Listen. My one surefire weakness is giving Louise a plot where she cares about something, where she’s vulnerable. I’ve cried over the movie because of this, and this is the second time I cried this season because of it after the Christmas episode. In the early seasons, Tina was the most dynamic character in part because they were still figuring her out, and so she grew from an awkward completely socially inept neigh hermit to a confident weirdo who’s found her niche and is unabashedly herself and upfront about what she’s into. She still has struggles and anxieties, but it’s often filtered now into frustrated or proud rebellion about what’s trying to hold her back, like with Tammy’s show, and along the way she genuinely grew into the insightful older sibling with advice. Still great stories with her, but she’s much more set than she once was.
Louise was from the beginning the character the writers were most excited about, first as just the funniest character, the agent of chaos, the shock value fountain, the most unique and distinctive draw in a show still trying to figure itself out. And as it did, it’s like they realized, ‘Okay, Louise can still be that, but she can be more too. We don’t want her to fall by the wayside or be ill fitting with the reputation we’ve developed as a show for weirdos, a show with heart. We want her to embody that just like she embodied our wild start.’
And we got Kuchi Kopi. We got her easy bonds with Bob and Gene, and the hard fought ones with Linda and Tina. We got Rudy, we got Jessica. We got her attachment to her ears in the movie and how it ties her to the grandmother she never knew. We got how she can downplay herself for the sake of the rest of the family and to protect herself in this season’s Christmas.
And now we got this, a look into her anxieties and insecurity. So much of her actions in general are a desperate need to be seen and heard. Nothing gets to her like being dismissed for being ‘just a kid’, like being overlooked, like the possibility of a family member drifting away from her. Or the concept of her personal space or autonomy being invaded.
Part of what makes Louise such a unique character when it comes to kids is what makes her ‘bratty’ is framed as cool, endearing, valid. In a world where children are often reduced to being parental property, to having wants wantonly ignored, to have agency dismissed, Louise fights for hers and never gives in, and the show never tries to strip her of that.
But she is still a kid, and a girl at that. And kids have worries, and girls unfortunately deal with being overlooked for the loudest, most condescending, dismissive, and yes, male voices in the room.
I forgot how obnoxious Wayne can be, and I was even worried it might be too much, but he played his role perfectly. He’s not the wild absurdity of Millie or the personal animosity of Logan, he’s just a jerk. An annoying personification of that dismissive force in a way that Louise can’t really strike out outrageously in turn like she can with the other two.
He wiggles into her head and makes her feel stupid for caring, and then she feels stupid for feeling stupid for caring, and her fears of being overlooked start to feel like they’re becoming a reality.
Her frustrations and outbursts are so often played for humor and taken to wild extremes as she starts plotting retribution and vengeance, setting up the big laugh or catharsis. But here, as she shouts in frustration looking over her pages of spy stories or on Mother’s Day when faced with a block, it’s played like just a kid trying to disguise her frustration at herself and having trouble expressing what’s really wrong, putting up her walls. And just like the Christmas episode, she tries to downplay it and put her mom first, out of love for her and out of dismissal of herself as not as important or as not worth the hassle. If she gives up on herself first, it won’t matter if anyone else does, and so when things seem truly doomed to fail that is often her first line of defense, like when they were being buried alive.
John Roberts might deliver his best dramatic performance as Linda yet. In a role that so often demands hammy exuberance and over the top, in your face personality- just see last week’s episode- this episode asks him to underplay it for once. His delivery has never been so soft, so caring, so selfless. It’s helped by subtle expressions and great framing- Linda’s face in bed overhearing Louise about to throw in the towel is a key example. It’s even more rewarding seeing this after their first big episode together, all those years ago in Mother Daughter Laser Razor, and how much trouble they had connecting. And now Linda just gets her. She channels it in another direction, but she has that same need and demand to be heard.
It all crescendoes into Louise’s finish for her paper, and she’s never sounded more like a child baring her heart and hoping it’s not stepped on, hoping she’s understood. Kristen Schaal has been this character for so long and is such a big part of her success and you can feel the love she has for this role as she speaks, just as you can feel the writers’ affection for her, and how they’re speaking their own experiences through a character that somehow against all odds became the one they’d use most often for that, even over Tina’s burgeoning sense of self and confidence.
