CREEMEDIA

CREEMEDIA

DEPARTMENTS

The Revenge Of Adam Smith

by Marc Shapiro

Loyalty is a funny thing. Loyalty in the case of Star Trek is downright scary.

When the first incarnation of those interplanetary follies starring Kirk, Spock and that lovable old country quack Bones McCoy fell into the ratings black hole, I was convinced that the memories of that noble experiment in television science fiction would last about an hour-and-a-half. Boy, was / wrong!

The afterlife of that series, by way of syndication, conventions and Tupperware parties, is a helping of reincarnation that puts even Shirley MacLaine's current hustle to shame. There are basically rational people out there who consider The Final Frontier any station that runs Columbo rather than Star Trek reruns. A banker type I know has made perfecting the Vulcan Death Grip his mission in life. A lot of people have copped to the attitude of 'why have a life when Kirk, Spock and Sulu can have one for you?'

You won't get any complaints, however, from James Doohan, George Takei, Walter Koenig and Nichelle Nichols. The only time Scotty, Chekov, Sulu and Uhura find any work anymore is when the annual Star Trek movie deposits its load or when they regale Trekkies for a buck at Star Trek Cons. Fortunately for their pocketbooks, Star Trek memories die hard.

So hard, in fact, that the plausibility of a sequel series doesn't pose a credibility problem. Star Trek: The Next Generation is still Gene Roddenberry's baby, which means that despite taking place 100 years beyond the Kirk-Spock time frame and showcasing an all-new cast (although a fossilized Dr. McCoy put in a touching cameo in the premiere episode) this is essentially the old series with a new coat of paint.

'There is no fear of rejection of the new show by fans of the old series,' insists LeVar Burton, who plays Next Generation pilot Geordi La Forge. 'I've heard all about the brewing controversy between the old and new series. But Trekkers are open-minded and I'm sure they'll give the new show a chance.'

And all the whitewash in the world can't conceal the fact that The Next Generation, like, The Last Generation, still maintains that wonderfully cheesy television look. The real hardcore aliens come off as little more than Star Wars clones. And if you think the bridge set on the old show looked fragile, I keep waiting for the day a Next Generation cast member sneezes and turns the paper-thin control center to kindling. The majority of the second generation's stories haven't, however, been so meager. Oh, there have occasionally been boring, talky or snail-paced shows. And I recently started a rubber of bridge five minutes into one episode, returned to the show in the last five minutes and found that I hadn't missed a single thing.

For the hard science types there's the odd cry of 'warp factor four' and the gun nuts can count on a regular phaser blast or two. But, for the most part, The Next Generation has attempted, socially and politically, to pamper the grey matter. A plus in the Mark II version has been its dedication to Star Trek's long revered and regularly forgotten Prime Directive. Surely you remember the Prime Directive; that Federation bible of do's and don'ts that Captain Kirk always ran off at the mouth about before chucking it in favor of some manly, non-regulation action and a roll in the hay with some alien babe.

The dedication to a Spartan, if not downright virginal, Trek revisited is personified by the stiff upper lip (and bald upper pate) of Enterprise top gun Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart). This by-the-book sourpuss is too busy worrying about chapter and verse to have any fun. But it's comforting to know that, when faced with an attack by the alien shellfish, he'll do the right thing rather than bang a female crewmember. With Captain Kirk you were never quite sure whether he'd fire his photon torpedos or shoot his wad.

Wadding, for the most part, seems to have fallen on the shoulders of token beefcake Commander William T. Riker (Jonathan Frakes). But even this Shatner clone's libido has been saltpetered to a little first-stage leering, a lot of macho posturing and the hint of possibly generating skin heat with former lover and shipboard know-it-all Deanna Troi.

'And it really burns me up,' chuckles Frakes when questioned about his lack of libido. 'I mean everytime you turned around on the old show Kirk was jumping on somebody or something. I can't get laid to save my life/'

If there's a major weak link in the current chain of command, it's with Lt. Geordi La Forge (LeVar Burton) and Lt. Commander Data (Brent Spiner). Once you get past the goofy idea of the blind guy being the one who pilots the Enterprise (with the aid of some future schlock sunglasses), there really hasn't been much of a handle to hang the character's hat on. And in the case of Data, an earless android caricature of Spock whose logical mind became annoying round about episode two, there hasn't even been a hat.

Star Trek Dos also has a token teen in Wesley Crusher (Wil Wheaton). You notice I said 'teen' rather than 'pubescent lower life form.' Little Crusher is a tad hard to believe as an Einstein-brained acne case but he's never so obnoxious that you want to sever his jugular with a sharp instrument.

While the series' characterization is wildly uneven, it is ultimately saved by the solid, (and unfortunately largely overlooked) trio of performances by the female regulars: Security Officer Tasha Yar (Denise Crosby), Dr. Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden) and Counselor Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis).

Yar, a butch little tank who owes much to the Ripley character in the Alien films, is the perfect emotional creation. Ripe with insecurities and unpredictable passions (her seduction of Data in 'The Naked Now' episode is a prime mover) yet fit with the resolve necessary for a fighting machine, Yar's moments in the sun have been some of this show's finest.

Crosby, whose sense of humor knows no bounds, seizes the opportunity to poke a bit of fun at her character. 'I carry the big guns,' laughs Crosby as she thrusts out her chest. 'My entire body is a weapon.'

Deanna Troi, the telepathic result of an earthling-Betazoid marriage, is a whole different kettle of fish. She walks around knowing what everybody is thinking and feeling. The writers haven't quite caught up to the possibilities of this character, but there has been the odd moment that shows the potential is definitely there.

Dust off the downhome corn off Dr. McCoy and add a mature body that just won't quit and you've got Dr. Beverly Crusher; no nonsense I Am Woman/ physician/single mother (Wes is her pup) whose seriousness gives off so much sexuality that watching her administer a hypo makes one want to jump her bones. A woefully underdeveloped character, Crusher could have added a whole new wrinkle to the term mother fixation if the fates had been kinder.

Unfortunately the fates have decided that Gates McFadden and Denise Crosby will not be on the show next season. Crosby was killed off. McFadden, depending on which Deep Throat you're plugged into, was either a royal bitch or didn't have enough to do. The latter, in both cases, is more likely the case. An ensemble cast totalling nine can only get equal time on an LA. Law or a St. Elsewhere. Star Trek is—well it's Star Trek; a straight line single story oldfashioned format that rarely gives more than two characters anything substantial to do. For better or worse, it's the only Star Trek game in town.