“The Icarus Factor” is nowhere near as bad as some of this show’s episodes. “Code of Honor” still holds my bottom spot of the series to date, and the intro of this season was truly abysmal (“The Child”). But there’s now a difference. We’ve seen this cast and crew start to come into their own with the stories they’re telling. “Loud as a Whisper” and “A Matter of Honor” are wonderful, entertaining episodes, and “Measure of a Man” demonstrates that this show has the tools necessary to produce genuinely outstanding hours of television. That’s why I despised “The Icarus Factor” as much as I did. At this point, we know these people can do better. I’m okay with an episode not working because the writers swing and miss at an ambitious goal. I’m not okay with lazy, amateurish writing.
The foul taste in my mouth began with the episode's opening, in which Picard gets to give Riker some good news. The captain of the USS Aries is retiring, and Starfleet has selected Riker to take his place. Here’s the problem right off the bat: We know Riker won’t take the posting. He’s a main character, the season still has a dozen episodes in it, and if the show wanted to get rid of him, they’d most likely go for a more ambitious method. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. TV writers all the time have to introduce conflicts with a known outcome, but it means that the journey from point A to point B has to justify the conflict, because the resolution is a foregone conclusion. But “The Icarus Factor” uses this never-going-to-happen promotion as a MacGuffin, a pointless tool whose only purpose is to get Riker’s dad on board the Enterprise.
Riker’s father arrives as a civilian advisor, there ostensibly to brief his son on the mission of the USS Aries. Kyle Riker is confident, easygoing, and apparently has a romantic history with Pulaski. It’s not made clear why he and his son don’t get along (although the show wastes no time demonstrating Riker’s distaste for being around his father), but it’s not out of nowhere; earlier episodes have hinted at Riker’s difficult upbringing. So far, so good. Family strife can work fairly well in shows like this, illustrating that this universe exists as a place in which people have lives and histories that stretch outside the limited scope of the episodes.
But this is just bad. The dialogue between Riker and his father reads like a middle school skit about parents who just don’t understand, and neither of them come across looking particularly impressive. The episode is full of characters shoving their way into this conflict, then offering nothing but dime-store platitudes and empty advice. Troi thinks Kyle needs to listen to his son, which is not exactly the kind of vibrant insight you’d expect from a PhD psychologist with psychic abilities. Pulaski tries to convince Riker that his dad is cool because he was at a base that got attacked, and didn’t die because he had too much strength of will. Ummm… okay? Does that mean that the others who died were just spineless cowards?
There really isn’t any one particular failure in this episode that breaks it. I think we’re too far into this series for that. We’re (hopefully) past the days where a show doesn’t work because the fundamental idea is racist, sexist, or otherwise untenable. Instead, we have lazy writing, a meandering plot that never raises any significant stakes, and the bulk of the episode relies on two actors that don’t seem that invested in the entire thing. Jonathan Frakes spends the entire episode acting like a sullen child, but of course forgives everything before the credits roll. Kyle Riker (played by Mitchell Ryan, the sneering villain from Lethal Weapon) spends the entire episode slinking around the ship, flirting shamelessly with every woman that crosses his field of vision, and being a condescending ass to everyone else. The two circle each other like snarling dogs until the chest thumping reaches its crescendo, and they decide to meet out back by the merry-go-round for a fight.
The concept of using pugilism to let characters express and vent their anger and frustration, either at each other or at the world, is not necessarily a bad idea. It’s the foundation of every good Rocky movie, and the episode “Unfinished Business” of the Battlestar Galactica reboot is one of the highlights of the series in which the crew sets up boxing matches to let people vent their anger and frustration at each other. But “The Icarus Factor” eschews any interesting dynamic in the Anbo Jitsu ring in favor of something childish and silly. Anbo Jitsu, which Kyle bombastically proclaims is “the ultimate evolution of martial arts”, involves the two Rikers strapping on garishly colored hockey pads, covering their eyes with a plastic helmet that blinds them, and waving giant Q-tips at each other while occasionally bellowing Japanese words. It’s absurd, and even if there was any meaningful dialogue or character interaction during this “fight”, it would be lost against the background of this idiotic match.
