[5.7/10] My theater teacher once told me that the hardest type of character to play as an actor is someone stoic. It seems easy. Ostensibly, all you have to do is stand there and not react to much. But the reality is much more nuanced. In truth, you still have to show emotion, but in more subtle ways. You have to make a steady character dynamic in ways that aren’t as easy when you can't use the full palette of human expression and emotion.
It’s why I appreciate Jeri Ryan’s performance as Seven of Nine, and the performances of her predecessors in Star Trek’s “What is this thing you call humanity?” archetype: Brent Spiner as Data and Leonard Nimoy as Spock. Seven is, by nature, reserved and almost robotic in her demeanor -- something that makes her a nice match for Tuvok in places. But Ryan finds small ways to inject a sense of feeling and layers beneath that staid exterior. The task isn’t easy, and she does it well.
(As an aside, one of the thrills of The Next Generation’s “Unificiation” duology was getting to see Spock and Data contrast and compare their relationships to humanity. In hindsight, it’s a shame that the franchise has yet to try to do the same between Data and Seven, despite opportunities to do so in Star Trek: Picard or other of the legacy series.)
But maybe it’s for the best that Ryan and Voyager focus on the hard stuff, because “Infinite Regress” is basically a showcase for her to show some range when not shackled by Seven’s strait-laced affect and the results are...mixed, to say the least.
The episode sees Voyager find a Borg “vinculum” -- the part of a Borg vessel that coordinates the various drones -- that causes Seven to summon and inhabit the personalities of the people she’s helped assimilate. There could be something there. The idea of Seven, as an individual, having to confront the interior lives of the people she effectively killed when part of the Collective, could be rich and even haunting. Instead, we mostly get a clown show centered on a cartoon version of Multiple Personality DIsorder that the creative team wants us to take deadly seriously for some reason.
I don’t want to slate Ryan too hard for that. There is a novelty factor to seeing her inhabit these different personae. And some of the more down-to-earth ones, from the child who wants to play with Naomi Wildman, to the new ensign griping about her assignment, land with ease and even amuse. But there’s something incredibly hacky seeing her try to summon the bearing of a combative Klingon, or a venal Ferengi, and even her take on a desperate mother worried about her son in Starfleet comes off labored. The “neato” factor of seeing the typically stoic Seven suddenly take on a more outsized or extreme disposition wears off quickly, which is tough, because that's pretty much all “Infinite Regress” has.
Besides Seven’s personality shifts, the only other major throughline in the episode are the efforts to neutralize the vinculum without damaging Seven’s mind. Unfortunately, the latter is a bog standard mechanical problem with a mechanical solution. The prop itself is pretty cool-looking, which gives the fix-it storyline a modicum of juice. But ultimately, it’s no different than any other technical issue B’Elanna and company have dealt with, and the solution isn’t particularly original or clever. So what you’re left with is a community theater one man show and a paint-by-numbers Star Trek technobabble obstacle.
Frankly, the most interesting aspects of the story are the one that “Infinite Regress” breezes past. This is not a Janeway/Seven episode, but the scene they share together is the best one in the episode. Seven despairing that though she once absorbed the silence of her mind, now she finds the cacophony of voices within it deafening, and Janeway giving her maternal support to hold on as long as she can, is heart-rending and moving. Janeway telling Chakotay he may have been right about it being too difficult to have Seven aboard, and bristling at the notion of bringing the vinculum aboard is the rare bit of laudable character continuity on the show. The biggest shot in the arm for Voyager was not just Seven’s addition, but the stress it puts on Janeway in trying to hold this makeshift family together. The rare moments where the episode leans into that are its high points.
The other is the intersection with Species 6339 . One a purely superficial level, they have an interesting look, with weird spindly face protrusions and Tron-like outfits. But more interestingly, they did what Picard proposed to do with Hugh back in “I, Borg” -- introduce a virus to destabilize the Collective. The idea that this interaction between Seven and the vinculum is not a random malfunction, but rather a biological weapon from a race that has been decimated by the Borg is, well, fascinating. The conflict of interest between our heroes and these randos -- with Janeway wanting to protect her crewmember and SPecies 6339 wanting to stifle the cybernetic menace, could have been a fascinating one, with reasonable justifications on both sides. Instead, it’s a cheap excuse for some last act danger to complicate Seven’s recovery and add tension to Lt. Torres’ fixes.
Then you have Tuvok’s mindmeld, and against all odds, I actually like that idea. The sense that everything else has failed, so Tuvok is willing to undergo this dangerous ritual in hopes of retrieving Seven’s personality from this destabilizing din is noble and exciting.
But god help me, they completely botch it. For one thing, if you want me to take the desperation of the situation seriously, you can't have Seven doing a borscht belt impersonation of a Ferengi while Tuvok is trying to mindmeld with her. Second, my goodness, the visual representation of Tuvok poking around her subconscious is cheesy as all hell. I don’t envy the director here. It’s difficult to try to convey something so impressionsitic in a way that will land with the audience. But I can tell you this much -- using a distorting lens and a bunch of smoke and a choppy playback speed does not say, “emotional turmoil”. It says “cornball attempt to try to make inner struggles literal to the point of sheer silliness.” Don’t get me started on Seven’s subconscious having a giant chasm that voices can be tossed into.
On paper, “Infinite Regress” should be a boon. Star Trek thrives on stories of wild spores or alien possession or other conceits allowing normally centered performers to cut loose and show what they can do. The monotony breaker of it alone is typically worth the price of admission. But somehow, the charm of that wears off quickly for Seven here. The results are far less availing and convincing than they might be. SOmehow, it’s a reminder to appreciate what Ryan does on a week-to-week basis, the challenge and accomplishment of that, and to realize that maybe it’s also better than the alternative.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2024-06-06T22:33:36Z
[5.7/10] My theater teacher once told me that the hardest type of character to play as an actor is someone stoic. It seems easy. Ostensibly, all you have to do is stand there and not react to much. But the reality is much more nuanced. In truth, you still have to show emotion, but in more subtle ways. You have to make a steady character dynamic in ways that aren’t as easy when you can't use the full palette of human expression and emotion.
