While watching “Elementary Dear Data”, I had an image in my head of a driver waking up with a start to realize that he’s fallen asleep at the wheel, and is plowing through shrubs and about to drive into a family’s dining room while they enjoy a roast. He grabs the wheel, acts quickly, and manages to barely avoid disaster. This episode follows the same path. The beginning is a disaster, filled with the overacting and lazy dialogue that characterized season 1. Fortunately, guest star Daniel Davis stepped in, slapped everyone involved off-camera right in the face (I assume), and righted the ship.
Once again, we have an episode that features the dangers of a malfunctioning holodeck. Once again, we see Data clamping his teeth around the pipe of Doyle’s iconic detective. Once again, we have Pulaski being super condescending and racist towards Data. These are not ingredients that lead to a positive result. And the first twenty minutes of this episode are genuinely terrible. Geordi calls Data to engineering, calling it urgent. This urgent business is to show Data the model ship he’s built (not an emergency, chief engineer; kinda feel it’s important that you know that), and to tell Data it’s time to go LARPing in the holodeck. They dress up, walk into 221B Baker Street, and the game is afoot! For about five seconds, because Data instantly recognizes the Holmes story they’re in and solves the mystery before Lestrade can finish introducing himself.
Geordi, not happy with Data spoiling the end of a 500 year old story, storms out of the holodeck. Data follows him to Ten-Forward (the ship's bar), where Geordi explains that the point is solving a mystery, not Data showing off his computerized photographic memory. Cue Pulaski, who feels it completely appropriate to interrupt their conversation to explain that Data’s not really intelligent, that he’s just a machine, and that he couldn’t solve a Sherlock Holmes mystery he didn’t know if his life depended on it. Instead of saying, “Holy shit, doc, that’s a fellow officer, a highly decorated one at that, and maybe knowing Data for a week isn’t enough time to inform a decision about the nature of his intelligence, especially considering that all of these other highly accomplished and experienced officers consider him not just a colleague but a friend, and maybe a racist asshole like you should drink alone in your cabin,” Geordi makes a bet with her. They go to the holodeck together, and after one failed attempt in which the computer just jams together plot points from several different Holmes stories, Geordi gets specific. He tells the computer to create a Holmes-type mystery, without using any components from existing stories, and to include an opponent capable of beating Data.
And the episode goes from shit to pretty damn cool in one line of dialogue.
See, Geordi made a critical mistake. He didn't ask for an opponent who could beat Sherlock Holmes. He asked for one who could beat Data. So, the computer, ever willing to comply, taps the entire massive computer core of the Enterprise, and infuses Dr. James Moriarty with a massive amount of intelligence and information. Moriarty, played by Daniel Davis, visibly reacts to this surge of information. In the next few moments, he abducts Pulaski, and leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to bring Data and Geordi to him. The pair still don't realize how much trouble they're in until Moriarty, quietly musing about the confusing new thoughts ricocheting around his head, hands Data a sheet of paper with a sketch on it. Data takes one look, barks for the exit, and leaves without a word, with Geordi following him in confusion and demanding to know what's wrong. Data hands him the paper, upon which is an excellent drawing of the Enterprise.
This moment is beautifully done, and genuinely shocking. Moriarty is a character created by the holodeck. The show has played a bit fast and loose with the rules involving the holodeck, but Moriarty should not be in any way aware of anything outside his world. Data assembles the senior staff to try to figure out what’s wrong, and they quickly realize that they can’t shut down the holodeck (seriously, people, circuit breakers), and that the program has deactivated the safety protocols that keep people from getting genuinely injured. As they’re speaking, the ship is jolted violently around for a few moments, and the computer informs them that control of the Enterprise’s maneuvering adjustment was temporarily shifted to the holodeck. In other words, Moriarty is learning how to take control of the ship.