Right down to the tender credits, this is an episode that will stick with me and remind me why I love this show, this family, and most of all, Louise Belcher, who along 13 seasons and over a decade of knowing her has become one of my favorite characters in just about anything. Here’s hoping for a decade more.
This is a cool, but ultimately stupid episode.
1. What exactly was the plan down on the planet with the hostages? Just seemed like an excuse to give the other actors something to do. Why would the people stealing trilithium from the Enterprise care about what was going on down below with the senior staff? Plus there are 1000 other people normally onboard the Enterprise (including Worf who skipped the reception) so what good is holding a few of them hostage? And wouldn't they know
2. Why would a team of technicians be allowed onto the Enterprise while the baryon sweep was ongoing if it's deadly? What is their supposed role?
3. How did this team manage to infiltrate this Starfleet base in the first place?
4. Picard takes a pretty big risk going back onto the ship when it's about to be shut down and swept with deadly radiation. Shouldn't he at least arrange for someone to check to make sure he made it off ok?
5. Data seems to have no trouble imitating human mannerisms with the small talk bit, so why doesn't he do it more often?
6. Wouldn't the team stealing trilithium know who Picard was? Not only is he one of the most famous captains of the day, but they are stealing from his ship… shouldn't they do some basic research first?
7. Why didn't Troi sense something was wrong before the shooting started? She clearly can sense the aliens who held them hostage, since she says as much later on. Sure she didn't have any reason to be concerned, but it's a passive sense for her, she would have felt something.
8. Picard's phaser won't work but theirs do?
9. Why didn't Picard communicate down to his colleagues on the planet immediately instead of waiting until the last minute in Ten Forward?
10. Riker gets really up close to the hostage taker and knock him out… But then he lets himself get knocked out by the other guy. Even if the others had still stood there and done nothing for some reason, Riker could have easily taken out the other guy who was right there.
11. Data is stronger and faster than biological beings. It seems plausible that he should be able to predict where someone is planning to shoot and move out of the way long before that individual actually fires, so he could dodge and take out the attacker (he wasn't even that far from him).
12. Poor Hutch is murdered but fortunately Geordi, shot point blank in the chest is ok.
13. Picard doesn't want to kill the terrorists but then just kills them anyway.
Reading too much into it? Yes. So what?
What an absolutely botched ending to an otherwise strong show. Spoilers: Monica and Darcy are completely tossed aside, Evan Peters is entirely wasted as Quicksilver in favor of a dick joke, the writers show zero creativity in leaving characters to die and Wanda has ultimately learned nothing about her magic, ending the show exactly where she stood 8 years ago before 'Age of Ultron'. What a complete mess devoid of consequences, leaving characters storylines wide open for projects years away instead of tying character arcs up. Wanda apologises to the town members after tortuing them for weeks and we're supposed to feel bad when her fake children are erased? No, sorry, you're responsible for that. Monica really told Wanda the town should be grateful.... after she released them from their torture slavery. Wanda belongs on the Raft, Avengers need bodycams after this abuse. This is exactly what the Sokovia Accords were for. This isn't a show, it's a promotional ad to go see the next Marvel thing. I thought they were doing something special when the show began, embracing the wierd and unexplained magic in the MCU, but by the end the Marvel formula is intact and the story falls into laziness.
Who the hell was the missing person Jimmy Woo had in witness protection to begin with?
The beginning of the episode left me wishing we could've seen more of this side of Star Wars: regular stormtroopers doing their job, getting into action, and all the unseen dynamics rarely mentioned in the mainstream film trilogies. We did have something in that vein: Republic Commando explored the lives of elite Republic clone troopers; Jedi Academy had us follow the lives of youngling under tutelage of Luke's academy; the original Battlefront showed us the transitioning of a republic to an empire through the eyes of the soldiers.
It's the lives of the mundane, the less than extraordinary, yet still gripping and intriguing. They let us dive deeper to the world of Star Wars beyond the flashy buzzing of lightsabers and spectacles of the magical force.
The Mandalorian wished it could be one of those. Unfortunately, it failed terribly.
