“ I have to admit something now and subject myself to being vilified by my posters, but my initial interest in The Generation did lie in the fact that Wil Wheaton was in it. Yes, I know; cringe away. ”
There's nothing wrong with being obsessed. I'm obsessed with stuff. My cats are definitely a certifiable obsession with me. I also can't prevent myself from trying every single item Aveda puts on their shelves. Then there's anything having to do with P.G. Wodehouse, Blackadder, or Harry Potter, and why the hell every black shirt I own comes out of the washer dirtier than it goes in. Maybe I just have to get used to the fact that I'm actually pouring a vat of lint into the water instead of Tide. Anyway, as long as they don't hurt anyone, obsessions, in my opinion, are perfectly fine.
Growing up, I'd have to say my experience with Star Trek was pretty limited. That's not to say I wasn't interested in stuff about outer space, either. I loved Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers, and Star Wars (natch). In fact, my older sister and I made the neighborhood boys jealous with our action figure collection. Then there were the ships, posters, lunch boxes, tee-shirts, special edition glasses from McDonald's -- even the miniature Ewok village. Sadly, I never managed to get my hands on a Millennium Falcon. I also became mildly infatuated with the movie The Black Hole and started collecting a few items related to that franchise. But Star Trek was beyond our realm of interest. I think it had something to do with my mother taking issue with Kirk's jumping in and out of aliens' ectoplasm and so she didn't really, shall we say, encourage us to watch it. And by "didn't really encourage," I mean that she switched off the television before Trek came on and said, "You're not watching that crap." She was only trying to protect her innocent daughters; after all, I wasn't allowed to watch Love Boat for the same reasons, and Grease was also verboten because they said the word "ass." Not to worry -- that's what babysitters are for. And man, did I find out how much more was said in there besides "ass"!
So, my entre into the world of Trek started many years later with The Generation. I have to admit something now and subject myself to being vilified by my posters, but my initial interest in The Generation did lie in the fact that Wil Wheaton was in it. Yes, I know; cringe away. Okay, but think of it this way: Stand By Me had just come out the year before TNG started in 1987 (I just didn't find a pudgy, brush-cut River Phoenix in a dirty undershirt attractive), and I was in eighth grade. I was ripe to crush on a scrawny, brown-haired, brown-eyed kid who wants to be a writer. I watched TNG for a while without really having any friends or family who watched it -- my mother still couldn't get over the whole Kirk sexing it up every time Spock raised an eyebrow thing, even though I tried to tell her this was a new series, a new series -- so I kind of lost interest. However, in college, things changed. Every once in a while, to escape poetry anthologies the thickness of a Zingerman's Reuben, I'd switch on my TV and find myself watching random episodes of TNG late at night until I fell asleep.
Trekkies
“ I don't know what parallel plane of temporal distortions I tripped over, because no mind-blowing occurred that night. I was bored. Mathra was bored. The cats were so bored that they collected all their fur balls from under the couches and knitted sweaters. ”
Years later I was living on my own in Boston, working in publishing, when my older sister out in Montana and my mother got interested in watching TNG in reruns. It became a constant topic of conversation with them. Having had my Original Interest -- or O.I., if you will -- sneered at back in 1987, I snubbed this "new" interest of theirs. Coincidentally, or As Fate Would Have It, I had just started dating a guy, a sciencey-mathy guy, who liked the show. But it wasn't until he began asking me stuff like, "Oh, remember the time when Worf was accused by Picard of going into hiding because of his Klingon dishonor?" or "Didn't you love how Data got a cat and named her Spot?" about certain episodes, I realized how much he liked the show and how much I really didn't know about it. The late-night snoozing through Picard's Shakespearean accents left some holes in my memories. Since these Remember Whens from him were inevitably followed by "that was sooo awesome!" I decided to let him school me in Trek. But, I cautioned, only TNG -- I wasn't ready for TOS and Kirk's over-enunciations.
The local WB helped us out a lot by having TNG on at 11:00 every night five days a week, and sometimes Sundays. At first, something within me rebelled, and I tried to find fault with the series. But the first time I heard Q ask Worf if he'd "eaten any good books lately," I was hooked. Furthermore, my infatuation with Wil Wheaton was cured immediately, since we started watching the latter half of the series when he'd turned into a puffy, pasty adult. When we ended up watching the earlier episodes, I was already so annoyed with his whiny jump-suited ass that I clawed out my eyes whenever a plot revolved around him.