Picard decides he needs to meet with Moriarty face to face, and he and Data enter the holodeck. (They both dress up, as does Worf, but Worf just waits outside. I think Michael Dorn just really wanted to play dress-up too.) Moriarty greets them with the unharmed Pulaski, and he and Picard begin to have a very frank discussion about what’s going on. Daniel Lewis is an incredibly talented actor, and he and Patrick Stewart crackle off of each other in a way we haven’t seen before on this show. In the first season, we saw how much damage a weak guest star can do to an episode in “Too Short A Season”. Here, we get to see how a relatively weak episode can be elevated to something much stronger by a guest star that really commits. Everything before Moriarty shows up is dump. Everything after he shows up is solid.
That continues in the ending. There’s no false bravado, and the episode doesn’t try to milk tension out of the scene. Moriarty knows what he is, and he wants to be more. He wants to leave the holodeck. When Picard explains that that is impossible, Moriarty accepts that, along with Picard’s promise that they will put their best people on trying to find a way to let Moriarty escape. Moriarty releases Pulaski, they save his file in active memory, and the episode draws to a close. It’s an excellent ending to an improbably entertaining episode.
Oh, and continuing on that whole idea of guest stars having a major effect on the quality of an episode? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen five words that depressed me more recently as the opening credits of “The Outrageous Okana” eagerly announcing “Joe Piscopo as The Comic!”
Once again, we have an episode that features the dangers of a malfunctioning holodeck. Once again, we see Data clamping his teeth around the pipe of Doyle’s iconic detective. Once again, we have Pulaski being super condescending and racist towards Data. These are not ingredients that lead to a positive result. And the first twenty minutes of this episode are genuinely terrible. Geordi calls Data to engineering, calling it urgent. This urgent business is to show Data the model ship he’s built (not an emergency, chief engineer; kinda feel it’s important that you know that), and to tell Data it’s time to go LARPing in the holodeck. They dress up, walk into 221B Baker Street, and the game is afoot! For about five seconds, because Data instantly recognizes the Holmes story they’re in and solves the mystery before Lestrade can finish introducing himself.
Geordi, not happy with Data spoiling the end of a 500 year old story, storms out of the holodeck. Data follows him to Ten-Forward (the ship's bar), where Geordi explains that the point is solving a mystery, not Data showing off his computerized photographic memory. Cue Pulaski, who feels it completely appropriate to interrupt their conversation to explain that Data’s not really intelligent, that he’s just a machine, and that he couldn’t solve a Sherlock Holmes mystery he didn’t know if his life depended on it. Instead of saying, “Holy shit, doc, that’s a fellow officer, a highly decorated one at that, and maybe knowing Data for a week isn’t enough time to inform a decision about the nature of his intelligence, especially considering that all of these other highly accomplished and experienced officers consider him not just a colleague but a friend, and maybe a racist asshole like you should drink alone in your cabin,” Geordi makes a bet with her. They go to the holodeck together, and after one failed attempt in which the computer just jams together plot points from several different Holmes stories, Geordi gets specific. He tells the computer to create a Holmes-type mystery, without using any components from existing stories, and to include an opponent capable of beating Data.
And the episode goes from shit to pretty damn cool in one line of dialogue.
See, Geordi made a critical mistake. He didn't ask for an opponent who could beat Sherlock Holmes. He asked for one who could beat Data. So, the computer, ever willing to comply, taps the entire massive computer core of the Enterprise, and infuses Dr. James Moriarty with a massive amount of intelligence and information. Moriarty, played by Daniel Davis, visibly reacts to this surge of information. In the next few moments, he abducts Pulaski, and leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to bring Data and Geordi to him. The pair still don't realize how much trouble they're in until Moriarty, quietly musing about the confusing new thoughts ricocheting around his head, hands Data a sheet of paper with a sketch on it. Data takes one look, barks for the exit, and leaves without a word, with Geordi following him in confusion and demanding to know what's wrong. Data hands him the paper, upon which is an excellent drawing of the Enterprise.