In episode 5, @ShrimpBoatSteve has said that the series has became too predictable, and I agree - the finale shows how predictable the whole season is. https://trakt.tv/comments/264475
After the long flashback which most parts we've already seen in previous episodes - seemingly making the scenes feels almost like a filler - The Mandalorian episode 8 seems reluctant to set their foot to the ground with its notable world-building as previously seen in Eps 7 and Eps 1 to 3. As I have previously said, after everyone gangs on The Mando (Eps 7), Baby Yoda/Little One's background (who Baby Yoda is, why is he wanted, what the Imperial remnants wanted to do with him, etc) remains unresolved. As the episode shows us Moff Gideon rising with a darksaber in hand, yet another reference moment: every substance the show can possibly offer will be dealt only in Season 2 (or, worse, more).
Stormtroopers in Star Wars have been infamous for their terribly inaccurate shots, but in this episode it feels like their incompetency is amplified to the point of parody and, of course, plot armors. Scout troopers - which is supposed to be snipers - can't shoot droid right in front of their eyes. Instead of coming in squads, troopers only come individually (incinerators burning the building, a few troopers slaughtered by the blacksmith, a few others guarding the tunnel, and the most stupid of all, Moff Gideon waiting for nightfall just for no reason) which makes for a convenient plot armors for our heroes to trek on their way.
Of course, there are casualties - what is a story without something seemingly at a stake? - but it is nothing more than devices to delay the heroes from their trek. Taking cues from Eowyn's "I am no man" of Lord of the Rings fame, in less than moment-defining fashion IG-11, which himself came as a sort of droid ex machina, said that it is no "living being" while resurrecting The Mando from fatal injuries, remedied every possible threat with its healing devices.
Antagonists can be dumb, but there is a limit to dumbness that can suspend audience's disbelief. This episode has antagonist almost feels like they are intentionally dumb and there is nothing really at a stake when everything can be easily remedied.
This episode is not the worst, certainly, as the action sequence is flashy and satisfying. The one near ending where The Mando utilizes a neat jet jump is clever and actually can show the extent Star Wars can be when the director wanted to think creatively beyond the force. Knights of the Old Republic and the aptly named Star Wars Bounty Hunter played with clever tricks similar to this once a while, and the trick doesn't feel cheap as they stand on a very good storytelling.
The Mandalorian's flashy action, regardless, seems to serve only as explicit fanservice - a style over substance.
There are plenty of action, which, by itself, is quite well-done. The consistently hardly imposing threats, unfortunately, dull down the possible thrill those scenes can offer - in a typical corny action heroes such as Gerard Butler's character in Has Fallen trilogy. The scene, for example, with The Blacksmith let us peek into the martial arts capability a Mandalorian can exhibit. But the rather plot armor of incompetent stormtroopers leave no stake at hand; the martial arts dexterity looks more like a cheap imitation of main trilogies of Jedi's acrobatic feats.
Redemption ultimately ends with nothing to be redeemed about, as the people in this show seems to be forever clumsy. From start to finish, everyone made questionable decisions. Nobody blasted the Mando's group with that large amount of stormtroopers. Nobody checked whether Moff Gideon is dead when the fighter was down (Gideon also miraculously survive the crash), with Carga, a supposedly veteran bounty hunter, lightheartedly saying they are already free of the Empire's grasp.
Everything people said in this episode, just like many episodes prior, are not crafted as if the actors were having human conversation. They were rushed by time - they seemingly appear to be set in motion by the plot's demands, to say X so Y happens; to say A when B moment happened.
This episode almost feels like a filler to conclude the dragging episodes this season has been. Screenwriting-wise, this whole season is nothing but bait-and-switch to justify next season(s).
There is much to be said about this kind of terrible business model, where series is written with nothing exactly in mind but to find reasons to continue producing the franchise - the same business model Disney has been using on their MCU franchise and Star Wars films/spinoffs - but the crowds of gladly willing moms awing for Baby Yoda and nerd dads geeking over Star Wars reference doesn't leave enough rooms for those commentaries.
[9.5/10] You don’t expect It’s Always Sunny to get serious. Not even a little bit. Sure, there’s been hints of it before, whether it’s The Gang’s boat rescue a couple of seasons ago or Dennis leaving last season. But it’s typically pretty brief, so the show can get back to its delightfully deranged brand of comedy.
