, just to make sure everyone onboard was feeling alright about being sucked into a time-loop last thursday, or whatever. It didn’t matter that the idea that humanity would progress from 1966 to 1987, to the 2265 of TOS, before finally winding up at TNG’s 2364 didn’t really make a ton of sense, because 100 fictional years was more than enough haze to not rub your nose in the inconsistencies, as a viewer.
Well, it’s been 30 years since the premier of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and as wonderful as every second of that show continues to be for what it is (Doctor-romancing space ghosts included), the historical seams are unquestionably showing. Women’s roles are clearly still diminished. People of colour are still underrepresented, and when they are there, can still fall into some troubling tropes (*ahem*Geordi*ahem*). Ideas like the internet or human-machine integration are barely even touched on as themes beyond the occasional boogeyman. That’s not a flaw of TNG, but it does mean that we deserve a new Star Trek that carries the same promise for us, today.
Obviously there has been Star Trek since TNG. A lot of it, in fact. But not since the voyages of the Enterprise D has it had the same commitment to cultural relevance and commentary. Basically, as soon as Gene Roddenberry passed, the remaining and future stewards seemed committed to dragging his original vision of smart people, working well together against external conflict into a more populist, melodramatic arena. Star Trek eventually became a full-on soap opera, and has been ever since. This is not to say that none of those series or movies have value, or that all traces of the original concept were erased immediately, but from my vantage point, that fundamental guiding light was extinguished.
Which brings us to today.
We live, currently, in complex, tumultuous, and frankly terrifying times. The raw material for great and relevant science fiction stories is blowing up our inboxes on a second-by-second basis. We need a new Star Trek. We need engaging, accessible science fiction showing us (and more importantly, the generation after us) that we can and will get through this, and furthermore, we will grow because of it.
But instead of employing the basic TNG formula; a show that is as much about its own time as it is about the the Star Trek Universe™©, we were served Spock’s sister’s calamitous revenge-mutiny. What I saw in the opening 42 minutes of Star Trek: Discovery was another cynical, action soap opera; more interested in forced interpersonal conflict than any overall theme; more concerned with wallowing in its own made-up lore and gizmos than fulfilling the parameters of its original mission. Maybe that is an apt reflection of our times, and what a horrific prospect that is.
While I will admit that it’s very early yet, when it comes down to it, I have great difficulty envisioning this series ever showing me wonders more incredible than I can possibly imagine – and terrors to freeze my soul.
Anyway, I guess that doesn’t directly address why I’m subjecting myself to this dreck. I dunno. I think the subtext is there. F**k. You figure it out.
Anyway.
Onward.
Episode 2: “Battle At The Binary Stars” or “Peace Is For P**sies”
The episode begins with another flashback featuring famous collector of human women, Sarek of Vulcan. After beaming onto the Shenzhou, he makes what we are meant to feel ias a historic introduction between Captain Michelle Yeoh, and a very “Vulcanized” Michael Burnham. Sarek refers to Burnham as his “ward.” My only frame of reference for that term is famous human-boy collector, Batman. I somehow doubt future flashbacks will be centred around Sarek and Michael’s career as stalwart vigilantes in an unending quest to fight logic-crimes. If that were true, this show itself would be their arch nemesis, as as the clown-prince of unbridled logic-crimes.
After making the introductions, 48 seconds after beaming aboard, Sarek G’s the F outta there, leaving the very Vulcan seeming Michael (hip, asymmetrical haircut aside) alone with her new owner—I mean captain. The pair snip at each other a bit without really clarifying what is happening. The chiron stated that this was “7 years earlier,” and in the first episode we learned that Michael had been the Shenzhou’s 1st officer for 7 years. Is 20-something Michael Burnham, recent grad of the Vulcan Science Council, who has never been to Starfleet Academy, walking into a 1st officer job? How did she swing that? Money may be a thing of the past, but nepotism must be alive and well.
Back in the present, 2 dozen Klingon ships have just warped into the titular binary star system. I don’t know if they planned to all pop in at once or if trip planning is just a natural skill of the empire. Michael explains to us and the captain that there are 24 great Klingon houses and (correctly) concludes that this must mean that Sarek’s earlier warning is true and someone is unifying the disparate houses of the empire. Today is a good day for wild-ass Vulcan guesses. Thankfully someone apparently did go to the academy, and Captain Michelle Yeoh pays this info little mind, and remands Michael to the brig.
Meanwhile, on the primary Klingon ship, Mr. Joshua (who evidently did not blow himself up) entertains holographic representatives from the other Klingon houses while they wait to speak to his boss. I have an issue with this particularly en-vogue sci-fi conceit. Whenever holographic avatars are used for communication, they’re always monochromatic and fuzzy. How is that better than a huge, HD viewscreen?
