OVEG: The Thaw

Description: First off, I've got to say that this is such a hard episode to judge. The reason for this is that, after one episode after another that was so bad that the best they could achieve was an average episode, it's hard not to latch onto something that works, which is what this episode does. It shouldn't, it really shouldn't, but it somehow manages to rise above its "high concept," as some like to call it, story and be very entertaining and enjoyable. This, Death Wish, and Projections remain the only episodes this entire season I'd actually call "good." That's what makes this so hard to judge, because it's standing amongst the unwashed masses of mediocrity that have made up season two, possibly the worst season of Voyager's seven year run.

We begin with Harry practicing his clarinet while Tom watches. The less said about that, the better. Soon someone is banging on the wall to show their appreciation of Harry's musical ability, so he and Tom discuss other options. See, Harry's got a duet coming up with a hot chick who plays the oboe (and you know what girls who handle woodwinds are like). This scene really has nothing to do with anything, but it pads out the episode (apparently this was a scene cut from Death Wish for time and tossed in here, apparently to make time for the Q-Janeway bedroom scene that needlessly split the narrative of that story), something that fortunately stops here. Unlike a lot of Voyager tales, there's no B or C plots mixing in here, which is part of what helps give the main story enough time to be properly explored, and it's a story with enough meat to cover that time adequately, unlike, say, Twisted, which had to pad its story out with a birthday party and a whole lot of standing around and circle-jerking.

They come across a planet that seems unsettled, but Neelix says was once a popular trading post. He says this was nineteen years ago, but can only pin it down after hearing that there was a massive solar flare nineteen years ago (thanks for that bit of insight, shithead). Between everything that happened, a brief ice age hit, wiping out the colony, but now the planet's recovered and habitable. It's then that they detect some stasis pods for five people, which are still functioning. The scan triggers an automated message which announces that they plan to rebuild in fifteen years and ask that Voyager not interfere. However, this is Voyager we're talking about, so as you can imagine the only way they wouldn't get involved is if doing so would prevent genocide, so Janeway has the stasis unit beamed up so they can poke about its innards.

They look things over in the cargo bay - turns out two of the five are dead, but there's no evidence that the system stopped working. Harry looks things over, and its revealed that the people are engaged in a collective unconsciousness, passing the time in an interactive dream-like state controlled by the computer. So, it's off to the magic meeting room to hash out the exposition for this episode. It seems the people inside had the choice of staying in or leaving, and even had info on the state of the outside world, so there's no reason for them to stay in there. What's even odder is that the Doctor shows signs they're under a great deal of stress in there, that whatever's going on, they're not enjoying their stay. Also, they don't know how to disconnect them from the system without causing neural damage (this actually does make a bit of sense, since this is a two-way access, kind of like unplugging a hard drive while it's accessing data can mess it up). Tuvok is the one who suggests that they go in and ask the other three what can be done, which is easy enough because of the two empty pods. This is still potentially dangerous, so naturally Harry will be one of them (we haven't killed you permanently yet, Harry, we need to keep practicing until we get it right).

So, Harry and Torres are sent in to check things out, with a five minute timer set for them to be automatically brought out, and using Voyager's support to make things as safe as possible. Damn, what happened to the reckless disregard for safety we've come to know and love from Voyager? Inside, Harry and Torres slowly walk through this oddly colored world and encounter a horror I can barely find myself to face: a Renaissance Festival. Dear God, get out now, while you still can, before the leather mug maker shows up! This gadding group of circus performers do their various tricks as Harry and Torres try to get some answers, but not are forthcoming, until-

Until the arrival of the Clown, played by Michael McKean of hundreds of roles, including This Is Spinal Tap, Clue, and X-Files/Lone Gunmen. This is a role made for someone like McKean, capable of being funny and menacing, often at the same time, without turning into Jim Carrey's Riddler. Among his entourage is Carel Struycken (Lurch from The Addam's Family and Mr. Homn from TNG) as the Spectre, and a little person in a balerina-type costume (played by the waitress from Ice Pirates).

