What’s past is prolonged

The new Star Trek film is shiny and fun and all kinds of entertaining.

I wish they hadn’t made it.

At the risk of sounding like the butt of the Onion’s recent funny joke, I do think there’s something special about Star Trek that J.J. Abrams’ very watchable movie wholly fails to replicate. You could certainly argue that the series has done nothing but replicate that same something for many, many years now — Gerry Canavan calls it a franchise “built almost entirely on the bedrock of nostalgic repetition” — but, when all is said and done, I really don’t think Abrams brings anything new to the table. He shuffles some things around, remakes characters and events, and heaven knows he modernizes the aesthetic and beefs up the special effects. But to what end? Beyond being mildly diverting for a couple of hours, I don’t see that the film has a whole lot to offer. While it’s neat to see characters we know so well meet up for the first time, I don’t know that these characters, these particular re-interpretations, are ones that I’d need to spend any more time with. This is and isn’t the Star Trek universe; the film is both a prequel and a re-imagining — through some clever, yet very hokey, time travel* — but ultimately I think it fails at both. Abrams and company have chipped away at that bedrock of nostalgia, but they haven’t provided a new, solid foundation of their own. The movie isn’t quite Star Trek, but it also isn’t quite anything else.

Abigail Nussbaum writes:

It seems to me that far from regaining the franchise’s relevance, a film like Abrams’s Star Trek relinquishes it. Casino Royale is a hell of a good film, but it reinvents James Bond on others’ terms, and in so doing acknowledges that the Bond franchise, which once defined the concept, look and feel of espionage films, is now merely a follower, emulating newer and more innovative series. There’s something sad about a once-vibrant cultural artifact becoming first venerable and then a forgotten relic, but not nearly as sad as not allowing that artifact to die a dignified death, and more importantly, not allowing its successors room to grow. Every generation comes up with its own stories, but ours seems content to slap new coats of paint on the old ones so that it can keep telling them again and again. I’d much rather boldly go where no one has gone before.

All that said, however, it is fun for a couple of hours, and most of the actors acquit themselves reasonably well. Zachary Quinto is the obvious — although also only — standout as Spock, although the underused Simon Pegg is always fun to watch, and I did enjoy Karl Urban’s grumpy DeForest Kelley impersonation. Chris Pine’s James Kirk fares not quite as well, in no small part because — as John Rogers points out — he has no real character arc or development whatsoever. This isn’t Pines’ fault — I think he plays the character well for how it’s written — but just another symptom of what doesn’t quite work about the movie.

As I remarked to a friend this afternoon, in many ways it felt like fan fiction, written by people who weren’t really fans.

Yesterday evening I also watched Doomsday. Talk about not bringing anything new to the table. I joked via Twitter that it’s basically “Snake Plissken Beyond Thunderdome,” a little bit of Escape from New York crossed with Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, but there’s also a quick stopover in medieval times, Gladiator-style, and a small pinch or two of 28 Days Later. Then it cycles back into The Road Warrior just for good measure. It’s entertaining enough, and never feels completely like a waste of time, but it also never feels like anything more than a disconnected string of homages to better, more exciting films.

* Star Trek, as a series, is notorious for playing fast and loose with the science in sceince fiction, but it seemed particularly egregious here. A MacGuffin is one thing, but the ridiculousness of the “red matter” — with its many shades of Abrams’ earlier “Mueller device” — and the way the film refuses to be even internally consistent with its complete misunderstanding of how a black hole operates…well, it does get a little annoying.

That’s one way of putting it

A.O. Scott on Angels & Demons:

This movie, without being particularly good, is nonetheless far less hysterical than “Da Vinci.” Its preposterous narrative, efficiently rendered by the blue-chip screenwriting team of Akiva Goldsman and David Koepp, unfolds with the locomotive elegance of a Tintin comic or an episode of “Murder, She Wrote.” Mr. Howard’s direction combines the visual charm of mass-produced postcards with the mental stimulation of an easy Monday crossword puzzle. It could be worse.

Personally, I was bored and annoyed by The Da Vinci Code — the movie; I’ve never read the book — more than anything else, so I don’t expect to watch this prequel-turned-sequel.

The Ten-Per-Cent Solution

Teresa Nielsen Hayden is absolutely right, this is what editing is all about:

Yes, you get cynical, because you see one submission after another that says “Read this, it’s great!” Only it’s not great, it’s anything but great, it’s passable at best; and the passable ones are a tiny fraction of the many, many, many submissions you see. Then one year you open yetanotherenvelope, and ZOMFG it’s the real thing!!! Overcome with joy, you fall over backward and wave your arms and legs in the air in that wholly ravished “Do with me what you will” kind of way. OMG OMG OMG it’s Maureen McHugh, it’s Stephan Zielinski, it’s Jo Walton, it’s wonder beyond reckoning. It’s the real thing. It’s what you live for.