Anyway, Goldar arrives and starts in with his own flashback. We see him as a preteen aboard the ruins of his dead father’s ship. He tries to garner the respect of a gang of adorable Klingon teenagers doing teenage stuff and they promptly beat the s**t out of him. This is superimposed with modern Goldar’s speech to the holograms about the importance of unity, in such a way as to imply that the flashback is exemplifying his words, but it really isn’t. It could just as easily support an opposite philosophy touting the importance of self-reliance.
Not everyone’s buying it. One of the Klingons objects to Mr. Joshua’s presence due to his obvious dishonour. Goldar calls the dude out as, possibly, Mr. J’s father, or at least the head of the house he was originally expelled from. He hangs up, but the other representatives are keen to hear more. It’s hard to gauge how important this is with the bits and pieces we’ve been given. There certainly aren’t 24 holograms, so who knows what it all means.
Goldar goes back to his classic spiel: The Klingons have become weak. It’s been too long since they fought the Humans. The Humans banding together with the Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites to create The Federation is an existential threat. Yadda Yadda Yadda.
At just the right moment to lend the most credence to his rhetoric, a buttload of Federation backup drops out of warp. Convenient. Again, all the ships arrive at once. It’s almost like this show is narratively sloppy or something.
Captain Yeoh sends out a message to the Klingon ships that plays right into Goldar’s hands. She ends her communique with the—I guess—standard line: “We come in peace.” But cleverly, in front of the 6 or 7 other houses whose holograms are still hanging out, Goldar predicts that she will say this, before she even says it. This totally awesome move finally gives him the political support to attack the Federation, as they all slip on their “Goldar was right” t-shirts. Or not. It’s unclear what anyone thinks of him and his shallow political pantomime, but he friggin’ opens fire alright!
The Shenzhou is right in the line of fire, which leads to some pretty dope console explosions:
The show indulges in a few moments of generic Trek-style battle set pieces. Phasers are fired. Maneuvers are evasive. You know the drill. There’s no real strategy or purpose to anything. They’re just ratcheting up the tension.
In the brig, Michael tries to get the computer to tell her what’s going on, but in a generic Siri-voice — that is absolutely no substitute for the indomitable Majel Barrett — it tells her to take a hike because she’s a dirty mutineer. Luckily, a confused and injured ensign the captain previously ordered to sick bay wanders in. Michael tries to get some info out of him, and specifically asks about the captain’s well being in a tone that feels just a tiny bit more than professional. Are Starfleet captains allowed to date their first officers? I dunno. Maybe it was nothing. The shellshocked ensign ignores her, wondering aloud how we came to this place: “We were supposed to be explorers, not soldiers.”
You and me both, muchacho.
Anyway, he immediately gets exploded into outer space. That’s what you get for questioning the party faithful, ensign. But really, who cares? F**k that guy. His death served a valuable purpose: He motivated another exciting flashback!
Sarek comes across a bloodied and unconscious young Michael, amidst what I assume is the raid that killed her parents. Foregoing any conventional medical assistance, he immediately mind-melds with the girl to wake her up. Now, it may seem convenient that the very same Vulcan who initially finds her also winds up becoming her adoptive father, and the only Vulcan we’ve seen on this show. The Vulcan budget on this show seems egregiously low. Are mushroom-cut wig prices soaring and no one has informed me? Regardless, I guess I’ll give it to them. It is established Federation law that if you find an orphaned child of an alien race, you are legally obliged to adopt them as a token of just how progressive everyone is. Unless you’re Will Riker, in which case you do whatever you damn well please…
Back on the bridge, Michelle Yeoh asks for a damage report. When she learns the massive hull breach extends to… Deck 9, aka the location of the brig and Commander Burnham, the show hold for gravitas. On its own, it’s a pretty standard moment, very reminiscent of Kirk getting sucked into the Nexus in Generations (I’m not going to explain that, because if you’re still reading at this point, I don’t need to). Combined with Michael’s previous concern for the captain, though, I can’t completely shake the notion that they’re trying to imply something here. It’s probably nothing.
In the brig, the force-field containing Burnham has also saved her from the hull breach. She looks super bummed. It’s handy that we got that little bit of exposition about Sarek having previously mind-melded with her, because now he’s somehow doing it remotely, across 1,000 light years! He explains that this is possible because a piece of his Katra has been inside of her since she was a child. Have I mentioned that Sarek is a creep? Now, there is enough canon fodder (see what I did there?) in the Trek universe to justify this nonsense, but it mostly comes across as some Obi Wan, force-ghost bulls**t. I don’t know who sat down and decided that what Star Trek was missing was more magic powers, but to be curt, it sucks and I don’t like it.
