Star Trek Into Darkness
Star Trek Into Darkness was a mostly terrible movie, which managed to disappoint not only the Trek fan in me, but also the fan of logic and good writing.
"Highly Illogical"
While it was not without a handful of positives, overall the film felt poorly thought out, afraid to move beyond previously-told stories, and ultimately was not an enjoyable trek through the stars.
The Good
Benedict Cumberbatch: He does mostly well in a role that could’ve been a no-win scenario.
Kobiyashi Maru, anyone?
It’s never easy for an actor to step into a role that someone else has so thoroughly made his own, but Cumberbatch brought confidence and menace to the role of Khan Noonien Singh. While his actions didn’t always make much sense, and there were some missed opportunities to show rather than just tell how dangerous he was, I won’t blame writing problems on Cumberbatch.
Leonard Nimoy’s appearance: If it weren’t addressed in this film, the question would hang out there of what old Spock was up to, and if he was being pumped for information on future events. It turns out that the Elder Spock has refused to discuss his knowledge of his past/this universe’s future. Although he makes an exception in this case based on his experience fighting Kahn all those years ago, and the heavy (and particularly personal) cost of victory. This scene could have just been an opportunistic attempt to work Leonard Nimoy into the script, but his revelations help push young Spock to evolve as a character. Understanding the gravity of Kahn’s threat, Spock lies to Kahn, while simultaneously citing his species’ inherent trustworthiness. This suggests a Spock who is becoming more comfortable with himself, and in particular comfortable tapping into the human aspects of his character. Contrast this Spock with the man earlier in the film who felt duty-bound to submit his report on the Nibiru mission, even knowing it may damage a friendship, and a friend’s career (or at least, it would’ve damaged Kirk’s career if the movie had any balls; hold this thought).
Spock calling Kirk “Jim” at the end: One of the small, subtle, effective moments that the film seemed otherwise incapable of generating, I have to give credit for Spock’s informal addressing of Kirk in the hospital near the end. The use of “Jim” neatly symbolized the collapsed distance and strengthened bonds between the two men.
The Massacre
The writing in this film was downright terrible. The film goes off the rails from the very beginning. It may not have even had rails to begin with. So many things aren’t explained or don’t make sense when subjected to cursory thought. Examples? Let’s start from the beginning on Nibiru. Why is the Enterprise parked underwater? How did it get there without being seen by the natives - their temple is pretty damn close to the water, after all. How did the shuttle get from the ship to the ash cloud without being spotted? What’s their plan to leave without being seen?
We’re only 5 minutes into the movie, and here’s another question – How does Spock come to spearhead the mission into the volcano? I highlight this question not because Spock shouldn’t be performing this mission, but because it’s the first of many missed opportunities in the script. So, why? Well, he’s the science officer, and a “cold fusion device” sounds pretty science-y.
“Captain, I’m detecting high concentrations of technobabble here!”
And he’s first officer; leading away missions is a major component of first-officer duties in Starfleet (or at least that’s protocol in the TNG era). But a mission to save a species would have particular resonance with this timeline’s Spock. Having watched his planet die in Star Trek (2009), I would’ve expected some dialogue or acknowledgement of the very personal nature of this self-assigned mission to save a species they’re only supposed to be observing. This would’ve been fertile territory for exploration of Spock’s dual heritages, and the internal conflict between his human emotions and Vulcan logic. Instead, the pre-mission dialogue is a chance for Spock and Uhura to have a tiff. Gee, that’s sure compelling.
So after the crew returns to Earth, Kirk is relieved of command by old pal Admiral Pike. Here’s another missed opportunity in the story. Kirk is no longer the captain of the Enterprise, and Pike is even sending him back to the academy. How will our hero deal with this reversal? The stakes for Kirk’s story have changed, and there’s an opportunity for personal growth through facing adversity. Going from Captain of the Federation’s flagship to remedial classes back at City College must be pretty humiliating. Watching Kirk approach this disciplinary assignment will reveal new facets of his character. The potential to contrast Kirk’s lessons in humility, as he learns to follow orders and temper his self-assurance, with
Khan Harrison’s supreme sense of self and confidence in his own superiority will set these characters on a collision course for the latter half of the story.
