While North America is being sent into a tizzy trying to deal with the strange phenomenae, entire squadrons of missing World War II aircraft are discovered in the desert in mint condition.  It’s these strange events that cause French scientist Claude Lancombe to investigate the matter further, leading to the eventual discovery of a probably location for an alien landing site along with five distinct musical tones that might possibly lead to a method of communicating with the extra terrestrials.  Keep in mind there’s no gunfights, and no national monuments are singled out for destruction.  In many ways, Close Encounters of the Third Kind more accurately resembles a cerebral thriller or mystery like Inception or Vertigo rather than a traditional science fiction movie, but it’s these qualities that make it anything but traditional.  And yet, Spielberg keeps things engaging and interesting throughout, while building up to a climax that is as massive in scope as anything we might see in a multiplex today.

Roy Neary, searching for meaning in a pile of clay.

Just as E.T. was first and foremost a story about divorce that also happened to involve aliens from another planet, Close Encounters is a story about family that is struggling to stay together despite the father’s descent into madness.  Roy Neary is a good guy who is overcome with strange visions, and pushes his family away while they struggle to deal with changes they cannot hope to understand.  The focus is kept squarely on Neary’s quest for understanding, Jillian Guiler’s search for her son, and their refusal to accept anything other than concrete answers.  Strangely, there is little to be found in the way of redemption, as Neary makes some very unexpected choices near the end–choices that Spielberg himself has since admitted he would change if he were to make the movie today.  But these unconventional choices made by Neary lend an authentic quality to the movie that is fairly unique in modern cinema, and coupled with the stunningly realistic special effects that can easily hold their own against anything Hollywood has to offer today, catapult Close Encounters to the upper echelon of cinematic science fiction. This one is not to be missed by anyone who is a fan of the genre, or anyone who just likes good movies.

Rating:****½ (4.5/5)

In typical Battlestar Galactica fasion, things start to go bad pretty quickly after the reunion of the Pegasus and the rest of the fleet at the end of Season 2.0.  Power struggles, military coups, and strained relationships are the name of the game as the fleet struggles to deal with a change of leadership and shifting political alliances among the various fleet ships.  This kind of political intrigue is actually one of the best things about the show, as a constant theme of fallibility is reiterated throughout several episodes.  Leaders, even the venerable Commander Adama, make mistakes even when they think they are doing the right thing, and it often costs valuable resources or even human lives.  This sets Battlestar Galactica apart from other science fiction shows in that actions have very real and lasting consequences, not neat little bows that are perfectly tied up at the end of each episode.  A couple of prominent characters meet their end in Season 2.5, and their loss does not come across as a cheap ploy to up the dramatic tension but seems like the natural result in a series of tough choices made by them or others around them.

Starbuck, fighting cylons and taking names.

One of my earlier criticisms of the show was that it often focused more on shock-and-awe rather than exploring characters and human issues, and a great many strides are taken to rectify this in Season 2.5. One particular episode, Black Market, explores some particularly heavy issues for Apollo as he comes to realize some harsh truths about the unvarnished side of humanity that flourishes even in the ragtag collection of spaceships and traders all struggling to survive.  Echoes of desegregation struggles and present-day cultural tensions are brought to light as well through the fleet’s struggle to accept Sharon, a cylon who becomes increasingly integral to the human remnant. There’s even an episode titled Scar that sheds an entirely new light on the cylons when we discover that even though they are essentially programmed computers, they have personalities and even the flying ship drones might be far more human-like than was previously thought.  Of course there are still what seem like requisite soap opera storylines with various characters hooking up, getting jealous, and retaliating, but thankfully these are severely toned down.

The series culminates in what is easily the most dramatic departure for the show yet, and the final two-part episode brings some incredible changes to the Battlestar Galactica we have grown to know so well. And it’s a good thing too, since the cylons-hunting-humans storyline begins to wear a little thin.  As I mentioned earlier, this is one of the problems with this kind of premise since things continually point to a culmination or climax, but should that point ever be reached the show itself might cease to have a reason for existing.  And the drastic change of events at the end of season 2.5 is somewhat of a bellwether for the show as a whole, keeping enough of the former storyline intact while allowing for sweeping changes in order to keep things fresh and new at the same time.

