Season 2 of Lower Decks has been strong. After "I, Excretus," I thought we had seen this team at its best. That previous episode had every piece perfectly aligned, and expertly deployed so much of the intense character-building we've been treated to so far. How could it get better from there?
Wej Duj ("Three Ships") is a masterpiece of Lower Decks and of Star Trek. It is incredible television.
Lower Decks understands that Star Trek is, at its core, an office drama on the high seas. It is adventure and mystery experienced as the day-jobs of fantastically competent and good-hearted people. Familiar and unfamiliar faces all have their part to play in building this elaborate future of ours.
Wej Duj just gets it. It gets Star Trek, and it gets Lower Deck's place in that universe. It shows us the "Lower Decks" (the behind-the-scenes, under-the-bulkhead, behind-the-transporter-console workadays of Starfleet, as opposed to its captains and heroes), this time from the perspective of our crew on the Cerritos, a Klingon ship, and a Vulcan ship.
All three cultures are already richly explored in Star Trek and wej Duj wastes no time reiterating what these societies are about. It shows us, with breathtaking efficiency, the different values and drives behind each one - and contextualizes them in how those cultures are experienced by their own workadays. The Vulcan "rebel" who is practically declared insane for merely having instincts, the Klingon rebel-with-a-cause desperate both for honor and for the approval of a dishonorable captain, are stacked up next to Ensign Boimler - who is, to put it mildly, a Star Trek fan in uniform.
All three stories show us people struggling to find joy in societies which have become staid and aimless. Our Vulcan ensign is belittled, in cripplingly acerbic Vulcan fashion, for marginally expanding herself a hair's breadth beyond her literal duties. Our Klingon soldier finds himself groaning under the weight of an overbearing captain who is ruthless, dangerous, everything a Klingon is likely told to be by Klingon television - except that his captain is a dishonorable, craven traitor, as if the House of Duras was still able to field ships in the 2380s.
If that last reference made no sense to you, don't worry. Lower Decks does not need you to be utterly steeped in Star Trek lore. It will teach it to you, in the funniest way possible. Lower Decks has mastered the art of snarky fan service: rewarding us with tiny easter eggs like pink Klingon blood and Vulcans quoting Spock verbatim, in a way that both pokes fun at, and genuinely points out the existential weaknesses of, this great Star Trek canon we've built for fifty years.
The Cerritos crew starts with a corporate-life mundanity agonizingly familiar to anyone working today: fake socialization with the management. All of our crew accidentally find themselves having a blast with their bosses - except Boimler, of course, who can never get out of his own way long enough to live up to Starfleet and his own ideals. Does it matter that Boimler's fumble is the same gaffe pulled by LaVelle in the Next Generation episode called "Lower Decks" - trying to schmooze with a superior by concocting a shared place of birth, only to fall utterly and obviously flat? Only a little. If you aren't a Star Trek fan you'll feel the agony of your own fake sincerity amounting to nothing with the boss. And if you are, you'll chuckle grimly just a little bit louder. As always Lower Decks finds way to reward you for being a fan, but not punishing you for not.
Lower Decks has already built its own perfectly absurd villain - the Pakleds. Aboard the "crumship Pakled" (yes, they called the Pakleds called their ship Pakled, and yes, its ship class is identified onscreen as a crumship), we see our Klingon captain betraying the galaxy by selling weapons to doofuses and leaving the Pakleds to wage war on the Federation by themselves with stolen Klingon bombs. What's a Klingon solider to do when he needs the approval of such a dishonorable leader in order to advance?
The Cerritos and the Vulcan ship converge and join forces against the Pakleds in a beautifully-animated space battle. The Vulcan ship is only there because our erstwhile Vulcan ensign's disreputably fun science project tweaked the sensors a little bit. The Cerritos, too, is there on accident, only diverted from its otherwise-dull cruise because of the ingrained natural curiosity of its crew. Our guys triumph because the tiny background contributions of their respective nobodies made all the difference.
And our Klingon soldier finds himself at the exact right moment. How? Oh, you know. "Klingon stuff." He sheathes his knife into his captain's heart, takes command of the ship, and warps off to Klingon space to expose the vanity and treachery of his own captain. Instead of seeking his captain's approval, our newly-minted Klingon warrior follows his heart and maximizes his own potential by rebelling against the cynical version of his own culture epitomized by his captain.
