We learn in Star Trek (2009) and Star Trek Beyond (2016) that James T. Kirk is a fan of Beastie Boys, the American hip hop band formed in 1981. In 1998, the Beastie Boys released "Intergalactic," which included the phrase "like a pinch on the neck of Mr. Spock."
This presents a continuity conundrum. How could the band have known about Mr. Spock, much less his famous nerve pinch, hundreds of years before Spock was born?
Well, in the summer of 1986, the Beastie Boys were in Oakland, California, in support of their album Licensed to Ill. Right around that same time, the senior staff of the USS Enterprise were in nearby San Francisco, having travelled back in time to bring a pair of humpback whales to the future. During their visit to the past, Kirk and Spock board a city bus and gain some notoriety when Spock silences a rude punk rocker with a nerve pinch. The other passengers clap, and shortly after, Spock says, "Admiral, may I ask you a question?"
Kirk responds, "Spock, don't call me admiral." They then proceed to have a short conversation about colourful metaphors--double dumb ass on you, and so forth.
I propose that one or more members of the Beastie Boys were on that bus and witnessed the incident, taking note of the strange attire of the one they heard called "Spock" and his friend the admiral. The amusing memory stuck with them, and they reference the event in "Intergalactic."
Young Kirk, when he first heard "Intergalactic" hundreds of years later, wouldn't have taken note of the "Spock" lyric. But when he met Spock at Starfleet Academy, I wonder if was taken aback for a moment. Probably not; after all, there were Spocks on Earth, such as Dr. Benjamin Spock. The first time Kirk saw Spock use a nerve pinch, though, must have made him wonder . . .
A predestination paradox!
Cadet Jay-Den Kraag hears a voice from on high in the fourth episode of Star Trek: Starfleet Academy, a solid hour of television that delivers a welcome update on the Klingon civilization in the post-Burn era.
Through a series of very effective flashbacks, we learn more about Jay-Den's family, including a very supportive brother who understands that Jay-Den's wish to become a healer instead of a warrior is an honourable choice--a choice that bitterly disappoints their father.
Turns out the Klingon Empire has been reduced to the Klingon Diaspora, with just a few Great Houses left of the multitude of Klingon families. Qo'nos, the Klingon homeword, was rendered uninhabitable by the Burn, and the Klingons now roam the stars in search of new homes. To make matters worse, there's been an accident involving a Klingon colony ship, one carrying, among many others, Jay-Den's parents. Their fate, and the fate of the other passengers, is initially unknown.
It hasn't been an easy task, but it turns out there's an uninhabited world in Federation space that closely replicates conditions on Qo'nos before disaster.
The Federation is happy to grant the Klingons the right to settle on this new world, but there's just one problem: Naturally, the Klingons don't take charity. As a Klingon, Jay-Den understands his culture better than anyone at the Academy, so he's in a unique position to articulate his people's positions, which dovetails nicely with this episode's main classroom activity: debate club. At first the Klingon issue is off-limits, deemed too sensitive given the events occurring in real time. But Jay-Den, who has a bad case of stage fright and hates debate club, forces the issue--and forces himself to face some of his fears.
Jay-Den's reflections on his past and some help from his fellow cadets give Jay-Den the ammunition he needs to win the Academy debates--while providing a solution to the Klingon refugee problem. In essence, Jay-Den argues that the Federation's stated claims of valuing diversity are hollow without active listening and engaging with other cultures on their own terms.
So, naturally, the only honourable choice is for the Federation to challenge the Klingon refugees into fighting over the potential New Qo'nos--a solution that came to me about five minutes into the episode, but still, kudos to the writers for setting things up this way. A brief space battle breaks out, a polite fiction that results in zero casualties but allows Klingon honour to remain intact.
I really enjoyed this episode. It gives Jay-Den some great moments, gives the Klingon species as a whole more depth, and shows quite effectively that the status quo viewers are used to from other Star Trek shows is very different in important ways. It's a breath of fresh air.
There's a really sweet cameo with Farrah Fawcett at the very end of the pilot episode of The Fall Guy, the hit action-adventure series that ran for over 100 episodes from 1981 to 1986.
Lee Majors, as stuntman Colt Seavers, performs a stunt in blonde drag, crashing a car into a bunch of watermelons. When the stunt is over, he pulls off his wig and walks up to Farrah's trailer.
"That was a great stunt, Colt."
"Anything for my leading lady," Colt replies.
"Come here. You taking care of yourself?" Fawcett asks.
"Well, I always do."
"No you don't," Fawcett says, shaking her head sadly. "I know you...remember?"
"Ready on the set," someone from the crew calls, offscreen. Farrah calls out a "Thanks."
"Well, I guess I'd better let you go," Colt says.
"You be careful," Fawcett says.
"You too."
Seavers kisses the back of Fawcett's hand, and he strolls off, still wearing a dress.
"Hey," she calls. "You still have great legs."
Seavers points a finger gun at her, and she laughs.
It's a beautiful little scene that celebrates the couple's relatively brief marriage, and the mutual respect and kindness on display is quite heartwarming. It's a truly lovely moment.