Harry and Torres are soon literally swept up by the crowd to participate in a freakish dance, something that in most episodes would be the harbinger of an episode full of annoyance, but rather than trying to be cheerful or cute or just weird, it quickly is quite macabre, as we see them brought by the crowd to a big bright-pink guillotine, which promptly cuts a log in half. Without any change in the atmosphere it goes to the grim realization that they face decapitation, and their Trek Fu techniques are greated with laughs by the dancers who quite literally shrug off every blow, overwhelming them while the crowd taunts in a carnival-like atmosphere. They put Harry in pink manacles while the balerina dusts off the top of the guillotine. For Harry, this likely describes the dreams he has every night, except there are no women beating him with phallic objects.

Before the execution can take place, the three people show up and stop it by pointing out that there are likely more people outside, and if anything happened to Harry they'd probably shut down the system. The Clown calls things off for the moment, taunting Torres a little with info about her past. "Yes, you see, I know everything! This is my world, my festival. And you're here without an invitation." I hate to harp, but McKean just nails this performance; like Picardo with the Doctor, he can take this over-the-top part without turning it into farce. Even his jokes have an aura of menace about them. After a little more taunting, the Clown lays out the crux of the problem: if the people are let out, he and all the rest will disappear, and it's apparent that the Clown is now sentient. That throws an interesting wrinkle in things with the moral dilemma: is it right to force someone to remain a captive for the rest of their life, if it's the only way to preserve the life of another?

With that, the wake-up call kicks in, and Harry and Torres go to a panel that's appeared to get out, but the Clown won't allow it. If they leave, he threatens to kill one of the three aliens with his guillotine (that's what happened to the others - their heart attacks were caused by the overwhelming trauma of that event in there). So, when Janeway tries to get them out with their back-up, Harry cancels it from inside the program. When the Clown tells Harry to get rid of it, though, Harry tries talking him out of it, but doesn't get far. "Trying to get the better of me? Trying to trick me? I know everything you know, Harry Kim. I know how much you miss Libby. I know how you can never hit that G-sharp in the Mozart concerto. Do you think I don't know you're trying to defeat me?" However, Harry points out the obvious: that unless he allows one of them to return, Janeway will likely try to shut down the system, even with the risk. Lord knows he's been killed often enough to know that's true.

While the Clown and his entourage mull things over, the aliens explain that the Clown was conjured up because of their fears about the entire process of being frozen and awoken, of having to try to survive and rebuild. The Clown is fear incarnate - and in all honesty, isn't that the most appropriate form terror can take? Probably the scariest thing I ever saw was a zombie clown, combining those two terrifying elements into one uber-horror. The only thing more terrifying would be zombie Hillary Clinton in a clown suit.

Anyway, the Clown lets Torres go, keeping Harry as a hostage. Janeway first tries for the most direct addressing of the problem: can we get the hostages out while keeping the Clown alive? No, it needs at least one person to stay alive, and they can't get the people out fast enough without risking brain damage (insert joke here). Janeway muses aloud about negotiating with fear itself in this case - what happens when fear has control of you, how do you stop it. "Maybe we should try to make him laugh," Neelix suggests. This comment, for once, is greeted the way all Neelix's plans should be, a glare of irritation. Neelix putters on a bit more, but under the weight of the stares, finally shuts up. The only thing that could make this bit better would be for Janeway to toss him out. "Get your fur-covered ass down to the kitchen and cook something, shithead!" In the meantime, Janeway puts Torres in charge of Operation Remove Ethical Dilemma, and then discusses with Chakotay how to negotiate with the Clown without possibly providing an additional hostage.

Meanwhile, Harry tries to offer hope to the others about escape, but they are convinced it's impossible. All it does is cause the Clown to start mixing it up with Harry for a while, turning him into an old man and then a baby, but Harry tries to fight it. Sadly, this is the one part that flops. If you ever saw Tom Baker's "I deny this reality" scene from The Deadly Assassin, then this is at the bottom of things that performance is at the top of. This only antagonizes the Clown, however, and he pulls Harry's biggest fear out. I should mention that it once again involves pink manacles. You know, Harry, I'm trying to avoid the innuendo, but this makes Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert look like Fight Club. Anyway, the Clown recreates in the carnival when Harry saw a radiation disaster when he was nine, and witnessed a girl being operated on who was apparently still conscious. Harry grimaces like he's trying hard not to fart, but screams as the Clown prepares to make the first incision.

