[8.0/10] “TInker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” walks a fine line. The episode aims to poke fun at The Doctor for his over-the-top daydreams, but also to sympathize with him for having them. It leans into the inherent silliness of the EMH as a sort of well-met man with delusions of grandeur, but also affirms a very human side of him, one that imagines more for himself. The balance isn't always perfect, but I appreciate the show wanting t o explore both sides.
In truth, many of the daydream sequences are hilarious. Doc signing opera through a rescue of a pon farr-addled Tuvok, imagining himself the object of desire for every woman on the ship, and projecting himself as a daring commander with a dry cool action hero wit all take the cake. The show has fun in presenting more caricatured versions of the crew and exaggerated versions of the usual crises, to let Doc rise to the occasion. On pure entertainment alone, the show thrives under these conditions.
But there’s also something relatable to what the Doctor imagines for himself. Especially when I was a young man, it was easy to give myself over to dreams of my meager talents being just what were needed to save the day, of my deeds earning the admiration of the objects of my affection, of performing feats that lived up to those of heroes I saw on television like, well, those on various Star Trek shows.
“Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” kicks things up a notch for comic effect, but there is a kernel of truth and recognition in the EMH’s daydreams here. We don’t always control where our mind takes us. Sometimes it’s to places that are aspirational, or saucy, or ridiculous. Fantasies can be kind of silly, and while it’s easy to laugh through many of these scenes, it’s also easy to see the human yearning for growth and acceptance beneath them.
That's why as funny as these moments are, they’re also uncomfortable at times. You feel for Seven and B’Elanna here, watching holographic representations where the Doctor casts them as willing (or even jealous) objects of desire. But you feel even more for the Doctor himself. For most of us, intrusive thoughts and idle fantasies are private and often beyond our control. Doc is right to feel humiliated, “turned inside out” when his unique existence means his friends and colleagues and simply beam his personal thoughts and imaginations to a holodeck and tour through them.
Janeway recognizes that, even as she allows it in the name of fixing The Doctor. If I appreciate her role in this episode for anything, it’s with the idea that she has the real arc here. She transitions from thinking the Doctor is getting over his skis in a way that distracts from where he’s needed most, to recognizing that holographic or not, object of fun or not, the Doctor is a sentient being like any other, and deserves the opportunity to grow and make more of himself the same way any of us do.
More to the point, she acknowledges that this is an invasion of privacy of a sort, one that would rightly leave the Doctor mortified. And speaking for myself at least, her reaction conveys a certain amount of guilt onto the viewer as well. It’s easy to chuckle to oneself about the EMH’s delusions of grandeur and the goofy scenarios he concocts to make himself the hero or the lothario or both.
But we too are, in a way, laughing at the silly but earnest aspirations of someone to imagine more for themselves. It is, in some ways, a referendum on the Doctor’s quest for humanity, which comes with the same messy and silly parts all of our journeys do, not just the ones that are clean and themselves aspirational.
Thankfully, we have a bit of a surrogate here, I appreciate the introduction of the outer space potato men in this episode, known as the Hierarchy. I particularly like Phlox (not to be confused with the character from Star Trek: Enterprise), a low-ranking member who believes he has a bead on *Voyager only to find out that he’s more than a little confused.
There’s a cleverness to coming up with a group of alien opponents who mean to spy on our heroes’ vessel, but who end up only connecting to the EMH, and mistake his fantasies for reality. And there’s also a cleverness to writer Joe Menosky making Phlox a bit of a kindred spirit to The Doctor -- someone who aspires to more within the limiting confines of his own community. One creates a threat, where these would-be foes get mixed up as to what kind of threat Voyager might pose. One creates an ally, someone who sympathizes with The Doctor’s plight and gives both people a chance to help one another do more and be more.
This is my usual crutch, but in many ways, Phlox is us, the audience. At his lowest point, the Doctor sees somebody who’s only observed him from afar, and only observed his reveries at that, but still feels like he knows him after a fashion. Seeing someone’s hopes and dreams, commiserating with them, sharing the human sensation to want something better for ourselves, makes Phlox relate to the EMH in the same way the audience does.
Voyager itself is fiction dreamed up by the writers, but we too come to feel like we know these characters. We want good things for them. We may even be inspired by them. There’s something similar at play with Phlox’s plea to the Doctor, in order to protect and elevate both of them.
The final act has kind of a sitcom-y nature to its story. The idea of someone spinning a fib of convenience, only for the various other characters to have to scramble and improvise to maintain it in order to keep some high stakes situation from imploding is an old trope. (Though, normally, it’s mere social embarrassment or, at worst, impressing your boss at work, rather than death and destruction that hangs in the balance.)