Just as the Vulcan's logic wins the day against the oppressive faux-logic of her own military, which has replaced dispassionate Vulcan wisdom with disinterested Vulcan conformity. She, too, rebels in her own way, not by telling Vulcan culture to go screw, but by finding its long-buried heart under the layers of bureaucracy that have stifled it. Just as Boimler, our dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie, is always at risk of having his Wesley-like bright-eyed curiosity about the universe crushed under the trivialities of working life.
Just like all of us Star Trek nerds, really. If you aren't a Star Trek nerd, you've felt this somewhere in your life. Some hobby or passion you've felt excluded from not because of some fault in your interests, but through some fault of the people who have taken it over, commercialized it, homogenized it, ground it up and scattered it across a spreadsheet when it belongs in the realm of pure fun and joy. You know exactly what all three of these Lower Decks crews' lives are like, how you go through your life shielding the tiny flickering candle of your own joy against the horrendous bluster of modern life. It isn't the wind's fault - but you still have to keep the candle burning, and by God is it hard.
Every frame of this episode is perfectly-placed. The Lower Decks team has built out a Simpsons-scale cast of characters who we know, and feel like we understand, with only a few combined hours across seasons 1 and 2. You don't even notice how "in-character" the Lower Decks main cast, the bridge crew, even the one-offers and one-liners of episodes past fit perfectly into the story. Every episode is animated more beautifully than the last and this episode is no exception. The music - always a strong suit of Lower Decks's - is full of musical phrases familiar to Star Trek nerds alone, but designed to immaculately set and advance the mood even if you aren't.
As a Star Trek nerd, I confidently say that this is top-ten all-time Star Trek. But maybe more importantly, it is somehow also, finally, at last, the most perfect answer to your friends' eternal question: "I've never seen Star Trek before. Where do I start?"
You start with Lower Decks. In fact, I think you start with wej Duj. There is no more efficient an explanation of so much of Star Trek's lore and history, its feel for curiosity, exploration, personal growth, self-actualization, than wej Duj. It helps that it is a fantastically well-directed episode with peak performances by all cast and production team. Welcome aboard.
Wej Duj ("Three Ships") is a masterpiece of Lower Decks and of Star Trek. It is incredible television.
Lower Decks understands that Star Trek is, at its core, an office drama on the high seas. It is adventure and mystery experienced as the day-jobs of fantastically competent and good-hearted people. Familiar and unfamiliar faces all have their part to play in building this elaborate future of ours.
Wej Duj just gets it. It gets Star Trek, and it gets Lower Deck's place in that universe. It shows us the "Lower Decks" (the behind-the-scenes, under-the-bulkhead, behind-the-transporter-console workadays of Starfleet, as opposed to its captains and heroes), this time from the perspective of our crew on the Cerritos, a Klingon ship, and a Vulcan ship.
All three cultures are already richly explored in Star Trek and wej Duj wastes no time reiterating what these societies are about. It shows us, with breathtaking efficiency, the different values and drives behind each one - and contextualizes them in how those cultures are experienced by their own workadays. The Vulcan "rebel" who is practically declared insane for merely having instincts, the Klingon rebel-with-a-cause desperate both for honor and for the approval of a dishonorable captain, are stacked up next to Ensign Boimler - who is, to put it mildly, a Star Trek fan in uniform.
All three stories show us people struggling to find joy in societies which have become staid and aimless. Our Vulcan ensign is belittled, in cripplingly acerbic Vulcan fashion, for marginally expanding herself a hair's breadth beyond her literal duties. Our Klingon soldier finds himself groaning under the weight of an overbearing captain who is ruthless, dangerous, everything a Klingon is likely told to be by Klingon television - except that his captain is a dishonorable, craven traitor, as if the House of Duras was still able to field ships in the 2380s.
If that last reference made no sense to you, don't worry. Lower Decks does not need you to be utterly steeped in Star Trek lore. It will teach it to you, in the funniest way possible. Lower Decks has mastered the art of snarky fan service: rewarding us with tiny easter eggs like pink Klingon blood and Vulcans quoting Spock verbatim, in a way that both pokes fun at, and genuinely points out the existential weaknesses of, this great Star Trek canon we've built for fifty years.
