‘Star Trek’ franchise has stood the test of time
Various sci-fi films, series remain true to a certain vision
Of all the science fiction franchises in the known universe, the one I would take to a desert island — or planet — is “Star Trek.”
I am not a Trekkie by any means (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I have never dressed as a Vulcan. I can’t speak a word of Klingon. But a lot of general knowledge has seeped into my brain: “Beam me up, Scotty.” “He’s dead, Jim.” “I’m a doctor, not a [insert any other profession].” I’ve watched every series, if not in their entirety, and all the movies. And I have greeted each new iteration with interest and a certain “hello, old friend” affection.
This year marks the centenary of creator Gene Roddenberry’s birth and 55 years since the premiere of what is now officially referred to as “The Original Series” or “TOS,” and there are various home video remasterings and reboxings available. The excellent “Star Trek: Prodigy” recently premiered on Paramount+, where the franchise is star-based. This new CGI series is about a bunch of misfit teens escaping a slave-labor camp in a stolen Federation starship, on the run from a bad guy — but kind of joyriding too. It is quite lively in terms of action, and funny where it’s supposed to be, but as in all “Star Trek” series and films, character is what counts most.
From the name forward, the franchise bears comparison with “Star Wars,” with its spaceships and aliens and interplanetary scope, not to mention the range of storytelling platforms — movies and
TV, cartoons and comics, novels and fan fiction.
I wouldn’t deny that there’s fun to be had from
George Lucas’ baby, now bouncing for Disney, but “Star Wars” is not science fiction. It’s a fantasy set in space, where wizards do magic and heroes fight with swords and prophesied chosen ones take up their lightsabers; a special effects Western cum samurai film cum collection of war movies in which, a few defections notwithstanding, good fights bad until one obliterates the other. But “Star Wars” on the whole has no real interest in ideas, in asking “Why?” or “What if ?”
“Star Trek” is a different animal. From the beginning it had a mission, not just to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where no earthlings had gone before, but to model a future for its audience that was a little ahead of its time. Where “Star Wars” was slow off the mark with diversity, “Star Trek” made diversity a point from the beginning, with George Takei’s Sulu and Nichelle Nichols’ Uhura on the bridge. The third series, “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,” put a
Black man (Avery Brooks’ Sisko) in charge; the next, “Star Trek: Voyager,” a woman (Kate Mulgrew’s Janeway). Throughout the various series, and in the sci-fi tradition, contemporary earthly issues — racism, Cold War politics, environmental degradation, despotism, sexism — are seen through the lens of future, extraterrestrial exploits. The presence of aliens (also ethnically diverse), on the crew or just passing through, offered writers a chance to comment with distance on the puzzlements of human behavior.
That “Star Trek,” which originally ran from 1966 to 1969, returned to television in the first place — there was a nearly 20-year break before “Star Trek: The Next Generation” — owes something to “Star Wars,” of course, which made space operas eminently bankable. But it had plenty of firepower of its own, charged by the post-cancellation success of the original series, which flourished in syndication. A 1975 “Star Trek” convention in New York City, two years before “Star Wars” premiered, reportedly drew a crowd of 15,000 and turned thousands more away at the door; by 1986, the year before “The Next Generation” premiered, it was the most successful syndicated series going. A big-screen franchise, eventually numbering six films with the original crew, was up and running by 1979, followed by four “Next Generation” films.
To be sure, the revival of the brand may also be seen as a bottom-line event, designed to bring subscribers to Paramount+. But it has produced excellent results. I’m a fan of all these shows: “Star Trek: Discovery,” especially in its adventuresome second and third seasons, with a fourth season due Nov. 18; the deep and thoughtful “Star Trek: Picard,” with Patrick Stewart back in the saddle in the title role; “Star Trek: Lower Decks,” an adult cartoon about service workers on a “second contact” vessel, that both parodies and celebrates the spirit and story conventions of the live-action shows while adding quotidian context and details. And there are more arriving: the aforementioned “Prodigy”; “Star Trek: Strange New Worlds,” a spinoff from the second season of “Discovery” and the original “Star Trek” pilot; and when one of the current series departs and other stars align, “Star Trek: Section 31,” another “Discovery” spinoff, with Michelle
Yeoh reprising her role as Philippa Georgiou.
Because it was born and grew up on television, in an age when special effects were a luxury and not a given, the franchise has been devoted less to action than talk, and to philosophical questions — what it means to be human, or Vulcan, or Klingon, an android or noncorporeal. The fact that there are many, many, many hours of “Star Trek” content means that “Star Trek” has had the space to tell many sorts of stories: mystery stories, love stories, funny stories, family stories, spy stories, horror stories, workplace stories. Much of the charm in the original series derives from the double act William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy developed as Kirk and Spock, based in a kind of affectionate mutual incompatibility, and subsequent “Treks” developed bonds between characters it is easy to invest in, and which in some cases (as with Capt. Picard and Data) became their foundation.
It’s an emotional show, and not infrequently a show about having emotions — giving in to them, repressing them, making use of them. On the one hand you’ve got Spock, and all the Vulcans who came after, pumping for logic; on the other, there’s Data the android, a logical being who dearly wants to know what it is to be human. It’s significant that the second series, “The Next Generation,” added a therapist to the crew — Marina Sirtis’ Deanna Troi — and eventually a bartender (Whoopi Goldberg
as Guinan), which is another sort of therapist.
And despite their hopeful tenor, these shows’ creation was not always peaceable. Roddenberry, whose involvement was lesser and greater over the years for reasons of health or business, could be critical of “Trek” made under others’ watch if he felt they weren’t staying true to his big themes. But taken as a whole over time, “Star Trek” has remained remarkably true to a vision: Peace is better than war; violence is dramatically less interesting than discussion; difference is not merely respected but portrayed as a positive good.
Heroes mowing down hordes of faceless enemies, crowds cheering military victories — that is not the “Star Trek” style. There is relief when a foe is sent packing, but rarely glee. Phasers are usually set to stun. Modern SFX technology does mean that there is more space battling in the new “Treks,” but diplomacy remains the goal.
“Star Trek” envisions an Earth in which, as in John Lennon’s “Imagine,” the old dividing lines — ethnic, political, religious — have all disappeared; there is no war, no poverty, no pollution and technology finally works for us rather than against us. Though these things seemed possible in the era when “Star Trek” was born, I’ve grown increasingly doubtful about humanity’s ability to intelligently regulate its affairs, let alone join with alien species in a project of interplanetary goodwill.
Which may be why I love the “Star Trek” universe, and why I melt when, at the end of the third season of “Discovery,” Sonequa Martin-Green’s Capt. Burnham says, “The need to connect is at our core as sentient beings. It takes time effort and understanding ... but if we work at it a miracle can happen.”
And who knows? The future is a long road.