Trip-centric review of
“Rogue Planet” (not too slashy)
by Kylie Lee
September 16, 2002
There’s
just no easy way to say this: “Rogue Planet” is simply bad. The
notion of Captain Jonathan Archer half-falling in love with a weird
shapeshifter is ridiculous, and the sexual tension between Archer and every
other crew member, including Tucker, is nonexistent. The story is moody, set on
a planet where it’s always dark, and the Enterprise crew is forced to wear stupid jackets with strangely
large lapels, although the night-vision apparatus they strap to their heads in
many ways makes up for the unfortunate lapels. This is really an Archer
episode, although there are some nice dynamics between Reed and Archer (as
Archer learns, to his dismay, that Reed has more Eagle Scout badges than he
does), Archer and Tucker, and Archer and T’Pol.
The
plot, briefly, is as follows: The Enterprise crew discover a rogue planet, one not in orbit around
a star, and when they explore, they find out that hunters are on the surface on
a four-day hunting jaunt, ostensibly seeking the elusive drayjin, a piglike
creature. Several of the Enterprise
crew decide to camp out with the hunters in the spirit of friendship and
curiosity. Archer is lured away from camp by an incredibly beautiful woman
wearing a nightgown and flowers in her hair who calls him by his name:
“Jonathan.” Naturally (he noticed the nightgown), he follows, only
to be disappointed when she almost literally disappears. The next day, Reed
goes hunting with their new friends, and he learns of something called a
“wraith.” Apparently the hunters seek these too. As events unfold,
Archer discovers that the wraiths are the game the hunters seek, but the
wraiths are clearly intelligent. They can read people’s minds, and they
are shapeshifters. In fact, the beautiful woman he saw is a wraith. She looked
deep into Archer’s mind and created the shape she uses when she sees him,
which is why he thinks she looks familiar, although she delved so deep that it
took him a while to remember: she is the personification of the beautiful woman
in a poem he liked as a child. Clever Doctor Phlox manufactures a masking agent
that hides a chemical the wraiths emit when cornered, and Archer gives it
secretly to the beautiful woman, who hands it out to all her pals, and the day
is saved. The episode concludes with a tender moment between Archer and his
unobtainable dream, as represented by the woman: their hands unclasp, and the
gorgeous woman turns into a huge flatworm and slithers off into the night.
Tucker
has little to do on the rogue planet, and unfortunately, his role is almost
entirely that of helpmeet. From the very first moment, with Tucker attempting
to catch the noble Archer on film so an artist can use it to craft a painting
to hang up at Starfleet headquarters, Tucker is portrayed as the amusing pal,
the sweet sidekick. His propensity to record moments for all time is further
highlighted when he, T’Pol, and Archer visit the thermal vents while Reed
is off killing things, and Tucker snaps picture after picture despite the
incredibly poor light, barely stopping to set up shots and refocus--this in
contrast to the care he took when photographing Archer to compose the shot
perfectly. With his half-assed photography, Tucker is protesting the role
Archer has temporarily cast him in: that of agreeable friend, who has little
more to do than say things like, “She must have been some woman.”
The
object of Tucker’s gaze at the beginning of the episode is Archer, but
the object of the gaze becomes the planet itself when he snaps pictures of the
vents. What occasioned this change? In a word: the wraith. Archer’s
desire to discover who and what she is is all-consuming, and Tucker is
relegated to the role of good friend and sounding board. Archer and Tucker’s
talk in the mess late at night further foregrounds Tucker’s role as
confidant as Archer explores the feelings the wraith occasions. Although Archer
and Tucker are good friends, in the mess, Archer seems almost unaware of
Tucker, despite the content of their conversion. Archer speaks with his back to
Tucker, and when he speaks, it’s almost as if he were speaking aloud to
himself. The body language implies distance. Archer does not seek Tucker for
advice or help. Rather, Tucker is simply a sounding board as Archer attempts to
articulate and clarify his thoughts.
“I
went out to the hazelwood because a fire was in my head,” Archer tells
Tucker, quoting the Yeats poem, “The Song of the Wandering Angus,”
when they are alone together in the mess, Tucker drinking milk, a symbol of the
feminine. Alas, however, the fire in Archer’s head isn’t for
Tucker. Rather, it’s for exploration--for experience. Archer is consumed
and driven by his work, and he is rewarded for this all-consuming passion: he
is rewarded by his command, and he is honored by the portrait to be hung up at
Starfleet. The wraith has only emphasized his single-minded intensity.
“Never stop seeking what seems unobtainable,” the wraith tells
Archer just before they part.
Whereas
Archer is presented here as the masculine, driven explorer, the object of the
gaze, Tucker is presented as the feminine helpmeet, the recorder of experience,
the one who passively gazes. This is also in contrast with Reed, who, as an
Eagle Scout, surpassed Archer, with twenty-eight patches to Archer’s
twenty-six. Reed treats Archer with amused condescension on the whole Eagle
Scout matter (he already has a patch for xenobiology, he informs Archer when
Archer makes a joke about it), leaving Archer slightly miffed. Reed is presented
as active too: he was an Eagle Scout, and he wants to go hunting with their new
friends.
In
only one scene is Tucker presented as the object of interest. While everyone is
sitting around the campfire, Damrus, the unofficial spokesman for the hunters, tells
Reed that they are heading out in six hours, and if Reed wants to come along on
the hunt, he would do well to get some sleep. Reed, who can take a hint, rises
and says, “I suppose I’ll turn in, then,” and he pats Tucker
on the back twice. Tucker immediately responds, “Sounds like a good
idea,” and he gets up and follows Reed. The implications here--that they
are close enough friends that the fairly reserved Reed can touch Tucker, and
that they are sharing a tent--is unmistakable. Archer keeps his distance from
Tucker, even speaks to him with his back to him, and at the campfire, he sits
next to T’Pol and they discuss work, leaving Reed and Tucker to sit
together. But Reed engages Tucker, touches him, acknowledges him.
This
episode’s theme--the desire for experience, be it exploration or
hunting--only foregrounds Tucker’s relative passivity. Although Archer
clearly values Tucker’s friendship, he apparently does not realize that
he has cast Tucker into a role that Tucker finds chafing, as expressed by Tucker’s
impatient picture-snapping. Although Tucker repeatedly backs up his captain in
front of others, telling the alien hunters that if Archer said he saw a woman,
then he saw a woman, in private, Tucker is more direct in his skepticism, as in
his conversation with Archer about the nightie-wearing wraith (“She must
have been some woman”). With his skepticism, Tucker makes clear his
disappointment at not being the object of Archer’s gaze, as Archer is the
object of Tucker’s gaze.