Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) (part 4 of 13)

Meanwhile, Bad Teeth Guy is leading a herd of a few dozen drooling morons as they march, in a manner of speaking, toward Paradise City. Not-Connery gallops alongside them. I’m thinking this might be bad news for our noble ambassadors. Unfortunately for them, they’re about to be taken by surprise, since Mr. Shatner has them too busy explaining their backstories to notice there’s a rebellion under way.

Romulan Star Search Chick earnestly explains to the other ambassadors—because they might not already know—that 20 years ago their three governments agreed, despite their mutual hostility, to develop this planet together, signaling a “new age”. And there’s a serious problem with this scenario, in terms of the elsewhere-established continuity of Romulan/Federation contact. Which I’m not even getting into, just because I love you, reader, and wish to spare you pain, and because the latest Star Trek movie has wiped all that out anyway, giving future movies the freedom to make all-new mistakes.

But Talbot counter-infodumps that the settlers they “conned” into coming to Nimbus III were the dregs of the galaxy, and immediately began fighting with each other. And I can’t help but imagine the Federation Council spamming everyone in the galaxy with offers of free vacations on Nimbus III in exchange for just a brief, five-hour timeshare pitch.

Talbot continues glumly: When the commissioners prohibited weapons, the settlers made their own. So what are the rules for this Dueling Infodumps game, anyway? Is this like Trivial Pursuit? Do you win pies? Big, indigestible, incompetently baked pies?

And speaking of the settlers’ weapons, guess what, Romulan Star Search Chick? You’re about to see them first hand, and from the wrong end! Not-Connery’s pathetic little army storms the city, throwing down the gates and surrounding the main buildings.

And in an extra-meaningful touch, Mr. Shatner shows us the word PARADISE inscribed in the entranceway arch, where someone has painted the word LOST. Wow, that’s really extra-meaningful. It’s almost as if they’re saying that calling something “paradise” doesn’t actually make it so—in fact, it might even become the very opposite of that! What rich irony, indeed.

Caption contributed by Albert

And we’ll be rockin’ the Paradise… Rockin’ the Paradise tonight!

Not-Connery enters the cantina, and I can’t help but notice that his hair is now swept down over his ears, so that just like our other new friend Romulan Star Search Chick, Laurence Luckinbill is spared having to wear the Spock-ear appliances for many of his scenes going forward.

Not-Connery informs the ambassadors that they’re his prisoners. Talbot snarks that they’re already prisoners on this forsaken planet, but Romulan Star Search Chick haughtily warns Not-Connery that their three governments are certain to come to their rescue. Not-Connery says he’s counting on it. Ooh, I think Not-Connery has some sort of plan.

Caption contributed by scootermark

Events in Kill Bill, Vol. 3 took an unexpected turn.

To read the rest of this article, support the Agony Booth on Patreon.
This is an archived post. This post is available to patrons who pledge at least $5 on Patreon. Pledging this amount gives access to all archived articles on the Agony Booth.

Click “Unlock with Patreon” to sign up with Patreon or to log in with your existing Patreon account.
Already a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.

Mark "Scooter" Wilson

Mark is a history guy, a graphics guy, a guy for whom wryly cynical assessments of popular culture are the scallion cream cheese on the toasted everything bagel of life. He spends his time teaching modern history at Brooklyn College, pondering the ancient Romans at the CUNY Graduate Center, and conjuring maps and illustrations for ungrateful bankers at various Manhattan monoliths. Readers are welcome to guess at reasons why he's nicknamed Scooter, with the proviso that all such submissions are guaranteed to be rather more interesting than the truth. Mark lives in the Midwood section of Brooklyn with a happy-go-lucky, flop-eared dog named Chiyo who is probably, at this very moment, waiting patiently for her walkies.

Multi-Part Article: Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989)

You may also like...