By William Johnson
Just
by chance, I was bouncing my second child on my knee and flipping through
channels and Star Trek: The Next
Generation’s ‘Devil’s Due’ came on. A great episode.
Sure,
when you think of Captain Picard going up against the devil, the last thing you
projected was the examination of centuries old legal contracts or a
pretty-Earthy arbitration hearing but hey … TNG made something that
sounds mundane on paper really pop. Plus, there were stakes. If Picard lost …
okay, I’ll quote ‘lost’ for reasons I’ll explain in a second … If Picard ‘lost’,
he’d have to bang this super-hot devil lady for the rest of his life. Once
again, this is if he loses!
Anyway,
every other human being besides me looks at this adventure and thinks “I know
Picard is going to win because this is episodic television” but we kind of put
it to the side. An acceptable sacrifice for the suspension of disbelief (and I
say every other human being because I would lose on purpose so I can bang hot
devil lady so I’d expect Picard too also).
Side
bar: because I’ve used bang twice in the last two paragraphs, I am
contractually obligated to add ‘brah’ to the end of the next sentence as I am
clearly trapped in a 21 year old frat boy’s mind … brah.
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| You'd lose on purpose too |
And
that train of thought got me thinking about TNG as a whole and how we
view it compared to more ‘normal’ storytelling.
In ‘Devil’s Due’, we naturally
accept the idea that the episode exists in a vacuum. We know episodes continue
before and after and we know the conventions of episodic television so we just
let it go.
Frankly, unless you’re a weird pervert like me who likes saucy
con-artist devil ladies who can transform into anything, you don’t even really
think about it. The tension exists and we accept it.
But
‘Devil’s Due’ also kind of sums up the TNG experience during one exchange
between Data and Picard in Picard’s Ready Room. I’ll just summarize from memory
because I’m lazy:
Picard:
Ah, Mr. Data. I was reviewing history … as one is to do when facing a situation
in a perfect world in which nothing like this has ever happened before or since
the Federation existed … and I was studying something called the ‘con game’.
Data:
Ah yes … Are you stating that you feel hot devil lady …
Picard:
Ardra … yes … oh yes …
Data:
… Ardra is a ‘con artist’?
Picard:
Well done Mr. Data. Yes...
Now,
during this scene, Picard says the two words ‘con game’ for about 45 seconds
because:
1) he’s never said it before in his entire life and
2) because we, as an
audience, have to accept that these characters are studying something foreign
to them but familiar to us.
All
joking aside, this brings to mind the idea of archetypes of which both original
series characters and TNG characters consist of. They are characters, yes, but
they are literally a bunch of traits that are formed by two things:
1)
time
2)
the situations they are put in
Over
the time of a series, each actor and small backstory allows some life to be
breathed into the characters. But what forms the backbone of the characters is
their exposure to elements foreign to them. In a sense, TOS and TNG
exist as metaphors: some small, some large and we accept it because from the
get go we’ve kind of accepted that these characters aren’t necessarily
full-fledged human beings (or other alien races) because they exist as a brick
in the story wall.
That’s
not to say TOS, TNG, DS9, SVU, CSI: CYBER HOMELAND GALACTICA don’t all
have great individual character moments or moments of breadth and dimension.
But for the most part, especially in the original two series, it was more about
exploring ourselves through broad archetypes being faced with broad, high
concept ideas.
This
idea, while excellent for television, had a tough time translating to the big
screen. The creators of the TNG films had the ridiculous task of
trying to please fans of the TV show while bringing in new viewers (which makes
it double secret ironic that the two most successful non-JJ films are sequels
of sorts to television episodes). You’d think, using the archetype vs. idea or
idea vs. idea plot device that a movie would be simple. Hell, it worked for Star Wars.
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| Well, most of Star Wars... |
Now
to the core of this whole thing: JJ Trek haters. I had to seriously examine
some of what JKM wrote about a month ago in regards to this issue and the TNG
films in particular:
Now,
please, inform me, what specifically of Gene Roddenberry’s vision or social
commentary is present in Generations? Or Nemesis? Or First
Contact, for that matter?
Picard
absolutely learns personal lessons in those films (not to long for the life he
can’t have, not to forget that all people have the capacity for evil, and that
there is no profit in revenge, respectively).
I’m
not talking about that, however. I’m discussing ideas that have a pro-social
currency in the larger national dialogue. That is a core precept of Star
Trek, and you can't find it in the Next Gen movies.
Rather
plainly -- like or hate the message itself -- Star Trek Into Darkness is
the first Star Trek movie, quite possibly, since the Glasnost entry The
Undiscovered Country (1991) to carry a relevant societal message.
It
might therefore be considered, rightly, a restoration of Gene Roddenberry’s
vision, not an abandonment of it.
Now,
JKM and I have a rather tortured history when it comes to Star Trek.