This moment is beautifully done, and genuinely shocking. Moriarty is a character created by the holodeck. The show has played a bit fast and loose with the rules involving the holodeck, but Moriarty should not be in any way aware of anything outside his world. Data assembles the senior staff to try to figure out what’s wrong, and they quickly realize that they can’t shut down the holodeck (seriously, people, circuit breakers), and that the program has deactivated the safety protocols that keep people from getting genuinely injured. As they’re speaking, the ship is jolted violently around for a few moments, and the computer informs them that control of the Enterprise’s maneuvering adjustment was temporarily shifted to the holodeck. In other words, Moriarty is learning how to take control of the ship.
Picard decides he needs to meet with Moriarty face to face, and he and Data enter the holodeck. (They both dress up, as does Worf, but Worf just waits outside. I think Michael Dorn just really wanted to play dress-up too.) Moriarty greets them with the unharmed Pulaski, and he and Picard begin to have a very frank discussion about what’s going on. Daniel Lewis is an incredibly talented actor, and he and Patrick Stewart crackle off of each other in a way we haven’t seen before on this show. In the first season, we saw how much damage a weak guest star can do to an episode in “Too Short A Season”. Here, we get to see how a relatively weak episode can be elevated to something much stronger by a guest star that really commits. Everything before Moriarty shows up is dump. Everything after he shows up is solid.
That continues in the ending. There’s no false bravado, and the episode doesn’t try to milk tension out of the scene. Moriarty knows what he is, and he wants to be more. He wants to leave the holodeck. When Picard explains that that is impossible, Moriarty accepts that, along with Picard’s promise that they will put their best people on trying to find a way to let Moriarty escape. Moriarty releases Pulaski, they save his file in active memory, and the episode draws to a close. It’s an excellent ending to an improbably entertaining episode.
Oh, and continuing on that whole idea of guest stars having a major effect on the quality of an episode? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen five words that depressed me more recently as the opening credits of “The Outrageous Okana” eagerly announcing “Joe Piscopo as The Comic!”
When I was a kid, I really wanted to be liked. Not popular, but liked. More specifically, I wanted to be considered funny. I wanted to be one of those people who always seems to know what to say to make the people around him laugh, to put those I’d just met at ease, and to come across as a clever and charismatic guy. The problem was, I wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t confident, so my attempts usually fell quite flat. So in one of the most misguided moments of my life, I went to the library and borrowed a book about how to be funny. Needless to say, it was a massive failure. And in that regard, the Data subplot in “The Outrageous Okana” felt very familiar to me. It’s just too bad it’s executed so poorly.
The Enterprise comes across a ship that’s having some engine trouble. Picard hails the ship, and they meet the single crew member: Okana, an affable and roguish captain that quickly charms the hell out of everyone on the bridge. A part of Okana’s ship is busted, and as part of their mission to spread happiness and joy across the galaxy, Picard and company offer to beam Okana aboard while they fix his shit. Okana is an instant hit, not least with the female members of the crew (including a guest starring Teri Hatcher, who’s sporting some truly baffling 80s hair). At one point, there’s a suggestion that Okana has fucked at least three crew members, and Worf has to nearly physically drag him from one female officer’s cabin.
Okana is played by William O. Campbell, who was in the running to play William Riker. Apparently, the show's crew loved his personality, but worried that he didn’t have enough of a hard edge to play Riker. Campbell has a lot of fun in this part, creating a strange yet entertaining blend of Han Solo and Barney Stinson, and it’s certainly never indicated that anyone begrudges his attentions.
Unfortunately, two ships from nearby rival planets soon arrive, and each is demanding Okana’s head. The first ship is commanded by Debin from the planet Atlec, who is furious that Okana apparently knocked up his daughter. The second ship is commanded by Kushell from the planet Straleb, who is accompanied by his son and wants Okana turned over for stealing their version of the crown jewels. They both puff their chests and make a lot of loud bombastic demands, but neither of their ships is a threat to the Enterprise, and Picard has a lot of fun rolling his eyes and giving them a Shakespearean-level “eat shit” look.
Eventually, Picard brings Debin and his daughter, as well as Kushell and his son, over to the Enterprise to sort the whole mess out. As it turns out, Okana’s only crime was acting as a pilot bringing Kushell’s son to romance Debin’s daughter. Kushell’s son proposes using the jewels he entrusted to Okana’s care, and everyone is happy. Okana goes on his merry way with a wink and a charming quip, and the Enterprise warps away, off to the next adventure.
