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.

Heroes and WiR

Sure enough, when confronted with the prospect of killing of a character, Heroes took the girlfriend route. Simone died this past Monday, conveniently ending the possibility of our heroes going public with their superpowers this early in the series.

Meanwhile (to the tune of a certain Christmas song), it's beginning to look a lot like X-Men. Heroes was, from the start, an X-Men dupe. Genetically mutated superhumans with powers that, to most, seem like magic. But now, Dr. Suresh is talking about potentially supressing the powers of various heroes. The twist is still the Magneto character, Sylar. In X-Men, Magneto controls the powers of various Mutants by persuading them to become part of his army. Sylar skips the intermediary bodies, and gains control over other heroes' powers by consuming them. The relationship with cannibalism and consumption is further emphasized by Sylar's inability to gain new powers without killing heroes.

Recently, we've seen several heroes struggle to control their powers. Sylar and Peter Petrelli are two sides of the same coin: Peter can't control the powers he absorbs once he gets them, and Sylar can't control his lust for new powers. I think it could be argued at this point (though this may change later) that Sylar's version of the control problem is his inability to absorb without destroying/consuming. Perhaps his native ability--absorbing the powers of others (like Peter)--can be controlled in such a way that he can gain powers without killing. This is all speculation. You can bet I'll be watching as the story unfolds.

Next week: Mr. Bennett's past, and Claire's adoption.

Soap Operas and Online Art Galleries

I'm on "vacation" for the next week, but I thought I'd share three tidbits from my readings over the last few days.

First, a shout-out to "All My Children." Yes, the soap opera. They've just written soap's first transgender character into the season, and ABC has announced that over the course of his tenure, Zarf will go from Mr. to Ms.

Secondly, the NY Times reports on the Saatchi Gallery online--an online gallery in the Chelsea sense of the term, where new artists can bring their work to the public and sell it.

Last but not least... RIP Joseph Barbera. You will be missed.

The Case of the Cranky Critic

I just finished Everything Bad is Good For You by Steven Johnson. I had hoped Emergence would go further than it did, but overall, I liked the book. Everything Bad was a completely different experience.

Before I go on, I want to say that I agree with Johnson's main point: TV, video games, and other visual media aren't inherently bad for us, and they aren't growing worse with time. I concur that popular media can make you smarter, and that they have a significant effect on human sociocultural growth. In all fairness, Johnson addresses a few of my complaints in his Afterword. None of that changes the fact that reading it was like pulling teeth. Aside from the hit-you-over-the-head-until-you-like-it tone and the (I'm sure unintentionally) snarky intonations of "indeed," "to be sure," "no doubt," and "to be certain" (not to mention incessent "I think," "I suspect," and "I imagine" phrases), I have two major criticisms, and it seems I'm not alone. Dana Stevens, also known as Slate's "Surfergirl" of pop culture, said this of an excerpt printed in the New York Times before the book's release:

“Not only does Johnson fail to account for the impact of the 16 minutes' worth of commercials that interrupt any given episode of, say, 24 (a show he singles out as particularly "nutritional"), but he breezily dismisses recent controversies about that program's representation of Muslim terrorists or its implicit endorsement of torture, preferring to concentrate on how the show's formal structure teaches us to "pay attention, make inferences, track shifting social relationships." Wait a minute—isn't a fictional program's connection to real-life political events like torture and racial profiling one of the "social relationships" we should be paying attention to? 24 is the perfect example of a TV show that challenges its audience's cognitive faculties with intricate plotlines and rapid-fire information while actively discouraging them from thinking too much about the vigilante ethic it portrays. It's really good at teaching you to think … about future episodes of 24.

Johnson certainly has a point, and I do think visual media have the ability to push our cognitive boundaries...but "smart" and "good" are hardly synonymous. Heck, bombs have gotten "smarter" in the last half century. "Smarter" isn't "better" unless there's an accompanying interest in using those newly improved problem-solving skills to solve, say, the immensely complex social and environmental problems facing our world.

I'm with Stevens on the second point, too: Visual media may encourage us to seek out new challenges, but that's not always a good thing. Challenging ourselves to regularly use our problem-solving skills is one thing, but the addiction Johnson associates with constant challenges in video games is, well, addiction, and like any other it has the potential to seriously disrupt an otherwise well-organized life. If you're bored to tears by menial tasks, you'll likely have trouble starting out in the workforce, especially if you're also very good at higher-level cognitive skills. It's good to have those skills, but I'm not so sure it's good to require mental exercise at all times, largely because menial chores will always be necessary for society to function.

So I'm sorry to "Heroes" and "Smallville" for taking my Johnson-inspired frustrations out on you. Each showcases social commentary in its own way. Whether that commentary is always forward-thinking or agreeable to this particular critic is a different issue which I'll happily discuss in-depth later.

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.

Antiseptic technology

I'm reading Emergence by Steven Johnson right now, and it's set me thinking about how we sanitize the future. At the start of the book, Johnson talks about Jane Jacobs' theories of urban development and how neighborhoods form. But as the book progresses, he only briefly touches on demographics and associated issues of class and race. At first, I didn't think it was a problem. In fact, I barely noticed it. But as Johnson moves into what eventually starts to look like technophilia and the idealization of emergent software, some of his examples give me pause.

One of the central tenets at the heart of emergent behavior is the idea that acting locally produces global results. If enough people walking along the sidewalks of the Lower East Side interact, the sum of their interactions is a self-regulating system. What's missing from this analysis, aside from one chapter analyzing the history of how the "lower classes" have fit into theorists' understandings of emergence, is a set of social "mirror neurons"--as Johnson starts to discuss emerging emergent technologies (hee), Emergence loses a lot of its socioeconomic value and Johnson's argument gets sanitized. Johnson talks about every TV coming with TiVo (or something similar) and connecting to something like the internet to create TV "neighborhoods" based on individual and global user preferences. In the midst of this argument, he refutes the idea that TV and the internet contribute to user isolation based on the fact that the technology aids communal emergent behavior.

So what's the problem?

If you don't have money, you won't have a TiVo. The communities that could potentially form won't account for the impoverished, and entertainment will continue to alternately misrepresent, ignore, insult, and exclude the poor. While media may be tailored to certain "communities" through TiVo, the same groups who have traditionally been excluded by the top-down system of the networks will still be excluded by the bottom-up system because they won't have access to the technology required to form their own communities, and thus the impoverished (and possibly other groups, this is just the obvious one) lose what little grip they had on media solidarity.

I'm still enjoying Emergence, don't get me wrong. But I'm concerned about the blanket sanitization that today's zeitgeist chasers exhibit. Just talking about technology's potential to shape thought isn't enough. Neither new technology nor bottom-up self-organization is inherently ethical. It may be useful, but many of the social problems that were around before bottom-up technology will still exist during and after it. Focusing on the technology without moral discourse draws attention away from those problems.

Even my beloved Star Trek, which early on incorporated race, rarely explores issues of class and never concerns itself with sexual orientation. Looks to me like technology glosses over social problems rather than fixing them. Hmm.

EDIT: Here's something entertaining and mildly relevant! The blog software I use, greymatter, has quotes on just about every page you work with. In the "preview" page, this quote came up:

"The future is not something we enter. The future is something we create."—Leonard Sweet