Frasier (1993) s05e03 – Halloween

Halloween buries the lede. The episode opens with David Hyde Pierce arriving at the apartment and talking with John Mahoney about costume problems. Hyde Pierce is throwing a costume party and isn’t having any luck finding Mahoney a Sherlock Holmes outfit. From background to foreground come Kelsey Grammer and Jane Leeves, who are giggling as Grammer does a Chaucer impression (preparing for the party). Hyde Pierce dislikes the convivial mood between Grammer and Leeves, especially when it turns out they’ve been on a microbrewery tour together.

Most of these elements will be important later.

Suzanne Martin’s script—outside multiple racist Native American jokes for Edward Hibbert (but we’re supposed to be laughing at him not with him)—is really well-constructed. It’s a subplots on four burners simultaneously type episode, with them all boiling over in precise unison.

The main plot comes in when Grammer gets to work to discover Peri Gilpin’s having a very off day. After very unprofessionally screaming at her to accuse her of being unprofessional (even the late nineties remain a trip), Gilpin breaks down and tells Grammer she’s having a pregnancy scare. She’s just waiting to hear back from the doctor.

What better way to take her mind of it than going to Hyde Pierce’s party—and now all subplots are in place on the stovetop—plus Dan Butler popping in to announce he’s also going to the party.

The party is going to be Hyde Pierce getting drunker and drunker—Maris has called and said she won’t be able to attend (he’s still in his apartment, complete with Baby the bird, their reconciliation seemingly stalled compared to its trajectory at the end of last season)—and getting very confused about who’s pregnant and who’s the father. He speaks with such authority, he gets Mahoney worked up (and confused), all while Gilpin’s waiting on a call from the doctor, Grammer’s hitting on a fetching fellow party-goer (then wife Camille Grammer, which is cute even if Grammer plays it too horndog), and Leeves is bouncing between the subplots.

Before it’s all over, there will be a marriage proposal, trick-or-treaters, those racist jokes from Hibbert—oh, then just a generally ableist joke regarding another guest because even though Martin’s got a bunch of solid one-liners, she’s got some big whiffs too.

The episode, which ostensibly is about Gilpin waiting for her possibly momentous news, instead of becomes a showcase for madcap Hyde Pierce and it is glorious. There’s a “To Be Continued” tag too, so it’s not like they’re abdicating the narrative responsibility on that arc, it’s just a lot more fun to have Hyde Pierce act a major fool in a fantastic situation.

Hype Pierce, Gilpin, and Leeves are the standouts. Grammer’s good and funny but he’s pretty thin when he’s ignoring everyone’s actual problems. Mahoney’s really funny but all support.

Only the end credits tag—and the shitty jokes, and then a stinker of a recurring joke where the joke is it’s a stinker of a recurring jokes—drag it down.

Excellent Pamela Fryman direction too.

Frasier (1993) s05e02 – The Gift Horse

The Gift Horse is from a one-time writer (Ron Darian), which might explain the soft retcon regarding John Mahoney’s birthdays on the show. This episode turns the gift giving into a competition between Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce, as each tries to out do the other on the gift, leading to Grammer going all out with a big screen TV only to discover Hyde Pierce still has him beat. Then there’s a lot of nice character stuff for Mahoney at the end with his eventual gift.

But the show’s had Mahoney birthday episodes every year and they’re never anywhere near as happy of events as this episode. And not just because Marsha Mason’s around trying to make sure Mahoney’s got the best “sexty-fifth" birthday party ever. Mason’s mostly in scenes with Jane Leeves, assigning her party-related grunt work; it very much does not seem any of them would be in Leeves’s job responsibilities. But whatever, it’s fine. Leeves gets to be there for some of the TV stuff and even gets a quick moment opposite Peri Gilpin, which is too rare.

