Bortus is working late. Or is he feeling ill? As the crew discover an impossible civilization living on a planet being eaten by its star, the third in command must get his life in order so he can help save others.

This is an episode about porn addiction. It’s also the televisual equivalent of the rope-a-dope. Perfected by the late, great Muhammad Ali, the rope-a-dope involved letting your opponent tire themselves out achieving very little before springing the trap on them. That trap, here, is the Bortus plot.

Which isn’t to say that it’s not legitimately the main focus of the episode, it is. It feels a little weird having two Moclan-centric episodes one after the other but Bortus was a breakout character last year so it makes sense. Plus Peter Macon and Chad Coleman are excellent here as the episode dives even further into Moclan culture. Macon especially is great and shows you the conflict between the stern, dutiful officer and the open wound he’s carrying with barely a twitch of the eyebrows.

Because what this episode is truly about is grief and powerlessness. In a thematic, and shattering, sequel to the plot concerning Bortus’ daughter last year, he reveals that he’s become addicted to porn because he can’t process his rage at Klyden. Bortus is an endlessly competent, relentlessly physical tough soldier but he couldn’t save his daughter. And his partner wouldn’t save her. So, while he loves the son she became and loves Klyden just as much as before, he’s also not sure he can forgive him. Ever.

This is crushingly honest, complex and worthy ground for the show to cover and Wellesley Wild’s script does so with compassion. There are (almost) no cheap jokes about Bortus’ condition and the episode does a great job of exploring how his life with his two families has to evolve. Plus it gives us a brief Bortus and Isaac double act which I could definitely stand to see repeated.

It’s also not the only rare ground the episode reaches. The destruction of the planet, Nyxia, is startlingly beautiful and more than a little frightening. The last minute revelation of a subterranean civilization and the rescue mission that follows are both well handled. But the knockout punch is when they realize they’ve run out of time and can only evacuate half the survivors. Bortus watches a family voluntarily tear itself apart and realizes what he has to do at home and somehow, in a move that only the demented rocket scientists in the Titans writer’s room would get, it works. Not just that but carefully reinforces the fact that this universe is utopian in ideal but not execution. Not everyone gets out alive, but everyone has a shot.

Verdict: Clever, subtle, emotionally brutal. This is one of The Orville’s finest hours to date and bodes very well for the rest of the season. 9/10

Alasdair Stuart