Rating:****~ (4/5)

Every character is an overwrought cartoon, which is part of the fun, and anyone who tries to take this movie seriously is missing the point.  The idea of a martian invasion is just a canvas for Burton to weave some seriously weird yet downright heartwarming tales of idealism, heroism, and big-headed aliens with ray guns that turn people into green skeletons.  Mars Attacks! has all the subtlety of a cinder block, and flaunts it proudly:  Martians land on earth in giant flying saucers and start shooting ray guns at everyone.  The military wants to nuke ‘em.  The academic elite wants to study them. The hippies want to make peace with them. And the reporters want to interview them.  Characters are as dispensable as their accents, and the special effects would be laughably cheesy if that wasn’t how they were supposed to be.

Pierce Brosnan playing (what else?) a brilliant British scientist.

Perhaps it’s a coincidence that this movie was released in 1996, the same year as another alien invasion movie you might have heard of called Independence Day.  But where Emmerich’s bombastic blockbuster was about two sizes too big for its britches, and took itself a little too seriously, Mars Attacks! gets everything just about right. Even the aliens, with gigantic heads and a language that consists solely of barking out the words “Ack! Ack!” are a pitch-perfect sendup of the oh so realistic extra terrestrial creatures in Independence Day, Close Encounters, E.T., and so many other science fiction films.  Of course the best reason to see Mars Attacks! is Jack Nicholson as the President (as well as a seedy Las Vegas businessman) and easily one of the funniest roles of his career.  Hamming it up at every turn, chewing the scenery like it was freeze-dried ice cream, and flashing his signature condescending grin every chance he gets, it’s a role only he could have pulled off with such overwrought tongue-in-cheek delivery.  It’s a sight to behold.

Mars Attacks! is blisteringly funny and bitingly sarcastic, but it does have its share of flaws too.  The lack of any coherent storyline is a bit of a drag, and it is somewhat frustrating that we never really find out why the martians have attacked in the first place.  But any movie in which Sarah Jessica Parker’s head is glued to a chihuahua is OK by me.

Rating:****~ (4/5)

My biggest criticism of Season 1 was that the show was light on characterization but heavy on explosions, and from the first episode of Season 2 this problem is addressed, though not exactly how I would have liked.  Commander Adama, arguably the best character on the show, is effectively out of commission for the first four episodes, which leaves the slightly-more-than-somewhat incompetent Saul Tigh in command of the entire fleet.  I appreciate the shift in focus here, as it allows viewers to get to know Tigh in a more meaningful and personal way and also see how difficult the responsibilities of commanding a ship can be.  Tigh is put into some really tough scrapes and has to make some difficult choices, and it is somewhat refreshing watching a less-than-stellar individual take command for a while.  There is also a healthy dose of politics injected into the series too, as the fleet begins to splinter with some ships following President Roslin on her quest to find Earth and the rest sticking with the military.

Chief Tyrol, who could give MacGyver a run for his money any day of the week.

The absence of Adama’s leadership is painfully felt in these early episodes, it speaks to the quality of the writing that the frustrations felt by the crew at Tigh’s lack of leadership are keenly felt by the viewers too.  The theme of Season 2.0 is that of divergence, as the fleet is split physically and ideologically, Starbuck goes back to Caprica to retrieve a talisman which is supposed to guide the fleet to Earth, and the crew of the Galactica struggles to adapt to changing leadership.  Lee Adama is forced to choose alliances that damage his relationship with his father, and I’m eager for the day when he will finally be given the chance to stretch his wings and take command.  It’s more about politics and relationships in Season 2.0, and thankfully, less about shocking viewers with gratuitous violence and sexuality.  Though these elements do show up from time to time, they are less overt and slightly more warranted in terms of the storyline.  There is also more in terms of creativity, like the episode Final Cut which strikes a markedly different tone from the rest of the series as it essentially follows a TV reporter who is given total access to the Galactica for one day. It’s an interesting concept and I appreciate the show’s willingness to take a risk with it.

Battlestar Galactica remains, if nothing else, a refreshing change of pace from the usual TV fare, though it’s still obviously trying to find its footing while stretching its legs creatively at the same time.  The characters are given more time to just be themselves in Season 2.0, such as the episode in which Chief Tyrol takes it upon himself to construct a stealth ship just to keep himself and his crew busy. Edward James Olmos remains a force to be reckoned with, while Starbuck continues to be the one we are supposed to like but doesn’t quite cut it.  Even though the Cylons are basically on coffee break for much of Season 2.0, the fear of their attacks is enough to keep things moving at a brisk enough pace overall.  And so while there is still room for improvement, Season 2.0 is an impressive sophomore effort and one that should be near the top of the list for any fan of science fiction.

