Vegipus

Bringing new meaning to the phrase "Dinner Theater."

I am a BIG DORK

Dear Mr. Abrams:

While I understand the allure of big-name stars, I wish to express my concerns with rumored casting decisions for Star Trek XI. The original casts of “Star Trek: The Original Series,” “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,” and “Star Trek: Voyager” brought dynamism to the series and over the course of 7 years (5 in the case of TOS), the actors and actresses became synonymous with the characters themselves (sometimes to their dismay).

Part of the reason Nemesis failed (along with the short-lived “Star Trek: Enterprise”) was producer Rick Berman’s general weltanschauung when it comes to the series. No one can argue that Star Trek is a huge and enormously profitable franchise, but as with any business, producers like Berman and yourself must remember their audience. Star Trek’s audience is two-fold: self-professing geeks for whom the series represents fantasy, escape, and a world where technological and moral progress go hand-in-hand, and nostalgia fans who remember watching it at a time when the world was just beginning to explore the cosmos first-hand. Either way, Star Trek has become an oasis of idealism in an otherwise cynical world (evidence of this can be confirmed by looking at the launch dates of its most successful serials—at key points during the Cold War and shortly after the end of the first Gulf War), and for a Star Trek film to succeed, every aspect of it must live up to that image.

In addition, most of the Star Trek casts have had limited fame or television exposure prior to participating in a Star Trek series. Their status as relative unknowns (at least to the American TV audience) contributes to the completeness of their Star Trek personae. Their fame, once gained, is often a result, not a precursor, to their connection to Star Trek.

None of this is meant to suggest that you should cast acting novices, but you should consider the impact of the choices you are making. The rumor mill lists Matt Damon as the top choice for Kirk—a disastrous move that would alienate audiences. While Damon is a highly competent actor, his style is temperamental and fluid—two things Kirk (as played by William Shatner, at least) hasn’t been. Damon’s performances lack the magnetism to make him a convincing Star Trek captain.

Likewise, Adrian Brody’s performances are incredibly emotive, making them entirely inappropriate for a Vulcan. Even Spock, whose human side provides him with more emotional “give” than other Vulcan characters, is still at heart a logical being. Adrian Brody’s great for a film with waterworks, but Star Trek XI should not be that film. Rumor has it that Zachary Quinto has expressed an interest in this part. Please take him seriously. He is a fine actor with a history in series’ which share an audience with Star Trek.

That said, the other rumored casting choices—Gary Sinese as Bones and Daniel Dae Kim as Sulu—are both suitable. Kim has a history with Star Trek, and Gary Sinese shares the same wry sense of humor and mischievous nature as his Star Trek counterpart.

Please consider these requests from a long-time fan, fellow filmmaker, and critical theorist. Casting makes a huge difference in whether a film succeeds or fails. Any Star Trek fan will have a vested interest in seeing this film come to life. Don’t disappoint them by privileging mainstream fantasy over a loyal audience and fan base. Please, please don’t mess this up.

Babel babble

Over the holidays I saw "Babel," a film that's sparked a lot of critical conversation--good and bad--since its release. Dana Stevens (of Slate.com) has it on her top ten list and calls it "virtuosic," while David Denby of the New Yorker calls it "hopeless," despite "fearless [acting] performances." The film's basic theme (although the review itself is far more superlative than necessary) is best summed up, I believe, by Peter Travers of Rolling Stone:

“The Bible says God was angry when man tried to reach heaven by building a tower (later named Babel); he stopped the work by devising different languages that made understanding impossible. Babel came to mean noise and miscommunication.

Some things never change. The gifted Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu and his remarkable screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga - this film completes the brilliant trilogy they began with Amores Perros and 21 Grams - have applied the concept of Babel to the way we live now, in a world threatened by terrorism and divided by language, race, money and religion.

Visually, linguistically, physically, everything in "Babel" is about miscommunication, spoiled intentions, and missing pieces. Unlike other reviewers, what struck me about "Babel" was its ultimate optimism. Despite all the noise, individuals in "Babel" form deeply affectionate bonds. After their tour group strands them in a remote Moroccan town, Richard and Susan (played by Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett respectively) are forced to trust their caretakers despite their differences. Understanding, Inarritu tells us, is forged not by speaking, but by listening to what is fundamentally similar underneath all our linguistic differences.

