Fredrik deBoer remarks on the recent evolutions of Star Trek:
I saw the new Star Trek movie. When I tell you that it’s all punching and shooting, I’m really not exaggerating. It’s all punching and shooting. And as far as punching and shooting summer action movies goes, it’s OK. It has an ending that’s like two 13 year old boys talking about what a good ending would be via text message, but it isn’t completely soulless, which is better than you can say for most franchise movies.
But Star Trek isn’t about punching or shooting. It’s contemplative. It’s about actual moral conflict and ambiguity. It’s optimistic about the prospect of peace and the ability to solve problems nonviolently. It lets stories develop slowly. It’s about exploration and diplomacy far more than its about combat. And, look, yes, the old Onion joke – “Trekkies Bash New Star Trek Film As ‘Fun, Watchable’” – I get it. You have to make concessions to the box office. But I don’t understand the point of turning Star Trek into a punching and shooting franchise, which is what all of these movies have been. I mean, I do understand. It’s the fact that our culture industry is a human centipede that has to keep passing predigested excrement from one host body to the next, so every preexisting “IP” has to have all of its value sucked out until there’s only a dry husk remaining. But it just doesn’t work, fundamentally, to turn Star Trek into Punch Quest. There are other problems with the movies – I just don’t buy Kirk and Spock’s friendship, the actors don’t have chemistry – but on a basic level they suffer from trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.
And I’ve been more or less lukewarm on all the later Star Trek movies as well. Here’s the thing about the initial series, why it seems to hold up so well – it’s not really about the wonder of the future, the joys of going toe to toe with Klingons or Romulans, or getting sucked into giant cones of destruction, or any of the veneer of those episodes.
At its heart, its enduring attraction is about the moral questions it raises, as Fredrik notes. Just a couple of examples:
“What Are Little Girls Made Of?” brings to the fore the question of how uploading our consciousness to a computer will change us – can we even hope to be stable personalities in such a scenario?
“Balance of Terror” examines the impact of unthinking hostility can have on two civilizations, and what impact an unexpected link between the two can potentially have.
“The Doomsday Machine” examines a problem we’re really beginning to seriously wrestle with only today – automated weaponry and its worst consequences.
Hopefully, thousands of other people have made this same point, but it seems as if Hollywood doesn’t get it. A good story isn’t merely a sequence of actions, or even a logical sequence of action / reaction with big flashy lights. A good story raises a serious question, even a moral dilemma, and tries to play out the consequences of decisions made in light of the question. This is what really fascinates us the most, from The Odyssey to E.T. to Blade Runner. A memorable story contains that nugget of some compelling question and tries to answer it. You can see that in historical dramas, Superman cartoons, and other memorable stories.
And, to tell the truth, I can barely remember the recent Star Trek movies. Vulcan is eaten by a black hole. Yeah. Uh, who cares? Maybe this is why, for all that the Spock replacement is good, and ya gotta love the McCoy replacement’s accent, there’s no real chemistry, and no real future for the future. Where’s the interesting dilemma?
Punch Quest, yeah! Yeah. yeah.