Rating:****~ (4.0/5)

It’s hard to review Battlestar Galactica without comparing it to other science fiction shows, since science fiction, like most forms of creativity, is inherently derivative.  Without Star Trek: The Next Generation there would be no Battlestar Galactica.  Without Star Wars to inject new life into the genre there would likely be no Next Generation. Without 2001: A Space Odyssey there would be no Star Wars or Alien. And so it goes, back to the original Battlestar Galactica from the 1970s, the original Dr. Who, the original Star Trek, Flash Gordon, Metropolis, and far back still to the ancient roots of storytelling when men first looked up at the sky and wondered what else could be out there.  But like all good science fiction, Battlestar Galactica injects its own life and creative spin on a tried and true scenario, and though the results so far are somewhat middling, the show does have promise and I am eager to see where it goes in Season 2.

Commander Adama, showing off his cheerful side.

The basic gist of the storyline, as outlined in the title sequence of every episode, goes like this:  The Cylons were created by man. They evolved. They rebelled. There are many copies. And they have a plan. When the show begins, the Cylons initiate said plan by laying waste to Caprica, the human homeworld, and the 12 planets that were colonized by humans.  Now the remnants of our race are left to struggle and survive in the midst of the vastness of space, a ragtag group of roughly 50,000 individuals spread out among several dozen spaceships.  The Cylons were designed to be artificial life forms, subservient to humans and useful for taking care of many aspects of life.  But in the decades since the Cylons broke away from humanity they have evolved and now appear to be some type of genetically engineered human/robot hybrids, many of whom look just like humans and who may or may not have infiltrated the surviving band of humans.  It’s an interesting scenario, though the are-you-human-or-are-you-Cylon concept wears thin fairly quickly. Fortunately healthy diversity of both characters and conflicts keeps things moving along at a brisk enough pace, even though the show often devolves into more of an explosion-filled daytime soap opera than I would prefer.

Battlestar Galactica, despite reportedly being made on the cheap, is an absolutely stunning realization of futuristic space life.  Everything has an incredible sense of palpable authenticity, from the small fighter craft to the massive lumbering cargo ships, and the set design looks concrete and functional.  The Millenium Falcon from Star Wars was famously described by Luke Skywalker as “a piece of junk,” but it was a spaceship with character and life.  Similarly, every inch of the Battlestar Galactica sets strive for that same level of realism, and when you see greasy mechanics struggling to overhaul a spaceship engine, a dirty mess hall with games of space poker going late at night, or a devastated planet with bombed-out buildings and hovels, it feels almost documentarian.  Space dogfights are exceptionally well done, and it’s a testament to how far CGI has come to be able to whip out scenes with dozens of ships blasting away at each other for a weekly serial show like this.

Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, ready to kick some Cylon tail.

But for all the pomp and imagery of Battlestar Galactica, things are somewhat lacking in the character department, which sadly is where the real connection of a show like this has to be made with the audience. There are a handful of individuals we are supposed to care about, like plucky young fighter pilot Starbuck (Katee Sackhoff), tough-as-nails Commander Adama (Edward James Olmos, standing and delivering like it’s going out of style) and his alcoholic sidekick Saul (Michael Hogan), empathetic but hard-nosed president Roslin (Mary McDonnell, using the same character notes Roland Emmerich gave her for Independence Day), Doc Baltar (James Callis), resident space hussy Number Six (Tricia Helfer), and a handful of others along for the ride too. But aside from a smattering of true character moments, most of the people here are window dressing who exist simply to ratchet up the dramatic tension.  Gruff old Commander Adama always does what has to be done…but what if thousands of lives hang in the balance?  What then? President Roslin has to maintain order, but what if people high up in the military might be (gasp!) Cylons!  What then? And Doc Baltar, an unstable man plagued by constant hallucinations of a Cylon temptress, almost becomes an exercise in self-parody by the end of the season when he is promoted to the role of vice president.  It’s as if no one around him has any idea he is not only wholly ineffective at his job, but entirely unstable and unreliable as a man.  And yet we are asked to believe his character trajectory in the same way that the action/drama show 24 asks us to believe that a president’s daughter can go from flunkie to Chief of Staff of the White House in the matter of a couple hours.

The visuals are amazing, particularly considering the tight constraints of a TV production schedule.

