Star Trek: Starfleet Academy – Episode 7 – A Reshoots Required Review

A Funeral March Into One Tree Hill: Space Prom Edition

Episode seven opens with a tone shift.

It’s grim. Bleak. People are mourning the losses from episode six. The environment is soaked in that classic TV shorthand for sadness: it’s raining, everyone looks miserable, and Captain Ake is drinking whisky.

Look — I’ll give them this: starting with genuine fallout from a previous episode is a good direction to go in. Star Trek has always taken loss seriously when it chooses to. The best Trek understands that death isn’t just a plot tick-box; it changes people. It changes command decisions. It changes the way a crew looks at their mission. But Starfleet Academy does what it always does: It takes a potentially Trek-ish setup and turns it into an awkward teen drama with the emotional depth of a wet crisp.

This cold open is basically a checklist for sadness.

Rain: check.

Downcast faces: check.

Someone drinking: check.

And Ake continues to feel like she’s cosplaying command rather than embodying it. In this opening she gets frustrated with Caleb and actually screams out loud. Not “stern command voice.” Not “controlled authority.” Just… losing it.

Starfleet captains can be emotional. Picard had breaking points. Sisko had rage. Janeway had moments of pure steel under pressure.

But they always felt like officers who had earned the chair — and who understood what the chair required.

Ake too often feels like someone who wandered in from another show, stole a uniform, and is hoping nobody notices.

She’s sitting on a suitcase when she gets frustrated.

A modern-looking suitcase too.

It’s a tiny thing, but it’s become a theme with this show: props that scream “present day” and yank you out of the future faster than a warp core breach. Star Trek has always been careful about design language. Even when budgets were tight, they tried. Here it often feels like the creative team just… doesn’t care.

And then we hit another “wait, what?” moment:

What could have been an enemy can apparently access the Athena with zero alarms.

No intruder alert. No security lockdown. No “unauthorised transport detected.” Nothing.

Star Trek has trained me to expect INTRUDER ALERT! You’d think a ship in this era — with programmable matter, floating hull bits, and deltas on every surface — might also have a basic security system.

But no. The Athena remains the Federation’s most expensive open-plan office.

Cold Open Whiplash And The Doctor Strange Portal Problem

The opening is all over the place. Darem is suddenly taken. Jay Den follows through what looks like a Doctor Strange portal — because of course he does — and then we head into those opening credits again. The ones that feel like they were designed by someone who thinks Trek should sound like Westworld had a baby with a Spotify “Mood” playlist.

The tone switches from bleak and depressing to frantic and chaotic in a second. It’s tonal whiplash.

And it becomes the dominant feature of the whole episode: everything is abrupt, everything jumps, nothing breathes, and by the end it feels like a bunch of unrelated scenes stitched together with longing looks and modern music cues.

What was this episode…

So… It’s A Wedding Episode?

It turns out Darem has been taken because…

He’s getting married.

To someone he’s been promised to.

And Jay Den — after his unexpected arrival through the previously mentioned portal — is made the best man.

Now, wedding episodes can work. Even in serious sci-fi. They can reveal cultural traditions, explore duty versus desire, and build character stakes without explosions. Trek has done ceremonial stories with real weight before.

But this show doesn’t really use the wedding to explore a new culture.

It uses it to explore… teen awkwardness. Again.

We get tension between Darem and Jay Den played out through — you guessed it — constant yearning looks. Not meaningful dialogue. Not philosophical disagreement. Not “who are we, what do we owe each other, what does love mean across cultures?”

Just: stare at each other like Twilight extras and hope the audience does the rest.

The B-Plot: Caleb And Genesis Alone On The Athena

Back on the Athena, we get the B-plot with Caleb and Genesis, alone on the ship during this random holiday. And yes, the show continues to push that teen tension, while Caleb also pines for Tarima, who is back on Betazed recovering.

Side note: I have to keep looking these names up.

I’m using the names here to make the review readable, but my brain refuses to store them. That’s not a “me” problem — that’s a writing problem. Star Trek can introduce you to a new character and make them memorable in five minutes if it wants to. This show struggles to do it in seven episodes.

Anyway, Caleb and Genesis alone on the ship should be a great opportunity to build character. Quiet moments. Reflection. A sense of responsibility. The chance to show that cadets can be competent without adults present.

Instead we get… shenan-agains (see what I did there).

Kionia: Why Do Aliens Look Human On Their Own Planet?

So, we’re on Kionia with Darem and his people. A chance to explore a new culture.

And this question hit me like a photon torpedo:

Why does his species keep up their human appearance even on their homeworld?

If you’re an alien species with a distinct cultural identity, why are you cosplaying “Earth person” even when you’re at home? It’s another example of the show not thinking through its own choices. If there’s an in-universe reason, it isn’t earned or explained. It just… is.

And it contributes to that constant feeling that nothing in this world is real. It’s all aesthetic. All surface. No depth.

Warp Slugs And The Comedy That Doesn’t Land

Genesis and Caleb let out a warp slug, played for laughs.

But it just comes across as stupid.

It instantly made me think of much better things, like Star Trek: Enterprise and “A Night In Sickbay,” when Archer and Phlox try to recapture one of Phlox’s creatures. That episode was light, yes — but it felt believable. The humour came from character and situation, not from cartoon logic.

Here, we have a creature zipping around at warp like it’s a Pixar short.

If you can’t zip around a solar system at warp, then surely something zipping around in a classroom is bad. But this show constantly ignores canon, like in the DS9 focused episode when these cadets visit a bar – there’s ships flying to warp in the cities sky.

