Alright, I went into Starfleet Academy with a mix of curiosity and side-eye. A Trek show set at school, in the 32nd century, after The Burn, with a brand new cast and a tone that clearly wants younger viewers. On paper that sounds like either a clever reset or a franchise identity crisis. What I got was surprisingly thoughtful, and way more watchable than I expected.
First, the setting actually does some heavy lifting. This is not classic golden age Federation territory. Starfleet is still rebuilding, trust is still fragile, and Earth only recently rejoined the wider galactic mess. That gives the Academy reopening real narrative weight instead of just being a shiny campus tour. These are not kids training for a stable future. They are training for a galaxy that still has cracks in the walls and smoke in the air. That backdrop helps justify why everything feels uncertain, including the tone.
Holly Hunter as Nahla Ake is easily the MVP. She plays her like a tired, amused, deeply stubborn space grandma who has seen too much and still shows up anyway. She slouches into chairs like gravity personally wronged her. She jokes, she nudges, she lectures when needed, and when things get serious you believe she has commanded ships and buried people. Her guilt over separating Caleb from his mother years earlier gives her motivation that feels personal instead of bureaucratic. It also anchors the show emotionally in a way that keeps it from floating off into pure teen drama orbit.
Caleb himself is a familiar Trek archetype. Talented, angry, suspicious of authority, allergic to rules. Yes, we have seen this kid before. But Sandro Rosta gives him enough edge and vulnerability that he does not feel like a total copy paste. His dynamic with Nahla is one of the better threads early on because it mixes institutional power with personal regret. She is not just the chancellor who let him in. She is part of the reason his life went sideways in the first place.
The rest of the cadet crew is where the show starts to feel like a sci-fi flavored ensemble drama. Jay Den the Klingon who wants to be a doctor is a great concept and it works even better on screen. Karim Diané plays him with a gentleness that makes his struggle with cultural expectations feel grounded instead of gimmicky. Sam, the hologram is pure sunshine and curiosity, sometimes to a fault, but Kerrice Brooks commits so hard to the optimism that it becomes charming instead of grating. Genesis, Darem, and Tarima lean more into recognizable archetypes, overachiever, rich jerk with problems, sheltered political kid, but the actors keep them from becoming cardboard.
The structure of the season is very character focused, sometimes almost to a fault. Episodes tend to spotlight one cadet at a time with a crisis designed to teach a moral lesson. That works when the theme lands, like Jay Den wrestling with whether helping someone means taking away their agency. It works less when the show leans into lighter mischiefs or rivalry plots that feel like they wandered in from a different genre. The emotional beats are usually solid, but the connective tissue between relationships can feel thin.
Tone wise, this is where people will bounce off hard or roll with it. There are Marvel style quips. There are earnest speeches. There are moments that feel very teen drama coded. Then there are sudden space emergencies with real consequences. The show does not always transition smoothly between those modes. Sometimes you can feel the gears grinding. But there is also something kind of Trek about that tonal wobble. This franchise has always mixed philosophical debate, workplace comedy, and existential dread in the same episode. Starfleet Academy just does it with more emotional mess and less procedural polish.
Production design is slick, sometimes too slick. Everything glows. Everyone is backlit like they are permanently standing in inspirational recruitment posters. It looks expensive, but it can also flatten the mood when every scene feels like golden hour on a soundstage. Action sequences are serviceable, though occasionally confusing, with a lot of technobabble doing heavy narrative lifting. If you tune out during long strings of future science explanations, you will not be alone.
What surprised me most is that the show actually engages with the idea of rebuilding values, not just institutions. Several episodes circle around the question of what Starfleet should be now, not what it used to be. Do you enforce tradition when tradition helped cause harm. Do you protect people even if they did bad things to survive. Do ideals bend or do they break. That is solid Trek territory, just filtered through students who are still figuring out who they are when no one is grading them.
For longtime fans, there are enough familiar faces and callbacks to feel connected without turning the show into nostalgia soup. Picardo sliding back into the Doctor role is a gift. Tig Notaro shows up with the same dry energy that cuts through the earnestness. But the show does not lean too hard on legacy characters to carry the story, which is probably the right call if this is meant to stand on its own.
So is it perfect. Not even close. The pacing is uneven. The tone sometimes whiplashes. Some conflicts resolve a little too neatly. And yes, parts of it feel like a sci fi flavored coming of age show more than classic Trek. But it also has heart, a strong central performance, and a cast that grows on you faster than expected.
If you go in expecting Deep Space Nine style political complexity, you will probably be frustrated. If you go in expecting goofy teen Trek with some thoughtful moments baked in, you might be pleasantly surprised. For a franchise that has always talked about hope for the future, putting that hope in the hands of kids who are confused, impulsive, and still learning feels oddly appropriate. The galaxy is broken. The adults are tired. The students are not ready yet, but they are trying. That is a very Trek idea, even when it is wrapped in dorm drama and awkward crushes.
In the end, Starfleet Academy feels like a show still figuring out what it wants to be, much like its characters. That is not a flaw that disappears overnight, but it is also not a reason to write it off. There is a version of this series that could grow into something genuinely special if it keeps leaning into character, consequence, and the messy process of becoming better. Right now, it is uneven, sometimes cheesy, but sincere. In a media landscape that often mistakes cynicism for depth, sincerity still counts for something.
Screen Rated 
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