As I mentioned earlier, though, there are some genuine moments of engaging character struggles, such as when Starbuck is stranded on a planet and Adama wrestles with the question of whether saving one life is worth putting many other lives in danger.  But science fiction is best when it examines human issues or gives us a lens through which we may view the human condition. Spaceships, lasers, aliens, hyperdrives…it only works if we are invested in the characters and they are examining issues that speak to us in the here and now. And when characters are tackling issues in bathroom stalls, hallucinating every time they appear on screen, and sleeping with each other as often and as casually as they might play a game of cards it’s hard to identify with them and, by extension, the show itself. To be sure, Battlestar Galactica is visually arresting and a lot of fun to watch, especially the fast-paced space dogfights and nail-biting chases through the streets of Caprica. But I can’t help but get the feeling the show is also a vehicle simply for generating Nielsen ratings, with an onslaught of sleazy how-much-can-we-gat-away-with-on-TV sex scenes, constant faux-swearing (the word “frak,” a facepalm-inducing substitute for another four-letter word, is peppered liberally throughout each episode so much that it’s actually comical), and episodes that seem to be more about pushing the envelope of televised violence and CGI wizardry than actually giving me a real, substantive reason to watch.

There’s a reason Star Trek has no toilets: they did not serve the story. Sure it would have been kind of funny or realistic to see Riker walk out of the men’s room from time to time, but Gene Roddenberry and his cohorts never let those moments happen at the expense of the story.  Battlestar Galactica, with its constant effort to portray realistic outer space life, sacrifices characters on the altar of spectacle.  Not all the time, mind you, but often enough.  I am hopeful for Season 2, however, and I also have to consider that many shows spend the first season struggling to find their footing. The overall plot is fairly interesting, with the idea of humanity struggling against absolutely overpowering odds and a relentless enemy, but so far the show reminds me of a fireworks display on the 4th of July: an impressive cacophony of light and sound, but ultimately somewhat hollow.

Rating:***½~ (3.5/5)

In a bit of a twist from previous films, Sulu is never seen together with the rest of the Enterprise crew.  Instead, from the outset of the film, he is in command of his own ship The Excelsior (Note to William Riker: this is called career advancement).  Off exploring space as usual, his ship encounters a gigantic energy surge resulting from an energy explosion on the Klingon moon Praxis which was, as near as I can tell, basically a gigantic Klingon Power Plant.  In a brilliant twist on typical Star Trek lore, the mighty Klingon race is forced to come to the Federation for aid lest they go extinct as a species in less than five decades.  Kirk is then put in the awkward position of playing would-be ambassador to the Klingon high council, an incredibly uncomfortable diplomatic role considering that his son was murdered at the hands of Klingons.  It’s this type of juxtaposition that is the hallmark of Star Trek and all good science fiction, and further propels Undiscovered Country into the upper echelons of Star Trek movies.

The gang's all here

The phrase “Action-Packed” has never been apt for Star Trek, save for the notable exception of First Contact, but it wouldn’t be far off the mark here.  After the abysmal Final Frontier, and knowing that this film would be the series’ swan song, director Nicholas Meyer (who also helmed the brilliant Wrath of Khan) ratchets up the intensity on all fronts.  From the uncomfortable dinner scene aboard the Enterprise, where the Klingons and Enterprise crewmen can barely contain their disdain for each other while General Chang (Christopher Plummer) and Kirk try to out-Shakespeare-quote each other, to the amazing courtroom scene (“Don’t wait for the translation!”) to the final showdown between the Enteprise and a Klingon bird of prey, Undiscovered Country is about as intense as they come.  There’s also a bit of mystery, treachery, backstabbing, and old-fashioned fisticuffs thrown in for good measure.  It all comes together quite well, despite a few missteps here and there such as the over-the-top climax which is far too abrupt and logic-defying to go over with much satisfaction.  Believe it or not, even the visual effects are far from terrible, though still mired in typical Star Trek cheese.  Couldn’t they find decent model builders by now?

The Klingon judicial system: a model of legal efficiency.

Unfortunately what gets sacrificed here, as with some of the other movies, are the characters.  Most of Kirk’s intrepid crew is reduced to goggle-eyed stares at the viewscreen or groan-worthy one-liners.  The story here is about Kirk, and to a lesser degree, Bones and Spock, and unlike Voyage Home no one else is given any significant contributions to the story.  It’s an unfitting sendoff for Sulu, Uhura, and of course Scotty, but given the high quality of the movie as a whole these character missteps are somewhat forgivable.