Fortunately, there’s no need to be concerned. While swinging padded sticks wildly at one another, they hiss accusations from behind their blindfold, revealing the truth of their animosity. Riker’s mom died when he was young, and his dad was super sad and didn’t help him through it enough. That’s it. Oh, and Riker figures out that all the times his dad beat him at Future LARP fighting, he was using a maneuver that is illegal (according to the Anbo Jitsu Tournament rules, I guess?). So his dad’s a cheat. Anyway, that’s enough to make them like each other again. If you’re reading this saying, “Wait, that makes no sense,” you understand what it’s like to watch this episode. The pair hug it out in the transporter room before Kyle Riker beams away, never to be seen or mentioned again, and Riker decides not to take the captain spot on the other ship.
Oh, yeah, there’s a B-plot where Worf is really cranky, Wesley figures out that it’s his birthday and he’s sad because there aren’t other Klingons around to hit him with pain sticks, so they simulate a gauntlet of angry Klingons to jab Worf repeatedly with agony-inducing cattle prods while he yells about how honorable he is. It’s actually pretty good, and has some interesting discussion of respecting and supporting cultural norms even if they seem horrifying to us as humans, but it’s lost among the whiny Riker showcase. So, yeah.
A few other thoughts:
The foul taste in my mouth began with the episode's opening, in which Picard gets to give Riker some good news. The captain of the USS Aries is retiring, and Starfleet has selected Riker to take his place. Here’s the problem right off the bat: We know Riker won’t take the posting. He’s a main character, the season still has a dozen episodes in it, and if the show wanted to get rid of him, they’d most likely go for a more ambitious method. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. TV writers all the time have to introduce conflicts with a known outcome, but it means that the journey from point A to point B has to justify the conflict, because the resolution is a foregone conclusion. But “The Icarus Factor” uses this never-going-to-happen promotion as a MacGuffin, a pointless tool whose only purpose is to get Riker’s dad on board the Enterprise.
Riker’s father arrives as a civilian advisor, there ostensibly to brief his son on the mission of the USS Aries. Kyle Riker is confident, easygoing, and apparently has a romantic history with Pulaski. It’s not made clear why he and his son don’t get along (although the show wastes no time demonstrating Riker’s distaste for being around his father), but it’s not out of nowhere; earlier episodes have hinted at Riker’s difficult upbringing. So far, so good. Family strife can work fairly well in shows like this, illustrating that this universe exists as a place in which people have lives and histories that stretch outside the limited scope of the episodes.
But this is just bad. The dialogue between Riker and his father reads like a middle school skit about parents who just don’t understand, and neither of them come across looking particularly impressive. The episode is full of characters shoving their way into this conflict, then offering nothing but dime-store platitudes and empty advice. Troi thinks Kyle needs to listen to his son, which is not exactly the kind of vibrant insight you’d expect from a PhD psychologist with psychic abilities. Pulaski tries to convince Riker that his dad is cool because he was at a base that got attacked, and didn’t die because he had too much strength of will. Ummm… okay? Does that mean that the others who died were just spineless cowards?
There really isn’t any one particular failure in this episode that breaks it. I think we’re too far into this series for that. We’re (hopefully) past the days where a show doesn’t work because the fundamental idea is racist, sexist, or otherwise untenable. Instead, we have lazy writing, a meandering plot that never raises any significant stakes, and the bulk of the episode relies on two actors that don’t seem that invested in the entire thing. Jonathan Frakes spends the entire episode acting like a sullen child, but of course forgives everything before the credits roll. Kyle Riker (played by Mitchell Ryan, the sneering villain from Lethal Weapon) spends the entire episode slinking around the ship, flirting shamelessly with every woman that crosses his field of vision, and being a condescending ass to everyone else. The two circle each other like snarling dogs until the chest thumping reaches its crescendo, and they decide to meet out back by the merry-go-round for a fight.
The concept of using pugilism to let characters express and vent their anger and frustration, either at each other or at the world, is not necessarily a bad idea. It’s the foundation of every good Rocky movie, and the episode “Unfinished Business” of the Battlestar Galactica reboot is one of the highlights of the series in which the crew sets up boxing matches to let people vent their anger and frustration at each other. But “The Icarus Factor” eschews any interesting dynamic in the Anbo Jitsu ring in favor of something childish and silly. Anbo Jitsu, which Kyle bombastically proclaims is “the ultimate evolution of martial arts”, involves the two Rikers strapping on garishly colored hockey pads, covering their eyes with a plastic helmet that blinds them, and waving giant Q-tips at each other while occasionally bellowing Japanese words. It’s absurd, and even if there was any meaningful dialogue or character interaction during this “fight”, it would be lost against the background of this idiotic match.