And then an amusing intervention, as the Doctor shows up and corrects the Clown's holding of the scalpel. He then releases the ensign who no doubt wishes he still had that diaper on he had a few minutes ago, all to the confusion of the Clown who can't sense anything from him. This sets up the most priceless moments of the episode as McKean and Picardo work off each other, two masters of their craft presenting amusing foils to one another. The Doctor offers a simulated brain in exchange for all the hostages, but the Clown refuses, that even if it did work he'd be at their mercy. It's an intriguing and subtle point, that fear is a base emotion, and so thinks in very basic terms: my needs, my survival, what I want I get. It's not childlike in performance, but it is in sentiment. McKean keeps the Clown from coming across as spoiled and instead simply so used to having everything he wants the possibility of not having it isn't a factor. I particularly liked his line, "How am I supposed to negotiate if I don't know what you're thinking?" said with exasperation, as if the idea of him not being privy to someone else's thoughts is ludicrous.

The Doctor returns to Sickbay, and they discuss ways to mount a rescue mission. Simply shutting off would cause brain damage, but could it be repaired? "Possibly, yes," the Doctor said. "Would Mister Kim still be able to hold his clarinet when I was done? Possibly, yes." It also seems that the simulated brain just won't work, it wouldn't be the same at all. The Doctor shares a comment that Viorsa, one of the hostages (and the one seen in the initial message) made, but Torres said it wouldn't do anything, that it didn't make sense. However, they soon realize it wasn't a suggestion to appease the Clown, but destroy him by shutting down that part of the system.

Incidentally, it's good to see that they're not taking the easy way out on the moral dilemma. It's a choice between the Clown's life and the freedom of the hostages, and it's going to be the hostages. For this to succeed, they'll have to kill him.

So, the Doctor and the Clown begin negotiating again, to keep him distracted while Torres does her work. However, the Clown soon realizes what's happening, and despite the best efforts of the Doctor to physically intervene, Viorsa is executed. This, by the way, is pretty well done too, because this is handled in a race against time matter, with Torres getting close to the end while the guillotine is being readied, but for once it's the villains that are a bit faster. With another hostage being readied for execution and uncertainty that Torres can finish in time, they restore the program and capitulate for the moment.

Janeway considers again how best to win this, and does so by considering the nature of fear, that it's more than just a survival instinct, because people will deliberately put themselves in frightening situations. This leads to the final act, wherein the Doctor goes in for the final negotiation, specifically, an ultimatum: trade all the hostages for Janeway, or she'll shut it all down and risk brain damage. The Clown accepts, and soon he senses her entering the network, and she appears. The hostages are released, and now it's just the Clown and Janeway, shooting the breeze until the hostages are out.

And here's where the plan comes to fruition - Janeway reveals she's a hologram, like the Doctor, and that all they've done is allowed the system to scan her real mind without interaction. When that's disconnected, there will be no input, and the Clown will die. The underlying message is that part of the Clown wanted her to do this, because fear exists to be conquered. The final scene is possibly one of the best Voyager has ever done, as the Clown himself comes face to face with the fear of his demise, McKean providing subtle terror. "I'm afraid," he squeaks as they stand in almost absolute darkness.

And Kate Mulgrew delivers the horribly chilling line in that sadistic whisper of hers: "I know."

Comments: This episode is everything last week's Innocence wasn't. It had great narrative drive, the jokes were funny, the direction balanced, and most of the performances like clockwork. It had echoes of the original series in its garish color scheme, anthropomorphized villains, even Janeway's consideration of fear and her actions wouldn't need much tweaking to conform to Kirk. It also had some fun stage feel to it, with the Clown's Greek Chorus appearing from time to time. All in all, it was different, but a good different.

It's easy to see this as a holodeck malfunction episode, since the elements are similar to that of Moriarty from TNG. However, it does take it to the next level, with the enemy not only having the power, but preventing you from even being able to outthink them because they know what you know, know your thoughts. Later holodeck malfunction episodes are only going to underline this, with their inferior repitition of things we had a decade ago. I'll carefully say that Voyager would have been a much better series had it been more like this, but by this I mean that the episode took chances, it threw all the rules out the window and showed us something that wasn't a rehash or a false technobabble problem. Of the Voyager regular creative staff, Joe Menosky's the one I am most inclined to cut slack, because he seems the most willing to work without a net. Unlike Braga's high concept stories, these go a great deal beyond the concept, to have actual substance to them.

Rating: 8

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