Now, even
though he is editing this article for me, I am going to tell the truth. JKM is
a {REDACTED} {REDACTED} {REDACTED} of Jean-Luc Picard and {REDACTED} {REDACTED}
{REDACTED} {REDACTED} {REDACTED} {REDACTED} {REDACTED}.
Plus,
he slept with my wife. But we are still friends.
Regardless
of all that has happened between us, I agree with his take on JJ Haters but
slightly disagree on the above statements he made.
For one, I think Star
Trek’s taken-at-face-value reputation as a deliverer of relevant social
commentary is over-rated. While I view Star Trek as a morality play or a
fable, I still think the effect is personal. Something like The
Undiscovered Country is an example of an exception, not the rule.
Star
Trek is most definitely a franchise that exists for the purpose of saying something
meaningful but I think the perceived scope is out of whack, especially when
people talk about Roddenberry’s vision.
Because some of the works of Star
Trek went beyond a people-speaking-in-a-conference room level of
discussion regarding ideology (a lot of Trek’s societal message is between
multiple characters sitting together on a couch, in a conference room or
trapped in the holodeck discussing how they view the universe), people
sometimes inflate its purpose.
To
me, Roddenberry’s vision was a lot more subtle. To me, most of Trek’s
most stunning adventures are personal and the existence of a national dialogue
went beyond current events but deep into our souls. It is very relevant for Star Trek Into Darkness to
discuss a post-9/11 world and for The
Undiscovered Country to discuss the fall of the Soviet Union because
when those films respectively came out, those were big issues.
However,
what makes Trek timeless to me is the emotions and conditions … the
national dialogue of the mind and soul, if you will … that exist through any
time period through human history. Trek, at least to me, spoke out to
me at that level. Which is why I tend to not really buy into the JJ Trek stuff.
I don’t want to get into that at the moment because I wasn’t asked to discuss
that and you’ll never get me to stop (Plus, I can’t use big words JKM uses,
like Glasnost. What the hell does that mean anyway)?
But
I am here, with this perception in mind, to defend the TNG films. As JKM said, TNG had
a lot of personal journeys that occurred. And his point, not quoted above,
about how sometimes Trek had to ‘dumb’ itself down for ratings (more color, action,
etc) is very, very true. Think the extraordinary saucer crash in Generations or the goofy ATV ride in Nemesis
in which goofy gargoyle creatures shoot bullets at Picard.
So,
before I continue my defense, let’s go ahead and get the really stupid shit out
of the way because, I know, the comments section will be like ‘yeah, but Riker
does the thing with the thing’. I know. Not everything is perfect. Let’s get it
out of the way.
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| Stupid. |
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| Stupid. |
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| Stupid. |
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| Stupid |
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| NOT stupid. I like it. Shut up. |
Okay???!!!
We got it out of the way now. There are some pretty dumb ass moments in the TNG
movies. But, putting those aside, let’s look at these movies with a new eye.
Taking
my concept of the more subtle Trek world view, each Trek
film offers some pretty powerful messages.
Star
Trek Generations
As
writers of the film, Ronald D. Moore and Brannon Braga will tell you they
introduced far too many themes in Generations
(if only Braga could admit he introduced too many themes … and ideas … and
himself … to story meetings for Voyager).
But when you have to shoehorn Kirk and his ideals into a film that seems rooted
in The Next Generation, you
end up with a mixed bag.
Generations has three major themes going at once:
1)
Picard and his family
2)
Soren has his thirst for an escape from his troubles
3)
Kirk and his desire to make a difference.
*yes,
I’m considering Data’s emotion chip a subplot with tangential connections to
the main themes
Of
the three, #3 felt the schlockiest. I always felt that the writers wanted to
sum Kirk up into a stereotype and ret-conned some back-story for him to service
both the plot and some of what the writers were trying to say.
And,
as for #2, I felt the concept was underused. Soren has a great speech in the
middle of the film but, for the most part, his desires and his deadly addiction
are played more to move the plot along (again) than to actually examine
anything. So I’ll fault the film there and agree with the naysayers.
However,
issue #1 is a powerful concept because, like I said about Trek as a whole, the
concept of family … of generations … goes beyond just moving Picard and the
script from A to B but it also runs through almost every aspect of Star
Trek itself as presented in that two hour running time. In quick
summary: Picard loses his brother and nephew … the last heirs to the Picard
name … in a fire. Picard examines his life: proud of his choices yet haunted by
them as well.
This
very specific concept of Picard becoming the last of his family line exists in
the realm of the fictional film’s plot itself. But Generations functions as a second series’ finale for
a television show that ended only a few months before its release as well. The
idea of time and character’s lives ending and, in the case of moving on to
further generations (DS9, VOY, etc) exists in a meta-way
outside the film. But even that has layers. The concept of a historic franchise
expanding and growing (while pieces of it die) is a portion of this theme. And
all this is relegated to just Star
Trek the franchise.