Speaking of Gilpin, she doesn’t get much to do but she’s got the great opening when she’s trying to convince Grammer to help her make an ex jealous. The punchline involves Hyde Pierce and is a particular excellent one. Darian’s script might not do the continuity—I mean, it’s a sitcom—but he’s got some good jokes and his Grammer and Hyde Pierce competitiveness stuff is outstanding.

The Pamela Fryman direction is good throughout but it really shines in the finale, when Mahoney gets to do some more dramatic stuff related to the birthday and his gift. While there are some laughs in it, the scene is mostly just character development material for Mahoney who does some fine work.

There’s also a reference to Mahoney having a perm in his youth—old pictures for the birthday are a thing, though we only get descriptions—and I’m fairly sure… Mahoney did have close to a perm in at least a couple movies (Say Anything and Tin Men). It’s neat to be able to accurately imagine thanks to actual recall.

It’s a funny and good episode—the continuity “errors” are only because no one ever intended home video marathons of the show—and the end tag has a decent (albeit slightly unbelievable) resolve to a hanging plot threads. There’s also a nice character arc for Grammer and Hyde Pierce with their competitiveness.

Makes me wish Darian had come back to write more.

Frasier (1993) s04e16 – The Unnatural

It’s a fathers and sons episode, both for Kelsey Grammer and guest star Trevor Einhorn and then Grammer and John Mahoney. There’s also some nice stuff for Dan Butler—implying the possibility of character development, which hasn’t really been present before—and then David Hyde Pierce gets a hilarious subplot. Both Peri Gilpin and Jane Leeves get functional roles to play, which makes certain jokes easier but brings more attention to Leeves never being in on all the jokes because of the Hyde Pierce crush more obvious. Or maybe it’s a female director (Pamela Fryman) doing a great job with it—they really do win with Einhorn though, he’s a good sitcom kid actor—and so it stands out. Michael B. Kaplan script, which increases its high points all the way to the end.

Actually, wait, there is a “reward” of sorts for Gilpin in the end credits tag, which is a single gag, but full of good implication.

The initial conflict in Kaplan’s script is Grammer trying to get a Microsoft campus tour for he and Einhorn, which requires him to ask Gilpin to contact an old boyfriend. Concurrent, Gilpin and Butler have a station softball team—did every business from the 1970s and 1990s have a softball team—subplot. The plots will collide when Gilpin gets injured and Butler—trying to be nice (it’s a very weird scene because Butler’s trying to be nice instead of pretending to be; weird and good) lies to Einhorn about Grammer’s softball skills. Einhorn decides he’d rather watch Grammer play softball than tour Microsoft.

You know, Grammer would make a good Ballmer.

Anyway.

Of course, anti-jock Grammer presumably isn’t and good at softball and he’s got to figure out what he’s going to do not to disappoint Einhorn. He’ll bring Mahoney into it for this layered father and son hopes and disappointments arc. Lots of good acting from Grammer and Mahoney. The show has these touching family scenes and they almost always happen in the apartment; getting them away—as they do in this episode—livens things up a bit and forces the actors to adapt to new settings.

The softball arc is always pretty serious—it’s probably funniest when Butler’s kicking it off, making it worse every sentence—so the big laughs come from Leeves’s subplot with Einhorn and Hyde Pierce. Einhorn’s got a crush on Leeves and everyone thinks it’s adorable but Hyde Pierce is convinced Einhorn’s a rival. Lots of really good laughs and some great acting from Hyde Pierce.

The episode is really good. The show doesn’t waste its recurring guest stars.

The Equalizer (2021) s01e02 – Glory

Despite being a general improvement over the pilot and seeming to trend up in general (Adam Goldberg’s not obnoxiously bland this episode and Liza Lapira’s improving a little so maybe she’ll hit that level by the next one), this episode of “The Equalizer” has a lackluster, pseudo-cloying finish. The show tries to do a bunch simultaneously, which just draws attention to it not being able to do any of the things well on their own. It’s montaging for cover.

And it also seems like Chris Noth is going to be less of a costar as a regular guest cameo, popping in for a couple scenes with Queen Latifah to hit that audience demographic without contributing anything of substance.