She brings it up in response to all the hoopla surrounding Susan Boyle’s stunning recent performance on Britain’s Got Talent. Sometimes, real talent just gobsmacks you upside the head. If Sturgeon’s Law applies — and it seems to apply nowhere so well as in the fiction slush pile, let me tell you — you can’t help but be floored when you’re lucky enough to stumble upon that ten percent that isn’t crud.

There is the question, of course, of whether we should be so surprised what that non-crud comes from someone like Susan Boyle. Do we find her story uplifting because she has a beautiful voice, or because we think she looks like somebody who almost certainly couldn’t? On this week’s Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me!, guest panelist Tom Bodett joked that the moment he teared up at Boyle’s performance was “when I questioned my own moral character.” It’s that subtext of “oh wow, ugly people can do beautiful things” that he found disconcerting. Host Peter Sagal quipped, “Tom, if it wasn’t for ugly people doing worthwhile things, there’d be no radio.”

But I think it’s a valid concern, and it’s one that’s echoed by Dennis Palumbo, who asks the very simple question: What if Susan Boyle couldn’t sing?

The unspoken message of this whole episode is that, since Susan Boyle has a wonderful talent, we were wrong to judge her based on her looks and demeanor. Meaning what? That if she couldn’t sing so well, we were correct to judge her on that basis? That demeaning someone whose looks don’t match our impossible, media-reinforced standards of beauty is perfectly okay, unless some mitigating circumstance makes us re-think our opinion?

Real talent is rare enough without the assumption that it can only come in certain packages. If ninety percent of everything is crud, why on earth would you want to further limit your sample size like that? It can be exhausting to wade through that ninety percent — most of it well-meaning, honestly attempted, but crud nonetheless — but imagine missing the opportunity to discover those ten-percent gems!

Of course, there are plenty of cynics ready to say those gems are ersatz, to call bullshit when something seems too perfect, too good. And maybe that’s okay; a healthy dose of cynicism is necessary for survival sometimes. Personally, I happen to think Boyle is the real thing. Maybe there’s some spin after the fact, and maybe Simon Cowell was feigning his surprise. But you know what? Who cares? The woman can sing.

The superhuman crew

There’s a really terrific (but hugely spoiler-filled) critique of Watchmen — more graphic novel than movie — over at Comic Book Resources with Damon Lindelof, Carr D’Angelo and Atom! Freeman. I think my favorite part — which, again, is a huge spoiler — is the following exchange:

DAMON: I want to talk about Rorschach. Question…

CARR: He is the Question.

DAMON: Rorshach’s face is his everything. In fact, he’s literally holding it on as he’s fighting Adrian in the previous issue. And yet… once he realizes Jon is going to vaporize him, what does he do? He takes off his mask. And so, the question is this: does Jon kill Rorschach? Or does Jon kill Walter?

ATOM!: Wow. Who knew there were still surprises? Walter kills Rorschach. Jon kills Walter.

CARR: Removing the mask is a symbolic suicide. But it’s also saying that you can kill the person who is Rorschach, but not the idea of Rorschach.

DAMON: Well, Rorshach makes such a big deal out of that mask and what it means in regards to his identity.

CARR: Rorschach lives on in the journal too. “Nothing ever ends.”

DAMON: I’ve always felt that Moore’s decision to kill Rorschach was the only way to guarantee no one would ever write a sequel.

CARR: There was talk of a Nite Owl/Rorschach prequel and a Minutemen series.

DAMON: Thank God it was just talk.

CARR: Moore, ironically, thought the book would go out of print

ATOM!: Strange to think that this wasn’t designed to be read and re-read.

DAMON: I’ve always wondered about Rorschach’s decision.

CARR: Well, he wasn’t going to get very far on foot was he?

DAMON: Clearly, the difference between right and wrong seems very clear to him. But I’ve always wondered what he thought it would accomplish if he did expose the truth. I think Rorschach doesn’t want there to be peace, because he doesn’t understand it. And there’s no place for him in a world where there aren’t animals to put down.

ATOM!: I think the mistake is to think Rorschach thought through longterm. Veidt thought longterm and decided to grow a giant squid. Rorschach knocked heads together until he got an answer to his question.

CARR: But is a world without nuclear war necessarily a peaceful one?

DAMON: Well, that’s the $64,000 question. Did it work?

ATOM!: Wait for the sequel.