The pilot itself is well made, with a great villainous performance by Eddie Albert, a fun James Coburn cameo in an early sequence to bookend Farrah's, and some great old-fashioned 1980s action. It was a fine beginning for a fun show.
To wit: How many movies open with a shot of the Canadian flag fluttering in the breeze? This is followed almost immediately by a Mountie slipping back into his full red regalia after hooking up in the forest with the titular Vixen. Vixen is unapologetically sexually voracious, married but always in search of new lovers. Throughout the course of the film, Vixen seduces several men, including her husband, the husbands of other women, and in one case, a husband AND wife (on separate occasions). And yet, tellingly, Vixen is no homewrecker--on the contrary, the couples she interacts with all wind up closer after their experiences with her.
The film contains some pretty raw, on-point commentary about racial stereotyping too, and from a very convincing and passionate black actor--Harrison Page (maybe best known as Captain Trunk from Sledge Hammer!) as Niles. Several times, Niles speaks difficult truths about race relations in the 1960s that remain tragically relevant even in 2026.
Erica Gavin as Vixen is unironically great in this. And her husband is hilariously both supportive of and appalled by his wife's behaviour, especially her blatant racism, which would frankly ruin the film if it weren't for how her attitude evolves in the 11th hour.
Also, I cannot wrap my head around the fact that Vixen's brother Budd, a white guy who wears a swastika on his vest, actually tries to be a good friend (in his way) to Niles--who, by the way, is a principled Viet Nam draft dodger and wears a peace medallion. What a pair! The racial, sexual, and social politics of this film are all over the place, but weirdly progressive somehow.
I salute you, Russ Meyer.
The cast is led by Holly Hunter, who's really superb here as Academy Chancellor and former Starfleet captain Nahla Ake. Hunter owns every scene she's in with a sincere, empathetic performance edged with both tragedy and playfulness. Tig Notaro and Robert Picardo are back and as lovable as ever as their original characters Jett Reno, crabby time-tossed engineer from the 23rd century, and the Emergency Medical Hologram, whose program is still functioning almost 1,000 years since it was first initiated.
Paul Giamatti appears only in the first episode, but he's wonderfully over the top as Nus Braka, interstellar thief and murderer, half Klingon and half Tellarite for extra boorishness. Some genius on the makeup or hair styling team gave Giamatti's character a haircut that features a completed game of Xs and Os on the side of his skull, a ludicrous detail that tickles me to no end. It's not explained, which is perfect. I hope no characters ever take note of it.
Of course, the students are the main focus of this series, and their actors all shine in different ways. As I approach my 60s I'll admit to finding some of their antics a little annoying, but then I remember they're young--when I was surely even more exasperating. Sandro Rosta as Caleb Mir has to do most of the heavy lifting among the student characters; he's the "bad boy" of the show, a child torn from his mother by Holly Hunter's Nahla Ake (naturally). Rosta has to believably balance his understandable resentment for Ake while still being sympathetic and showing the ability to grow past his pain and impetuousness. Rosta, I think, pulls it off, and the scenes between Rosta and Hunter are a joy to watch.
Even the bridge officers on the USS Athena--more on that later--already feel more real and interesting to me than the poor, overlooked bridge crew of the Discovery, even though the Athena crew appear only in the pilot and Discovery's secondary characters had over 50 episodes to grow--but didn't.
The show's storytelling across its first two episodes is economical and tight; the plots are focused and logical, and the dialogue generally decent--though there are times when 21st century slang takes us out of the show, though the flaw is much less egregious here than it was in Star Trek: Section 31. The stakes are grounded but still engaging: Caleb wants to find his mother, Ake wants to help him, the Federation wants to rebuild. There's a good balance between high--but not ludicrous--political stakes and very real, very human issues. We see a little of this in most of the other student characters too, stories that I imagine will be fleshed out over the course of the series' run.
Star Trek's production design continues to get better with each succeeding series, but the crew really did a spectacular job here. They've managed to change the Federation's technology and style just enough that it still looks familiar to fans of the older shows while also reflecting its far-future 32nd century setting.
The show's hero ship this time around is the USS Athena, a starship that also doubles as Starfleet Academy's main building. While docked at the Academy, the Athena functions like any other academic centre, full of classrooms and laboratories. But when field trips are called for, the Athena heads up to Earth orbit and docks with the warp engines stored there. It's a brilliant concept, well executed.
Even the music is more experimental and interesting than we usually find in Star Trek television (the films are another matter; most of them have superb scores). There's a fight scene in the first episode that's really effectively scored, and a lovely rearrangement of a 1960s pop hit that creates a beautifully tender and nostalgic moment near the end of that episode.
All these elements combine to create a show that, to my great surprise and delight, captures Star Trek's legendary feeling of hope and optimism and faith in humanity's ability to find the best in ourselves and push through adversity. In these dark times, that's a precious gift.
I stumbled across Keane last year--late to the party as always when it comes to music--and I fell in love with two tracks: "Somewhere Only We Know" and "Everybody's Changing."