Oh, and Data decides he wants to learn to be funny, and the writers promptly try to make every viewer commit suicide by having Joe Piscopo teach Data to do a Jerry Lewis impression.
Look, this makes sense in a lot of ways. Okana is so instantly likable and charming that Data, who is on a never-ending quest to discover his own humanity, immediately recognizes the ease in which the man makes people around him laugh. He decides to talk to Guinan about humor, and she offers him some guidance, suggesting he utilize the holodeck to practice telling jokes. He goes to the holodeck, practices with a recreation of a comic that the computer insists is one of the funniest in history (we’ll get back to that), but still bombs when he tells one of the jokes for Guinan. In the end, she reassures him that being able to make people laugh is not the be-all, end-all of being human, and that’s it.
That’s not a terrible idea for this subplot. Humor is one of the defining traits of humanity, and the concept of Data exploring that is worthwhile. But it’s handled so fucking badly. Guinan tells a joke to Data, and when he doesn’t laugh, tells him he was wrong not to do so, and that the joke was funny. It wasn’t. (“You’re a droid, and I’m a noid!” Yup, that’s the joke that proves Data’s humor is broken when he doesn’t bust a goddamn gut at that gem.) The holodeck insists that Joe Piscopo is one of the funniest comedians in history, which makes me want to blow up the holodeck. Even if Piscopo was funny (he isn’t), the cast has access to Whoopi Goldberg, who, at the time this was produced, was one of the most popular stand-up comedians in the world. But instead, they go for the bro version of Jay Leno, who tells Data that a briefcase shaped like a fish is funny, has him put in a set of rubber buck teeth, and stomps around on stage with Data doing a fucking Jerry Lewis impression. It’s painful on so many levels, and wrecks the episode.
Honestly, though, I’m starting to realize something. In the course of its run, TNG did a lot of things well. But I don’t believe the writers, producers, directors, or anyone else ever figured out one simple truth, a truth I learned when the book I got from the library didn’t transform me overnight into the slapstick king of Mount Logan Middle School. The harder you try to be funny, the less funny you actually are. TNG was great at drama, action, suspense, and philosophy at various moments throughout its run, but it wasn’t a funny show, and every time it insisted that it was, I want to beat the show up and take its lunch money.
A few other things:
Next time, I take a look at two episodes, “Loud As A Whisper” and “The Schizoid Man,” which I have no recollection of whatsoever. Zero. I read the summary on Amazon Video, and still don’t recognize either. Juliette Vincent gave me a quick rundown as well, and still nothing. Hmmm. That might be a bad sign.
- Dietrich Stogner
The Enterprise comes across a ship that’s having some engine trouble. Picard hails the ship, and they meet the single crew member: Okana, an affable and roguish captain that quickly charms the hell out of everyone on the bridge. A part of Okana’s ship is busted, and as part of their mission to spread happiness and joy across the galaxy, Picard and company offer to beam Okana aboard while they fix his shit. Okana is an instant hit, not least with the female members of the crew (including a guest starring Teri Hatcher, who’s sporting some truly baffling 80s hair). At one point, there’s a suggestion that Okana has fucked at least three crew members, and Worf has to nearly physically drag him from one female officer’s cabin.
Okana is played by William O. Campbell, who was in the running to play William Riker. Apparently, the show's crew loved his personality, but worried that he didn’t have enough of a hard edge to play Riker. Campbell has a lot of fun in this part, creating a strange yet entertaining blend of Han Solo and Barney Stinson, and it’s certainly never indicated that anyone begrudges his attentions.
Unfortunately, two ships from nearby rival planets soon arrive, and each is demanding Okana’s head. The first ship is commanded by Debin from the planet Atlec, who is furious that Okana apparently knocked up his daughter. The second ship is commanded by Kushell from the planet Straleb, who is accompanied by his son and wants Okana turned over for stealing their version of the crown jewels. They both puff their chests and make a lot of loud bombastic demands, but neither of their ships is a threat to the Enterprise, and Picard has a lot of fun rolling his eyes and giving them a Shakespearean-level “eat shit” look.
