What happens when life pulls us away from the ones we truly love? The ones we need (even if we didn’t realize how desperately we needed them at the time)? How do we then choose to live our lives? How do we find closure when there is seemingly none to be had? “The Visitor” is an intimate, moving, and deeply profound episode from Deep Space Nine that explores those questions within a truly wonderful, if not slightly fantastical, character sketch. Perhaps the only real criticism here is the proverbial “reset button” that Star Trek so often abuses. But if life is a journey, not a destination, then what matters most to this episode is its own journey — and not, necessarily, how things end up. To that “end” this is easily one of the most emotional episodes in the entire Star Trek franchise, being surpassed, perhaps, only by episodes such as TNG’s “The Inner Light.”

The episode opens with nostalgic scene in which an elderly Jake Sisko (Tony Todd) is visited by a young aspiring writer, named Melanie, who wants to know why Jake’s promising writing career abruptly ended. Jake reluctantly tells her his tale, of how he lost his father at the age of eighteen, and how the rest of his life was consumed by the memory of — and the elusive hope of reuniting with — his father. Of course, this being Star Trek, we’re pretty sure right from the start that, somehow, everything will turn out alright in the end. But it’s the path that Jake’s life takes, following the accident, which makes for a truly compelling and transcendent story.

As it turns out, Jake’s father has been pulled out of time. He reappears every so often — first, a year from the accident then, later, after Jake is married — offering a potent “reality check” for Jake on the status of his life. For his father, no time has passed. And with each encounter, Jake must try and share all that has transpired in his life since last they met. On the surface, it may seem a dry, almost clinical tale. But the difference here is with how the episode is portrayed. The writing and, especially, the performances, are all exceptional, allowing us to see the real depths of human emotion and character.

What holds the episode together are a number of truly moving scenes. There is, of course, the funeral for Sisko. But others, such as Jake’s conversation with Kira about his staying on the station, present a palpable sense of loss and disorientation in Jake. Even a small moment, such as Dax comforting Jake, takes on a great deal of significance, skillfully playing on the character history and development of the series. But more than anything, there are three elements which truly sell the concept. The first is when Sisko reappears — and then disappears again — a year after the accident. Jake’s reaction, after losing his father for a second time, his heartbreaking. Even more importantly, the delivery of the monologue, from the elderly Jake, reinforces just how devastating these events can be. But most important is an idea that Jake’s father utters early on — one that becomes the episode’s thematic foundation.

Before the accident, Jake had been consumed by a short story he was writing. His father, trying to get him to appreciate a rare event with the wormhole says, “I’m no writer; but if I were, it seems to me I’d want to poke my head up every once in a while and take a look around; see what’s going on. It’s life, Jake! You can miss it if you don’t open your eyes.” Tragically, with the third reappearance of his father, the one in which Jake introduces his wife, Jake becomes altogether consumed with getting his father back — and leaves his life behind, forgetting his writing and losing his marriage in the process.

It is only after a failed attempt to return his father to his reality that Jake realizes that he must live his life. In fact, this becomes the episode’s most poignant, if understated, aspects. Eventually, Jake realizes what has happened, and what it will take to return his father to normal — that old, dreaded reset button. But instead of simply waiting around for the moment to happen, Jake returns to his writing, knowing that, if his plan works, and reality returns to the moment of the accident, the writing itself will become irrelevant. So instead of simply washing away the events of the episode, the “reset button” merely reinforces the episode’s premise: that life needs to be lived, no matter the eventual outcome.

Mostly, though, “The Visitor” will be remembered for its powerfully emotional scenes and performances. The episode does run a slight risk of appearing maudlin. And for anyone who feels that way toward the installment, it’d be difficult to refute the point. But I think the end result carefully balances emotion and ideas, character and theme, to create a truly exceptional, memorable, and praiseworthy hour of television.

Filed under: Deep Space Nine