“Unlike some people, I am in growth.”
Deanna Troi was one of the series’ largest ongoing problems – certainly, to hear the writers tell it; and certainly, I agree, in watching. Like all of TNG’s principal characters I remain doggedly attached to the good Counselor, but it’s hard to ignore the sheer arbitrariness of the character’s arc over the course of the seven seasons, as the writers consistently tried to sort out exactly who Deanna was and what she was there for. As a creature of constant transformation, Troi is a welcome addition to the bridge crew from a purely Jungian standpoint… but boy, I wouldn’t want to write for her.
Even disregarding the notorious early stumbles with the character – I think, by “Haven,” we have seen her wince and shout “Pain!” in empathic distress for the last time – “Haven” exemplifies the trouble with Troi quite nicely. It’s her first stand-alone episode, and yet with rubber-ball-like imperturbability, nothing sticks to her. In a story ostensibly about Troi’s arranged marriage coming up due, “Haven” mulls the emotional consequences of its throughline by charting how distraught Will (once again called “Bill” throughout by Deanna, for what I think is the final time) is about the whole thing; and giving a complete subplot to Wyatt, the mullet-skulled bag of jawbone to whom Deanna is betrothed. Deanna works through her scenes with them and eventually gives up without firing a shot; her needs, desires, and interests don’t enter into it. In other words, it’s all about the dudes… with, of course, one big, mama-sized exception.
Perhaps Troi is simply dark matter; we know she’s there by virtue of the gravity she exerts on others, be they Will and Wyatt, or more importantly, in her diametric opposition to her mother. Introduced in this episode, Lwaxana Troi – Daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed – and played to the guts n’ garters by Mrs. Gene Roddenberry herself, the Auntie Mame of the Galaxy, Majel Barrett-Roddenberry – tells us more about Deanna Troi than Deanna herself does for several more seasons. Lwaxana introduces the Betazed fealty to absolute honesty; she models the mind-to-mind communication that the species is apparently capable of; she instantly creates a vivid repartee with gargantuan toastmaster Mr. Homm; and she foments disaster by pointing out that Betazoids get married naked, a runner that Star Trek: The Next Generation will milk right down to its final feature film. It’s a lush, verdant, endlessly decadent portrayal of a character, a race, and a science fiction landscape, all embodied in one sequin-bedecked drama queen with an apparently bottomless ability to bite large chunks out of the scenery and coo about them as though they were champagne and caviar.
I met Barrett-Roddenberry once, and can assure you that everything that made Lwaxana wonderful (and larger-than-wonderful) was embodied naturally in the woman’s endless personal decency. I felt like I understood the universe a bit better as a result, and understood Deanna Troi and Marina Sirtis better too. It takes a hell of a daughter to have such a hell of a mother.
If I recall correctly, “Haven,” though produced a bit later in the season, aired fifth overall, making the talking silver box at the head of the episode the first onscreen Star Trek appearance by the great Armin Shimerman. If that’s not true, I’d rather not be corrected.
Update: I’m giving “Haven” three Enterprises out of five.