Like
any great teaching moment in TNG, and continuing with my idea
that Trek
is more of an internal and timeless entity, Generations represents the very Roddenberry idea of
mankind’s journey into the unknown, a more metaphysical and philosophical idea
than a ‘message’.
Nothing
else is quite like the final frontier than the eternally mysterious lifespan we
all lead. We know the beginning and we know the end … but what happens
in-between?
What
Generations attempts
to do … and mostly succeeds in doing… is showing how our essence as a human
being with a soul is made up of experience, and the concept that the final
destination is death. It is what we do with the time between that matters and,
in a sense, allowing the fantasy to come to you (like The Nexus) instead of
making your own fantasy (or missing out on making it) is what makes us who we
are.
Roddenberry’s
original idea was for a Wagon Train to the Stars. And while many Western tropes
existed in Trek, most specifically the frontiers of space (just like those
who explored the frontiers of the West and encountered new ideologies and
different cultures), the concept went beyond the physical. Generations explores the frontiers of the mind and soul and,
even without a statement on our nation per se, says a lot about general
society. In other words: a true representation of Roddenberry’s vision.
From
a purely film aspect, a lot of arguments state that Generations plays out like a bigger-budgeted two parter of
the television series. I can’t think of a better compliment. Questions of
morality and philosophy played out on a large scale with incredible action
sequences.
From
a technical standpoint, the Enterprise-D sets and costumes were made for a
television screen, size wise. So when it came time to shoot the film, a lot of
camera tricks and slight costume redesigns had to be done to accommodate the
larger screen format.
Director
David Carson’s smartest move was to hire John A. Alonzo as cinematographer
(Oscar nominated director of photography for Chinatown). I dare you to find a more stunningly shot film
in the Trek film oeuvre then Generations
… and all because of actual limitations. Check out these differences between
the boob tube and the silver screen.
But
that’s why they destroyed the ship (sadly) because of the continual technical
problems the sets would present in future films.
Besides
the actual physical filming, the Enterprise-D model proved to be equally
cinematic when presented in full CG. It was an awkward ship to shoot but that
was what made it unique: it looked completely different from six or seven
different angles. Added with seven years of television, the Enterprise-D was
like a home: something the Enterprise-E could only pretend to be.
So
on that physical examination alone, Generations
is as close to the Roddenberry vision of his future … and his show … as the
four movies would get.
Star Trek: First Contact
Arguably
the most successful of the TNG films, First Contact is a sequel to not only a two part episode of
the series but of a concept introduced and common knowledge to those who
watched the show: the Borg.
How did the most successful of the TNG
films succeed by being based so completely on internal continuity?
Even
though Ronald D Moore and Brannon Braga, who returned to write this one,
introduced almost as many themes and subplots as Generations, they were all connected together and flowed
freely. And despite the connection to existing continuity, the writers were
able to seamlessly write expository dialogue to explain that which was unknown
to viewers new to Trek AND introduce ideas that are inherently Roddenberry and
inherently Trek.
The
theme of the film is actually a more personalized version of the theme running
through Star Trek II-IV: the
needs of the many outweighs the needs of the few or the one. In Treks II-IV, the stakes were a
lot higher (it seems) but those films personify the Roddenberry theory I
support. So does First Contact.
You have three main plots converging on this one theory:
1)
Picard’s quest for revenge against
those that hurt him most … or the Moby Dick plot
2)
Data’s desire to be human and his
seduction by the Borg Queen … or the Pinocchio and/or Jesus plot.
3)
Zefram Cochrane’s true desire to make
money rather than usher in a new era of peace … or the … uh … James Cromwell
plot
All
three of these idea culminate in life changing moments for the characters.
Picard learns his revenge, which has now traversed time, puts the ideals he
loves at risk, not to mention the people. He decides he’d rather die for the
ideals he’s always lived for and be stranded in the past than let his personal
desire for vengeance literally cause a scorched earth.
Data
eventually resists his temptations and fights for his friends/ideals as well.
And,
of course, with Riker and Geordi chirping in his ear, spreading the good word
of the Great Bird, Cochrane realizes his inner Spider-Man, that with great
power comes great responsibility. The reluctant hero accepts his role and, in a
reverse of Picard and Data, rejects his former selfish ideals.
Picard’s
storyline … the main portion of the film … proves its timelessness by
referencing Moby Dick directly. Moby Dick, written in the
19th century, isn’t necessarily a timely depiction of the then-current society
or its ills. The prevalent themes are those of man’s internal struggle and
those who fall victim to their own tragic flaws. Before Moby Dick, centuries
back, these ideas existed in Shakespeare’s tragedies. Shakespeare’s heroes,
like Othello and Hamlet (though less ambiguous than Captain Ahab and more
ambiguous than Captain Picard), had tragic flaws that led to their downfall.