On top of being ridiculous, this moment is also just shy of pointless. Over the course of this whole scene, Sarek basically uses the full extent of his Vulcan voodoo to tell Michael not to give up and that the power was inside her all along. If you missed the first episode and weren’t previously familiar with Sarek, you would 100% think that this was either a ghost or a subconscious, metaphoric ghost (like Mickey’s voice during the Mason “The Line” Dixon fight in Rocky 6).
While Burnham figures out how to click her heels together, the Shenzhou is getting just pummelled. It’s got hull breaches on its hull breaches, and a Klingon ship is closing in from behind. Just when it looks like they’re done for, the Klingons break off. Apparently, they decided that the stellar debris field the Shenzhou was being sucked into would do a good enough job on its own. I guess that makes sense. Doesn’t seem very Klingon though. Especially when, seconds later, before the gravity of the situation can possibly begin to sink in, holographic admiral, Brett Hull Whiteman, aboard the Europa pulls them to safety with a deus ex machina beam.
The attack dissipates, giving the good admiral the opportunity to hail the Klingons and offer a ceasefire. Surprisingly, Goldar accepts the terms right away, but closes by cryptically telling the admiral to “prepare to accept [his] envoy” in, really, just the shadiest tone of voice. I mean, someone on the Europa’s bridge must have picked up on that, but it certainly went over the admirals dignified, grey-blond crew cut.
Turns out, Goldar’s “envoy” is actually a huge, invisible, battering ram shaped ship that — under the guise of a ceasefire — starts crumpling the Europa’s saucer section like tinfoil.
Again, doesn’t seem very Klingon to me.
In a valiant last stand, the Europa fatally breeches its own warp core in an attempt to destroy Goldar’s secret, invisible, very dishonourable weapon. Both ships are reduced to charred debris. Whiteman’s burden, amirite?
The Klingons decide that this is is a sufficient moral victory, and all but Goldar warp out of there to sing the glorious praises of the newly reunited Klingon empire. Goldar sticks around to deliver a threatening warning to the fledgling Federation: You have expanded too far. The (very) newly reformed Empire will not stand for it. You get the gist.
Here’s my issue: There is no (honest) ceasefire in place, and the Federation hasn’t surrendered. 99% of the Klingon fleet has just ditched their flagship and its captain in the middle of a battle. Shouldn’t the remaining Federation ships be just lighting his s**t up right now? Are all of the Federation ships disabled or destroyed? I genuinely don’t know. It isn’t addressed.
Back to the brig. A somewhat recently bolstered Commander Burnham engages in a battle of wits with the Shenzhou’s computer, attempting to escape its force-fieldy clutches. On the plus side, it feels somewhat spiritually in line with the liar’s paradox strategy employed by Kirk and the gang in I, Mudd. Perhaps fittingly, however, it also feels like it was written by someone with no firsthand knowledge of how computers work post-1966. Using the kind of circular logic new parents typically employ on bratty toddlers, Michael convinces the computer to allow her, a dangerous mutineer, to freely roam the ship.
On the bridge, Saru and the captain are trying to work out some way to counterattack from their disabled ship. The best they can come up with is having the captain personally drive a shuttle filled with photon warheads into the Goldar’s ship. It obviously doesn’t come to that, because famous Federation traitor, Michael Burnham, charges into the bridge with a better plan.
To her credit, Burnham’s plan is better than that turd cake the captain and science officer came up with. As a xenoarchaeologist (or whatever) with a mean revenge hard-on for Klingons, Michael astutely points out that killing Goldar will only make him a martyr for the rest of the empire to rally around. Instead, if they capture him, it will be seen as dishonourable and give the Federation important leverage. So, I guess, even after this crazy massacre, the option for a strategic, non-murderous outcome remains. I wonder how they’ll f**k this up!?
Before we get to that, it’s time for Michelle Yeoh to do some pretty solid acting, even if contextually, within this story, what she’s saying is all meaningless drivel. She starts by blaming Michael for the massacre, which, all things considered, is ludicrous. They were led into a trap, the trap was sprung, they got f’n rocked. This all occurred independent of her mutinous actions. Maybe if, during the mutiny, Burnham had fired on the Klingons, and that set everything off, this position would be defensible. But she didn’t, and it isn’t. Yeoh goes on to chide her own hubris for thinking she could “pick away the shell the Vulcan put around [her]”, and other passive-aggressive, mom-style insults directed at Burnham’s upbringing. Prior to this, there hasn’t been any indication that Yeoh has issues with Vulcans (she even seems to be good friends with Sarek). This whole scene just comes across as xenophobic and out of left field.