The episode also introduces the origin of “The Equalizer” moniker—and makes no sense when it does—but it dashes my dream of Latifah actually being Edward Woodward’s daughter too. And they still don’t use the song, though the opening titles desperate needs it.

This episode has Latifah rescuing a kidnapped kid from a bunch of Eurotrash human traffickers. Well, they say Eurotrash but they all seem to be French. It takes a while to discover they’re Eurotrash; for a while it just seems like they’re nondescript mercenaries, same as last episode. The show having originality problems on its second episode is not a great sign.

Also there’s still no Covid, just lots of people standing in groups—though not when they should be. There’s a pseudo-big Times Square sequence and it seems like they shot it without permission with a dozen people to make up a crowd.

Latifah’s got some family drama with kid Laya DeLeon Hayes hiding something from her because Hayes doesn’t want Latifah to disappoint her again. Lorraine Toussiant has to deal with it because Latifah’s too busy, which gives Toussiant and Hayes decent (albeit bland) dramatic material and delaying having to do any for Latifah.

Meanwhile cop Tory Kittles is still on Latifah’s trail, which… doesn’t seem like a particularly good series subplot. There’s also a big ground situation change, seemingly to give the show potentially different settings for Latifah to go after the same nondescript mercenaries instead of New York City.

Still, the draw remains Latifah kicking ass and the show delivers. Even though the soundtrack accompaniments remain loudly disappointing.

The Equalizer (2021) s01e01

They don’t use the song.

The movies didn’t use the song either, did they? I love that old “Equalizer” theme song. Stewart Copeland.

Anyway.

“The Equalizer: 2021” is Taken with Queen Latifah only she’s an altruist and not only using her very particular set of skills to help family members in danger. She’s got a teenage daughter, Laya DeLeon Hayes, and an aunt, Lorraine Toussaint, so undoubtedly they’ll be in danger at some point in the show should it go on long enough.

Latifah’s also got sidekicks because it’s 2021 and everyone’s got to have their team. She’s got former CIA mentor Chris Noth (fully embracing the silver fox thing finally), hacker Adam Goldberg, and sniper Liza Lapira. Lapira and Goldberg are married because they never met anyone else with so little charisma in an easy caricature part (it’s particularly sad to watch Goldberg miss trying to recapture the depth of his Dazed and Confused stoner). She’s got a trendy Manhattan bar and he’s officially dead but lives in a Lex Luthor converted subway lair. It’s not a good lair, unfortunately. It’s pretty boring, in fact.

The pilot has Latifah saving Lorna Courtney from being assaulted and finding out Courtney’s on the run after being digitally framed. Could it somehow involve self-driving car tech bro Michael Rady?

Also there’s cop Tory Kittles, who’s after Courtney, but is actually a good guy—even Latifah thinks he’s a good guy after his lengthy monologue about being a good guy actually. Presumably the series will do something with Kittles and Latifah’s chemistry, which isn’t great, but isn’t non-existent like Goldberg and Lapira’s.

It’s interesting to see a very standard eighties not cop cop procedural done in 2021—though, not really because it’s pre-Covid and feels very dated—but the script’s not good. Co-creator and co-writer Andrew W. Marlowe wrote some truly godawful scripts in the late nineties and hasn’t improved. So there’s nothing creative in the writing, but Latifah’s fun to watch beating up shitty dudes. And Noth’s, you know, Noth.

Maybe Goldberg and Lapira and the writing will get better.

Also maybe not… Probably not. Marlowe’s a curse.

Mad Love (1935, Karl Freund)

Not even halfway through Mad Love’s sixty-seven minute runtime it’s clear all the film’s going to have to do to succeed is not to fail, which isn’t going to be easy. The film’s about a brilliant surgeon (Peter Lorre) who’s sort of publicly stalking married stage actress Frances Drake. Now, he falls in love with her during her performance at a “theater of horrors” where an audience full of men get off on Drake being tortured for cheating on her husband. There’s a lot to unpack right off in Mad Love, it’s awesome.