The Cerritos crew starts with a corporate-life mundanity agonizingly familiar to anyone working today: fake socialization with the management. All of our crew accidentally find themselves having a blast with their bosses - except Boimler, of course, who can never get out of his own way long enough to live up to Starfleet and his own ideals. Does it matter that Boimler's fumble is the same gaffe pulled by LaVelle in the Next Generation episode called "Lower Decks" - trying to schmooze with a superior by concocting a shared place of birth, only to fall utterly and obviously flat? Only a little. If you aren't a Star Trek fan you'll feel the agony of your own fake sincerity amounting to nothing with the boss. And if you are, you'll chuckle grimly just a little bit louder. As always Lower Decks finds way to reward you for being a fan, but not punishing you for not.
Lower Decks has already built its own perfectly absurd villain - the Pakleds. Aboard the "crumship Pakled" (yes, they called the Pakleds called their ship Pakled, and yes, its ship class is identified onscreen as a crumship), we see our Klingon captain betraying the galaxy by selling weapons to doofuses and leaving the Pakleds to wage war on the Federation by themselves with stolen Klingon bombs. What's a Klingon solider to do when he needs the approval of such a dishonorable leader in order to advance?
The Cerritos and the Vulcan ship converge and join forces against the Pakleds in a beautifully-animated space battle. The Vulcan ship is only there because our erstwhile Vulcan ensign's disreputably fun science project tweaked the sensors a little bit. The Cerritos, too, is there on accident, only diverted from its otherwise-dull cruise because of the ingrained natural curiosity of its crew. Our guys triumph because the tiny background contributions of their respective nobodies made all the difference.
And our Klingon soldier finds himself at the exact right moment. How? Oh, you know. "Klingon stuff." He sheathes his knife into his captain's heart, takes command of the ship, and warps off to Klingon space to expose the vanity and treachery of his own captain. Instead of seeking his captain's approval, our newly-minted Klingon warrior follows his heart and maximizes his own potential by rebelling against the cynical version of his own culture epitomized by his captain.
Just as the Vulcan's logic wins the day against the oppressive faux-logic of her own military, which has replaced dispassionate Vulcan wisdom with disinterested Vulcan conformity. She, too, rebels in her own way, not by telling Vulcan culture to go screw, but by finding its long-buried heart under the layers of bureaucracy that have stifled it. Just as Boimler, our dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie, is always at risk of having his Wesley-like bright-eyed curiosity about the universe crushed under the trivialities of working life.
Just like all of us Star Trek nerds, really. If you aren't a Star Trek nerd, you've felt this somewhere in your life. Some hobby or passion you've felt excluded from not because of some fault in your interests, but through some fault of the people who have taken it over, commercialized it, homogenized it, ground it up and scattered it across a spreadsheet when it belongs in the realm of pure fun and joy. You know exactly what all three of these Lower Decks crews' lives are like, how you go through your life shielding the tiny flickering candle of your own joy against the horrendous bluster of modern life. It isn't the wind's fault - but you still have to keep the candle burning, and by God is it hard.
Every frame of this episode is perfectly-placed. The Lower Decks team has built out a Simpsons-scale cast of characters who we know, and feel like we understand, with only a few combined hours across seasons 1 and 2. You don't even notice how "in-character" the Lower Decks main cast, the bridge crew, even the one-offers and one-liners of episodes past fit perfectly into the story. Every episode is animated more beautifully than the last and this episode is no exception. The music - always a strong suit of Lower Decks's - is full of musical phrases familiar to Star Trek nerds alone, but designed to immaculately set and advance the mood even if you aren't.
As a Star Trek nerd, I confidently say that this is top-ten all-time Star Trek. But maybe more importantly, it is somehow also, finally, at last, the most perfect answer to your friends' eternal question: "I've never seen Star Trek before. Where do I start?"
You start with Lower Decks. In fact, I think you start with wej Duj. There is no more efficient an explanation of so much of Star Trek's lore and history, its feel for curiosity, exploration, personal growth, self-actualization, than wej Duj. It helps that it is a fantastically well-directed episode with peak performances by all cast and production team. Welcome aboard.
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