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Tuesday, October 8, 1996
COLUMN:
Life lessons, role models gleaned from sci-fi show; decline
attributed to passing of Roddenberry
All the pomp and circumstance surrounding the 30th anniversary
of "Star Trek" came to a climax last Sunday night with a big-time
gala. The affair was hosted by Ted Danson, leading me to speculate
in advance whether or not he would continue the tradition
established by his last turn as emcee (in blackface for Whoopi) and
host the show wearing Andorian blue or Klingon brown smeared on his
mug. The occasion was star-studded, featuring members of all four
shows, and the proceeds from the $500-a-plate dinner undoubtedly
went of to several good causes.
So why is it that I could care less?
All the business of celebrating the birthday of "Star Trek" has
had an unusual non-affect on me. If that was because I never cared
for the show, that would be an understandable reaction. But the
truth of the matter is much more sordid. The truth is that I,
Brandon Wilson … am a recovering Trekkie (I will imagine that all
you other recovering Trekkies out there are saying "Hi Brandon!" in
unison right now). As long as I can remember, I was a devotee of
the show and its offspring up until two years ago. What brought my
time as a Trekkie to a close wasn’t the major life transitions of
that time, like starting film school and never again having time to
commit to episodic television. No, my break with the show had some
very unfortunate motivations. But even now, the 30th birthday of
the phenomenon forces me to look back on what the show did
accomplish, and why it went to seed.
People often think I’m kidding when I tell them that I learned
all the fundamentals of film directing from watching "Star Trek."
But it’s true, and I tell any aspiring film students to watch the
show (either the original or "Next Generation," not the rest of
them) to learn how to work with a team effectively and efficiently.
Anyone hoping to command a movie set can glean many useful tips on
the dos and don’ts of being in charge by watching either Kirk or
Picard in action (although you might draw the line at barking
"Engage!" instead of "Action!," your crew might start laughing at
you).
I suppose one also must consider that, through all the years,
"Star Trek" held on valiantly to its antiquated
the-future-as-utopia ideals even after "Blade Runner" made
dystopian futures de rigeur in the genre; as it kept delivering the
hopeful message that man will learn to live with himself, perhaps
there are thousands of us out there who actually believe in it in a
way we wouldn’t have if a show like "Star Trek" hadn’t come
along.
And while this may seem an embarrassingly earnest disclosure,
I’ll say it anyway: I believe that seeing "Star Trek" constantly in
my formative years, where every week a group of people faced
unthinkable catastrophe and always managed to pull through it using
their heads (and in the case of Kirk, a few well-placed karate
chops) taught me that every problem had a solution if you just kept
cool and figured things out.
This constant demonstration of problem solving has surely had an
affect on me, and it’s drilled home the rather important message
that anything, be it a hostile alien force trying to obliterate
civilization or a problem with my financial aid at Murphy Hall, can
be resolved.
And then there are my idols. "Star Trek" introduced me to Mr.
Spock and later Captain Jean-Luc Picard, two men I have openly
modeled myself after. Both of them exemplify all those high-minded
"Star Trek" ideals without ever falling into bombastic speechiness.
Both of them have a cool reserve, an intellect beyond reproach, and
never lose their cool. And I must say, as Picard, Patrick Stewart
has done more for me accepting and embracing the fact that I’m
losing my hair than nearly anyone. It’s no wonder why their
self-confidence and fierce competence at their jobs have endowed
both Spock and Picard with a kind of sex-symbol status amongst
Trekkies and non-Trekkies alike. Even though I let go of the show,
these two cats still embody everything I want to be when I grow
up.
So what happened to "Star Trek"? First, it’s become clear that
the show was never the same after the death of creator Gene
Roddenberry in 1991. Things were at their last peak just before
Roddenberry passed on: "Star Trek VI," the last good Trek movie,
was about to hit the theaters, and "Next Generation" had hit its
stride and became one of the best, smartest shows on the tube.
When he was alive, Roddenberry seemed somewhat of an appendix to
the phenomenon he created: few of the episodes he penned are
remembered as classics and, in fact, the less he became directly
involved in "Next Generation" the better the show seemed to
become.
But if anything is clear now about the series, it’s that "Star
Trek" essentially died with its creator. His vision was an anchor
which held the series in place, and without him, look at what’s
happened: "Deep Space Nine" (a series whose staff could never rise
to the challenge of doing something so different from the formula),
the aimless mess that was "Generations," and the growing sense in
even the most dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie that it’s nothing more than
a franchise now. Without Roddenberry, the imagination has dried up
and mammonism has taken over. Many fans have sensed this and
abandoned the show. Even Jonathan Frakes, Trek actor and director
of the next big-screen Trek movie, recently admitted that the
franchise is floundering and its future may rest on the success or
failure of the film.
And now the magic is gone. I recently saw some of "Star Trek II"
and was amazed at how fun and engaging things were back then and
how dreary the show has become. Occasionally, I’ll see a snippet of
a new episode from one of the new shows, and it saddens me; it’s
like bumping into an old girlfriend who’s let herself go, no more
than a shadow of the person you once knew and enjoyed.
So as a recovering Trekkie, I congratulate "Star Trek" on
reaching 30, even as I lower its casket into the ground. There was
nothing like it in its heyday, but its heyday is long over and not
coming back.
Hailing frequencies closed.
Brandon Wilson is a third-year graduate student in film
directing, and everyday he forgets one more piece of Star Trek
trivia.
Brandon Wilson