Right at the end of her performance, it appears Drake—in character—confesses her lover’s name so the husband can go and kill him, having sufficiently literally branded his wife into place. That moment’s when Lorre gets the most excited.

Off stage, Drake has been married to successful pianist Colin Clive for a year and they haven’t been able to even honeymoon yet because he’s touring and she’s acting. It’s finally time for them to meet up, right after her cast party (the theater is closing for the season too) and getting to finally meet Lorre, after he’s rented out the most expensive box in the theater for almost fifty performances in a row.

Lorre—rather appropriately given he’s about to buy a wax dummy of Drake (without her knowledge)—creeps Drake out. But she’s got the medical connection when it turns out she’s going to need it because husband Clive has been in a train accident and his hands are mangled. Only Lorre can save him. And he’ll move heaven and earth for Drake’s gratitude.

He’ll even, maybe, cut the hands off a recently executed murderer to give them to Clive. After all, the murderer was an expert knife thrower; might come in handy for a concert pianist. Lorre has no way of knowing Clive has already met the “donor” (Lorre knows about their availability because in addition to watching women pretend to get tortured, he never misses an execution).

When the hands seemingly take a life of their own, Lorre sees another opportunity to get close to Drake, who’s still just trying to help suffering husband Clive, and, well, as they do… complications ensue.

There are a lot of constraints on Mad Love. A lot of impossible (thanks to the Production Code if not moral decency) outcomes and quite a few unlikely ones. So a satisfactory resolution is always in question. But the film gets there all right. It’s got some genuine humdingers of scenes—no other word—when Lorre all of a sudden pivots to another extreme and is fantastic in it. The whole movie rests on him.

Not to discount the other actors, who are all great—Mad Love’s got an amazing cast—but it’s the Peter Lorre show and no one can pretend otherwise.

Drake’s really good—she’s got an incredible suspense sequence to get through in the third act and nails it—Clive’s good, though he gets the least material of the three leads. Then there’s the supporting cast and it’s a doozy. Because even though Mad Love is set in Paris and tries its best to be (broadly) European, it’s also got some American flavor. Starting with Edward Brophy in a jaw-dropper cameo as the convicted murderer on his way to the guillotine. Brophy turns the Hollywood New Yorker to eleven and has a ball. It’s astounding director Freud is able to maintain it without just breaking the film in two.

While Brophy isn’t in the film for very long, the film moves the American bull in the Parisian china shop chores along to Ted Healy, who plays a pushy New York reporter in town to cover the execution (Brophy’s an American citizen being executed) and also to get famous philanthropist surgeon Lorre to write some articles for his paper. See, Lorre doesn’t accept any payment and instead uses his skills and develops these miracle procedures to help children and maybe soldiers. He’s a saint.

Who just happens to get off on torture and death, which none of the locals really notice since he’s such a saint but Healy thinks something hinky is going on.

It’s so good, so weird, so not.

Excellent direction from Freud, photography from Chester A. Lyons and Gregg Toland, and editing from Hugh Wynn. Wynn’s got some exquisite sequences, including a downright successful dream montage.

Just for being itself, Mad Love has a bunch of hurdles to clear and it sails over them, finishing better than one could hope given said hurdles. Its snaking to get through the Code is an achievement on its own, but Lorre, Freud, and Drake all score big by the end.

Lorre’s simply magnificent.

To Live and Die in L.A. (1985, William Friedkin)

If you’ve ever started watching To Live and Die in L.A. and turned it off because it’s terrible or just heard of it and thought you should see it, let me say… there’s no reason to see it. Or sit through it. Not even morbid curiosity. Or unless you want to see John Pankow’s butt. Director Friedkin does seem to be trying to start a macho male nudity thing with L.A.—including… umm… Little William L. Petersen, but he also does some homophobia in other parts. Not anti-lesbian though. Friedkin’s pro-objectification there.