Here, it functions nicely as a way to show the Doctor having his wish, and by necessity (and the expectations of the Hierarchy) having to step in to present himself as the Emergency Command Hologram. It makes for a hell of a farce, but also a stirring moment when the Doctor rises to the occasion.
His interlude on the bridge comes with a certain “dog who caught the car” quality to it. It’s easy to have a fantasy where you imagine what it would be like to be in command and save the day. It’s a lot trickier when you have to actually sit in the chair, make judgment calls, and present yourself as a bold leader rather than a nervous wannabe. “Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” depicts the distance between fantasy and reality on that score nicely.
The whole episode is a showcase for Robert Picardo, but especially in that final climax, he truly shines. His anxiousness over sitting in the big chair and fumbling responses to the Hierachy’s demands recall nothing less than David Hyde Pierce on Frasier, an odd sort of sister show to Voyager. At the same time, though, he sells the transition from nervousness to confidence to perfection, with his bluff of the photon cannon made to a risk-averse species showing where his imagination and creativity can come in handy. Seeing him earn the win, with a surprising mettle and unexpected bravado when it’s needed most, is downright lovely.
It is not, however, just a one-time lark, permitted by necessity. It is a vindication of the Doctor’s abilities to be more than he is. You feel his frustration when he’s scrubbed from an away mission. While he can be a little uptight and priggish at times, you can feel righteous indignation on his behalf when everyone on the bridge scoffs or laughs at his complaints about how he’s treated. And one of my favorite moments in the episode comes when, amid the larger-than-life irreverence of his fantasies, Janeway overhears that, deep down, the Doctor just wants to live up to his full potential.
That's all that any of us wants, be we made of flesh and blood or of photons and force fields. There is a propensity to laugh at the shenanigans of this episode, and I think that's what the show wants from the audience. It’s the same impulse the characters have when they see the outlandish exaggerations of his daydreams.
But it also wants us to sympathize with this being of great potential who’s nonetheless penned in not just by programming, but expectation. Thankfully, Voyager is not the Hierarchy, and Janeway is not the alien supervising Phlox. Once again, she recognizes the Doctor’s humanity, and so do we.
It’s as easy to laugh at the Doctor’s dreams as it is to laugh at anyone who envisions something bigger and better for themselves. It’s harder to take those efforts to grow seriously, and to give people the space, sympathy, and support to do it. “Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” has its fun, but in the end, the writers and Janeway give the good old EMH just enough of all three.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2024-08-04T03:40:56Z
[8.0/10] “TInker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” walks a fine line. The episode aims to poke fun at The Doctor for his over-the-top daydreams, but also to sympathize with him for having them. It leans into the inherent silliness of the EMH as a sort of well-met man with delusions of grandeur, but also affirms a very human side of him, one that imagines more for himself. The balance isn't always perfect, but I appreciate the show wanting t o explore both sides.
In truth, many of the daydream sequences are hilarious. Doc signing opera through a rescue of a pon farr-addled Tuvok, imagining himself the object of desire for every woman on the ship, and projecting himself as a daring commander with a dry cool action hero wit all take the cake. The show has fun in presenting more caricatured versions of the crew and exaggerated versions of the usual crises, to let Doc rise to the occasion. On pure entertainment alone, the show thrives under these conditions.
But there’s also something relatable to what the Doctor imagines for himself. Especially when I was a young man, it was easy to give myself over to dreams of my meager talents being just what were needed to save the day, of my deeds earning the admiration of the objects of my affection, of performing feats that lived up to those of heroes I saw on television like, well, those on various Star Trek shows.
“Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” kicks things up a notch for comic effect, but there is a kernel of truth and recognition in the EMH’s daydreams here. We don’t always control where our mind takes us. Sometimes it’s to places that are aspirational, or saucy, or ridiculous. Fantasies can be kind of silly, and while it’s easy to laugh through many of these scenes, it’s also easy to see the human yearning for growth and acceptance beneath them.
That's why as funny as these moments are, they’re also uncomfortable at times. You feel for Seven and B’Elanna here, watching holographic representations where the Doctor casts them as willing (or even jealous) objects of desire. But you feel even more for the Doctor himself. For most of us, intrusive thoughts and idle fantasies are private and often beyond our control. Doc is right to feel humiliated, “turned inside out” when his unique existence means his friends and colleagues and simply beam his personal thoughts and imaginations to a holodeck and tour through them.
Janeway recognizes that, even as she allows it in the name of fixing The Doctor. If I appreciate her role in this episode for anything, it’s with the idea that she has the real arc here. She transitions from thinking the Doctor is getting over his skis in a way that distracts from where he’s needed most, to recognizing that holographic or not, object of fun or not, the Doctor is a sentient being like any other, and deserves the opportunity to grow and make more of himself the same way any of us do.