That’s not what happens in “Mac Finds His Pride.” Even beyond the boffo final performance, this is an episode centered squarely on Mac coming to terms with his homosexualty and self-identity and resolving those things with his old life and the people in it, especially his dad. That’s heavy stuff!
Granted, most of the episode isn’t that heavy. Sojourns to a BDSM club or a drag queen show as Frank’s solutions to Mac’s problems feels like something early season IASIP would do. And there’s the running gag of grodiness of Frank continually shoving things in and out of his bleeding nose. And there’s a solid number of amusing bits of Charlie and Dee chastising Frank because he “had one job” to retrieve a dancing Mac and hadn’t managed it.
But holy hell, this episode is basically a two-man story featuring Mac trying to express his inner turmoil and Frank learning to understand it. The metaphor the episode uses -- of Frank needing to stop trying to stem the bleeding and let it run out so that the healing can begin -- is a bit on the nose (so to speak), but at least adds a point to all that trademark Frank grossness in the episode.
And my god, the dance! Reading about what Rob McElhenney went through in order to be able to perform that makes it all the more impressive, but even without that knowledge, it stands on its own as a beautiful, artistic surprise. There is such legitimate emotion and artistry in that sequence. You don’t anticipate IASIP being affecting, but I have to admit, when the music swelled, and Mac’s dance partnered moved in concert but also in tension with him, or cradled him, on a rain-soaked stage, it was hard not to feel your heartstrings rent amid the beauty, talent, and pathos on display.
Make no mistake, there’s real emotion in these scenes and this episode. There’s legitimate arcs for both Mac and Frank here, and they’re not easy sitcom arcs either. Mac is, after so much internal struggle, finally able to express himself through art. But as he so feared, he loses his dad in the process. That too is heart-rending, and the effect it has on Mac is sadly moving.
But when Mac loses one dad’s understanding, he gains another (surrogate) dad’s understanding. I love the choice to have Frank admit that he “doesn't get it” and never really got Mac at all. It ties into a certain perspective of an older generation, one IASIP often uses Frank as a stand-in for, that may accept gay people but still just not really grok homosexuality in a way that younger generations, who were more socialized with LGBT acceptance in society, might be able to.
But in the end, he does! For however long Danny DeVito has played a deranged troll on IASIP, it’s been enough to make you forget that he’s a really good dramatic actor! Seeing him admit his lack of understanding, eventually encourage Mac, and then tear up when, through the majesty of dance, he finally does understand him, is incredible. The idea at play here, that by interpreting the “storm” inside himself through dance, by coming up with artistic representations of the light and dark inside of him, Mac can reach people and find his place is a moving, life-affirming one.
I ask you, what can’t this show do? What started as a clever enough hangout show that devolved into raunch and edginess whenever it fell into a jam has evolved into a series that is just as ribald, just as boundary pushing, but also fiercely intelligent and ready to push whatever boundaries and expectations people have of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Every year, it seems to top itself in terms of where it takes these characters, what it’s able to pull off, and even the level of emotional depth its able to wring from these self-admittedly terrible people. Thirteen seasons in, It’s Always Sunny has delivered its best season yet, buoyed by Mac’s striking, emotional finale, and that alone is an accomplishment.
[9.6/10] What you remember about this episode is the ending. It’s hard not to tear up when you realize that Yancy didn’t copy his sibling because he hated him, but named his son after the little brother he missed so much. There’s a great power in that scene, one of the show’s best emotional gut punches after twenty-one minutes of stellar comedy.
But what’s striking on rewatch is how well the show sets up that twist for maximum emotional impact. It establishes Yancy copying Fry throughout the years. It establishes their sibling rivalry and frustration with one another. It establishes the difference the seven-leaf clover makes. And it even establishes the emotional resonances of the frickin’ Breakfast Club soundtrack!
Beyond just landing that emotional blow in the final minute, the show does a masterful job at setting up everything that builds to that payoff. You can completely buy why Fry would make all these assumptions about his brother, and read the clues that way. That just makes him learning the truth that much more impactful.
At the same time, “Luck of the Fryrish” is a thoroughly hilarious episode. The opening act at the horse races is full of the show’s wacky, quickhit gags. The back and forths between New York and Old New York have a lot of good gothamite comedy. And even Bender’s admiration for the new Philip J. Fry is a consistent laugh. Even as the show is doing all this great setup, it doesn't skimp on the laughs.