Much has been said about Rinko Kikuchi's stunning performance as Chieko, a deaf-mute Japanese youth whose mother's suicide has forced her to move in with her distant father. Much of "Babel" surrounds familial relations as a method of uniting characters in common experiences. Inarritu even alludes to economic/post-colonial divides by creating hope for the American and Japanese players while destroying the lives of Amelia (the Mexican caretaker of Richard and Susan's children) and of Yussef (the young Moroccan boy who shoots Susan) and his family. "Babel" is heavy and even burdensome, well-crafted and stunningly directed and acted, heart-wrenching and beautiful. If you don't buy that, at least believe me that it's worth seeing.

Somebody Save Me

I've been talking to my friend Gabe today while obsessing over "Smallville." Gabe's something of an expert on WWII-era superhero comics, so I asked him about the propensity of such comics to make social commentary. I knew from my dad that X-Men is a metaphor for racism, but I didn't know that much about Superman. According to Gabe, what makes Superman interesting, aside from the potential Moses/Jesus parallels, is his sense of global idealism rather than nationalistic idealism. Created at the end of the 1930s, while war was brewing in Europe, Superman intended to save the world. In fact, creators Siegel and Shuster show Superman ending World War II in an issue from 1940--before American involvement. You may even recognize a few themes pertinent to today.

Network TV currently has two superhero shows on the air, and both are blockbusters. "Smallville" chronicles Superman/Clark Kent's early life, and "Heroes" is a modern-day X-Men story where genetic mutations endow a few people from around the world with "superpowers." These powers often reflect something in the character of the hero him or herself--an invulnerable teenage cheerleader, a woman whose dueling personalities reflect the cycles of abuse perpetuated on her and her sister by their father, a helpless young woman who develops the ability to make anyone obey her, a young nurse in the shadow of his politician father and brother who can emulate the powers of any nearby hero, and a spacetime bending Japanese office-worker bored with his routine, to name a few. The supervillain of "Heroes" gains his superpowers only by killing other heroes and absorbing their strengths. At first, he seems stable. Once a researcher deems his mutation inferior, however, he embarks on a quest to destroy all the "Heroes." It is envy that leads him to destruction.

Lex Luthor of the Superman comics isn't all that different. Superman's origins are contested in various publications, but the general consensus is that a disaster (war, crazy planetary meltdown) on the planet Krypton forces scientist Jor-El and his wife Lara to send their only child, Kal-El, away. Scholars have speculated about the nature of Superman and his fathers' names in the series. Siegel and Shuster were both Jewish, and Jor-El and Kal-El are similar to Hebrew phrases meaning, respectively, "fear of God" and "voice of God." After he arrives on Earth, Kal-El is adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent of Smallville. The name "Clark" is Martha Kent's maiden name. While Clark is still a teenager, Lex Luthor moves to Smallville. After Lex saves Clark's life by moving a kryptonite meteor out of the danger zone, Clark helps him set up a scientific laboratory. In gratitude, Lex attempts to create an antidote to kryptonite when an accident sets his lab on fire. In the process of saving Lex, Superman (superboy?) destroys his research and renders him bald. Lex becomes convinced that Superman is jealous of his scientific prowess and attempts to first outdo his good deeds through science and then ultimately turns against both Superman and humanity when his experiments go awry.

"Smallville" takes a different approach, but the story is ultimately the same: Lex and Clark are friends until Lex's jealousy takes over and he becomes a vessel for evil. Clark's high school sweetheart Lana Lang is at the center of the rift between Clark and Lex.

The main difference between the superhero comics of yore and today's versions is that the latter are stripped of their social commentary. "Smallville" has episodes that touch on contemporary problems like, say, illegal immigration, but ultimately they say nothing (in the episode in question, a single child in reunited with his mother and labor abuses are stopped, but the rest of the worker-immigrants are returned without amnesty to their countries of origin with virtually no mention). "Smallville" shows Clark taking on individuals entirely in rural Kansas. Problems are localized to the Smallville/Metropolis area, and a larger global view is never presented.

"Heroes" goes global, including Japan and India, but so far the closest it's come to social commentary is that politicians shouldn't take dirty money and cheating on your wife gets you in trouble.

When Gabe and I started talking, our conversation was about apathy, not superheroes, but contemporary representations of heroics (in TV--there are still some new comics that deal with serious issues) show that same postmodern nihilism and disregard for context. Superheroes are still around, so clearly we still like the idea of "being saved" and "good vs. evil"...but who is saving us...and from what?

'Til next time.