[8.0/10] *Star Trek: Enterprise* showrunner once described that show’s finale as a valentine to the fans. And while the infamous conclusion didn’t quite live up to that affectionate intention from the creators, *What We Left Behind*, a loving tribute to *Deep Space Nine* from the people who made it, does.

It’s hard to judge *What We Left Behind* because the crowd-funded film is less a detached documentary look back at the show and more a wide-ranging reunion/veneration/revival caught on film. It’s meant only for people who already know *Deep Space Nine*, who are big fans of what the superlative series achieved, and who want to revel in it once more.

I am one of those people, so most of this works on me like gangbusters. Seeing the noteworthy faces, from both in front of and behind the camera, speak lovingly and at times candidly about their experiences on the show, makes for a lovely postscript to the series itself. A chance to glimpse what a legacy sequel to the series might look like is tantalizing. The beatific tones in which the talking heads speak of the show finally getting its due after being the middle child of Star Trek for so long are music to my ears.

But I’ll admit, there’s a part of me that was smiling from ear-to-ear when the credits rolled, and also a part of me that said, “This is all frosting.”

Which is all to say that this is not a traditional film, let alone a traditional documentary. It has about four different modes (maybe even five), and all of them have their merits and drawbacks, but they don’t always fit together.

One is pure hagiography for *Deep Space Nine*. Tons of people from both inside and outside the production comment on ways in which the series was ahead of its time, tackled ideas and topics other shows (both within Star Trek and beyond it) wouldn’t, and developed a deep bench of characters.

Candidly, it’s the part of the movie I’m the most mixed on. I agree with just about all the plaudits and congratulations offered. But something feels a little silly about it since *What We Leave Behind* is co-directed by one of the series’ showrunners. There’s a big sense of self-back-patting to all of this. The boon of this movie is that, with Ira Steven Behr as one of the main creative forces, he’s able to get so many people from the show to participate in the documentary. The downside is that it means a decent amount of the material is people from the show complimenting the show, which feels a little weird.

There’s also a nagging sense of *What We Leave Behind* telling IndieGogo backers what they want to hear. Now I get it. Again, I am one of those people! Bui one of those things I admire about *Deep Space Nine* is its willingness to challenge viewers. This documentary feels less challenging and more flattering. That's probably the nature of a beast like this one, but something about a movie built around telling your paying customers how great the show they already love is seems a little off to me.

That said, there are moments of more candor and a willingness to be incisive about the show. Conversations with the former network head about being against serialization are interesting. Comments from 1990s Trek impresario Rick Berman on his resistance to many of the creative team’s ideas are revealing. Discussions about what it meant to the cast and crew to add Michael Dorn’s Worf to the series, for Terry Farrell’s Jadzia to exit the series, to meet the exacting standards of Avery Brooks, to grapple with Marc Alaimo’s alienation from the writers and Nana Visitor’s reluctance to be paired with him and his character, are all fascinating.

If there’s one thing I’d ask for from *What We Leave Behind* it’s for more material like that and a willingness to go deeper into it. The documentary is mostly a love-fest, and that's fine. But periodically, we get a glimpse into the challenges behind making what is, for my money, the best Star Trek show of all time, and I wish we got a deeper sense of the ups and downs that went into making it.

Some of that comes down to time. Visitor jokes with Behr over the end credits that this could be eight hours long, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I wouldn’t mind a bit if this were more of a docu-series, providing more time for different subjects to breathe rather than feeling like we have to race through even the most intriguing topics and give most of them a glancing treatment.

The movie also has a clunkily-written scene of Behr talking through where the show fell short in its willingness to explore sexual identity. And while I appreciate the intention, the constructed nature of the scene makes it feel inauthentic and insincere, despite what I assume to be noble intentions. And this is probably just my particular hobby horse, but there’s even a halfway defense of the execrable “Profit and Lace” rather than a mea culpa, which rubs me the wrong way in a segment clearly meant to examine the places that even a forward-thinking show didn’t live up to its own standards.