It doesn't skimp on anything really! Even the match cuts between the rocket from baby Fry’s mobile, or the clover and the engines of the ship help create a sense of continuity between the past and the present. The mirrored scenes of Fry’s dad talking to him as a baby with Yancy talking to his son add an emotional resonance to the proceedings. Hell, even comic lines like “I can’t wait til I’m old enough to feel ways about stuff” and the cheesy tones of “Don’t You Forget About Me” take on a real emotional weight when Fry really does have a moment of maturity and feels ways about stuff, as an oddly appropriate soundtrack plays.
Overall, this episode is about as close to perfection as Futurama managed. Every bit of its emotion is earned, the comedy is still potent, and the attention to detail is unmatched. One of those all time great episodes of the show.
Cool technology and galactic politics aside, I loved this episode for a comment from Picard about Riker:
PICARD: As a matter of fact, I never met Will until he reported on board at Farpoint Station.
PRESSMAN: You chose your first officer without ever meeting him?
PICARD: I was looking through the records of about fifty candidates and Will's was much like all the others, filled with lots of dry statistics and glowing letters of recommendation that tell you nothing. I was about to put it aside and look at another file and then something caught my eye. There was an incident on Altair Three when Will was First Officer of the Hood. He refused to let Captain DeSoto beam down during a crisis. He disobeyed a direct order and he risked a general court martial because he thought he was right. When I read that, I knew that I had found my Number One.
PRESSMAN: You wanted someone with a history of disobedience?
PICARD: I wanted someone who would stand up to me. Someone who was more concerned with the safety of the ship and accomplishing the mission than with how something looked on his record. To me, that's one of the marks of a good officer.
I think what resonates with me about this is its relationship to how I think about parenting and child development.
[8.2/10] I never really saw Worf and Troi as a couple. They seem too different in personality and temperament to be partners in life, even if they work as good friends. But if you step back from the particulars, you can see it. They both lost parents at a young age. They both have parents who embarrass them a bit when they come aboard the Enterprise. And they both love Alexander, working together as father and surrogate mother to see that he’s brought up well. There’s plenty to connect them.
Despite the closeness there, I might never have considered even the possibility of them as an item without “Parallels”. Even if it’s not my preferred coupling, there’s a validity to them, a sense in which Deanna brings out the best in Worf, that’s worth exploring, if only a little. And it would never have happened, in-universe and out, were it not for Worf tripping through alternate dimensions.
As I mentioned in my write-up of “Yesterday’s Enterprise” and other timeline-fuzzing episodes from the Trek canon, the “What If?” element to these stories is always a blast. There’s only so much you can change about the status quo in 1990s episodic T.V. series. But the science fiction conceits of an astronomical phenomenon that transports you to different quantum realms gives The Next Generation the opportunity to tease us with glimpses of other outcomes, and the ripple effects different choices might have had.
What if Captain Picard had died during the events of “The Best of Both Worlds”? (I guess Commander Shelby wouldn’t have stuck around as first officer?) What if the Borg had won? What if Wesley became an officer aboard the Enterprise? What if Geordi lost his life in one of those myriad malfunctions in Engineering? What if the Bajorans had overtaken the Cardassians and become aggressors? What if Worf and Troi had fallen in love?
It’s a thrill to see little tastes of these alternate outcomes. But it’s the last one that’s the throughline. As compelling as the twists in major events from TNG’s past we see are, “Parallels” chooses to focus on a personal one, namely the idea that Worf, for all his gruffness and devotion to duty, could not only love again after K’Ehleyr, but that he and Troi could become a family.
It’s the marriage of the personal and the fantastical that marks great Star Trek writing. Credit to Brannon Braga, far from my favorite scribe in the franchise, for not only finding a way to anchor this out there story in something human, but for building and pacing the dimension-hops so well.
This starts out as another “Is our protagonist crazy or is there something science fiction-y going on here?” The answer is almost always the latter in Star Trek, but “Parallels” still sells Worf’s disorientation and confusion wonderfully as the changes to his world start to accumulate and accelerate. There’s a plausible excuse for him misremembering or misperceiving things -- a supposed concussion at his bat’leth tournament.