So, I have to admit that I really did get into TNG. I found myself sounding just like my mother (gasp) when I started talking to Mathra about the "philosophies" and "moral situations" explored in the episodes. Not to mention some really stellar acting by Patrick Stewart, Michael Dorn, Brent Spiner, and Jon DeLancie. I'm not going to go into my favorite scenes or episodes; all I'm trying to do is lay the groundwork of my Trek background. Suffice it to say, the more I watched TNG, the more I began to understand what all the Trek hoohah is about.
When we popped Trekkies into the machine the other night, I settled back to watch what I thought would be a quirky but insightful documentary that would blow my mind with all the scoops on the world of Trek fandom. I don't know what parallel plane of temporal distortions I tripped over, because no mind-blowing occurred that night. I was bored. Mathra was bored. The cats were so bored that they collected all their fur balls from under the couches and knitted sweaters. The majority of footage they showed of the conventions, the auctions, the getting dressed up, the Klingon dictionary was all stuff I had known way before Trekkies came out. And you don't have to be a graduate of Starfleet Academy to know the extremes to which some Trek fans will go. I understand that by focusing on a few choice individuals -- the Commander, the dentist's office, Gabriel the teenager -- they were trying to show these fans as people rather than fanatics. But by showing the extreme cases, they didn't really de-freakify the sometimes-unwarranted reputation Trekkies/Trekkers have amassed over the years. They only shoved them further into the Spotlight O' Weirdos.
Trekkies
“ And I don't count making Mathra buy an eighteenth-century Navy lieutenant's uniform with high black boots and admiral's hat as an obsession. Is it my fault that he looks like Horatio Hornblower without the ponytail? I didn't think so. ”
Interspersed with the stories of the fan who asked James Doohan for hypodermics of his blood twice in twenty years, and the guy who coughed up some ridiculous amount of cash to drink what remained of Jon DeLancie's influenza-infested backwash just so he could go around saying, "I've got the Q virus!" should have been the moderate fans. You know, the ones who might watch Trek, discuss Trek, moderate forums on Trek, write about Trek, maybe even dream about Trek, but don't necessarily have the desire to Vulcanize their ears with painful surgery or put their pets in uniforms. (On a side note, Bones the Cat did look miserably adorable, and I sniffled to see the "In Memoriam" to him in the end credits.) I know, I know, the moderate fans don't make for interesting sound bites. I understand that, but if you want to show the universal appeal of Trek, you've gotta show the whole thing: the vanilla puddings with the tapiocas. All in all, I was pretty bored by the whole thing.
But there were some fans that fall into the tapioca category who are worth mentioning.
Say it with me: Spiner Femme? Spiner Freak! This one's seriously lost the plot. Let's think about this: first of all, a fireproof lock-box in her closet full of her Brent Spiner stuff that is sure to survive an earthquake, wormhole, or act of God ("I might not make it, but this will!"); secondly, she has mapped out the location of Brent Spiner's house from her balcony; and finally, she freely admits to going out on said balcony and casting her thoughts and eyes in that direction to take a "Brent break" when she's stressed. I only have one question: does she kneel on a rug too? I really wouldn't be surprised. What surprised me was not the Spiner Mecca, or the photo album adolescently decorated with magazine scraps saying "Stud," "Love Affair," "Call him sexy," et cetera, but the fact that she was toting a kid in one of the clips. So. Many. Questions. Is she married, and if so, how? What does her husband think when she takes her Brent break? Can't even begin. Maybe I don't get it because I've never been that obsessed with a celebrity. And I don't count making Mathra buy an eighteenth-century Navy lieutenant's uniform with high black boots and admiral's hat as an obsession. Is it my fault that he looks like Horatio Hornblower without the ponytail? I didn't think so. Denise was scared too. ["That's more than we needed to know about your marriage, hon." -- Sars]
It's difficult to marshal my thoughts on The Commander. I don't know whether to think she might be more comfortable in a little white jacket with lots of buckles and ties than in her uniform complete with tricorder, rank pips, and phaser, or to stand up on my factory chair and cheer for her because it's who she is and she's doesn't give a shit who knows it. She's The Commander. When it comes down to it, I respect the fact that her obsession with ST has evolved into a greater purpose in her life and that others have been able to profit from her philanthropy. I also think she sees the chalk line in the dirt separating reality from fantasy.