Fortunately, there’s no need to be concerned. While swinging padded sticks wildly at one another, they hiss accusations from behind their blindfold, revealing the truth of their animosity. Riker’s mom died when he was young, and his dad was super sad and didn’t help him through it enough. That’s it. Oh, and Riker figures out that all the times his dad beat him at Future LARP fighting, he was using a maneuver that is illegal (according to the Anbo Jitsu Tournament rules, I guess?). So his dad’s a cheat. Anyway, that’s enough to make them like each other again. If you’re reading this saying, “Wait, that makes no sense,” you understand what it’s like to watch this episode. The pair hug it out in the transporter room before Kyle Riker beams away, never to be seen or mentioned again, and Riker decides not to take the captain spot on the other ship.
Oh, yeah, there’s a B-plot where Worf is really cranky, Wesley figures out that it’s his birthday and he’s sad because there aren’t other Klingons around to hit him with pain sticks, so they simulate a gauntlet of angry Klingons to jab Worf repeatedly with agony-inducing cattle prods while he yells about how honorable he is. It’s actually pretty good, and has some interesting discussion of respecting and supporting cultural norms even if they seem horrifying to us as humans, but it’s lost among the whiny Riker showcase. So, yeah.
A few other thoughts:
- Pulaski is actually much better in this episode. She doesn’t act like an ass towards Data, she has some of the only interactions with Kyle Riker that are interesting, and she encourages and supports Worf in the Rite of Ascension (the aforementioned birthday party of agony). She’s kind of beginning to grow on me.
- While trying to figure out why Worf is cranky, Data approaches him in Ten-Forward, only to have Worf nearly tear his head off. It’s a bit odd, especially when you consider that Data’s his commanding officer. Maybe Ten-Forward is a “leave rank at the door” kind of place.
- The Enterprise has a dedicated room for Anbo Jitsu. That’s really, really depressing, but thankfully never comes up again.
So, let’s talk about the Prime Directive.
Ever since the original series, the Prime Directive has been one of the fundamental rules of the Star Trek universe. Considering the years that TOS aired, it’s hard not to look at the Prime Directive as Gene Roddenberry and company’s direct criticism of US foreign policy, particularly in regards to Vietnam. The Prime Directive was spelled out in the TOS episode “The Return of the Archons”, and essentially clarifies that the Federation is not permitted to interfere in the natural development of an alien species. It’s a philosophical argument stating that when a more superior culture interferes with a less developed culture, no matter how well-intended, the results are going to be disastrous.
The Prime Directive has already been the focus of several episodes, most of them fairly terrible (“Code of Honor”, “Justice”), and part of the reason is that it’s still very much an abstract philosophy. Without a concrete example of what kind of damage can be done when it’s violated, we never really have a sense of consequence beyond, “You’ll get in trouble for breaking the rules.” It’s one thing to promise the audience that the Prime Directive is super important, but you have to show why that is. A few episodes have explored this, most notably “Patterns of Force” from TOS (Nazi planet!), and “Too Short A Season” from season one. But in both of these cases, the original interference was malicious (creating a fascist regime, and dealing arms to warring factions, respectively). If the Prime Directive is going to be an absolute, it needs to be shown that even well-intentioned interference is going to be disastrous. The biggest flaw with an episode like “Pen Pals” is that those consequences are never made clear.
The Enterprise is exploring a system of planets that, for some unknown reason, keep being torn apart due to geological instability. Early in the episode, the senior staff get together to discuss the possibility of putting Wesley in charge of the planetary geological surveys. It’s a strange moment, and the decision doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. If the entire mission is focused on learning why these planets are going kablooie from geological stress, that would place the success or failure of the mission on the shoulders of a pretend ensign. In any event, Wesley’s put in charge of a team of grown, qualified officers (sure), and spends the bulk of the episode seeking command advice from everyone that doesn’t run the other way when they see him coming. It’s not particularly interesting. Fortunately, that is very much the B-plot of this episode.
While the Enterprise is poking around this system, Data picks up a transmission from one of the more stable worlds. A young girl transmits the question, “Is anyone out there?”, and Data responds, “Yes.” As he explains to Picard, Data then spent the next few months conversing with the young girl, named Sarjenka. (It’s a long survey mission, people.) Sarjenka doesn’t know that Data’s from another species, which is a good thing, because Sarjenka’s people think they’re alone in the universe. Their ham radio conversations aren’t technically violating the Prime Directive, but Sarjenka is now telling Data that they’re having earthquakes, and Data has realized that her planet is preparing to tear itself apart. Picard sympathizes, but realizes they’re now in dangerous territory, and orders Data to ghost the girl, cutting off all communication.
