(Article changed on June 5, 2013 at 12:27)
(Article changed on June 5, 2013 at 12:18)
Star Trek Into Darkness
is, among other things, a much more incisive film about the Navy SEAL mission
to get Osama bin Laden "dead or alive" (minus the "or alive") than last fall's
Oscar nominee Zero Dark Thirty was.
Of course, unlike Kathryn Bigelow's docudrama, J.J. Abrams' sci-fi fantasy
doesn't come right out and state explicitly that it's about the war on
Afghanistan, CIA black sites, or the assassination of public enemy #1. But if
top-level science fiction of the past has taught us anything, it's that setting
a story in the future or some other kind of alternate universe is often a very
powerful way to talk about our own society and about monumental issues. And
it's well-known that this was an enduring strength of creator Gene
Roddenberry's first Star Trek TV
series in the 60's -- a show which Roddenberry, who his longtime personal
assistant claims was a humanist, labeled later in his career as his "statement to the world".
I have never been much immersed in Captain Kirk or Captain Picard's voyages around the universe, but as a youngster I watched enough reruns of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy pondering thorny problems in their crew-neck boys' pyjamas that I picked up on the "in" jokes sprinkled through Star Trek Into Darkness. (You don't have to be truly "in" to get them.) Still, I have absolutely no opinion on how this, the 12th film about the travelers on the Starship Enterprise, compares with the rest of the canon, or how closely it sticks to the lore. But seeing such a high-profile event film, not just a main prong of the summer juggernaut but an empire of its own, deliver a super-sized popcorn movie while also taking on the ethical failings of the "War on Terror" -- now that is my kind of thrill. It makes me feel as warm and cuddly as a Tribble. Who knows but that it might even turn me into some kind of a Trekkie down the road.
In contrast to the stern CIA hierarchy in Zero Dark Thirty and the isolated obsession of its red-headed agent, we get instead in Star Trek Into Darkness a long-arm-of-justice mission which is questioned before the spaceship has even left earth. And one which Kirk certainly doesn't lead in isolation -- his loyal staff would never leave him alone that long. The young Captain Kirk (Chris Pine) does not lack a commanding presence, but his devoted crew are all so passionate, perceptive, and full of ideas, he can't make a decision or face a dilemma without someone registering a formal objection or making a prediction about the ramifications. This allows story complications to ensue, supporting characters to steal scenes, and humor to be derived from the difficulties of leadership, but it also enables a more democratic aesthetic to be presented than we might otherwise see in such a community (one which after all has a semi-militaristic discipline and precision, though as is pointed out in the film, the Enterprise is supposed to always stick to completely peaceful aims).
In other words, the characters in the new Star Trek do that which no-one in Zero Dark Thirty does for even a second: debate the ethics of their actions. And they debate topics we barely hear mentioned in the national dialogue. Yes, it is actually mentioned in a big Hollywood movie that a society living by the rule of law might actually want to arrest terrorists for the crime of terrorism and put them on trial, not just extrajudicially execute them. (I'm not saying things actually turn out all moral and proper in this Star Trek, but at least it's part of the conversation.) Furthermore, it is actually expressed right out loud in a "War on Terror"-era film that saber-rattling against foreign governments, and issuing ultimatums backed up by massive lethal force, might not actually be the best way to ensure the safety of the people one is responsible for protecting.
Unlike ZD30 and other recent mainstream movies with criminal masterminds responsible for devastating terrorism (like Skyfall), Abrams' second Star Trek picture doesn't pretend that the Enterprise has been sent after this villain with no holds barred because that is simply the noble, brave-hearted, high-class thing to do in the face of pure evil. On the contrary, Kirk, personally aggrieved by the vicious surprise terror attack on Starfleet early in the film, is shown as all too willing to spring into action without much forethought -- he doesn't even inquire about the huge stash of WMDs he's been ordered to load onto his ship. He doesn't really care whether finding the perpetrator "John Harrison" (played by British thespian Benedict Cumberbatch) will prevent other attacks and keep the Federation safe. He just wants payback. And the movie is very well-aware (and very adroit in the way it saves the reveal of this point for the right moment), that this emotion actually leaves Kirk open to manipulation. Namely, he is prey to manipulation by war-mongerers. To those of us who watched how the reaction of the American public, shocked and traumatized by 9/11, was molded into support for invasions of several far-flung countries, this reality might seem self-evident, but plenty of movies regard Kirk's kind of vengefulness as morally desirable, even as morally superior. (Fellow blockbuster Olympus Has Fallen oozes that kind of mentality.)
Though ZD30 and Olympus Has Fallen are vastly different types of films, they are also similar in the way they minimize the "causus belli" behind the actions of the terrorists they depict. By contrast, this latest Star Trek takes into consideration that its villain's heinous acts might reflect something that has happened to him and his people; that he may, after all, have a motivation. Star Trek Into Darkness does not, of course, justify the path Harrison's murderous genius chose, nor does it shed tears for him, but it doesn't mock his ancient grievances, either. And I'm sure it's not an accident that the barren Klingon planet where this terrorist has hidden himself is reminiscent of the cave-like terrain where Bush first took the alleged hunt for bin Laden -- nor was it likely unnoticed that there's a faint Afghan quality to the Klingons' mode of dress. And there's even a whiff of the CIA's old friendship with bin Laden's mujahideen when we find out that Harrison actually once helped Starfleet's command with military development -- before the relationship went all pear-shaped.
Another distinction of the Star Trek universe that's worth mentioning -- lest we assume that all big action movies are alike -- is that unlike such movies as Olympus Has Fallen, 300 , and Red Dawn, the intellectual character in Star Trek is not a thorn in the side of the manly men. Far from betraying the good guys, or being a coward, in this movie, the intellectual misfit is valiantly courageous, a paradigm of morality and self-sacrifice. First officer Spock (Zachary Quinto) is the kind of Voice of Reason who gave that term its good name. He holds everyone -- his superiors, his best friend, himself -- to high standards, and his Vulcan side lets him transcend human emotions and evaluate actions in their logical and ethical context alone. In that way, he really is like hard-core anti-war liberals, those who find themselves struggling upstream, buffeted by the crowds running in the opposite direction to support "targeted assassinations" and so on. (Now, it could be argued that the film undermines Spock's own perspective in the third act, but I think by that point the action has overtaken philosophy so completely that it would hardly register.)