Also… some vague racism. By some I mean anytime someone who isn’t White is around. But all of it—even the dingus—is C-level L.A. shenanigans. They leave far less impression, for example, than the incredible stupidity of Secret Service agents Petersen and Pankow. Though at one point Pankow identifies himself as a Treasury Agent. L.A.’s based on a novel—by co-screenwriter Gerald Petievich—and for some reason I’d assume Petievich would’ve at least looked up the difference. Not Friedkin (the other screenwriter). Friedkin doesn’t even seem aware real guns weigh more than the rubber guns his actors strut around with.

To Live and Die in L.A., when you toss aside whatever is going on with bad guy counterfeiter Willem Dafoe, is about how adrenalin junkie, dirty Secret Service agent Petersen corrupts straight-edge Pankow, teaching him how to blackmail, exploit, and rape comely ex-cons (Darlanne Fluegel gets all the sympathy for being in this one), strut around in tight jeans (though Pankow doesn’t go with two to three inch lifts like Petersen) and shirts unbuttoned to two above the navel, and… I don’t know, act tough or something.

The scary part of L.A. isn’t the idiotic, toxic masculinity is good, actually, sentiment—Friedkin must’ve read some amazing male empowerment books in the eighties—but the idea it’s an accurate representation of the Secret Service. Though, wait, didn’t they get busted for something stupid and… oh. Yeah.

Okay, so it’s probably legit.

Otherwise the movie would be famous for the agency suing them for how they were portrayed. Because they’re idiots. Like, even if you’ve only watched “CHiPs,” you have a better idea of how to run an investigation than this group of dimwits.

The movie starts with a suicide bomber going after Reagan. The stupidest suicide bomber in the world, who comes up with a rappelling thing when he has enough explosive to just take out the hotel or whatever. Once the bomber fails—in an Islamophobic portrayal out of a GOP campaign ad—we get the Secret Service guys getting hammered and Petersen showing off his base jumping.

Every man wants to be a macho, macho man… you know what, L.A. set to Village People instead of Wang Chung (yes, really, it’s got a Wang Chung “score” and, no, it’s not good). But then Petersen’s partner, Michael Greene, three days from retirement, goes off to the middle of nowhere to investigate a counterfeiter who turns out to be Dafoe. Dafoe gets the drop on him because Greene’s an idiot too and so Petersen swears vengeance.

The best performance in the film is probably… Dafoe? Of the leads, anyway. Petersen and Pankow are risible, like they’re doing a spoof of themselves and don’t know it. Dean Stockwell’s kind of okay but then not, which is too bad because he starts better than he finishes. Fluegel’s not good, just sympathetic because she’s so exploited. Robert Downey’s terrible in a stunt cameo. John Turturro… I mean, you can tell he might be good someday but certainly not here. Debra Feuer, despite having the most potentially interesting story, isn’t any good as Dafoe’s muse.

Some of the Robby Müller photography is good. Some of it is not. They go handheld a lot, which would be a questionable choice if there weren’t so many just plain terrible choices Müller and Friedkin make. M. Scott Smith’s editing… is not bad. It’s not good, but it certainly seems like it’d be bad given Friedkin’s vibe here. It’s not. It’s tolerable. So much in L.A. is intolerable—like Lilly Kilvert’s production design and Linda M. Bass’s costumes—the tolerable parts shine.

To Live and Die in L.A. is an excruciatingly bad two hours. It’s hilariously pretentious and full of itself, but it’s got no laugh value; the joke is on whoever’s watching it.

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (2012) s01e11 – Blood & Circuses

It’s a very intense episode, with Phyrne (Essie Davis) in constant danger—whether she knows it or not, usually yes but not the extent of it—in addition to being in a very traumatic headspace. We finally find out what happens to her little sister (or at least as much as Davis knows) when Davis takes a case at a visiting circus. The half-woman/half-man (performance artist Moira Finucane in a bit part) is killed and her body revealed on stage during magician (and lover) Greg Stone’s act. The coppers are no use, so circus strong man Aaron Jeffery goes to old friend Davis, who doesn’t want to take the case because of the history.

