Loving Voyager

In the middle of the 20^th century America found itself on the edge of a technological revolution.  In the space of 60 years we went from propeller driven planes to space shuttles; from windup telephones to wireless; from typewriters to supercomputers.  The technological changes were accompanied by the inevitable social changes.  Those changes begged for understanding and found it through the medium of television.  It was on that medium that a new mythology appeared: Star Trek.  It offered up observations on humanity through the prism of science fiction.  It was not always profound, as we learned during the episode with the Tribbles, but it did become a cultic phenomenon.  I grew up with that mythology, and came to appreciate the power of story telling.  It is through story telling, through myth, that we explore who we are and our search for meaning.  In a time of profound technological, cultural, and social changes that spanned the globe, Star Trek offered an opportunity to tell stories that would help us put meaning to those changes and consider their impact on our lives. 

The succeeding series reflected the social and cultural norms of their times, as did the original.  We went from miniskirted women to a woman First Officer with an attitude on Deep Space Nine.  The captains changed from one with a definite yen for the ladies to a widower who was on the front lines of a war.  Star Trek was a continuing mix of profundity and silliness, as seen in Deep Space Nine’s alternate universe with the Intendant lusting after everyone.  As Deep Space Nine began to approach its end, another series appeared on the horizon, and I was ready to embrace it. 

When I first heard about Voyager I was ecstatic.  It was an opportunity to see a female Starfleet Captain commanding a starship. Would she lead differently than the men?  The First Officer was a Native American, a member of a culture poorly understood by most Americans.  I wondered if we would get any insights into this long neglected group.  The premise held possibilities for all sorts of provocative stories.  I wanted to like Voyager from the very start, and it was hard not to like the show.  But after three and half years my view began to change. 

            The crew was a hodge podge of Star Fleet, Maquis, refugees, and a Pinocchio.  The opportunities for character development seemed endless.  A cast change swapped the pixieish Kes for the statuesque Seven, who strutted about the ship in a catsuit and high heels.  By the middle of the fifth season the Captain, the Doctor and Seven were dominating the episodes.  The romantic couple of Paris/Torres got some attention, but the rest were reduced to the background.  Occasionally one or another would be featured in an episode. What made it all the more distressing was the fact that the first four seasons offered tantalizing glimpses into all of the characters.  Season Four seems, on reflection, to have been the best mix of character development and action sequences.  As Season Five took shape Voyager began to acquire a predictable hue that deepened in Season Six.  Borg focused episodes, the Borg children, Seven/Janeway/The Doctor saves the day, holodeck adventures, and a general lack of interest in character development or continuity marked the series.  By the time Season Seven arrived I had lost all hope.  I no longer watched first run episodes until after reading synopses and deciding if the story was worth my time.  Although hailed as the best season of the past three, I did not find the synopses or spoilers interesting enough to spend time watching the episodes, even in reruns. 

            To be certain, Voyager was not a total wasteland.  Episodes like “Tattoo,” “Scorpion,” “Unity,” “The Fight,” “Nemesis,” “Survival Instinct,” “Memorial,” “Barge of the Dead,” and “One Small Step” are indicators of what was possible.  Yet what marks Voyager is its reliance on the very things that made it boring for me.  Even on the finale we are treated to time travel without consideration of the temporal paradoxes it creates, yet another successful assault on the Borg, fabulous technology that renders the ship nearly invincible, an unexpected and sudden romance between Chakotay and Seven, and a nearly fairy tale ending.  Mixed with this is an overarching emphasis on Janeway, and her resolution of her feelings about herself, her crew and their destiny.  The focus is on her as she literally faces herself in the story.  

Fans of time travel, space battles, and Janeway as Action/Mama/Martyr Kate, got that in “Endgame.”  Fans preferring drama without the artifice of time travel (and preferably without the Borg), believable character resolutions, and a straightforward outcome to the relationship between the Captain and First Officer, are very unhappy.  To them “Endgame” appears to be another “Timeless,” but with Janeway leading the charge instead of Chakotay and Kim.  For me, the finale was an unsatisfying end to an unsatisfying series. 

How had Star Trek come to this?  The franchise that created a new mythology in the days of Flower Power seemed incapable of fully capitalizing on its most intriguing premise.  The responsibility for this must be laid at the feet of the producers, who also wrote many of the stories.  Unfortunately they seem unable, or unwilling, to accept responsibility for their role in Voyager’s failure to live up to its potential.  Ken Biller, the Season Seven Executive Producer, flatly stated there was nothing he could do about Robert Beltran’s oft-expressed concerns about the development of Chakotay.[i]  Brannon Braga, who coined the phrase about “shotgunning” episodes, considers the cinematic quality of Voyager and the addition of Seven as his contributions to the series.[ii]  Only Michael Piller, one of the creators, looked back and saw room for improvements that never occurred.[iii]  Do any of them truly realize that having your name in the credits invests you with responsibility for the outcomes?  Is it possible that sheer hubris has blinded them to reality?  Is that their best effort?  If they are not in charge, who is? 

            Does this mean I hate Voyager?  No.  I actually love Voyager, but I love it the way a parent loves a child who, though given every advantage, struggles without succeeding.  When I walked the halls of the set in October 2000 I knew that Voyager had captured my heart.  It failed to live up to its premise and its possibilities, but the responsibility for that lies in the hands of those who managed its vision and wrote its stories.  Now, we are promised that Enterprise will somehow give us different, and better stories.   Since the creative leadership that failed Voyager now works on Enterprise I am doubtful that the stories will be better.  Voyager had its day in the sun and I shall celebrate its successes, even as I shake my head at its failings.

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