On May 16 of 2013 Star Trek: Into Darkness released in theaters. The film was well-received by critics and went on to score the largest box office returns in the franchise’s history. (On a more personal note, Into Darkness was reviewed favorably by our own Leland Pierce.) But less than three months later at the One Trek Mind Live panel in Las Vegas, Into Darkness was hailed as the worst Star Trek film in a live voting poll – worse even than the much-lamented The Final Frontier and notorious stinker Nemesis, and placing significantly below 1999 Star Trek send-up Galaxy Quest – which is not even a Star Trek film.
To be completely fair, as One Trek Mind specifically states in the link:
“Now, just because something has to come in last doesn’t make it a bad film. Somebody has to bring up the rear! But others in the press (see Hollywood Reporter) felt the need to stir up some controversy.”
I’m not criticizing One Trek Mind in any way, shape, or form. I’m aiming at the the vocal element that seems to hold the Abrams-verse up as the worst thing that has ever happened to science fiction.
I raised a good old-fashioned Spock eyebrow to that one; the kind of people who vote in a poll at the Star Trek 2013 convention conjure a very specific mental image. I’ll leave that image to your own personal imagination, but I can imagine they wouldn’t be the kind of audience that would look favorably upon any creative license taken with the Holy Grail of the Star Trek canon: The Wrath of Khan.
You could probably find a bigger fan of ‘the wagon train to the stars,” but you’d have to look hard, and for a long, long time. My parents are first-generation fans, and I was raised to deeply respect the original series’s use of cultural metaphor and morality play. One of my most prized childhood possessions was The Making of Star Trek by Steven E. Whitfield and Gene Roddenberry, a age-yellowed and careworn paperback I dug out of a bargain bin in a used-book store. To this day, I can’t think of a book I’ve picked up more often.
I was 4 years old in 1987 when Star Trek: The Next Generation aired. I was immediately captivated in the way that only a very young child can – this was my Star Trek. I didn’t understand half of what was going on, but I knew that the ships were the coolest thing ever, and tData was my favorite. I grew up with The Next Generation, and I have dearly enjoyed rediscovering it over and over throughout my life.
I greedily devoured every television series, every expanded universe book I could get my hands on from novel to technical manual, and snapped up every toy. Somewhere still in the attic of my childhood home there is a sealed container of every Next Generation figure released, and while I’m sure there was some greater loss in my childhood I cannot remember one more poignant than losing one of the nacelles off of my Enterprise-D model.
So when I say I am a fan of Star Trek, you will understand that I mean all of it, from The Way to Eden to The Wrath of Khan. I greatly enjoy everything that is Star Trek, from the ‘worst (which I still love dearly) to the very best. And I cannot understand the hatred for the Abrams-verse Star Trek films, and in particular for Into Darkness.
I have repeatedly heard, and do not accept, the criticism that the Star Trek films are supposed to be deeper and more insightful than your average popcorn flick – not because Star Trek isn’t supposed to be, but rather because the ‘best Star Trek films’ are the popcorn flicks.
Let’s use this self-same poll:
- Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
- Star Trek: First Contact.
- Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country.
The three-highest rated films are the three that least resemble the deep, subtle, slow-boiling existential analysis of human nature that Star Trek is famous for – action-oriented films. All three share a desperate and claustrophobic tone and incredibly high-stakes: the crew of the Enterprise is under the greatest external and internal pressure, and are for a good portion of the film alone and without any external aid. Each of the films feature a compelling, charismatic villain with strong internal motivation that presents a very real threat to the crew, and each script features great climactic story structure with strong character development.
So what differentiates these ‘best’ Star Trek films from either of the Abrams-verse reboots? Viewed through that lens, very little to nothing. The vast majority of criticism levied at Into Darkness were the film being too action-oriented, and not intellectual enough for Star Trek, but the best of the Trek films featured a similar balance of physical action to dramatic action.
It’s hard for me to find any validity in the argument that The Wrath of Khan was more intellectual than Into Darkness. Both films deal equally with themes of duty, personal and professional responsibility and sacrifice. While they differ in the specifics, they both deal with maturation and aging and the acceptance thereof.
On the converse of that coin, the films that most resemble Star Trek’s trademark intellectual morality play – The Motion Picture, Insurrection, and The Final Frontier – are, by that self-same poll and popular opinion alike, the worst of the films. So the logical conclusion is that what works for an episode of Star Trek doesn’t necessarily work for a film, and vice versa.
1. J.J. Abrams Understands Fun. And Star Trek is supposed to be fun.
Everyone remembers The Trouble with Tribbles, right? And Mudd’s Women? Star Trek has its serious side, and I don’t wish to ignore that. I don’t think anyone does. The first inter-racial kiss, the first strong African-American presence on television, one of the strongest Asian-American characters in early television history, and an incredibly beautiful utopian view of humanities’ future? Roddenberry’s legacy is a strong one, perhaps the single most influential science-fiction work in the history of the industry.