Only when she takes Jeffrey to see Nathan Page, Page has got clearly crappy copper Joel Tobeck working it and has no time for the case.

Even though the episode itself is really good, Page’s place in it is very weird. See, he sends Hugo Johnstone-Burt to work with Tobeck (ostensibly to keep an eye on Tobeck’s progress with the case), but Johnstone-Burt just ends up taking on all of Tobeck’s bad habits, which pisses Page off. Only… not enough? It feels like Page needs a subplot to keep him occupied this episode—and eventually gets a little bit of one, once old acquaintance (and Page’s first ever arrest when he was a rookie) Gillian Jones ends up in the station needing a place to sober up. Page has to throw her in with the not very suspicious murder suspect, magician’s assistant Victoria Thaine. Tobeck and Johnstone-Burt collar Thaine with literally no investigation, which Page knows.

So, not a good episode for Page.

But Davis and Jeffrey at the circus? Great. Suspects include nasty snake lady Maude Davey, Stone, circus owner John Wood, and basically everyone else. The episode’s got a very romanticized vision of the circus, with Jeffrey constantly spouting emotionally rousing speeches about how its a place for everyone who can’t fit in to fit in and realize their inherent value. Sadly, the only other person who apparently felt so strongly about the circus as inclusive was Finucane, who was murdered by one of her colleagues.

It does give Jeffrey a nice tone though.

The case itself involves a lot of information being kept from everyone involved—problematically in one major instance—but is emotionally rending by the finale.

Davis does a fantastic job throughout the episode, haunted by the past (which shows up in flashback), but still pushing forward.

So her arc and the tension from the main case more than make up for Page’s distraction. Again, got to wonder if it’s the source novel or—oh, Shelley Birse’s previous episode was a disappointing one (for “Fisher” anyway). So, yeah, I’d guess adaptation issues.

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (2012) s01e08 – Away with the Fairies

Once again I stand corrected as to what “Miss Fisher’s” needs to do to have a successful episode. This one has a case very tied to Essie Davis’s past—victim Heather Bolton was one of Davis’s teachers, prime suspect Deborah Kennedy is a mentor—has lots of guest stars (Phryne Fellow Philippe Sung is back, bringing arraigned marriage fiancée Haiha Le with him), gives Ashleigh Cummings a big subplot, and even has time to directly follow-up on the last episode, where Nathan Page… took unexpected actions to protect Davis.

And they’re still working out the repercussions, with Davis trying to throw Page off guard and Page refusing to play with Davis’s intimations. They’re so good together this episode. So good.

Also really good is Davis’s developing “relationship” with Sung, who’s discovered his grandmother, Amanda Ma (who previously threatened Davis), doesn’t like his appropriate Chinese wife-to-be Le any better, forcing Sung to reexamine his future.

Meanwhile, Cummings and Davis discover there’s a lot more to Le than Sung or Ma realize.

The mystery is about women’s magazine editor Bolton ending up dead and everyone in the office— plus all the various men about town who hate a women’s magazine-suspects. Kennedy would’ve gotten control of the magazine, Anna McGahan would’ve gotten ahead as a reporter, Roz Hammond and soul male employee Peter Stefanou have no obvious motives, but Hammond’s keeping secrets from her husband, handyman Jim Russell, and Stefanou’s a Lothario so who knows.

Cummings isn’t just gal palling with Le, she’s also coming into her own helping the magazine get out its next issue—Davis’s investigation almost takes a back seat to her concern for her friend, Kennedy, and just keeping a women’s magazine (made by women) coming out. Thanks to that character development subplot, Cummings also gets a very cute scene with Hugo Johnstone-Burt.