This is going to be fucking awesome!
Just kidding! Kirk ain’t going to school, that’s for nerds! This is a summer blockbuster, you didn’t come here to see a character grow or change in response to hardship. So 5 minutes later, we get practically the same bar scene from the first movie. Given the number of quotations lifted from Wrath of Kahn, I’m surprised the bar scene didn’t entirely consist of reused dialogue from Star Trek. But just incase you forgot that Pike and Kirk spoke in a bar once before, they’re sure to mention it. So Pike decides that he was too mean to Kirk before, and instead of teaching him some humility and respect for procedure by sending him back to the Academy, he’ll teach him that he can keep lucking his way through his career by appointing him first officer on the Enterprise.
10 minutes after this, of course, John Harrison has shot the shit out of Starfleet HQ (and poor Admiral Pike), and Kirk has talked himself back into command of the Enterprise. I’ll circle back and talk about Khan Harrison in a moment, but I want to focus on Kirk’s “arc” first.
“””Arc”””
This lightning-quick, un-earned reversal of Kirk’s fortunes perfectly encapsulates the competing agendas that pretty clearly underlie the making of this film. Let’s take a step back for a moment. 2009’s Star Trek was a desperate gamble by Paramount. Star Trek films had been declining since 1995’s excellent Star Trek: First Contact, and the television arm of the franchise had seen a rapid decline in quality from the brilliance of TNG and DS9, to Voyager’s mediocrity and wasted potential, to the disaster of Enterprise’s first 3 seasons (a solid fourth season regrettably saw the show finally finding competent direction too late to reverse terrible ratings and stave off cancellation). In this context, a Star Trek film helmed by an avowed non-Trek fan in JJ Abrams, who set out to create an entirely new continuity, was a risk the franchise needed to take. And the film succeeded on several levels, entertaining and being embraced by both Star Trek fans and moviegoers in general. And so, with box-office success, a new cast, and a newly reset timeline, the stage was seemingly set for an ambitious sequel that could boldly go where no one had gone before.
And instead we get a half-hearted remake of Wrath of Kahn. Instead of continuing to gamble on the fresh approach, and tell a new story, somehow it was decided that the second Star Trek movie needed to show fealty to previous canon by bringing in Kahn, as if it’s somehow impossible that a Star Trek 2 might not include him. Of course things have been changed to reflect modern topics of interest (terrorism!). And Kahn and Kirk don’t have a history. And there are Klingons, because why not, this is Star Trek, right? But despite these changes, there are numerous instances of what might charitably be called “homage”, or could instead be called “We copied this line/scene out of that other movie, because it was pretty memorable”.
And it’s this unresolved tension between wanting a new direction and wanting to recreate the (arguable) pinnacle of the series that’s perfectly encapsulated in the 15 minutes that Kirk isn’t Captain of the Enterprise: The movie seems like it’s daring to raise the stakes, and set out in a new and interesting direction, but then suddenly pulls it back for the flimsiest of reasons. (Kirk to Admiral Robocop: “Starfleet can’t go after him, but I can.” “Ok, you’re back in command.” Uhm, what?)
Pretty sure you’re still in Starfleet, dude.
Why can’t Star Fleet go after Kahn Harrison? Because he teleported to Kronos, and tensions are pretty high with the Klingons right now. This sort of makes sense if you only think about it for three seconds - a man on the run hides among the enemies of his enemies. EXCEPT, Kahn knows that Admiral Robocop thinks war with the Klingons is inevitable anyway. EXCEPT, Kahn helped him build a new class of warship that he’s just waiting for an excuse to use (and which can conveniently be piloted by a crew of 1, if need be; so even if a sanctioned Starfleet mission isn’t possible, a pissed-off Admiral can just fly himself there). So Kahn goes to Kronos, why? It really seems like a flimsy excuse to work Klingons into the mix. I feel like they just put some classic Trek villains in a hat and picked one out.
“Ok, we’ve got Klingons, Romulans, Gorn, and Malcolm McDowell.”
“Uh shouldn’t we talk about this?”
“No, it doesn’t matter, we’re only going to spend 10 minutes with them anyway.”