Few movie series ever make it to their sixth iteration, and those that do are mostly content to cash in on trends, following the same regurgitated storylines all the way to the bank. But rather than churn out a halfway decent film destined for the VHS bargain bin, Meyer and his crew gave Undiscovered Country all they had and put effort into crafting a work that respects the source material while offering an incredibly pleasing finale to the journey begun by Gene Roddenberry more than three decades earlier.

Rating:****½ (4.5/5)

Things begin with a bit of promise, as all the trappings of classic science fiction are present and accounted for:  Mysterious Distant Planet? Check. Strange aliens? Check. Hints at a violent struggle–a system to be overthrown–and an allegorical savior figure, check.  We then meet our intrepid Captain James Kirk (affably played, as always, by the great William Shatner), free-climbing mountains in Yosemite with all the fervor a post-middle-aged guy can muster, and soon find and his pal Bones (DeForest Kelley) him teaching Spock (Leonard Nimoy) how to sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat around a campfire.  It’s a tad endearing, and all in all not a bad start for the film.

Good advice, Shatner...

It’s not long before things spiral hopelessly out of control, with Starfleet sending Kirk and his aging crew off to the aforementioned Distant Planet to figure out what is going on with Sybok, the man who has taken over the only settlement on the planet.  Why Starfleet would send Kirk on a dangerous mission with a brand new Enterprise that is clearly not ready for a trip around the block, much less across the galaxy, is the first of many such asteroid-sized plot holes in the movie that is just too big to overlook.  Sybok, no doubt cribbing from a few self-help books, persuades all of Kirk’s loyal companions to follow him and turn against their fearless captain.  With the flip of a couple switches, the Enterprise gallivants off to the mythical Great Barrier at the center of the galaxy all because Sybok thinks he will get to have tea with the Almighty. Turns out the mythical Great Barrier is a) about five minutes away, and b) about as impenetrable as a kleenex, meaning Sybok and company sail right through as easily as if they were heading off to Risa for a cup of earl gray.

The final showdown with God has all the drama of a middle school play, but it does give Shatner a chance to ask one of the great questions that has plagued mankind since the dawn of time:

Meantime, those darn Klingons keep causing trouble (wouldn’t you if Kirk had blown up your starship two movies earlier?), and the fabled Enterprise crew is reduced to uttering one-line expositions while staring blankly at the bridge viewscreen.  The movie is an exercise in futility, and the special effects are as cheesy as a jar of Velveeta (though to be fair, this wasn’t entirely Shatner’s fault).  Even though a few lighthearted and genuinely entertaining bits are scattered here and there, it’s like having to sidestep piles of horse manure to pick up some candy at a parade.  As Kirk and his bros enter into a reprise “Row Row Row Your Boat” to close out the film, the best we can do is wish that the film would have also been left ‘but a dream.

Rating:*~~~~ (1/5)

Warning: this review most likely contains spoilers, depending on how much of the show you have seen. Read at your own risk…

The second season of everyone’s favorite Gilligan’s Island-meets-The Matrix drama left off with several unexplained questions and one doozy of a cliffhanger.  And though Season 3 addresses a precious few of the lingering issues, by the end we are left with even more unexplained riddles and lingering problems.  So much so that the show begins to walk a fine line between engaging drama and self-parody, as the near-ridiculous heights to which the drama gets ratcheted are sometimes too outlandish to be taken seriously.  But through it all is a solid yarn of character-based dramatic storytelling that keeps things from spinning entirely out of control, and keeps the interest level high enough to hold the interest of even the most impatient of viewers.

Whereas the first season was mostly exposition, introducing us to the characters, their backstories, and the island, the second season went a great deal farther into what was actually happening on the island.  We were introduced to the Dharma Initiative, the Hatch, the Others, and the mystery behind characters like the french woman was swept away.  But Season 3 takes things in a different direction, as the group of survivors is now fragmented physically as well as interpersonally.  Sawyer, Jack, and Kate are imprisoned by the Others, and the rest of the Oceanic 815 survivors get by as best they can without their leader while also trying to rescue their friends.  Much of the first several episodes deal with the Others, who become much more humanized and less like faceless evildoers.  In fact, if there is a theme to Season 3 it would be the pulling back of the curtain, as some of the mysteries about the Others are found to have perfectly normal and rational explanations.  Even the mysterious smoke monster becomes more understandable, and we learn of its limitations as well.