While the mystery solution itself isn’t great (and is a little familiar thinking about it in hindsight), but the episode’s outstanding. And the mystery setting does allow Davis to get all the suspects together for the end reveal, which is a lot of fun. If the show’s done it before, I don’t think they made such a big deal out of it. Here, it’s the full suspects gathered trope.

It’s so much fun.

Star Trek: Picard (2020) s01e05 – Stardust City Rag

I wonder if the “Picard” producers tried to track down Brian Brophy to appear on this episode. He originated the Bruce Maddox role on “Next Generation” Season Two, in 1989. I don’t have particularly good memories of his performance but whatever. Did they at least ask? Though he doesn’t have a credit since 2011; he was on “Southland.” “Southland” was a great show.

“Picard,” five episodes in, is not a great show. It is not a good show, it is not a middling show. It is a bad one. Five episodes is enough for the series to find its footing and its footing is poor. Jonathan Frakes directs once again and, once again, it’s not well-directed. It doesn’t quite look like a “TNG” episode shot on CG-enhanced locations like the last one. It doesn’t have anywhere near that amount of personality.

It looks like they tried ripping off a Star Wars location for the episode’s Las Vegas planet location—what happens in Freecloud stays in Freecloud—only with the giant holograms from Blade Runner 2. There are also hologram advertisements beamed into visiting starships, which seems to imply the planet hacks all the arriving ships. Guess they don’t worry about Cambridge Analytica in 2399.

On the planet is the new Bruce Maddox, played by John Ales. Doesn’t matter because he’s barely in the episode. He’s a red herring. Once he tells Patrick Stewart about how Isa Briones is on the Borg cube, he’s expendable. We also find out he and Alison Pill weren’t just colleagues, they were lovers. He was, of course, her boss and sixteen years her senior.

Because let’s not forget men are still men in 2399?

The Pill romance thing is just to get her some added burden throughout. Doesn’t matter. Might matter later, doesn’t matter now. Actually, it doesn’t seem like Pill’s going to matter at all on “Picard.” She too appears to be a red herring, which I wasn’t expecting. Silly me, I thought they wanted someone who could act. But based on the writing, it’s clear it doesn’t matter.

As such, when Jeri Ryan comes back to do a Seven of Nine appearance—the episode is “The Seven of Nine Show with Special Guest Star Patrick Stewart” (in a flipping eye patch at one point because in the future arms dealers are flamboyant like they’re all Peter Allen)—it’s not like Ryan’s good. She’s actually quite bad, but still leagues ahead of reptile bad guy alien Dominic Burgess, who’s so bad I might remember his name to avoid him.

Necar Zadegan isn’t bad as Ryan’s nemesis, but her part’s still poorly written and the episode’s still bad.

No Briones in this episode, incidentally. I hadn’t realized how much the questionable Borg fanfic was keeping the show afloat.

Michelle Hurd has her big scene—she’s going to Space Vegas to see her son, Mason Gooding, who feels like she abandoned him because she’s a drug addicted conspiracy theorist. The show tries to tug the heart strings as Hurd—in a startlingly bad monologue—tells Gooding how she’s clean now and wants to be a mom. Except… she was getting high in the first or second episode, so… how long she been clean? And was she addicted to something without withdrawals? And isn’t addiction treatment better in 2399? Gooding rejects her, which puts Hurd back on Stewart’s ship, which is good because Ryan’s not sticking around. They just really wanted a bad guest star spot.

Interestingly enough—not really because Kirsten Beyer’s writing isn’t good—Stewart and Ryan talk about being ex-Borg and how it’s a struggle to be human every day, which kind of seems like addict recovery talk only they weren’t addicts, they were Borg.

Stewart’s got some really bad moments this episode. Like… really bad. Maybe the show never had any charm to it, just the potential for it; the charm’s all gone now. It’s almost anti-charm.

Maybe the whole thing is just intended to prove resetting the timeline with J.J. Abrams was the best idea.