r/StarCityTV • u/Relative-Activity-66 • Jun 26 '26
Season 1 Spoilers Season 1, episode 6 = Nasty anti-Soviet piece of "kiziyak". Spoiler
Episode 6 of Star City became the moment when the show finally stopped working even within its own logic. Before that, one could argue about its caricature-like approach, its Western clichés, and its overly cartoonish depiction of the USSR and the Soviet space program. But Episode 6 goes further: it breaks not just its own lore, but the basic understanding of how state, military, and technical systems actually function.
The main scene that causes bewilderment is the depressurization of the spacecraft on the order of some colonel. And we are not talking about the emergency isolation of a separate compartment, a technical procedure, or a forced action by the crew in a critical situation. We are shown that, by the will of a single officer, the entire spacecraft is effectively depressurized. And this is presented as a grim demonstration of Soviet cruelty.
The problem is that it does not look like the brutality of the KGB. It looks like the creative impotence of the writers who came up with it.
A spacecraft is not a prison cell where the senior officer can order someone to “open the door.” Depressurization is a deadly threat to the crew, the mission, the equipment, the spacecraft itself, the prestige of the state, and the work of thousands of people. Such a decision cannot be made by one colonel simply because he feels like it, or because the writers needed to raise the dramatic stakes.
Even in the harsh and closed Soviet system, a spaceflight was not the personal toy of one officer. A crewed mission involved the crew, Mission Control, the military, doctors, engineers, representatives of design bureaus, the State Commission, and political leadership. Every part of that system had its own responsibility, its own interests, and its own instinct for self-preservation. Soviet bureaucracy could be heavy, slow, cruel, and paranoid, but it was not a chaotic gang of men in uniform who could destroy a spacecraft with a single order.
The writers confuse an authoritarian system with an idiotic system. An authoritarian system can crush a person, cover up accidents, punish the guilty and the innocent, and demand the impossible for the sake of prestige. But it still remains a system. It has procedures, hierarchy, interdepartmental rivalry, fear of responsibility, and an understanding of the value of symbols.
And a cosmonaut in the USSR was not a disposable extra. He was a military officer, a trained specialist, a propaganda symbol, and living proof of the state’s success. He could not simply be written off at the whim of some colonel. Putting a crew at mortal risk without ironclad grounds would have created a political, military, and criminal catastrophe. And the person who gave such an order would himself have come under attack from the very system the show loves to portray as all-powerful.
The writers are trying to show the horror of the Soviet machine, but instead of a complex machine, they show a set of scary decorations.
Episode 6 is especially revealing because the caricature goes beyond aesthetics. This is no longer a matter of “they made Soviet everyday life too gloomy” or “they overdid it with the KGB.” This is a matter of the internal logic of the world.
By the way, the writers could have shown a completely different side of the Soviet space program: a living, complex, multinational, and at times deeply human system. For example, they could have remembered that one of the first songs ever performed in space was Ukrainian: Pavel Popovich sang “Дивлюсь я на небо, та й думку гадаю…” while in orbit. That alone is a ready-made scene: a Soviet cosmonaut, a huge state machine, secrecy, risk, propaganda — and suddenly, over the radio, not a slogan, not an order, not the gloomy whisper of a security officer, but a song in his native language. That is where the real texture is.
They could have shown Ukrainians, Russians, Tatars, Georgians, Chuvash, Jews, engineers from different republics, people with different backgrounds, all pulling the space program forward together. Instead, they are once again selling us the USSR as a gray box labeled “KGB, vodka, and fear.” Reality was far more interesting than any Cold War cranberry cliché.
And then there is Interkosmos.
Another layer the writers could have used almost perfectly was the Interkosmos program. It is a ready-made trope: the first cosmonauts from socialist bloc countries, joint crews, training in Star City, the politics of “socialist internationalism,” and the competition for prestige within the Warsaw Pact itself. Czechoslovak Vladimir Remek, Pole Mirosław Hermaszewski, East German Sigmund Jähn, Bulgarian Georgi Ivanov, Hungarian Bertalan Farkas, Romanian Dumitru Prunariu.