John Locke, not taking "no" for an answer.

One reason the series has always worked well is that the dramatic tension is a natural extension of the characters and their situations.  In Season 1, we wanted to know who these people were and how they were going to survive.  Season 2 furthers this idea by introducing new conflicts and revealing more about larger issues like the Dharma Initiative.  But Season 3, partly due to the compressed time frame (the events of the entire season only span a few weeks’ time on the island), tends to fall back on some relatively cheap 24-like tactics to hold viewer interest.  Watching Jack engage in yet another shouting match with Ben, or having an endless stream of people being held at gunpoint unless so-and-so does such-and-such, or ending episodes with cheap cliffhangers tends to deviate from the spirit of the show.  It’s not bad, just unnecessary, and possibly a response to somewhat downward trends in ratings too. (The first episode of Season 3 had almost 19 million viewers.  By the end it was down to just under 14 million.)  What is a travesty, though, is the killing off of some characters, both long- and short-term, that started near the end of Season 2 and continues here as well.  Killing off a beloved individual just to up the ratings or stymie a case of writer’s block is cheap, and it’s sad to see Lost treading down this path.

One of the biggest issues I have with the show is how characters just never give a straight answer to anything.  It seems as though many of the conflicts, problems, and deaths could be easily avoided if Ben and his friends sat down with Jack and the survivors and calmly explained what in the world was going on.  Even the most simplest of questions are met with enigmatic answers followed by a quick fade to the title card or a commercial break.  I still trust that the writers know what they are doing, but there are a couple times when it seems like the reason Jack or Sawyer can’t get a straight answer out of Ben or Juliet is because the show creators don’t even know what’s going on.

Remember Hurley's all-important "numbers" from Season 2? Neither do the writers of the show...

However, when the show gets it right, it really gets it right.  Ben emerges as one of the more complex and characters in recent television, and the exploration of what is really going on with the island becomes thoroughly compelling. Character flashbacks continue to add new levels of depth to Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Hurley, and the rest of the core gang, and Desmond’s penchant for predictions is pretty potent as well.  There is even one character who kicks the bucket right at the bitter end, but in a meaningful and perhaps even inspirational fashion.  The budget is clearly bigger than ever before too, which means we are treated to grandiose sets, large explosions, and a lot more sheer grandeur than before.  The downside to all this?  Some characters are left behind, and by the end of the season if we didn’t have the occasional group shot to remind us of the 40-odd people on the island, one would think the survivors were limited solely to a mere handful of misplaced good-looking mid-20′s SoHo dwellers.

Lost is still one of the best shows on TV, and its rich blend of science fiction, drama, and mystery remain almost as compelling as ever.  But a few cracks are beginning to show around the seams by the end of Season 3, and I just hope things improve a little for the next go-round.

Rating:****~ (4/5)

Rating: ****~ (4/5)

The crew returns for another season of outer space escapades.

The first incarnation of Star Trek, though its opening credits had a voiceover with William Shatner extolling the “five-year mission” of the ship, only lasted three seasons.  The first Star Trek movie barely made it off the ground, so to speak, but was popular enough to spawn a multitude of sequels (some of questionable quality).  Star Trek: The Next Generation revitalized the ailing franchise, though, and became the most popular syndicated television show of its time.  Its spinoffs, devoid of the imagination and human insight of Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, foundered in concepts as well as ratings.  Deep Space Nine and Voyager were interesting, the former being much better in its twilight years than many people give it credit for, but too often relied on tired clichés and political wranglings set in motion by Jean-Luc Picard and company.

Enterprise aimed to reboot the series in the minds of fans as well as the general public, and spent its first two seasons adrift in a sea of high-minded but poorly-executed storylines that tried to capture the outrageously science fiction, yet uniquely human, essence of the original show.  Mediocre conflicts with Souliban, Vulcan, Klingon, and numerous other alien species, a smattering of half-baked character backstories, and a few ship-in-peril episodes thrown in for good measure, weren’t enough to raise the show to more than a mere curiosity for most Trek fans, and a last-resort DVR viewing for everyone else.