More to the point, she acknowledges that this is an invasion of privacy of a sort, one that would rightly leave the Doctor mortified. And speaking for myself at least, her reaction conveys a certain amount of guilt onto the viewer as well. It’s easy to chuckle to oneself about the EMH’s delusions of grandeur and the goofy scenarios he concocts to make himself the hero or the lothario or both.
But we too are, in a way, laughing at the silly but earnest aspirations of someone to imagine more for themselves. It is, in some ways, a referendum on the Doctor’s quest for humanity, which comes with the same messy and silly parts all of our journeys do, not just the ones that are clean and themselves aspirational.
Thankfully, we have a bit of a surrogate here, I appreciate the introduction of the outer space potato men in this episode, known as the Hierarchy. I particularly like Phlox (not to be confused with the character from Star Trek: Enterprise), a low-ranking member who believes he has a bead on *Voyager only to find out that he’s more than a little confused.
There’s a cleverness to coming up with a group of alien opponents who mean to spy on our heroes’ vessel, but who end up only connecting to the EMH, and mistake his fantasies for reality. And there’s also a cleverness to writer Joe Menosky making Phlox a bit of a kindred spirit to The Doctor -- someone who aspires to more within the limiting confines of his own community. One creates a threat, where these would-be foes get mixed up as to what kind of threat Voyager might pose. One creates an ally, someone who sympathizes with The Doctor’s plight and gives both people a chance to help one another do more and be more.
This is my usual crutch, but in many ways, Phlox is us, the audience. At his lowest point, the Doctor sees somebody who’s only observed him from afar, and only observed his reveries at that, but still feels like he knows him after a fashion. Seeing someone’s hopes and dreams, commiserating with them, sharing the human sensation to want something better for ourselves, makes Phlox relate to the EMH in the same way the audience does.
Voyager itself is fiction dreamed up by the writers, but we too come to feel like we know these characters. We want good things for them. We may even be inspired by them. There’s something similar at play with Phlox’s plea to the Doctor, in order to protect and elevate both of them.
The final act has kind of a sitcom-y nature to its story. The idea of someone spinning a fib of convenience, only for the various other characters to have to scramble and improvise to maintain it in order to keep some high stakes situation from imploding is an old trope. (Though, normally, it’s mere social embarrassment or, at worst, impressing your boss at work, rather than death and destruction that hangs in the balance.)
Here, it functions nicely as a way to show the Doctor having his wish, and by necessity (and the expectations of the Hierarchy) having to step in to present himself as the Emergency Command Hologram. It makes for a hell of a farce, but also a stirring moment when the Doctor rises to the occasion.
His interlude on the bridge comes with a certain “dog who caught the car” quality to it. It’s easy to have a fantasy where you imagine what it would be like to be in command and save the day. It’s a lot trickier when you have to actually sit in the chair, make judgment calls, and present yourself as a bold leader rather than a nervous wannabe. “Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” depicts the distance between fantasy and reality on that score nicely.
The whole episode is a showcase for Robert Picardo, but especially in that final climax, he truly shines. His anxiousness over sitting in the big chair and fumbling responses to the Hierachy’s demands recall nothing less than David Hyde Pierce on Frasier, an odd sort of sister show to Voyager. At the same time, though, he sells the transition from nervousness to confidence to perfection, with his bluff of the photon cannon made to a risk-averse species showing where his imagination and creativity can come in handy. Seeing him earn the win, with a surprising mettle and unexpected bravado when it’s needed most, is downright lovely.
It is not, however, just a one-time lark, permitted by necessity. It is a vindication of the Doctor’s abilities to be more than he is. You feel his frustration when he’s scrubbed from an away mission. While he can be a little uptight and priggish at times, you can feel righteous indignation on his behalf when everyone on the bridge scoffs or laughs at his complaints about how he’s treated. And one of my favorite moments in the episode comes when, amid the larger-than-life irreverence of his fantasies, Janeway overhears that, deep down, the Doctor just wants to live up to his full potential.
That's all that any of us wants, be we made of flesh and blood or of photons and force fields. There is a propensity to laugh at the shenanigans of this episode, and I think that's what the show wants from the audience. It’s the same impulse the characters have when they see the outlandish exaggerations of his daydreams.
But it also wants us to sympathize with this being of great potential who’s nonetheless penned in not just by programming, but expectation. Thankfully, Voyager is not the Hierarchy, and Janeway is not the alien supervising Phlox. Once again, she recognizes the Doctor’s humanity, and so do we.
It’s as easy to laugh at the Doctor’s dreams as it is to laugh at anyone who envisions something bigger and better for themselves. It’s harder to take those efforts to grow seriously, and to give people the space, sympathy, and support to do it. “Tinker, Tenor, Soldier, Spy” has its fun, but in the end, the writers and Janeway give the good old EMH just enough of all three.