When They Were Younger:
A Look Back At J.J. Abrams’ “Star Trek”
by Bennett Campbell
Ferguson
Looking back on my life, I
sometimes find it hard to believe that there was a time when I wasn’t obsessed
with Vulcans, androids, and every other facet of the “Star Trek” universe. Yet such a time once existed, until the day
in 2009 when me and my sister went to the Moreland Theater to see “Star Trek,”
a reboot of the entire series directed by J.J. Abrams. Watching the film, I could not have imagined
that my life was about to change—I was to immersed in the moment.
It was the opening scene that did it. “Star Trek” begins with a sequence that seems
at first oddly unforthcoming. We watch a
spaceship moving slowly through a passage of spaced seared by golden light that
fills the screen, and then we meet the crew on board. But there’s not really any explanation of what’s
going on—we are not told who these people are or what kind of mission they are
on. Quite simply, Mr. Abrams throws us into
the middle of the action with minimal fanfare.
And yet it soon becomes clear that the details don’t
matter. As the ship gets caught in a
one-sided battle with a massive, spider-like craft, the focus shifts from special
effects to the people on board, specifically Captain George Kirk. Reconciled to a horrible defeat, Kirk tries
to stand firm against the enemy so his crew can evacuate in shuttles, but there’s
a price—it means saying goodbye to his wife Winona, who has just given birth to
their child.
Like most viewers, I was aware and that the child being
born would grow up to become the hero of the film, James Tiberius Kirk. Yet no description could have prepared me for
the emotion of the experience. It’s all
in the way it’s done. “I need you to
push, now!” a doctor tells Winona as their shuttle rockets silently into open
space. And as she pushes, Winona screams,
a screams that echoes out into the stars because by this point, the noise of
battle and explosions has been excised from the soundtrack. The quietness, enriched by Michael Giacchino’s
lyrical music, whisks us into an emotional trance of beauty and horror and
hope.
It was not until later that I realized that this kind of
scene was not standard for “Star Trek,” and that most of the series really
revolved around complex intellectual discussions held in interstellar
boardrooms. And after watching “Trek”
shows like “The Next Generation” and “Deep Space Nine,” I have come to
appreciate the talky nature of the series and in many ways, I feel that philosophical
chatter is the heart of “Star Trek” (I recently watched an episode in which a discussion
about political oppression is kicked off with a character saying, “Try an Earth
drink! It’s called root beer!”
And yet I still feel strongly about Mr. Abrams’
vision. With reckless abandon, he used
his movie as an opportunity to hurl us into a sea of great emotions—pain,
sadness, love. With that experience, Mr.
Abrams and “Star Trek” itself earned my everlasting loyalty and that is why as
I await the forthcoming sequel (“Star Trek Into Darkness,” which opens this
Thursday), I am an excited not only about seeing the film, but being plunged
into that universe once more.
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