More to the point, there’s also little things amiss, like a cake changing flavors, a person changing places with another, a conversation that no one else remembers, which convey how subtly destabilizing it would be to have your memories and experiences shuffled around like that before the fireworks are truly unveiled. Eventually, though, the episode confirms that Worf isn’t losing his mind, but is actually leaping through various parallel realities. The leaps start to have bigger and bigger changes, and make Worf more and more taken aback at how far he’s drifted from the life and existence he’s known.
Once again, that’s a strong choice from a psychological standpoint. Worf is known for his steadiness aboard the Enterprise, so it’s especially jarring for him to see things change so radically. But it’s also a wonderful opportunity for the production team to have tremendous fun with the idea.
We see just about every costume and hairstyle Troi’s ever worn brought back. We see characters in unfamiliar uniforms with different combages. The design of the ship itself changes, with new red panels and instrument readings. They bring back (I think?) the translucent divider from “Yesterday’s Enterprise” for one scene. There’s a harried Riker with a wild bushy beard. There’s a new look ready room with his trombone behind the desk. There’s Doctor Ogawa and, not for nothing, there’s Wesley Crusher, back for the first time since season 4’s “Final Mission” to sell how different these universes are.
“Parallels” shows remarkable restraint in not making a big deal of these changes. Wesley arrives on the scene with little fanfare, which is the right approach despite a major character returning to the series. Each time Worf hops to a new universe, it’s their normal. The normality of it for everyone else helps convey the alienness of it for Worf, the unmooring sense that everyone treats this as typical and right except you.
It’s also just fun. Seeing the prop department bust out every piece of meaningful bric-a-brac or costuming the show’s accumulated over six and a half seasons is a treat for longtime fans. Having Worf turn around and suddenly find himself in a different colored uniform, or running into an old colleague is exciting. Seeing Commander Riker as captain of the Enterprise, or grown-up Wesley at tactical is a thrill. Alternate timelines are a chance for the show to cut loose with continuity a bit, and “Parallels’ takes advantage of the setup without going too far afield, a tricky balance.
There’s even a certain logic to how the problem’s solved. The science of Star Trek has always been more of a coating than a core. But there’s an intuitive sort of sci-fi logic to “Worf started all of this when he traveled through an anomaly, so he has to go back through it with the right MacGuffin sauce.” This is a wild situation to begin with, but Braga and company do a stellar job of situating in Worf’s experience, and grounding it in just enough technobabble to sound plausible.
So when a problem with the Argus Array turns into a problem with the multiverse, there’s a good sense of escalation and personal stakes to make it feel valid. Seeing a screen full of alternate Enterprises, each sending their own hails and demands, is the sort of mashup thrill only these type of wild story can muster. There’s resonance in an alternate Riker telling Picard Prime that it’s good to see him again, or another one desperate not to return to his Borg-ridden timeline. And the stakes could hardly be higher.
But in the end, Worf, of course, makes it back to his home timeline. He missed this place, not just because it’s what he knows, but because it’s a return to security and stability. For all his son’s conspicuous absence from the series, Worf winced when an alternate Troi told him that Alexander didn’t exist in her timeline. This is the world that lines up with what Worf can rely on it, that aligns with who and what he is, and he’s happy not just to be free from the disorienting dimension jumps, but to return home.
Only, something’s changed. There’s no surprise party for his birthday this time, because Troi knew he wouldn’t like it and waved Riker off. She’s only there because Alexander asked her to feed his pet while he’s away. She’s such a good friend, even a good partner to Worf, something this episode dramatizes in ways big and small.
I’m still not sure about the show attempting the pairing, even in hindsight. But it’s a novel use of the alternate dimension construct. When Worf travels to these different quantum realms, he doesn’t just see the plot-heavy alternate paths of a Borg victory or beloved character dying too soon. He sees the possibilities of romance and partnership from a place he never expected.
I laughed out loud to hear him say he never considered a romantic relationship with Troi but is “not opposed to it.” Yet, the way he welcomes Troi to stay and celebrate with him, is a sign of growth and insight. So often, these types of stories just tantalize us with different visions of what might have been. Instead “Parallels” enlightens Worf, with a small but attainable glimpse of what could still be.