All of that said, the third (and best) mode for the talking head portions of the documentary is neither people feting the greatness of the show at length or briefly talking about its issues, but rather simply hearing the cast and crew talk about what their time working on *Deep Space Nine* meant to them. Discussions of makeup snafus and long hours give way to earnest mentions of the camaraderie that emerged, the relationships built between Avery Brooks and Cirroc Lofton, the fun of getting to dream up what a Cardassian ore refinery looks like, the experience of going from a two-line character to being a pivotal player in the story.

More than talking about the show’s successes or failures, just hearing the major figures in the cast and the production team go back-and-forth over what it was like being a part of this thing for seven years, the highs and the lows, is worth the price of admission on its own. Since the documentary’s release, we’ve lost Aron Eisenberg and Rene Auberjonois, which makes the moments of them getting emotional about the characters they play and the legacy they leave feel extra precious.

The fourth mode is pure fanservice. Former cast members sing *DS9*-themed versions of old crooner songs. Andrew Robinson remarks on the nature of truth in documentary filmmaking in a very Garak-like manner. HD-remastered battle scenes play in all their cinematic splendor. There’s not much to this stuff; it’s pure candy for Niners new and old, but it’s still welcome and very enjoyable, despite the fact that you have to suppress that part of your brain that tells you you’re being pandered to.

But the fifth mode is the best and most fascinating in my book: Behr and four of the show’s most stalwart writers getting together for a day to break the story for a theoretical revival season of *Deep Space Nine*.

On a surface level, it’s just a thrill to get a little more time spent in this world, crafted by the people who brought it to life. Modern Star Trek has given us legacy follow-ups to *The Next Generation* (via *Star Trek: Picard*) and *Voyager* (via *Star Trek: Prodigy*). If ever there were a show set up for and deserving of follow-up, it’s *Deep Space Nine*. But aside from a couple of lovely tributes in *Lower Decks*, there’s been nary a hint that such a thing is in the offing. So if this is all we ever get -- the show’s original writers giving us the outline of a first episode, brought to life through animated storyboards -- it’s something to be grateful for.

The story itself is no less interesting. In truth, some of the big picture story ideas are a little cockamamie. The notion of Vedek Kira converting the Jem’Hadar and Section 31 plotting to destroy the Prophets out of hostility toward religion scan like fan fiction plots, and speaks to even this great writers’ room’s propensity to include the occasional dopey plot point.

But you can tell what made the show work from their creative collaboration. Because even if the big picture narrative direction would take some refinement, you can see the compelling way they build scenes and scripts. The building suspense and mystery of their “Who killed Nog?” storyline is great. The way they structure the script as a reunion and tease out tensions and conflicts and not just warm embrace is worthy of the show’s legacy. And by god, even just the moment when Vedek Kira decides to stand with her friends rather than against them reveals the emotional power these writers could create together.

It’s engrossing to see snippets of the creative process required to construct something like a *Deep Space Nine*, and it gives you a renewed appreciation for the mastery of the people involved. Even without the actors or the score or live action visuals at their disposal, five of *Deep Space Nine*’s leading creative lights build this tantalizing story full of intrigue and character and meaning and reflection that makes you not only want to see their hypothetical season 8, but also just go back and rewatch the whole darn series.

That's the best thing I can say about *What We Leave Behind*. In many ways, it’s a confused documentary, trying to be many different things in many different ways over the course of a mere two hours, and never quite hitting a unity of purpose that makes it feel greater than the sum of its parts. At its worst, it devolves into a certain self-congratulation or flattery that seems gauche.

But at its best, and even at its worst, the film is overflowing with love for *Deep Space Nine* and reminders of what made the show special. What it lacks in orderly documentarian strictures, it makes up for in taking some risks, offering some unique elements like that mini-writers room revival, and packing in as much as Behr and co-director David Zappone possibly can in two hours to pay tribute to the series and its accomplishments. This is less a traditional doc and more the valentine to faithful supporters that another Star Trek showrunner once promised, but as one of those *DS9* faithful, I’m still exceedingly happy to receive it.