Being
Roddenberry’s Trek, Picard doesn’t go so far as to be destroyed by his
near-tragic flaw … and that is the point. Trek’s ideals exist to show the
consequences of actions we, as humans, should be better than our temptations.
Data’s arc is amplified by his desire to be the ideal human. His lessons are to
not only conquer his temptations but also learn how humans should be. Add
Cochrane’s change of heart and you get a nice, clean resolution to a dramatic
problem with lessons thrown in. Timeless lessons that will continue through
many different political administrations and changes of societal ideologies.
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| Plus robot sex.. Yeah brah! |
Star Trek: Insurrection
Well,
we’ve come to this. The moment where I will lose readers or gain them. Insurrection. Even though the film is written by a different person than
the previous two films (Michael Piller with additional story elements by Rick
Berman), some of the same ideas from First Contact carry over. Though
Picard and Co. ‘break the rules’ (their insurrection/rebellion is entirely justified
without any ambiguity or moral confusion), they fight for their ideals.
The
film’s biggest problem is tone. Even if we were dealing with exactly the same
plot as First Contact, Insurrection’s
soft approach to most of the ideas lessens its impact.
It
can be admitted that Insurrection
is goofy and silly. And as a result, truly complex and dark ideas that came out
of First Contact could have
been amplified here for all involved. Take Geordi’s vision returning? What if
he decided: I can’t go back to being blind? I have to defend the evil Admiral’s
plan? Or what if Riker’s rediscovered love for Troi led to him rethinking his
career path and he decided to leave Starfleet? What if Worf’s puberty and
Crusher’s boobs getting bigger … ok, never mind.
Insurrection allows the moral ambiguity to be shouldered by the
made-up-just-for-this-movie’s villains. The writer’s absolutely miss the
dramatic tension available by using the temptations of a Fountain of Youth
could have on our main characters. And in the end, that’s okay that it didn’t.
We
just saw Picard and Data go through their darkest moments and TNG
was not always doom and gloom … sometimes it was bright, fresh and funny. Insurrection’s jokes fall flat
sometimes (though I found many portions of it charming) and it pushes its luck
with the cutesy moments but it still has something to say in a broad way. But
by reverting the tension to a villain and a village we don’t really care about,
the message loses impact. But it is still there … buried.
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| Plus, if it doesn't get a little dusty in your viewing room when this scene comes on, you have no soul. *Sniff* |
Star Trek: Nemesis
I
find Nemesis an interesting
film for what could have been. The idea that I think was meant to happen was
this: what happens if the same exact person was born and bred in a different
environment.
Would
any of the good come out, or would only the bad rise to the top?
Because,
even though he doesn’t looking anything like Picard at all, Shinzon IS
Picard. He is a clone of Picard but instead of being raised amongst vineyards
and lovably gruff brothers, Shinzon was a slave and ‘cannon fodder’ for wars he
had nothing to do with.
Another
concept I think the film tried to show was that Picard and Shinzon succeeded
with pure force of will. Picard was a fierce competitor and made virtually all
his dreams and accomplishments to come true being a good person. Shinzon did
the same, using his charisma, strength and allegiances to escape his slavery
and rule an empire.
This
idea was also attempted with Data. What if Data wasn’t a perfectly made android
with aspirations and a built-in moral code?
All
nice ideas. Just really, really, really, really, really, really, really,
really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really,
really, really, really, really, really poorly executed.
None
of those ideas actually come across very well … they exist, in the film’s ether
… but they kind of lay there in wait, waiting for a day that will not come: the
day they become fully realized concepts shown visually.
Instead,
we get some really random shit: truck driving, mental rape scenes, a Jonathan
Frakes love scene (*shudder*), singing (worse than Insurrection) and that ironic moment when a really good
director makes a cameo in a film directed by a shitty director.
So
you got me there. Nemesis has approximately 18 minutes of good stuff. The problem
is the movie is at least 120 minutes long. And while the ideas above are nice
concepts, they aren’t necessarily ideals on any level. I think of Dark Helmet
from Space Balls when I see
Shinzon:
Tom
Hardy and Patrick Stewart have three really good scenes together while Picard
and Riker have a beautiful moment at the end, but that’s about it (I did kind
of like Shinzon getting impaled … that was pretty intense). No real ideals,
Roddenberry or otherwise, presented nor attempted though they could have been.
Three
out of four ain’t bad, right?
So
there. That’s my defense. I’m sure, in the end, you’ll all realize John Kenneth
Muir is a genius and I am a goofy moron but hopefully I shed some light on the TNG
films for you and you can enjoy them a little bit more.
(John's note: I want to thank Will again for contributing this post, and urge readers to check out his blog, The Paxton Configuration)
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