2x10 The Dauphin

[5.4/10] I wish I could remember more clearly how I felt about Wesley when I watched this show as a young man. I don’t think I related to him exactly, which seems to be the goal for most episodes centered on his perspective. But I did connect with some of the situations he faced, like running into a girl he likes and not knowing how to approach her or what to do once his affections are returned. I don’t remember liking “The Dauphin” exactly, but I do remember being taken with Salia’s smile and having the reaction laid out by Futurama (Star Trek’s spiritual cousin): “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

It raises the question: what audience is Star Trek: The Next Generation for? I imagine that if you asked the show’s producers at the time they’d say “it’s for everyone,” and they might be right. I watched it. Both my parents watched it. There’s certainly access points for people at different levels of maturity and understanding.

But it’s a question worth asking because “The Dauphin” feels like an episode that only works if you’re fifteen or under. If you’re a kid who’s just barely experienced romance, or wonder what it might be like, then it’s easier to buy into Wesley’s instalove connection with Salia. It’s more simple to relate to the “God, why do I have to obey all your rules, Mooommm” vibe between Salia and her surrogate mother. It’s not as difficult to connect to the “I’ll never feel this way about anyone ever again -- ours is the greatest love in the world despite the fact that we’ve known each other for twelve hours” vibe of the whole thing.

But returning to the show as an adult, one who’s experienced love that is (I’d like to think at least) deeper and more profound than Wesley’s glancing one-episode daliance, the whole storyline plays out like just a dopey teen romance without much substance. “The Dauphin” does nothing to establish why Wesley and Salia like one another, beyond the fact that Salia’s been sequestered on a faraway planet for her whole life and Wesley doesn’t meet too many teenage girls on the Enterprise.

The result is that there’s no substance to their interactions, just a lot of generic puppy love clichés and mutual smiles, which isn’t enough to build an episode around. There’s an air of Disney about the whole thing, with trapped princesses and young male suitors bucking the rules because those rules can’t contain our love, Daaaaad. But the charm and, more to the point, realism of it is missing. Wesley and Salia never feel like real people in all of this, just broad generic young lovers, and beyond the whiff of doomed romance, their little dates and secrets don’t land because of how cheesy and, frankly, goofy, “The Dauphin” plays everything.

But the funny thing is, if you just focus on the adults in the situation, there’s things to salvage from the episode as a grown-up. Anya, Salia’s caretaker and de facto parent, is a more interesting character than she seems to be at first blush. Her first and only mission is to protect Salia, and she’s sticking to it at any cost, whether that means lecturing Geordi about the warp drive, telling Dr. Pulaski to kill a sick patient rather than risk contagion, or transforming into a giant werebeast to go toe-to-toe with Worf.

Okay, that last part is pretty silly. I try hard not to slate a thirty-year-old show for lame special effects. I really do. But it’s hard not to chuckle when Anya and her charge turn into off-brand, mangled Wookiees and Ewoks. (Though in a fairness, she also turns into a pre-Twin Peaks Madchen Amick, which is still pretty random, but less silly!) The shape-shifter reveal doesn’t add much to the episode beyond give Wesley a strange sense of betrayal about the whole thing, but it’s clearly meant to add a touch of danger to Anya and Salia’s presence on the Enterprise.

Still, the episode softens Anya after initially positioning her as an antagonist. She and Worf have a moment of detente, respecting one another as worthy adversaries and hoping one day they could fight on the same side. It’s pretty adorable seeing an old lady trade barbs and threats and eventually respect with the snarling Klingon. She tells Salia that she knows she’s been hard on her ward, but that she did it with good intentions and plainly has affection for the young girl (or whatever she is). There’s even a wistfulness when the two part, Anya having completed her mission to deliver Salia to their home planet at the appointed time, returning to the home she sacrificed when this quest began sixteen years ago. Anya ends up being a surprisingly intriguing guest star, even if she’s underdeveloped.

Likewise, the most fun and trenchant lovey-dovey material in the episode centers on the adults. Worf’s description of Klingon mating rituals is a hoot. Riker and Guinan’s romantic patter is cheesy but charming. And the only strong part of the Wesley storyline is when he’s experiencing some heartache after Salia departs and Guinan gives him a pep talk. It’s not the usual, “There’s more fish and the sea” speech, but rather a wise reassurance that there will be other people Wesley feels for and that each one will be unique in its own way, with kind memories that linger beyond the hurt. There’s more complexity there in two minutes than Wesley’s bland middle school romance has in half an hour.

Maybe you just have to be at that age to appreciate it. The episode has plenty of faults in sheer craft and structure. (There’s no momentum to Wesley and Salia’s concordance and her delivery of “No Anya No!” maybe the worst line-read in the whole show.) But maybe those could be swept aside if you’re a preteen and the emotions and feel realer and, more importantly, closer to you than they do to full grown adults. I’m hesitant to look askance on what plays to me like a flat, unconvincing romance between a pair of wide-eyed dopes. I too was I wide-eyed dope once, convinced that my adolescent crushes were the beginning and end of the world, even if I relate more to the naysaying, advice-dispensing old fogies these days.