Eventually, Picard brings Debin and his daughter, as well as Kushell and his son, over to the Enterprise to sort the whole mess out. As it turns out, Okana’s only crime was acting as a pilot bringing Kushell’s son to romance Debin’s daughter. Kushell’s son proposes using the jewels he entrusted to Okana’s care, and everyone is happy. Okana goes on his merry way with a wink and a charming quip, and the Enterprise warps away, off to the next adventure.
Oh, and Data decides he wants to learn to be funny, and the writers promptly try to make every viewer commit suicide by having Joe Piscopo teach Data to do a Jerry Lewis impression.
Look, this makes sense in a lot of ways. Okana is so instantly likable and charming that Data, who is on a never-ending quest to discover his own humanity, immediately recognizes the ease in which the man makes people around him laugh. He decides to talk to Guinan about humor, and she offers him some guidance, suggesting he utilize the holodeck to practice telling jokes. He goes to the holodeck, practices with a recreation of a comic that the computer insists is one of the funniest in history (we’ll get back to that), but still bombs when he tells one of the jokes for Guinan. In the end, she reassures him that being able to make people laugh is not the be-all, end-all of being human, and that’s it.
That’s not a terrible idea for this subplot. Humor is one of the defining traits of humanity, and the concept of Data exploring that is worthwhile. But it’s handled so fucking badly. Guinan tells a joke to Data, and when he doesn’t laugh, tells him he was wrong not to do so, and that the joke was funny. It wasn’t. (“You’re a droid, and I’m a noid!” Yup, that’s the joke that proves Data’s humor is broken when he doesn’t bust a goddamn gut at that gem.) The holodeck insists that Joe Piscopo is one of the funniest comedians in history, which makes me want to blow up the holodeck. Even if Piscopo was funny (he isn’t), the cast has access to Whoopi Goldberg, who, at the time this was produced, was one of the most popular stand-up comedians in the world. But instead, they go for the bro version of Jay Leno, who tells Data that a briefcase shaped like a fish is funny, has him put in a set of rubber buck teeth, and stomps around on stage with Data doing a fucking Jerry Lewis impression. It’s painful on so many levels, and wrecks the episode.
Honestly, though, I’m starting to realize something. In the course of its run, TNG did a lot of things well. But I don’t believe the writers, producers, directors, or anyone else ever figured out one simple truth, a truth I learned when the book I got from the library didn’t transform me overnight into the slapstick king of Mount Logan Middle School. The harder you try to be funny, the less funny you actually are. TNG was great at drama, action, suspense, and philosophy at various moments throughout its run, but it wasn’t a funny show, and every time it insisted that it was, I want to beat the show up and take its lunch money.
A few other things:
- Again, the episode glosses over the fact that the holodeck can apparently create a self-aware, intelligent consciousness with one misspoken verbal command. That’s kind of a terrifying concept. Are the other characters self-aware? Do they realize that they’ve been brought into existence for the sole purpose of being the playthings of the crew, until they are dismissed into oblivion with a casual verbal command? Yeah, the holodeck is kind of fucked up.
- There’s an amazing moment where Picard sends Worf to drag Okana to the bridge, and Okana, not happy about being interrupted in flagrante dilecto steps to Worf, silently challenging him. Worf’s response is to snarl, and quietly say, “I would love to, but I have my orders.” Cool scene, but I did have a moment where I thought Worf was saying that he’d totally like to bone down with Okana. I’m not sure which version I like better.
Next time, I take a look at two episodes, “Loud As A Whisper” and “The Schizoid Man,” which I have no recollection of whatsoever. Zero. I read the summary on Amazon Video, and still don’t recognize either. Juliette Vincent gave me a quick rundown as well, and still nothing. Hmmm. That might be a bad sign.
- Dietrich Stogner
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