A heartbroken Michael offers to drive the photon rigged shuttle. Did we not just have a conversation about capturing Goldar? What happened to that? This genuinely feels like scenes from two completely different versions of this script were cut together. It doesn’t matter though, because Michelle Yeoh has an all new plan, and it’s just horrible!
Y’see, the Klingons are busy shooting out little tractor beams and collecting all the floating corpses of their dead, presumably to give their ship a fresh coat of… corpses. This inspires Yeoh to beam a warhead onto or into one of those corpses and blow up the ship from the inside once they collect the corpse. As the internet quickly pointed out, this is, today, on Earth, a very real war crime. Maybe 23rd century humans no longer adhere to the Geneva Conventions. I guess Star Trek does take place post-Trump Presidency, so anything’s possible.
It’s time to beam over to the Klingon ship to capture Goldar, so I guess we’re back to that plan now. They gear up a large, heavily armed strike forc — oh, wait, sorry — Michael and the captain beam over alone, with hand phasers. They also decide to point their phasers before they beam over, effectively pointing loaded weapons at their own transporter operators. That may seem like a trivial nitpick, but it does look profoundly stupid.
The pair take out a couple of Klingon nobodies who are unfortunately standing in front of their outstretched phasers when they beam over. They then proceed to simultaneously lose their phasers, forcing them into some hand-to-hand fisticuffs with Goldar and Mr. Joshua. The show takes advantage of Michelle Yeoh’s extensive stunt-work and martial arts expertise for about 1.7 seconds as she tussles with Goldar. Meanwhile, Michael F’n Burnham wet-willy’s Mr. Joshua and hits him over the head with a handy rock, y’know, like you’d find on the bridge of a spaceship.
She’s too late, though. Goldar stabs Michelle Yeoh through the heart, validating my choice to never learn her character’s name. Michael reclaims her dropped phaser, purposely sets it to kill, and ventilates Goldar, thus ensuring that their mission is a failure, and her captain died for nothing. Well played, Number One!
There’s some parallel stuff to do with captain corpses. Michael is mad at Saru for beaming her back without the captain’s body that he can’t lock onto because she’s dead. Goldar dramatically dies in Mr. Joshua’s now conscious arms, leaving him as the heir apparent to the empire, or something, I guess.
Finally, we see Michael on trial for dereliction of duty, assaulting a fellow officer, and mutiny. She rightfully pleads guilty on all counts. The Federation court, aka the cast of Dragon’s Den, determines she will be stripped of rank and sentenced to life in prison, which honestly seems a bit harsh, but more honestly, I don’t care.
F**k Michael Burnham.
Final Thoughts
Look, fundamentally this show just isn’t Star Trek. It’s a run-of-the-mill, basic cable, sci-fi/action show with a this Star Trek pastiche. Its only reason for being is monetizing a popular intellectual property to make money for people who have nothing to do with why it’s popular in the first place, just like everything else in this world.
As a sci-fi/action show, though, it’s also just poorly conceived and executed. The main character is disastrously incompetent and unlikable. They completely waste Michelle Yeoh, whose involvement was genuinely the most appealing thing this show had going for it. The plot barrels forward with no thought as to why or how any of these events occur. Perhaps most egregious, little of dramatic consequence even happens over these two episodes.
Based on the promo for the remaining season that played afterwards, the show could easily start at episode 3, with Burnham as a convicted criminal and Starfleet pariah, without losing a beat — and possibly adding some additional intrigue. It’s ironically similar to the desert sequence that opens the first episode. Sure, it doles out a bit of exposition that will no doubt be important down the line, but otherwise it’s all fairly irrelevant.
I’m just left wondering why someone would make this. Obviously, there’s the financial side, but given that, how did they come to choose this approach? Most of its DNA seems to come from either:
- the recent reboot films, which, while successful at the box office, were unquestionably divisive for fans, or strangely enough…
- Enterprise, the TOS prequel starring a crew of blue uniformed simpletons that is largely held as the creatively bankrupt failure that killed the franchise.
To return to my introductory point, I simply do not know what is so difficult to grasp about the TNG formula. The idea often gets written off, both within Trek fandom and without, as the unproducible dream of a particularly stubborn sub-sect of Trekkies. But that’s a straw-man argument. I’m not asking for a direct tonal remake of TNG or even TOS, I’m just asking for someone to put the work in to try and create something that does for its audience what those series did for theirs.
Maybe we just don’t have the same kind of massive existential questions facing our world today that could fuel that breed of engaging science fiction allegories.
I AM GORP THE MALCONTENT!