Starfleet Academy thinks it’s cute and clever.

It is neither.

The Captain’s Chair Obsession And Peak Childishness

Genesis’ “daddy issues” continue. She wants to sit in a captain’s chair that isn’t her Admiral father’s chair. The show frames it like a big emotional milestone.

I didn’t understand why it mattered.

She’s already being entered for command training. She’s already on that path. Why is sitting in Ake’s chair treated like some profound rite of passage?

It felt childish — and worse, it felt like drama that was manufactured purely to give the characters something “emotional” to do.

Then we find out the real reason: she wants access to some key and data Ake needs to send for her command application.

And I had to ask: what?

So the only place this crucial application data can be accessed is… the captain’s chair?

Not a console. Not a secure terminal. Not a command office. Not a datapad with authorisation protocols.

No.

It’s apparently locked behind “sit in chair.”

This isn’t drama. It’s convenience dressed up as plot.

Hacking The Bridge: Too Easy, Too Dumb

Genesis and Caleb easily hack their way onto the bridge too. They start activating systems. No command codes. No major obstacles. Just… click click, now we run the ship.

This is meant to be Starfleet. A thousand years in the future. The Athena has programmable matter, floating parts, and enough deltas to make a badge factory weep.

But it can’t stop two cadets messing about on the bridge?

It’s hard to feel tension when the ship’s security is basically a “please don’t touch” sign.

Best Man Speech: Where Did The Anxiety Go?

Jay Den gives his best man speech.

And weirdly, he does it without the sweat and anxiety the show previously established for him. It was briefly touched on with a passing line of dialogue, but it’s like the writers forgot the character trait they already wrote and had to conveniently write themselves out of it with a lazy line. Or they suddenly decided it didn’t matter anymore.

This happens constantly in Academy: characters behave however the plot needs them to behave in that scene, consistency be damned.

Modern Language In The 32nd Century: Ghosting Tarima

Then we get more modern language. Caleb is “ghosting” Tarima because of mummy issues.

I’m sorry, but no.

This is not timeless writing. This is not “future speech.” This is the writers stapling current slang into Star Trek because they want to sound contemporary.

But the older shows are contemporary — even now — because they weren’t trying too hard. They were written with care. They were written to last.

This episode, more than most, felt like One Tree Hill in space. And not in a “fun guilty pleasure” way. In a “why are we doing this with Star Trek?” way.

Sam, The Glitch, And The Pom-Pom Hair

And Sam… what is going on with the character and her hair?

She’s still glitching from the previous episode. Surely, in this future, that can be fixed already. And I still don’t understand how something that can be permeable can be shot. There’s just no logic here.

There’s also crazy pom-pom hair in this episode too. Is that Starfleet regulation? Is that a uniform standard? No. Caleb was forced to have a regulation haircut in episode one, yet Sam’s hair looks like it belongs at a festival.

It’s another example of inconsistency that chips away at the credibility of the world. If you’re going to have rules, have rules. If you’re going to ignore them, stop pretending they matter.

Music Cues: Stop Emotionally Manipulating With Spotify

We get more modern dramatic music over every emotional moment, like the show doesn’t trust the actors, dialogue, or direction to convey feeling.

It’s the TV equivalent of someone whispering, “This is sad now. Please cry. Please.”

I’m not crying. I’m just checking the runtime. Is it over yet?

Why This Episode Feels So Empty

Here’s the real issue: I don’t care about any of these characters.

They’re dull. One-dimensional. Walking teen stereotypes. No personality beyond their assigned trait and current romance target.

And yes, I get it — they’re trying to reach a younger audience.

But Star Trek of the past never needed to pander. I watched old Trek as a kid and felt inspired. I aspired to be like those officers. Strong. Competent. Ethical. Curious. Brave. Logical.

These Academy characters aren’t inspiring.

This show is not making future scientists and astronauts. It’s making future professionals practise longing stares and awkward flirting under moody lighting.

Star Trek used to fill you with hope or whisk you away to a better world. A world where humanity matured. A world worth working toward.

New Trek often feels like our current world, but with darker lighting and more awkward romance.

The Saddest Part: Trek Used To Be Timeless

This episode reinforced something I’ve been feeling all season:

Older Trek is timeless and inspiring.

This is neither.

And that’s the real tragedy.

Because even when classic Trek was cheesy, even when budgets were tight, even when alien makeup looked like it was held together by hope and latex — the writing still aimed higher. The characters still felt like professionals. The worldview still mattered.

Episode seven doesn’t aim higher.

It aims sideways, at teen drama tropes, and hopes the Star Trek logo will do the heavy lifting.

It doesn’t.

Final Verdict

Episode seven is dull. It goes nowhere. It’s another parade of feelings, stares, and manufactured drama with a poor Star Trek coat of paint.

It’s not bold.

It’s not thoughtful.

It’s not inspiring.

It’s just… there.

Reshoots Required Score: Major Reshoots Required.

At this point, Starfleet Academy isn’t boldly going anywhere — it’s staying in the same emotional corridor, under the same dark blue-grey lighting, playing the same modern music, and hoping nobody notices that the heart of Trek isn’t beating.

Three episodes to go, folks.

Oh wait, there’s another season of this already filmed as well. Who at Paramount is letting this happen – its money down the pan.

The question isn’t “can it improve?” anymore.

The question is: does it even want to be Star Trek anymore?


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