So, why are we there? What’s Kahn’s motivation? Maybe Kahn was hoping to draw the Federation into war with the Klingons? If so, why go to an abandoned province and then just hang out there? Why not go bomb the capital and let yourself be seen? Given the Klingon commander’s attitude about humans killing humans being of no interest, I doubt the Klingon high council would particularly care whether or not Starfleet disavowed the attack. Especially given that the perpetrator has a false identity prepared for him by Starfleet, for whom he used to do weapons research.
Or maybe Kahn needs some disposable shock troops to help him get his frozen buddies back? While he’d probably look down on Klingons the same way he’d look down on non-enhanced humans, Kahn shows himself during the film to be pragmatic and always looking for an advantage. Knowing that someone would eventually come after him, why not recruit some meat shields? Between his physical and mental abilities, he could probably find a number of Klingon followers by alternately manipulating their sense honor and demonstrating his superiority in a few fights.
But no, he seemingly goes there for no reason at all, other than to be alone. One wonders what he would’ve done if Kirk hadn’t come after him. What if Admiral Robocop didn’t give Kirk the Enterprise and the long-range torpedoes? What if he just took his Dreadnought-class Vengeance out to the edge of Klingon space and turned the province into ashes without transmitting a warning? Kahn seems to have no goal or motivation from the time he teleports away from the attack on Starfleet HQ until the time he kills a bunch of Klingons so that he can ask Kirk how many missile/freezers Kirk’s got on board.
Rosencrantz and GuildenKahn
I won’t even go into the last 45 minutes of the movie in detail. Here are a few quick thoughts:
How does Scotty get onboard the Vengeance without getting discovered? It’s one thing to fly up to a secret shipyard orbiting Jupiter; arguably having no defenses or fleet presence makes it more secret through unobtrusiveness. But letting an unknown shuttle fly in without issue? And why did none of the maintenance flotilla say “Oh yeah by the way a shuttle came out of nowhere and joined us as we went to access the super-secret shipyard.”
Why does the Vengeance, which is designed for minimal crew, have a seemingly mile-long empty warehouse in the middle of it, leading to a very small hatch? And why are the controls for the hatch at the other end of the fucking room?
The Enterprise gets knocked out of warp “237,000 km” from Earth. They appear to be in deep space, but at 237,000 km they’d be inside the Moon’s orbit. Somehow they can’t raise Starfleet HQ or any other ships - in the heart of the Federation, there’s nobody else in-system? -
Guys, nobody tell the Klingons that Earth is undefended, ok?
- but Spock can contact oldSpock on New Vulcan?
Suffice it to say that the set-pieces get bigger and bigger to the point of absurdity. The good guys win, and the movie that wouldn’t let Kirk be out of the Captain’s chair for more than 15 minutes DEFINITELY won’t let him stay dead until the next movie; he’s back and does get his nice little moment with Spock before closing on a speech that he’s giving for some reason at Starfleet. I didn’t quite understand why he was the memorial service speaker and closed by bragging about getting the 5-year mission he wanted in the beginning of the movie, but at least the movie was over. And then the credits roll.
And as I sat in the theatre pondering everything wrong with this half-baked concoction of a movie, rife with missed opportunities to tell an actually interesting story, whose name appears as a writer? Damon Lindelof. Suddenly everything wrong made perfect sense. That name answered all my questions.
Unlike the final season of LOST
After squandering the potentials of Lost, Cowboys & Aliens, Prometheus, and now Star Trek Into Darkness, and with the sure-to-be terrible World War Z upcoming, I may have to avoid any future film on which he has a writing credit. Discounting the yet-unreleased WWZ, the frustrating thing about each of these projects is that solid ideas formed their foundations, but Lindelof seemed content to tell a story full of explosions, conveniently plot-driven character behaviors, and gratuitous Carol-Marcus-changing-clothes-in-shuttlecraft moments, rather than attempting to tell compelling stories driven by rational character motivations and conflicts. Like Star Trek Into Darkness, each of these projects had opportunities to be great, but ended up disappointments. I can only hope that he either adjusts his writing process going forward, rejecting the first, obvious ideas that spring to mind in favor of deeper, more satisfying exploration of concepts; or, barring that, that he stays the hell away from franchises I care about in the future.
Please god no
