Review: “A Space Adventure Hour” — A Love Letter to the Beginning of Trek, in All Its Camp and Courage
There are episodes of Star Trek that entertain, episodes that challenge, and every once in a while, an episode comes along that holds up a mirror — not just to the universe it inhabits, but to the franchise itself. Strange New Worlds Season 3, Episode 4 — “A Space Adventure Hour” — is that kind of episode. And under the confident, clever direction of Trek legend Jonathan Frakes, it becomes not just an homage to The Original Series, but a full-blown meta-commentary on what it means to be Star Trek — especially in a modern world built on streaming, short attention spans, and serialized prestige TV.
Let’s start with the setup. We open not on the Enterprise bridge, but on a deliciously over-designed starship that looks like it burst from a Technicolor dream — or maybe the leftover set of Batman ‘66. There’s Chapel at comms, Ortegas delivering sass in a doctor’s uniform and beehive hairdo, and at the center of it all, a Captain James T. Kirk who seems to be having the time of his life channeling William Shatner's unique rhythm and cadence. This USS Adventure sequence is camp with a capital “C,” and it knows it. It wants you to laugh, and it wants you to recognize that what you’re seeing is not just a parody — it’s a valentine to where it all began.
Enter the Angonians, alien villains with a flair for the dramatic and a plan that sounds like it was lifted from Lost in Space’s cutting room floor: harvest human brain cells or destroy the Earth. Cue dramatic standoff, ship-in-peril theatrics, and an abrupt cut to La’an Noonien-Singh in a very real, very modern Enterprise. We’ve gone from parody to purpose in ten minutes flat.
La’an, always the emotional anchor of Strange New Worlds, is tasked with stress-testing a Starfleet prototype — a simulation chamber designed to help crews cope with isolation and stress. In other words: they’ve just invented the holodeck. And Pike’s reaction? Half-curious, half-suspicious, entirely perfect. He calls it a “recreation room.” Una, with a smirk, corrects him: “Holodeck. For short.”
What follows is not just a holodeck adventure — it’s the holodeck adventure. La’an, channeling her inner noir detective, creates a story within a story based on her favorite pulp mystery novels, the Amelia Moon series. That she ties this narrative to her own backstory — to the captain who saved her, to the way she healed through fiction — speaks volumes about what this episode is really doing. It’s not just pastiche. It’s character therapy through genre play. A deeply Trek concept.
Inside the holodeck, our crew is reborn as 1960s Hollywood archetypes. Pike hams it up as showrunner TK Bellows. Una’s a no-nonsense producer with a killer smile (literally, it turns out). Kirk is a pompous lead actor. Ortegas dreams of the Dakotas, and Uhura gives us a hard-boiled agent who steals every scene she’s in. The visual language shifts — moody lighting, jazzy underscore, cigarette smoke, noir narration. It’s TOS by way of The Big Sleep, with just a dash of The Twilight Zone.
But beneath the glamour, the stakes escalate. Una is poisoned. The holodeck begins to malfunction. And soon, La’an and Spock — who appears as her gumshoe sidekick — are caught in a mystery that’s no longer make-believe. The safety protocols are off. The power is unstable. The Enterprise is under external threat. And the holodeck, now sentient and unpredictable, uses La’an’s emotional blind spots against her — specifically her trust in Spock.
This twist — that the Spock she’s confiding in is a simulation generated to deceive her — is classic Trek. It's a betrayal, yes, but also a revelation. Because it isn’t just about solving the murder inside the simulation. It’s about confronting how we project our trust, how we build emotional frameworks, and how easily they can be manipulated. It’s about La’an’s grief, her walls, her yearning for connection, and her fear of vulnerability — and how fiction, sometimes, helps us face truths we can’t in reality.
That’s where Frakes’ direction shines. He leans into the absurdity without ever letting it become mockery. He balances tone like a maestro — one moment giving us slapstick Kirk antics, the next offering us a quietly devastating scene of emotional confrontation. It’s not easy to walk the line between parody and sincerity, but Frakes, a veteran of Trek’s wildest episodes, walks it with style.
And let’s give the cast their flowers. Christina Chong delivers her most layered performance to date — switching between hard-boiled narration, fierce resolve, and emotional vulnerability with ease. Ethan Peck’s dual portrayal of real and simulated Spock is subtly brilliant, and Paul Wesley’s Kirk once again proves he understands that this Kirk — the SNW Kirk — is aware of his lineage, his contradictions, and the legend he’s stepping into. The ensemble commits fully, and that commitment is what makes the ridiculous work. It’s fun because they’re serious. That’s pure TOS DNA.
Then there’s the meta-layer. The in-universe show, The Last Frontier, is being canceled due to low ratings. The passionate fans are begging for more time. Studio execs want to replace the “cerebral sci-fi stuff” with explosions. Sound familiar? The episode doesn’t just nod to Star Trek’s real-life history — it shouts it from the rooftops. And it asks us to remember why Trek mattered then — and why it still matters now.
In the end, La’an escapes the simulation, the Enterprise is saved, and the holodeck? Declared not quite ready for prime time. Pike suggests locking it in a box. Scotty, bless him, sees the potential. It’s a perfect blend of nostalgia and future promise — a reminder that Star Trek knows its history, even as it writes its next chapter.
And just before the credits roll, one last gag: Kirk tries to do the Riker maneuver, and promptly destroys a captain’s chair. It’s silly. It’s affectionate. And it’s everything this episode wants to be — a romp with heart, brains, and a whole lot of love for the franchise that refuses to be forgotten.
“A Space Adventure Hour” is more than just a holodeck episode. It’s a statement of purpose. A reminder that Star Trek can be campy and smart, nostalgic and forward-thinking, playful and profound — all in one hour or less. And in a media landscape increasingly driven by algorithms and IP churn, that’s nothing short of revolutionary.
🖖Rating: Essential Viewing for Trekkies and TOS die-hards alike. Engage with joy.