(Side note: I think Discovery picks up on the RNA quantum resonance idea presented here, which is not a connection I picked up on when I watched that episode. Cool use of the continuity!)
So, the Borg essentially only consist of the Borg queen from FC and Jack... okay. Consider me confused. Where are the Borg from VOY? Where is Agnes and her borgqueen version? I would have thought they'd somehow in the end at least try to connect with season 2... but no, they don't. Instead they bring back the queen from FC and VOY's Endgame (but don't refer to Endgame which was set after FC) and pretty much ignore season 2 of this show (save for a reference in the after credits scene).
We get major goodbye scenes, but in the end no one of the old crew has to sacrifice him or herself, Picard can reconnect with Jack and save him as well.
Plotwise, this resolution was really a major disappointment. Let's face it, we're meant to believe that pretty much all the officers over 25 were killed... so who now fills all the empty captain's chairs in the fleet? With fasttracked characters like Jack (whereas the Titan crew essentially remains unchanged)? And the changelings who bore such a rightful grudge didn't kill all the officers they replaced? That just doesn't sit right with me.
However, there's the fanservice - and they do everything right here. I love the Picard-Riker dynamic, I love that Data doesn't take over Riker's place as he did in the TNG-movies but still has major scenes with Geordi. I also enjoyed the Picard-Jack interaction even though the "now I know what I was missing" was rather too clichéd for my taste. But the highlight was the Ten Forward scene in the end with the card game. They could have filled season 3 with that card game alone and I would have been happy. Simply loved that!
With the after credits scene they pushed open the door to either another season or rather, since the story of the old crew is over, a spin-off with Jack...
It's always seemed to me that Star Trek (The Original Series) worked far better as films than it did as a television show. On the other hand, The Next Generation flourished on the small screen, and had a much rougher time when it made the transition to the cinema.
Generations is a dumb film, but it's an entertaining one. It's got a languid pace at times, but it manages to be somewhat enthralling. The correct decision was made early on to have feature both the classic and modern cast as a way to pass the baton from one generation to the next, but almost all the story decisions following that were stupid ones.
Fortunately, the film doesn't take itself mega seriously, and the opening section on board the Enterprise-B is exciting and full of humour. Once the transition is made to the "present day" Next Gen crew, things just become a bit dull. The film assumes knowledge of these characters and gives us only the lightest of introductions to people like Data and Geordi. Worf, Troi and Crusher barely get a look in. Riker is there a lot but doesn't do much, so this is all about Picard. And Patrick Stewart does admittedly give a great performance, particularly in regards to the heavily emotional stuff he has to do concerning the loss of his family.
For a fan, the film gives us a lot of story points to work with which will resonate because we were introduced to them in the TV series (Picard's family, Lursa and B'Etor, Data's emotion chip), but I'd imagine if you were coming in to this cold then a fair bit would be lost on you.
It's also something of a character assassination that doesn't really respect the TV characters we've come to love. Data suffers greatly here, with the emotion chip changing him entirely and without much of a process behind it, but it's really Picard who is ruined. I don't believe for a second that his idea of a perfect life is to live in some Victorian-era perfect family world, with bad actors for children. He's an adventurer and explorer at heart.
The Nexus is just a dumb creation. It makes no sense. How characters interact with it makes no sense. The convoluted plot tells us that the evil Soran can't find his way back into it without killing millions of people, yet the opening sequence of the film clearly showed us that you just need to take a ship in (the ship will probably be destroyed, but you could get out before then).
Once he decides to leave the Nexus, Picard and Kirk travel back in time to the stupidest moment. Why not go much earlier? Or even an hour earlier? They could have made things a lot simpler for themselves.
But, just roll with it. The film has some great action moments and is a fun adventure. It also has some emotional impact as Captain Kirk finally meets his end (although, not in a very interesting or satisfying way). The Enterprise-D is also destroyed, which is kind of heart wrenching, and a fantastically put together sequence.
In fact, in terms of visuals I find it hard to fault. It's amazing to see the sets upgraded for a feature film, beautifully lit and in full widescreen with extra details. The special effects are magnificent too, and I love the use of practical models over CG. It just looks great and I find myself wishing that modern films would take a bit of inspiration from the on-screen clarity of 1990s film making.
