The Orville Review

Science fiction can be hit or miss, but when it’s done right, it’s like discovering a hidden galaxy of awesomeness. Growing up, I had my own interstellar favorites: “Star Trek,” “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” “V,” “Alien Nation,” and the captivating “Stargate” universe—both the movie and the series. Those shows were my cosmic playground, and I’d warp-speed through episodes faster than a photon torpedo.

Now, let’s talk about Seth MacFarlane’s “The Orville.” When I first caught wind of it, I was in a nebulous state of curiosity. MacFarlane, known for his irreverent humor on “Family Guy” and “Ted,” was venturing into the final frontier. Would it be a clever parody of “Star Trek,” or would it crash-land like a malfunctioning shuttlepod?

Well, brace for impact, because “The Orville” took off! Set 400 years in the future, it follows the U.S.S. Orville—a mid-level exploratory spaceship—on its cosmic escapades. The crew, a delightful mix of humans and aliens, grapple with the wonders and dangers of outer space while juggling everyday life issues. Think of it as “Star Trek” meets “The Office” with a dash of quirkiness.

What sets “The Orville” apart? It’s not just warp drives and phasers; it’s a show that uses its adventure-of-the-week format to explore modern-day social issues and tackle moral dilemmas. It’s refreshingly progressive in its politics, yet it retains that old-school sci-fi charm. So, if you’re craving a blend of homage, satire, and optimism, beam aboard the U.S.S. Orville—you won’t regret it!

Let’s dive into the cosmic drama of “The Orville” and explore the fascinating dimensions of its crew. So, picture this: Seth MacFarlane, the mastermind behind “Family Guy” and “Ted,” slips into the captain’s uniform as Ed Mercer. He’s at the helm of the U.S.S. Orville—a ship that’s part Starfleet, part quirky office water cooler chat. His ex-wife, Kelly Grayson (played by Adrianne Palicki), stands by his side as the first officer. Together, they’re like a cosmic odd couple, navigating uncharted territories, encountering alien species stranger than a three-headed tribble, and occasionally making redshirts rethink their career choices. 

But here’s where it gets juicy: the crew’s lives don’t just unfold in the sterile glow of starship corridors. Nope, they spill over into their work, like coffee stains on a mission report. It’s like “Star Trek” meets “The Real World”—minus the confessional cams and with more warp drives.

Now, let’s zoom in on Bortus, played by the formidable Peter Macon. He’s a Moclan—a species hailing from a planet where weapons manufacturing is the bread and butter. Their society? A testosterone-heavy boys’ club where female births are rarer than a sighting of the Loch Ness Monster doing the moonwalk. Seriously, if a baby girl pops out, it’s decision time: forced sex change or a one-way ticket to the great beyond.

Enter Bortus’s spouse, Klyden (played by Chad L. Coleman). Klyden’s secret? Born female at birth. Imagine the drama—like a futuristic episode of “Maury.” The Moclan tradition of reassigning babies’ sexes is as common as replicator coffee, but it’s not all rainbows and warp trails. The crew grapples with the clash of cultural norms, legal practices, and personal beliefs. It’s like a cosmic tug-of-war between tradition and progress.

And guess what? The plot thickens. Turns out, the female Moclan birth rate isn’t as endangered as they thought. It’s like discovering a hidden warp gate to a sanctuary planet. An underground railroad forms, whisking away these precious female Moclans to freedom. Think Harriet Tubman meets Captain Kirk. 

So, “The Orville” isn’t just about phasers and wormholes—it’s about exploring the cosmos while wrestling with our own biases, norms, and ethics. It’s a show that boldly goes where no sci-fi sitcom has gone before. Strap in, because this space opera has more twists than a pretzel nebula!

Here's another tidbit, The Moclans have some quirks that make even the most seasoned Trekkie raise an eyebrow. First off, their annual urination ritual—yes, you heard that right. Once a year, they gather at a sacred spot on their home world, probably with tiny Moclan porta-potties. It’s like their version of New Year’s Eve, complete with confetti and a countdown to bladder relief.

But wait, there’s more! Moclans have jaws of steel and stomachs that could digest a spaceship manual. They’re like cosmic goats, munching on metals, chemicals, and probably the occasional asteroid.  Now, after learning this, I believe that my fur nephew Bentley is part Moclan or goat, same difference. Okay, let me focus, let’s talk reproduction of the Moclan group. When it comes to family planning, forget storks—they lay eggs. Yep, 21 days of incubation, and voilà! Baby Moclans hatch, ready to explore the universe. 

Now, I’m going to age myself with this one. Scott Grimes, aka Lieutenant Gordon Malloy. He’s Mercer’s wingman, the guy who colorfully bends the rules when the galaxy throws a curveball. And hey, I won’t judge—back in the day, I had a crush on him during his “Critters” movie era. Yeah, I’ve always had a sweet spot for gingers. 

Malloy’s not your typical babysitter material. He’s the guy who’d teach your kids pranks that’d make Q from “Star Trek” raise an eyebrow. His intelligence? Deceptively substandard, like a cloaked Romulan ship. But surprise! He’s got more knowledge tucked away than a Borg database. So, next time you need a maverick with a dash of ginger charm, dial up Malloy. Just keep the kids away from his pranks—unless you want them to learn how to reprogram the replicator to dispense whipped cream at warp speed! Overall, there is a great mix of characters and drama for those to enjoy. I love this series and can’t wait to see if MacFarland creates a season 4. 

I give this series 5 out of 5 acorns.