It’s why I appreciate Jeri Ryan’s performance as Seven of Nine, and the performances of her predecessors in Star Trek’s “What is this thing you call humanity?” archetype: Brent Spiner as Data and Leonard Nimoy as Spock. Seven is, by nature, reserved and almost robotic in her demeanor -- something that makes her a nice match for Tuvok in places. But Ryan finds small ways to inject a sense of feeling and layers beneath that staid exterior. The task isn’t easy, and she does it well.
(As an aside, one of the thrills of The Next Generation’s “Unificiation” duology was getting to see Spock and Data contrast and compare their relationships to humanity. In hindsight, it’s a shame that the franchise has yet to try to do the same between Data and Seven, despite opportunities to do so in Star Trek: Picard or other of the legacy series.)
But maybe it’s for the best that Ryan and Voyager focus on the hard stuff, because “Infinite Regress” is basically a showcase for her to show some range when not shackled by Seven’s strait-laced affect and the results are...mixed, to say the least.
The episode sees Voyager find a Borg “vinculum” -- the part of a Borg vessel that coordinates the various drones -- that causes Seven to summon and inhabit the personalities of the people she’s helped assimilate. There could be something there. The idea of Seven, as an individual, having to confront the interior lives of the people she effectively killed when part of the Collective, could be rich and even haunting. Instead, we mostly get a clown show centered on a cartoon version of Multiple Personality DIsorder that the creative team wants us to take deadly seriously for some reason.
I don’t want to slate Ryan too hard for that. There is a novelty factor to seeing her inhabit these different personae. And some of the more down-to-earth ones, from the child who wants to play with Naomi Wildman, to the new ensign griping about her assignment, land with ease and even amuse. But there’s something incredibly hacky seeing her try to summon the bearing of a combative Klingon, or a venal Ferengi, and even her take on a desperate mother worried about her son in Starfleet comes off labored. The “neato” factor of seeing the typically stoic Seven suddenly take on a more outsized or extreme disposition wears off quickly, which is tough, because that's pretty much all “Infinite Regress” has.
Besides Seven’s personality shifts, the only other major throughline in the episode are the efforts to neutralize the vinculum without damaging Seven’s mind. Unfortunately, the latter is a bog standard mechanical problem with a mechanical solution. The prop itself is pretty cool-looking, which gives the fix-it storyline a modicum of juice. But ultimately, it’s no different than any other technical issue B’Elanna and company have dealt with, and the solution isn’t particularly original or clever. So what you’re left with is a community theater one man show and a paint-by-numbers Star Trek technobabble obstacle.
Frankly, the most interesting aspects of the story are the one that “Infinite Regress” breezes past. This is not a Janeway/Seven episode, but the scene they share together is the best one in the episode. Seven despairing that though she once absorbed the silence of her mind, now she finds the cacophony of voices within it deafening, and Janeway giving her maternal support to hold on as long as she can, is heart-rending and moving. Janeway telling Chakotay he may have been right about it being too difficult to have Seven aboard, and bristling at the notion of bringing the vinculum aboard is the rare bit of laudable character continuity on the show. The biggest shot in the arm for Voyager was not just Seven’s addition, but the stress it puts on Janeway in trying to hold this makeshift family together. The rare moments where the episode leans into that are its high points.
The other is the intersection with Species 6339 . One a purely superficial level, they have an interesting look, with weird spindly face protrusions and Tron-like outfits. But more interestingly, they did what Picard proposed to do with Hugh back in “I, Borg” -- introduce a virus to destabilize the Collective. The idea that this interaction between Seven and the vinculum is not a random malfunction, but rather a biological weapon from a race that has been decimated by the Borg is, well, fascinating. The conflict of interest between our heroes and these randos -- with Janeway wanting to protect her crewmember and SPecies 6339 wanting to stifle the cybernetic menace, could have been a fascinating one, with reasonable justifications on both sides. Instead, it’s a cheap excuse for some last act danger to complicate Seven’s recovery and add tension to Lt. Torres’ fixes.
Then you have Tuvok’s mindmeld, and against all odds, I actually like that idea. The sense that everything else has failed, so Tuvok is willing to undergo this dangerous ritual in hopes of retrieving Seven’s personality from this destabilizing din is noble and exciting.
But god help me, they completely botch it. For one thing, if you want me to take the desperation of the situation seriously, you can't have Seven doing a borscht belt impersonation of a Ferengi while Tuvok is trying to mindmeld with her. Second, my goodness, the visual representation of Tuvok poking around her subconscious is cheesy as all hell. I don’t envy the director here. It’s difficult to try to convey something so impressionsitic in a way that will land with the audience. But I can tell you this much -- using a distorting lens and a bunch of smoke and a choppy playback speed does not say, “emotional turmoil”. It says “cornball attempt to try to make inner struggles literal to the point of sheer silliness.” Don’t get me started on Seven’s subconscious having a giant chasm that voices can be tossed into.
On paper, “Infinite Regress” should be a boon. Star Trek thrives on stories of wild spores or alien possession or other conceits allowing normally centered performers to cut loose and show what they can do. The monotony breaker of it alone is typically worth the price of admission. But somehow, the charm of that wears off quickly for Seven here. The results are far less availing and convincing than they might be. SOmehow, it’s a reminder to appreciate what Ryan does on a week-to-week basis, the challenge and accomplishment of that, and to realize that maybe it’s also better than the alternative.