“I should have been a librarian.”

Star Trek: The Animated Series, The Complete Series
c. 1973-1974

It’s no secret that it was kind of a chore for me to get through Star Trek: The Original Series. It took me a year and a half to watch all three seasons, which maybe doesn’t sound like a lot to some of you, but as a frame of reference, I can watch three seasons of television in a week or less, if I put my mind to it. By the end of the series, I had certainly developed affection for the characters on TOS, particularly Spock and McCoy (you can’t spend that much time with a show and not develop some sort of attachment to it), but it nevertheless regularly put me to sleep. In fact, I began using it for that very purpose. The BEEP BLOOP sound effects, Kirk’s speechifying, the increasingly poor writing and special effects, the cheesy music, and what felt like an exceedingly long run-time, were all very soothing for me. I was relieved by the time I came to the last episode, and also proud of myself. With all of this in my mind, you can imagine that I wasn’t very thrilled to watch Star Trek: The Animated Series, which featured the same writing staff, and almost all the same (voice) actors. It had only been four years since the cancellation of TOS. How much would TOS influence TAS? Would watching this series be just another step I would have to take in my quest to conquer the entire Star Trek canon? Would I even enjoy it?

Much to my surprise, the answer was ‘yes.’

Gene Roddenberry disowned this series from ‘official’ canon, but I honestly can’t understand why he did so. I found it quite delightful. Many of the issues that I had with TOS were resolved in TAS. And even though saying so might get me shot in some circles, I believe that The Animated Series was much more conceptually successful than its predecessor. The twenty-two minute run-time freed up the plots from unnecessary filler and the tendency towards gratuitous philosophizing. There is no dragging, no boredom. Just imagination. TAS also managed to do what TOS seemingly couldn’t and provided Lt. Uhura with some actual storylines that made me believe for the first time that this was a universe where men and women were equal. But the thing that really made TAS so enjoyable for me was the very fact that it was animated. I fully admit that one of the reasons I could never fully enjoy The Original Series was the poor special effects and cheap set design. I grew up during the dawn of the Golden Age of television, when The X-Files was king, popping out what was essentially cinema quality work twenty-two times a year. I have high standards. The animation of TAS fully eliminates that problem for me. There’s a certain headspace you enter when you watch animation, where the rules of reality don’t exist, and suspension of disbelief is that much easier.

I do recognize that the above concern is a fairly personal one (and hey, this is my review, so yeah), and that it might very well be my issue alone, but I know for a fact that because TAS was animated, it was able to commit to episode concepts that would simply have been impossible for a live-action television show. It’s just as easy (and costs just as much money) for an animator to create a person as it is for them to create an elaborate spaceship made out of living flowers, for example, as is the case in TAS‘s first episode, “Beyond the Farthest Star.” Other neat concepts that would have been impossible on TOS (and if not ‘impossible,’ they still would have turned out super shitty): In “Yesteryear,” Spock travels to the past to rescue his younger self from danger. Creating both Young Spock and the Vulcan city of ShiKahr was much easier, and turned out much better than it would have in TOS. “The Ambergris Element” took place largely underwater and involved vast quantities of freaky looking aliens and an underwater city. TOS was never good at aliens. No matter how hard it tried, they always ended up looking like people in makeup. And we can’t forget about “The Counter-Clock Incident,” which involved aging the entire crew of the Enterprise backwards. Completely and utterly impossible with 60s technology (still really hard today, in fact).

With that said, I do recognize that TAS had some major flaws. Like its predecessor, TAS‘s main obstacle to creative freedom was its budget. Especially towards the end of its run, The Original Series was plagued by an ever decreasing budget and the constant threat of cancellation. Considering both of those factors, it’s really not very surprising that TOS‘s best episodes were in Season One. Both of these problems also afflicted TAS, although they manifested themselves a little differently. TOS was infamous for re-using musical scores written for other episodes, a practice which is almost unheard of in today’s TV climate, where shows employ their own composers and each episode has it’s own score or soundtrack, but The Animated Series took this recycling policy to a new, and frankly ridiculous, level. Certain images were used over and over, the most egregious being a shot of Spock standing over his computer terminal and then turning his head sideways as he speaks to Kirk. Visually, this shot is unique. Since we don’t often get to see character profiles in animation, the fact that it is used over and over multiple times in every episode becomes obvious fairly soon to even the most oblivious viewer. To save money on voice actors, the show overuses the talents of Majel Barrett (Nurse Chapel) and James Doohan (Scotty). Both actors have very distinct voices, so it was never difficult for me to recognize them. Again, distracting. But the most ridiculous use of recycling was of the incidental music: the same themes, over and over and over and over. By the time I hit the last episode of the series, my annoyance levels were threatening to overwhelm any enthusiasm garnered by the story. And yes, even though animation allowed for way cooler stories than had been previously possible in TOS, the quality of the Filmation animation isn’t always the greatest (though I maintain it has a sort of tacky seventies charm going for it).

