Overall: 6.8
I hate it when I have to review a transition episode.
Plot Synopsis:
The Farscape Wiki has a summary here.
The Skinny:
I mean, what can I say about Thanks for Sharing in isolation? Everything the writers are setting up here won't be fulfilled for quite some time. The inevitable confrontation between Aeryn and her mother? We won't hit that for another three weeks. The now divergent experiences of the two Johns? The enormous potential there won't be realized until the end of the season. So what I'm basically left with are the parts of the plot that are confined to this episode alone -- and the Rinics aren't exactly all that comment-worthy. Thus, I offer you my apologies, as I'm going to have to phone it in here. I promise, however, that I will have much more to say as the two ships arc unfolds in the coming weeks.
Quick announcement of my bias, though: Now that the two ships have officially been separated, be aware that all of my favorite characters (save Pilot) ended up on Talyn -- which means I will tend to rate the Talyn episodes higher than the Moya episodes. Just thought you should know. ;)
Writing: 7.0
'Tis a purely functional plot-mover, though it includes a few good scenes here and there.
Acting: 7.5
The performances are solid, but not all that extraordinary -- at least, not for this particular cast.
Message: 6.0
There's nothing to write home about here, either.
Highlights:
Crais: Is Crichton present?
Aeryn: Shall I summon him?
Crais: No. There is something I deeply wish to share with you. Talyn was designed with intelligence gathering facilities. He and I have been able to tap into high level Peacekeeper comm channels, accessing their central database. Including your personnel file -- where I found this.
(Crais hands Aeryn a Peacekeeper data chip. After a beat, Aeryn inserts it into a computer, thereby revealing that the chip contains an old recording from a Peacekeeper military barracks. We see a female soldier walk down an aisle between two rows of cots. As we soon discover, this woman is Aeryn's mother.)
Xhalax: (whispering) Aeryn - wake up. Wake up, Aeryn. Don't be afraid. (Aeryn watches, stunned, as the child in the last cot - herself at perhaps 6 or 7 years old - sits up and blinks sleepily at the woman.) My name is Xhalax Sun. I'm your mother. But you mustn't reveal to anyone that I was here. Do you understand? (The mature Aeryn nods silently, echoing the motion of her childhood self.) I came to tell you something. Aeryn, your life was not an accident - and it wasn't an assigned birthing to fill the ranks. Talyn - that's your father's name - he and I chose to have you. You were conceived in love. Our love. I wanted you to know this. It makes you special. We wanted you - and we love you. Go back to sleep now. (The young Aeryn obediently lays back down again without a word and the holo display ends, leaving Aeryn unsure what to feel.)
Aeryn: My mother.
Crais: Yes.
Aeryn: I was never sure whether I dreamt that. And that was on my file?
Crais: And hers as well. I thought it might interest you to learn of your parents.
Aeryn: And my father --? Was he --? Did you --?
Crais: I could find no information whatever about him.
Aeryn: Was my mother court-martialed?
Crais: There are gaps in her service record. However, its last entry notes a promotion into an elite battle group. Aeryn --
Aeryn: Let me guess. The retrieval squad. She is somehow part of it.
Crais: The squad is under the command of Senior Officer Xhalax Sun. (Ouch. Don't you hate it when a sweet moment is ruined by the intrusion of a bitter reality?)
Stark: (in a panic) Ach! It's not working! It's not helping! Talyn's dying! Not waking up!
BlackJohn: Astro! (He shakes his tool in Stark's face to get the Banik's attention, then starts moving it back and forth.) Work - now - freak - later. Work - now - freak - later. (Stark follows the little flashing tool and mouths the words with BlackJohn.)
Stark: (calmer) Yes. That's fair.
BlackJohn: Good.
Stark: How much later? (LOL!)
GreenJohn: What the hell happened to you?
Pralanoth: A bomb exploded at the refreshment house.
GreenJohn: No! Well, hell! Who would do such a thing?
Tolven: You tell us. You were there having a secret meeting with Sarova.
GreenJohn: No, I wasn't.
Tolven: You were seen. I have a witness.
Pralanoth: Who also swore that Crichton was badly wounded.
Tolven: (deadly) Well, maybe his species heals rapidly.
GreenJohn: Maybe your witness was blitzed. Now why - other than a social call - would I be having a secret meeting with Sarova?
Tolven: Well I have to assume you were conspiring to take power. Perhaps you two were constructing a bomb when it accidentally went off.
GreenJohn: I want an apology.
Tolven: I want the truth.
GreenJohn: You can't handle the -- (But he stops himself and heaves a theatrical sigh at the woeful futility of it all. He then marches over to the strannat's tank.) Let's cut the crap. Let's cut to the chase - stick this critter on my face. (He plunges one hand into the cloudy water and hauls the strannat out with a gleeful whoop that has to be a cover for his revulsion. The strannat bubbles with outrage.) WHOA! HOHOHO! HEY! LOOK AT THE SUCKERS ON THAT BOY! (He marches back to the desk, where the Rinics watch him, unsure how to respond to this garrulous fellow.) Damn! In some parts of the universe this thing would be considered GOOD EATIN'! (Arriving at the desk and finding the Rinics making no move to do the honors, GreenJohn slaps the creature onto his own head, fixes Tolven with a direct stare and declaims loudly.) My name is John Crichton, Astronaut. I was not at the refreshment house after-hours. I was not present at any bombing or explosion. I did not have a private meeting with the beautiful Miss Sarova. The end. Cross my heart, smack me dead, stick a lobster on my head. (Heh.)
GreenJohn: (referring to his gun) He took Wynona!
D'Argo: (perky, as he attempts to reframe the fact that the Other Guy has run off with the girl) Oh well. At least he left you this lovely jacket.
GreenJohn: (snatching it away from D'Argo and throwing it down) I was wearing that!
D'Argo: Oh, come on -- crack a smile, will you? At least he's out of your nose.
GreenJohn: (sulkily correcting him) Hair.
D'Argo: That's what I meant. At least he's out of your nose hair. (ROTFL! I love it when the aliens get our idioms wrong.)
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