This episode is a painful reminder of what we’ve lost.
If episodes one through three of Star Trek: Starfleet Academy frustrated me, episode four did something arguably worse.
It bored me.
This week’s episode runs for around 59 minutes and I genuinely felt every single one of them. Not in a thoughtful, measured, “this is slow but meaningful Trek” way — but in a “how is this still going?” way.
Which is deeply ironic, because on paper, this episode should have been a slam dunk.
Debate: Star Trek’s secret weapon… completely blunted
This episode centres on debate — something that sits at the very heart of Star Trek when it’s firing on all cylinders.
When Trek does debate properly, it produces some of the best television ever made.
Think “The Measure of a Man” from TNG.
Think “The Drumhead” from TNG.
Those episodes didn’t need action. They didn’t need gimmicks. They trusted the audience to engage with ideas, ethics, and moral ambiguity. They trusted the writing — and the writing rewarded that trust.
Episode four of Starfleet Academy clearly wants to be mentioned in the same breath.
It has no business being there.
The debate here feels shallow, oddly juvenile, and over-written. Big ideas are gestured at, but never truly or fully examined. There’s no sense of risk, no intellectual tension, no moment where a character’s worldview genuinely feels challenged.
Star Trek once used debate as drama.
Here, debate is just set dressing.
Dialogue that breaks immersion instantly
The language problem continues — and it’s getting worse.
Lines like:
“Read a book, moron”
“Little Zygote”
“Master-debater”
That last one alone tells you exactly how mature this episode thinks it’s being.
Star Trek dialogue has always avoided locking itself into the slang or humour of its production era. That’s why TNG, DS9, Voyager, and Enterprise still feel timeless. You’re never yanked out of the story by dialogue that screams, “This was written in the 2020s.”
This episode does that constantly.
It never lets you forget that you’re watching a script.
Holograms that somehow regress over time
Once again, holograms flicker.
They didn’t flicker in the 24th century.
The Doctor didn’t flicker in Voyager.
So why, all these years later, are holograms apparently worse?
Because the writers think visual distortion is the only way to communicate “this is a hologram.”
It’s lazy.
At the end of a conversation, just end the transmission. Viewers aren’t stupid. This kind of visual noise doesn’t add realism — it actively breaks immersion.
Klingons: from cultural powerhouse to afterthought
The Klingons continue to be treated poorly — almost like an afterthought.
Their dialogue is soft. Meandering. Lacking conviction or purpose. When I think Klingon, I think of presence. Authority. Certainty.
I think of Martok — J.G. Hertzler’s masterful delivery. Every line carried weight. Honour wasn’t just spoken about — it was embodied.
Here, Klingons sound apologetic.
The makeup doesn’t help either. The older Klingon designs felt grounded and powerful. These feel overworked, oddly artificial, and disconnected from the species’ identity.
And then we’re told Klingons are endangered. Again.
This has already been explored — and explored far better — in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, where it actually meant something.
Here, it feels like a lore bullet point.
References instead of understanding
At one point, the episode quotes Admiral Satie, directly invoking “The Drumhead”.
That’s a bold move.
Because this episode wouldn’t survive five minutes in the same room.
This show keeps referencing classic Trek moments in the hope fans will go, “Oh! I recognise that!” But those fans have left, and new viewers have no context for why these moments mattered.
So why keep doing it?
Because the writers seem to believe references are Star Trek — the verbal equivalent of slapping Starfleet deltas on everything and saying, “Look, it’s Trek, we promise.”
Lighting, colour, and hiding the money
The lighting remains relentlessly dim — grey and black everywhere.
Why spend this much money on sets, costumes, and alien designs if you’re going to hide them? Star Trek environments used to feel like places you could live in. The Enterprise-D. Deep Space Nine. They felt like home.
Here, everything feels like it’s happening during a power cut with emergency lighting on.
Robert Picardo: still wonderful, increasingly frustrating
Robert Picardo returns again, complete with a reference to one of his Voyager-era debates (“Author, Author”).
And yes — it’s still great to see him. The sarcasm is intact. The delivery is sharp.
But the frustration remains: there’s no sense of growth. No evolution. No payoff. All these canon years later, he’s functionally doing the same job, with teaching as a side hustle. He did that with Seven of Nine in Voyager too – and it was done much better.
At this point, his inclusion feels less like continuity and more like another “oh look!” moment.
Pronunciation and respect
It’s a small thing — but it matters.
It’s Kahless, not “Kaylessshhh.”
It’s Qo’noS, not “Khrrronossshhh.”
Details matter because they signal care. When you get them wrong, it reinforces the sense that the writers are skimming the surface rather than understanding the world they’re working in.
Ships, battles, and disbelief
There’s a short ship “battle” here, and it’s as subdued as everything else.
The actors’ body rocking isn’t convincing. There’s no tension. No urgency. No sense of danger.
And I’ve finally realised what’s truly wrong with the Klingons in this show:
They no longer feel like a real species.
They feel like actors in masks.
Once that illusion breaks, a show collapses.
The comparison that says everything
By pure coincidence, I’ve been rewatching real Star Trek recently. Just before starting Starfleet Academy, I’d watched “The Way of the Warrior” from Deep Space Nine.
And honestly?
The contrast is devastating.
The Way of the Warrior is everything this episode isn’t. It’s confident. It’s muscular. It respects its characters, its lore, and its audience. The Klingons feel like a fully realised culture with internal politics, history, and honour. The Federation feels competent. The stakes feel real.
That episode balances action, politics, and character work effortlessly. It introduces Worf to DS9, reshapes the Klingon–Federation relationship, and still finds time for humour, tension, and philosophical weight.
It knows exactly what Star Trek is.
Watching that, then watching Starfleet Academy, is like switching from a symphony orchestra to someone tapping cutlery on a table.
It’s night and day.
Final Verdict
Episode four was, for me, the hardest to get through so far.
Not because it was offensive.
Not because it was outrageous.
But because it was dull.
This doesn’t feel like Star Trek. It doesn’t sound like Star Trek. And increasingly, it doesn’t even seem to understand why Star Trek worked in the first place.
Reshoots Required Score: Major Reshoots Required.
At this point, I’m watching because I care about Star Trek — Someone needs to say that this isn’t good enough.
Sadly, episode four didn’t just fail to change my mind.
It reminded me just how great Star Trek used to be — and how far this great franchise has fallen. In it’s 60th year on our screens as well – devastating.
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