The Animated Series was welcomed back into Star Trek canon after Roddenberry’s death, but really, it had already made its mark. Some details and concepts introduced in TAS were used elsewhere in the ST universe: the films, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine . . . It told us that the ‘T’ in James T. Kirk was for ‘Tiberius.’ It gave Spock’s mother a last name (Grayson). It invented the holodeck decades before TNG would use it. According to Memory Alpha, some of Sarek’s dialogue from “Yesteryear”, and young Spock being bullied by Vulcan classmates, are given homage in the 2009 feature film, Star Trek, almost word for word. And then there’s “Kirk is a Jerk,” which isn’t really canon and never comes up again, but I wanted to mention it here because I think it’s hilarious. TAS was canceled even sooner than TOS. After a very short run-time of only twenty-two episodes, during which time viewers were inundated by repeats of episodes they’d already seen, TAS was put to bed. But it lives on via the glories of DVD. Probably a lot of you disagree with many things I’ve said here, and I don’t really blame you. This all might very well be nonsense as I’m very drugged up right now and sick, and in about a minute or so, after I click ‘publish,’ I am going to be asleep in my bed, so just do me a favor and rent this series from Netflix, and THEN come back here and yell at me. I’ll make sure to get up out of my sickbed and read your comments, because you are all special flowers, and I appreciate you as human beings.

Which is just another backhanded way of saying LEAVE ME COMMENTS.

“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

Star Trek: The Next Generation, Seasons Five-Seven
c. 1991-1994

I can’t remember if I’ve told you this story before; bear with me if I have. You might recall that I am a sometime employee of Barnes & Noble. I work in the cafe, which is not Starbucks, no matter how many times you try to shove your Starbucks gift-card in my face, and I’m truly sorry about that, I really am. Customer service is awful to work in because of the emotional beatings you regularly take, but the truth is that the vast majority of customers I deal with fall pleasantly in between the extremes of Regular-Customer-Who-Confuses-Service-Employees-With-Friends, and Completely-Entitled-Douchenozzles (the crazies are the rarity, they’re just so crazy you think there are ten of them). There are actually some pretty nice people that frequent my place of employment, it’s just hard to remember that sometimes.

A particularly pleasant and memorable encounter occurred a couple of months ago now — right smack-dab in the middle of my race to the finish of The Next Generation,  a new customer started coming in. He (or she, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure of the correct pronoun to use here . . . I think he is a cross-dresser, so it’s still ‘he,’ yes?) came up to the counter very quietly with a friend and politely waited for me to finish whatever I was doing. He would have stood out enough even if he hadn’t said what he said next — long hot pink hair is pretty attention getting — but when I asked him what he wanted he said, “The Jean-Luc Picard Special,” and didn’t elaborate. His face was totally deadpan. I repeated it back to him, absolutely dumbfounded. He smiled kind of impishly and said, “Have you seen Star Trek?” “Of course I’ve seen Star Trek!” I said, and then just kind of gaped at him open-mouthed, desperately attempting to hang onto my nerd-cred. I guess he could see my wheels turning or something, because he kept prodding me: “Come on, you can do it . . .” And then it hit me, and once I knew, I felt like an idiot. You can’t watch TNG for any length of time without knowing that Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise always asks for “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” Anyway, after the embarrassment subsided, I felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment. That was the moment. I was in, bitches. In the know.

It’s hard to sum up just exactly what happened in seasons five, six, and seven of TNG, largely because the show wasn’t serialized, and thus there isn’t really a beginning, middle or end point to the “story” of the show, but also because it’s been awhile in between viewing and writing. The details are mostly lost, and what’s stuck with me is the general stuff, and, well, the memorable stuff. My review of seasons one through four is much more detailed in a way that I’m just not capable of at the moment, but there is no question in my mind that seasons five and six in particular (and great stretches of seven) represent TNG at its most fully mature and focused, and thus its most successful. I admit that after watching the first three seasons, I was (severely) skeptical that TNG could ever inspire levels of weeping-induced greatness in my television obsessed bosom. It was good, not great, as far as I was concerned. “The Best of Both Worlds” is landmark television, but it in no way reflected the show as a whole, which still had a tendency towards mediocrity and every now and then, produced a stinker. Later TNG, however, is simply solid, quality television at the top of its game. Even the worst season five and six episodes are quality television in a way that it was impossible for me to imagine as I watched seasons one and two, and the best of the bunch are phenomenal, classic episodes of television. These last three seasons, more than anything else this show has produced, indicates to me why The Next Generation has been so revered, and how its legacy has helped to sustain almost twenty plus years of the franchise.