After asking for help from everyone, Wesley overcomes a command conflict (he wants a scan, one of his team members whines that it’ll be hard, Wesley whines for a bit and eventually still wants the scan, CHARACTER GROWTH) and figures out what’s causing the planets to go boom. Even better, they figure out a way they might be able to fix it. This coincides with a meeting of the senior staff in Picard’s quarters, in which they debate whether or not they should help Sarjenko. It’s an interesting debate, echoing the ideas of strict interpretation or a fluid reading of the law, but ends with Picard deciding that the Prime Directive stands, and that they have no choice but to let Sarjenko die. He orders Data to delete the frequency, and when Data goes to do so, the entire senior staff gets to hear this adorable girl pleading for Data to come back, that she’s scared. The room goes silent, and Picard changes his mind.
This is where the episode breaks for me. Either the Prime Directive is an established and proven necessity, a bulwark against well-meaning people causing irreversible damage through good intentions, or it is a flexible policy that captains can disregard at their leisure. If it’s the former, Picard has the duty to ignore Sarjenko, warp off to their next mission, and live with the consequences of this inviolate rule. If it’s the former, the entire debate is cruel and callous, and they shouldn’t be arguing whether or not to save the life of a child. By deciding to cut Sarjenko off, but changing his mind because she sounds really frightened, the decision - and thus, the Prime Directive itself - becomes nebulous and questionable. It doesn’t work.
Data tries to get in touch with Sarjenko to tell her to go to higher ground while Wesley and his team are making the arrangements to fix the planet, but she’s not responding anymore. He asks Picard if he can beam down to find her, and Picard says yes. Again, we’re seeing the Prime Directive being treated as flexible. Data beams down, finds Sarjenko, and when the quakes start up again, he beams them both back to the Enterprise. At this point, the entire argument behind the Prime Directive is unraveling. Pulaski wipes Sarjenko’s memory, they beam her back down, and the episode ends with everyone nodding their head and agreeing that no harm had been done.
“Pen Pals” is not a terrible episode. It’s a marked improvement over the last few episodes, and the debate between the Prime Directive and the crew’s responsibility to help is philosophical Trek at its best. But this show has yet to explore the consequences of their choices in a way that shows them having to make a hard, ugly call for the greater good, and if the Prime Directive is going to carry weight in this world, that has to happen. This crew needs to feel the pain of making the right choice, even when it’s not easy, and we as the audience need to see the agony of their decisions.
A few other thoughts:
Speaking of consequences, next time the crew gets a harsh lesson from an old friend and meets a new enemy in “Q-Who”. I may do this one by itself. It’s one of the great ones.
- Dietrich Stogner
Ever since the original series, the Prime Directive has been one of the fundamental rules of the Star Trek universe. Considering the years that TOS aired, it’s hard not to look at the Prime Directive as Gene Roddenberry and company’s direct criticism of US foreign policy, particularly in regards to Vietnam. The Prime Directive was spelled out in the TOS episode “The Return of the Archons”, and essentially clarifies that the Federation is not permitted to interfere in the natural development of an alien species. It’s a philosophical argument stating that when a more superior culture interferes with a less developed culture, no matter how well-intended, the results are going to be disastrous.
The Prime Directive has already been the focus of several episodes, most of them fairly terrible (“Code of Honor”, “Justice”), and part of the reason is that it’s still very much an abstract philosophy. Without a concrete example of what kind of damage can be done when it’s violated, we never really have a sense of consequence beyond, “You’ll get in trouble for breaking the rules.” It’s one thing to promise the audience that the Prime Directive is super important, but you have to show why that is. A few episodes have explored this, most notably “Patterns of Force” from TOS (Nazi planet!), and “Too Short A Season” from season one. But in both of these cases, the original interference was malicious (creating a fascist regime, and dealing arms to warring factions, respectively). If the Prime Directive is going to be an absolute, it needs to be shown that even well-intentioned interference is going to be disastrous. The biggest flaw with an episode like “Pen Pals” is that those consequences are never made clear.
The Enterprise is exploring a system of planets that, for some unknown reason, keep being torn apart due to geological instability. Early in the episode, the senior staff get together to discuss the possibility of putting Wesley in charge of the planetary geological surveys. It’s a strange moment, and the decision doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. If the entire mission is focused on learning why these planets are going kablooie from geological stress, that would place the success or failure of the mission on the shoulders of a pretend ensign. In any event, Wesley’s put in charge of a team of grown, qualified officers (sure), and spends the bulk of the episode seeking command advice from everyone that doesn’t run the other way when they see him coming. It’s not particularly interesting. Fortunately, that is very much the B-plot of this episode.
