Star Trek: Section 31, the latest “triumph” in the hallowed Star Trek franchise. Released on Paramount+, this film attempts—let’s be generous here—to capture the magic of the Star Trek universe, but instead, it resembles a hapless child playing dress-up in a too-big, moth-eaten uniform. Longtime Star Trek fans, brace yourselves: this isn’t just bad; it’s a nostalgic nightmare. With its confused characterizations and incoherent plot, the film stands as a testament to what happens when you take a beloved franchise and toss it into a blender set on “oblivion".
Limp Characters and a Plot That Falls Flat
At the center of this barbaric mess stands Philippa Georgiou, portrayed by the ever-regal Michelle Yeoh, who—let's be honest—deserves better than being stuck with a script that feels like it was penned during a coffee break at a middle school play. The supporting characters are just as memorable as a meal from a fast-food joint: two-dimensional, bland, and utterly forgettable. You’ve got Alok (Omari Hardwick), a “strategic mastermind” still reeling from family trauma, and then there’s Quasi (Sam Richardson), yet another shapeshifting alien with a personality that squeaks “meh”. You can almost hear the collective sighs of disappointment echoing through the halls of Starfleet as characters stumble through a paper-thin plot that could be summed up using a strategy game no one asked for. Seriously, folks, it starts strong with an ex-empress on a mission but quickly devolves into a bizarre crossover of Among Us and a sci-fi parody gone wrong.
The film's grand ambition appears to involve navigating the complexities of character relationships and moral dilemmas, but it never gets around to actually, you know, developing them. A former genocidal queen teaming up with a dubious agency to stop her nemesis only to end up questioning the motives of her ragtag team? Brilliantly cliché! And let’s not even get started on the “exciting” twist involving a “nano alien” piloting an “odd Vulcan robot” that sounds suspiciously like an Irish pub fixture. This is not merely a slap in the face to Star Trek; it’s an all-out assault on its very essence.
Themes or Just Empty Space?
Let’s take a moment to explore the so-called themes of Star Trek: Section 31—or, should I say, the gaping void where meaningful themes should reside. The film seeks to dive headfirst into complex issues like redemption and betrayal, but instead, it emerges looking like a fish flopping helplessly on dry land. There’s a certain glee in how it careens wildly between the depths of emotional conflict and a shallow pool filled with—surprise!—lame one-liners that might make even a kindergarten play sound sophisticated. Because who doesn’t love a film that substitutes genuine character development with a sprinkling of snappy retorts and bizarre gimmicks?
And let’s not forget the plot, which emerges as a bewildering patchwork of clichés, marred by a predictability that rivals a red shirt meeting its unfortunate fate in an original Star Trek episode. How many times have we been subjected to the tired trope of the once-ignored assistant or neglected subordinate returning as a supervillain? It’s such a well-worn narrative device that one can’t help but wonder if the filmmakers simply skimmed through the “Lazy Writing 101” guidebook. San, our tragic villain—who, mind you, has more issues than a magazine rack—bears all the hallmarks of a character whose motives feel as recycled as forgotten plotlines from forgettable B-movies. And just as audiences brace themselves for a showdown that’s equal parts predictable and dull, in a twist that offers nothing new, he experiences a last-minute change of heart, proving that character depth is clearly not on the agenda.
If you’re going to create new rules for a cherished franchise like Star Trek, a little adherence to the series' legacy might be, I don’t know, a nice touch? Instead, we’re ushered through a bewildering maze of plot discrepancies that feel as hastily constructed as a Lego tower built by a toddler. One can almost hear the collective facepalms from devoted Trekkies resonating throughout the cosmos as the narrative stumbles over its own feet, leaving logic and continuity gasping for air.
With this muddled mix of familiar plotlines and lackluster character arcs, one can’t help but wonder if the writers have not only disregarded Star Trek’s storied past but perhaps never even experienced it. It’s as if they were gleefully handed a stack of vaguely related notes and instructed to “wing it.” The result isn’t merely disappointing; it’s an almost farcical representation of what Star Trek has to offer—a bewildering collection of tired tropes that ineptly cobble together a story that feels more like a parody than a proper addition to the franchise. In the end, the creators of Star Trek: Section 31 have successfully delivered a cinematic experience that invites the audience to question whether they should ever gamble on another cinematic installment from this series. Bravo!
Production Choices: A Cinematic Faux Pas
Visually, it’s almost as if the cinematographer decided to eschew the beauty of the cosmos for jittery, spinning camera angles that would’ve made a good first-person shooter game blush. The action sequences are executed with all the grace of a drunken elephant, potentially inducing motion sickness rather than thrills. One can only wonder about the immense talent in front of the camera that’s wasted on subpar roles and downright silly scenarios—like the aforementioned flaccid cowboy space opera that leaves much to be desired, if not completely disregarded. The film’s visuals and sound design don’t save it; they only intensify the feeling that you’ve tuned in to the wrong channel.
A Concluding Respite from the Sorrow
So here we find ourselves, having endured the cinematic train wreck that is Star Trek: Section 31, with only ache and regret to accompany us. While some films leave audiences pondering the profound mysteries of existence, this one leaves us wondering whether we accidentally turned on a poorly made parody. In a franchise that has grappled with the grand themes of humanity, exploration, and morality, it’s tragic to see one misstep after another piled into a singular, incoherent experience.
Thus, if you value your time and sanity, I wholeheartedly recommend you find a more engaging way to spend your evening—perhaps by staring blankly at a wall, or sorting your sock drawer. There’s a wooden spoon award waiting for this film, and it deserves every bit of the ridicule it’s bound to receive.