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“You’re my third least favorite child.”

Arrested Development, The Complete Series
c. 2003-2006

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When everyone you know is telling you the same thing about a TV show — namely that it’s the BEST SHOW EVER — that’s a lot of pressure to live up to. My roommate Alison still hasn’t read Harry Potter, because the last time I made her try, she got so worried that she wouldn’t like it (and hurt my feelings) that she physically couldn’t finish the first book. And I know a lot of people who insist on disliking things solely because so many other people have told them how OMG GOOD it is. I find this behavior idiotic — you’re missing out on quality entertainment purely for spite, or worse, because you think you’re better than the rest of us. (Here’s a helpful tip: You’re not.)  Luckily, I don’t usually succumb to any of these kinds of pressure. I saw all three seasons of Arrested Development on sale at Amazon for $30 and I snatched those suckers right up.

Arrested Development is the story of the weird and wealthy Bluth family who live on or around Balboa Island in Orange County, CA. The details beyond that are a bit harder to master, which is part of the fun. (It’s also part of the reason the show was canceled after only three seasons — and frankly they’re lucky they got even that — but I’ll get back to the cancellation thing later.) Michael Bluth (Jason Bateman) inherits CEO duties of the Bluth Company after his father George (Jeffrey Tambor) is sent to prison, accused of committing a bunch of white collar crimes (up to and including building illegal houses in Iraq for Saddam Hussein). But being CEO of the Bluth company doesn’t mean just managing finances, it also means keeping tabs on and reining in his family’s irresponsible and insane behavior so the company doesn’t fall into anymore trouble than it already is. His older brother, George Oscar “G.O.B.” (pronounced ‘Jobe’) Bluth, Jr. (the sublime Will Arnett), is a professional magician who is completely delusional but supremely confident in his talents. Twin sister Lindsay (Portia de Rossi) is married to a closeted and in denial homosexual named Tobias Fünke (David Cross), who used to be a therapist but now wishes to be an actor. They also have a daughter named Maeby (Alia Shawkat), who is much more competent than either of them put together, and who they neglect mercilessly. Bluth matriarch Lucille (Jessica Walter) is, to quote Wikipedia, “manipulative, materialistic, and hypercritical of every member of her family, as well as being a perpetual drunk.” Both George Sr. and Lucille cheat on each constantly, most famously with his secretary and his twin brother, Oscar (haplessly and brilliantly played also by Jeffrey Tambor), respectively. The Bluth family is rounded out by Michael’s son George Michael (Michael Cera), who is in love with his cousin Maeby, and Michael’s younger brother, Buster (Tony Hale), who has an unnaturally close relationship to his mother, who may or not be actually twin brother Oscar’s son, and who I love beyond reason. The whole thing is narrated tongue-in-cheek by TV and film legend Ron Howard.

Watching Arrested Development‘s pilot was an interesting experience. The minute my roommate Alison found out what I was doing her eyes got as big as saucer plates, like my cat’s do when he thinks he’s about to get fed, and she squealed at me, “CAN I WATCH IT WITH YOU?” From the very first scene, she was laughing hysterically at everything — and she has a very distinctive laugh. She kept looking over at me like, why aren’t you laughing, too? Isn’t it funny? And it’s true, I wasn’t laughing, but it wasn’t because I wasn’t enjoying myself. The thing about Arrested Development is that you only get to the laughing out loud when you’ve gotten to know the characters. The humor comes from knowing and loving these absolutely idiotic people, the things they do over and over, the things they never do, or should do. It’s context humor, and what you end up getting if you invest enough time (number of episodes will vary person to person, for me it was four) is the kind of laughter you get from your own friends or family, except better because you don’t actually have to deal with them or clean up after their messes. It probably also took me longer to get to know the characters because I was so used to seeing them in their post-Arrested Development roles. I saw Jason Bateman in Juno, Will Arnett in 30 Rock, Portia de Rossi in Better Off Ted, Tony Hale as Chuck‘s Emmit Milbarge, and Michael Cera in every movie ever made before I ever saw this show. I had such a hard time, especially with de Rossi and Hale, whose post-A.D. characters — cold fish Veronica and Buy More Nazi/Weasel Emmit — are so incredibly different than Lindsay and Buster that there was some definite cognitive dissonance going on. It took me forever to stop thinking of Lindsay as a bitch, because that’s what Ted‘s Veronica is. Lindsay, like the other Bluths, is simply self-deluded. Where Gob has convinced himself that he is a talented magician and puppeteer, Lindsay has convinced herself that she is a liberal humanitarian and activist. Buster, though . . . Buster is just magical.

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