With season 3 of Enterprise, the creators must have smelled a bit of lemon on their hands, as they threw everything from the first two seasons to the wind and launched the ship, and the series, in a whole new direction (literally and figuratively) while setting up an Earth-in-peril plotline of epic proportions that spanned the entire season.  And while I applaud the minds behind the show for trying something new and different (effectively going for a fouth-down conversion on Enterprise’s own 10-yard line), the end result is another just-beyond-mediocre chapter of a show that once carried so much promise.

Xindi come in five flavors, two of which are named "Insectoid" and "Aquatic." Can you guess which is which?

The season begins with earth being attacked by an entirely heretofore unknown race called the Xindi.  A small probe burns a wide channel in Earth’s crust from Florida down to Argentina, killing 7 million people in the process.  Enterprise, having arrived back on Earth at the end of Season 2, is sent into the also heretofore unknown region of space called the Delphic Expanse–a stellar Bermuda Triangle of sorts from which no Vulcan ship has ever come back intact–to investigate the probe’s origins and stop any further destruction.

We soon find out that the probe was sent by the Xindi because they believe earth is going to be responsible for destroying their planet at some point in the future.  As such, all five species of Xindi band together to plan a pre-emptive strike against the humans, and ultimately ensure their own survival by constructing a giant circular weapon to blow up our planet.  The probe, you see, was merely a foretaste of the Xindi feast to come.

It’s clear that Rick Berman and Brannon Braga, the minds behind this as well as much of the other Trek spinoffs, had lofty goals in mind here.  And I appreciate the epic nature of what they are trying to do:  send Enterprise on a thousand-to-one-odds mission, into an uncharted region of space, to stop the planet from being annihilated.  But that sort of paper-thin cocktail napkin premise requires a massive amount of story in order to span an entire season, and too often the result is a plot that is mired in strange twists and deus-ex-machina resolutions that stretch the limits of credibility.  Even the basic idea seems like something out of an Austin Powers movie:  an megalomaniac wants to blow up the planet, and it’s up to one man ship to stop it.  Pardon me while I yawn.

Death Star? Borg ship from First Contact? No, this is WAY different. It's a "Xindi Superweapon." Guess what it does? It destroys planets!

Still, the season does have its high points, and I must give credit where credit is due.  “Twilight” hearkens to one of the best episodes of any TV show ever, “The Inner Light,” and does a good job of showcasing the type of alternate-reality future that often goes over well in Trek mythology.  I appreciate the character development given to T’pol, as she struggles with a loss of emotional control through an addiction to a psychoactive chemical, but her romantic relationship with Trip is about as forced and unbelievable as they come.  “Similitude” and “Hatchery” delve into some moral choices that are the hallmark of good science fiction,  and E2 reminds me of one of the best TNG episodes, “Yesterday’s Enterprise” in both concept and execution.

What’s missing throughout this season, though, is the same thing that’s been missing since the inception of Enterprise: characterization.  After more than 70 episodes of the show, I still don’t have much of an idea of who these spacefaring crew members really are.  Hoshi continues to brandish her superpower of language translation whenever it’s required.  Mayweather dutifully embodies the straight-faced version of his Galaxy Quest counterpart Tommy Webber, but nobody told Mayweather that his counterpart was meant to be a caricature.  The list continues, and few characters are ever lifted beyond the base level of cardboard cutout.  One 20-minute episode of Arrested Development has more personality than the entire Season 3 of Enterprise, largely because these individuals exist as jobs that need individuals (“Weapons Officer,” “Engineer“) as opposed to individuals (“Smart but socially akward guy“, “Charismatic womanizer,” “Brilliant, overworked widow“) who hold given positions on the ship.

T'Pol also gets some decent character development, but it feels a bit too contrived.

Some attempts to flesh out these people are made, the most notable being Trip as he deals with his sister’s death at the hand of the Xindi when the probe attacked earth, and later, in an inexplicable breach of established characterization, falls in love with T’pol, as if to fulfil a “Show needs more romance” checkbox on a focus group feedback form. But most of the series is riddled with one-off attempts at characterization that exist in isolated episodes rather than being woven into the fabric of the show as a whole.

The ideas that show up throught Season 3 are impressive:  giant spheres constructed milennia ago that cause gravometric distortions throughout the Delphic Expanse, the various political wranglings of the five distinct Xindi species, and the moral choices that must be made by Captain Archer get into some pretty heavy territory. But too often the show sacrifices the essence of Science Fiction on the altar of fanciful CGI effects.

Here’s hoping the best for Season 4.

Rating: ***~~ (3/5)