While the Enterprise is poking around this system, Data picks up a transmission from one of the more stable worlds. A young girl transmits the question, “Is anyone out there?”, and Data responds, “Yes.” As he explains to Picard, Data then spent the next few months conversing with the young girl, named Sarjenka. (It’s a long survey mission, people.) Sarjenka doesn’t know that Data’s from another species, which is a good thing, because Sarjenka’s people think they’re alone in the universe. Their ham radio conversations aren’t technically violating the Prime Directive, but Sarjenka is now telling Data that they’re having earthquakes, and Data has realized that her planet is preparing to tear itself apart. Picard sympathizes, but realizes they’re now in dangerous territory, and orders Data to ghost the girl, cutting off all communication.
After asking for help from everyone, Wesley overcomes a command conflict (he wants a scan, one of his team members whines that it’ll be hard, Wesley whines for a bit and eventually still wants the scan, CHARACTER GROWTH) and figures out what’s causing the planets to go boom. Even better, they figure out a way they might be able to fix it. This coincides with a meeting of the senior staff in Picard’s quarters, in which they debate whether or not they should help Sarjenko. It’s an interesting debate, echoing the ideas of strict interpretation or a fluid reading of the law, but ends with Picard deciding that the Prime Directive stands, and that they have no choice but to let Sarjenko die. He orders Data to delete the frequency, and when Data goes to do so, the entire senior staff gets to hear this adorable girl pleading for Data to come back, that she’s scared. The room goes silent, and Picard changes his mind.
This is where the episode breaks for me. Either the Prime Directive is an established and proven necessity, a bulwark against well-meaning people causing irreversible damage through good intentions, or it is a flexible policy that captains can disregard at their leisure. If it’s the former, Picard has the duty to ignore Sarjenko, warp off to their next mission, and live with the consequences of this inviolate rule. If it’s the former, the entire debate is cruel and callous, and they shouldn’t be arguing whether or not to save the life of a child. By deciding to cut Sarjenko off, but changing his mind because she sounds really frightened, the decision - and thus, the Prime Directive itself - becomes nebulous and questionable. It doesn’t work.
Data tries to get in touch with Sarjenko to tell her to go to higher ground while Wesley and his team are making the arrangements to fix the planet, but she’s not responding anymore. He asks Picard if he can beam down to find her, and Picard says yes. Again, we’re seeing the Prime Directive being treated as flexible. Data beams down, finds Sarjenko, and when the quakes start up again, he beams them both back to the Enterprise. At this point, the entire argument behind the Prime Directive is unraveling. Pulaski wipes Sarjenko’s memory, they beam her back down, and the episode ends with everyone nodding their head and agreeing that no harm had been done.
“Pen Pals” is not a terrible episode. It’s a marked improvement over the last few episodes, and the debate between the Prime Directive and the crew’s responsibility to help is philosophical Trek at its best. But this show has yet to explore the consequences of their choices in a way that shows them having to make a hard, ugly call for the greater good, and if the Prime Directive is going to carry weight in this world, that has to happen. This crew needs to feel the pain of making the right choice, even when it’s not easy, and we as the audience need to see the agony of their decisions.
A few other thoughts:
- While trying to find an earlier episode of the Star Trek franchise that demonstrated the disaster of good intentions, Juliette Vincent pointed out the brilliant TOS episode, “The City on the Edge of Forever”, written by Harlan Ellison. In this episode, Kirk and Spock go back in time, and when Kirk falls in love with a woman, he’s forced to watch her die, as interfering with the timeline has disastrous consequences for the future. THAT’S the kind of heat I’m talking about. Give me a Prime Directive episode that shows the bloody results of a Starfleet captain trying to do the right thing, and you lay a foundation for every other episode that references that rule.
- Sarjenko is cute. Painfully cute. It gets really annoying. The writers really wanted us to understand why Picard had to save her. If she was fat and annoying, that planet would be in pieces.
- If I was an experienced, commissioned officer, and was told that I had to follow the orders of an acting ensign because it was important for his education, that shit would come up with Human Resources.
Speaking of consequences, next time the crew gets a harsh lesson from an old friend and meets a new enemy in “Q-Who”. I may do this one by itself. It’s one of the great ones.
- Dietrich Stogner
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