As a consequence, it can be easy to forget that Star Trek has it’s light side, but it does. It’s not new, and the relatively-light-handed levity that Abrams has brought to the franchise should be no surprise. It doesn’t exceed what is already present in the canon. By comparison, it’s often far more restrained and less forced.
2. J.J. Abrams understands that heart at the core of Star Trek
There are complaints to be made about the Abramsverse, but it is genuinely hard to argue with the character work. The hard-sells, like John Cho’s Sulu and Chris Pine’s Kirk were put to rest within ten minutes of screen- time. Zoe Saldana’s Uhura and Simon Pegg’s Scotty, are substantively similar and I can’t even come close to expressing the full extent of my joy at Anton Yelchin’s Chekov and Karl Urban’s Bones.
There is legitimately nothing negative that can be said about Zachary Quinto’s Spock.
But it’s not simply about understanding the character work. It’s about understanding the relationships. It’s about understanding why, after 44 years, the interplay between a brashly confidant Captain, a fiercely empathetic and emotional doctor, and a dogmatically logical science officer is fascinating. And more than that, it’s about understanding how to play those types against each other, and against situations that make each shine.
3. J.J. Abrams has made Star Trek accessible again
Abrams’ choice to reboot the franchise was an incredibly aggressive one, no question. It would have been far easier to pick an empty spot in the history and fill it in, but he chose to stand up to the archetypal legends that defined the franchise. Before the first film released, I could not believe that the Abrams film was a reboot – that was dangerous nigh unto the point of hubris. And then I watched it – and was swayed. It wasn’t the most original or the most iconic of the Star Trek films, but it’s awfully hard to argue that it’s not the most genuinely-fun summer popcorn flick out of all of them.
Perhaps most importantly – and this is the sticking point, what I honestly believe to be the real issue behind the ‘hatred’ – is that J.J. Abrams made Star Trek cool again for the first time since the 60’s. New fans, people that had never given Star Trek a chance, flocked to theaters to see both films. And there is nothing that threatens a die-hard fan like a new fan, those who weren’t there back in the day, that just don’t understand what it was like. It’s amazing how fast we forget that everyone starts on even footing. Everyone was a new fan once.
And as for those lamenting new fans drawn to the franchise by the hunk/vixen appeal of Pine/Quinto/Saldana, I would respectfully like to point out that women were throwing themselves at Leonard Nimoy to the point where he “had to plan [his] entrances and exits so [he] wouldn’t be mobbed and hurt,” by his adoring fans. Star Trek has never shied away from sexuality either as a subject matter or as a marketing tactic. Kirk frequently used sex like a weapon, and Spock, Seven of Nine, and T’Pol were all lenses through which the nature of sexuality was examined.
4. J.J. Abrams understands how to make Star Trek look cool.
Ok, let’s go ahead and get the lens-flare jokes out of the way now. Yes, it is absolutely true that the Abramsverse films feature a lot of shots with lens flare, but I think it’s pathetically silly and unfair to criticize a franchise for one stylistic visual choice especially one that isn’t unique to the film-maker in question.
The Star Trek franchise has always been on the cutting edge of visual effects, and if there is one aspect of the Abramsverse films that is universally hailed, it’s the visual work of the the films.
Star Trek has never looked sleeker or sexier, and this was achieved without sacrificing the key design elements of canon.
5. J.J Abrams understands that Star Trek is supposed to make us feel feelings
Science fiction often trips itself up with the trappings that define the genre: an overabundance of techno-babble, too much focus on shiny technology and too little focus on the core of the narrative. Similarly, the greatest works of science fiction all share a single characteristic: understanding that the innate aspects of science fiction are simply a means to an end, that the ‘science’ half of science fiction is no more important than the fiction, and is often less so.
Yes the ships are shiny (the shiniest yet in fact) and the action sequences are chock-full of the pew-pew, but the most compelling sequences of the Abramsverse films center around characterization: the confrontation on the bridge in 2009’s Star Trek between Kirk and Spock, Into Darkness’ interrogation sequence, and the second film’s powerful climax.
Given the above, it’s difficult for me to choke down the concept that Into Darkness is the worst film. It’s hard for me to even really criticize the Abramsverse as a whole, especially given the alternate universe device he’s used to justify any creative license taken with the core property.
But, as always there is nothing that we love at Pixelated Geek like a spirited discussion, and I’m certainly far from averse to a dissenting opinion, so if you take issue with my position, drop us a comment and let us know! As always, thanks for reading!