Trekkies
“ And I'll tell you what, that guy's not putting his hands in my mouth after I heard him and his wife tell Denise Crosby that dressing up as different characters 'helps' their relationship. Ecch. ”
Unlike, say, the Pike-Chair Creator. Watching him talk excitedly and extensively about his complicated inventions is engaging, until you notice that rather unnatural glint in his eye. See, he really believes the future that Gene Roddenberry invented will come true some day. The transporters, the replicators, the constant distortions in the space-time continuum, all of it. All I have to say is, just put the soldering iron down and back away. Slowly.
As a concept, Star Base Dental actually sounded kind of cool. A nice way to take your mind off that long needle primed with Novocain the dentist hides behind his back. But as a reality, it sucked the fuzzy end of a lollypop (tm Marilyn Monroe). Dr. Star Base hooks up some flashing lights -- which, combined with Whip-Its, could make his patients have seizures, I'm certain -- props up a few cardboard cut-outs, slaps his staff into uniforms, and calls it a Star Base? I don't think so. I was also disappointed with the lack of commitment to his theme. I saw some Star Wars stuff mixed in with the Trek-a-phernalia. Jeez, he even got the reason for James Doohan's missing finger wrong. "A gardening accident," Dr. Star Base says. Um, no -- try WWII. If you're going to be weird, do it right. And I'll tell you what, that guy's not putting his hands in my mouth after I heard him and his wife tell Denise Crosby that dressing up as different characters "helps" their relationship. Ecch. Did you get a load of their poor kids, who just sat through the whole thing in their ST uniforms and didn't say a word? I think I see a few sessions with Counselor Troi in their futures.
Also interesting -- and by "interesting," I mean "pathetic" -- was Denise Crosby taking us to her garage full of fan memorabilia. She was on the show for what, a year? Granted, she managed to be in the best episode ever, but what's she done since then? Pet Sematary and Pumpkin Man. I'm not even going to go into the framed needlepoint, because what really seared my eyes like lumps of cheap ahi tuna were the charcoal, oil, and ink renditions of Tasha Yar and Data. In flagrante delicto. Detailed renditions, people.
When it came to The Powers That Be, the late Gene Roddenberry was only in evidence in clips from the first ST convention in 1972, and Rick Berman was non-existent. However, from what little we saw of Brannon Braga talking about the unsolicited submissions he gets from fans, I firmly relegate him to the putz category. He was two-thirds of the way to being downright nasty about these fans, offhandedly saying, "I don't have it here, I threw it out," about something that was sent in. I realize that he was talking about a handmade Klingon condom, complete with ridges, but his tone was really assy. Actor, director, or producer, you show respect for your fans, no matter what; they're the ones who got you where you are. Putz. I guess Majel Barrett could be considered one of TPTB. She had a few fairly uninteresting stories to relate and, naturally, no questions about the affair between Roddenberry and Nichelle Nichols. I always imagine Majel on the ST sets as Lwaxana Troi with her loud garments and piles of hair, ordering everyone around and having some tall, silent, bald guy following her around with her bags.
Trekkies
I do think the talent could have made a better show of it. However, the interviews with the actors were far more interesting than the title subject. Kate Mulgrew, eh. She analyzes what it means to be a "Trekkie" versus "Trekker," but as that's already been discussed on the forums, I don't see a need to rehash it. But she seems to be the only Voyager talent they could pull, sadly enough. Except, of course, for Ethan Phillips, who apparently really does have an orange face and tufts of hair sticking out like one of those L'Oreal "casting" highlighting kits. I was also annoyed not to see anyone from Deep Space 9, save the giraffe-necked actress who plays "Leeta"--who the hell is that, anyway? I simply can't take Michael "I am not a merry man!" Dorn seriously without his cranial ridges and bush-whacked eyebrows. I'm sure Patrick "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot" Stewart was off in England, busy pulling on tights, getting knighted, or emoting, but I still missed him. The only thing more depressing than Walter Koenig not changing his Beatles-cum-Herve Villechaize hair in thirty years was me when I found out his Russian "accent" wasn't real. James Doohan. Eighty years old. Had a baby last year. Sperm shops at GNC. Shatner, your shiny plastic face is a topic with my therapist. And not in a good way. Let yourself age, man, and thanks for not singing. Aw, DeForest Kelly, cracking the jokes about being 138 years old. And now he's dead. We miss you, Bones. Nichelle Nichols evidently shops at the same store as Scotty's sperm -- she looks incredibly well preserved for a sixty-five-year-old. You know those people who always sound like they're smiling when they speak? George Takei is so one of them. Either that, or he's just not getting enough oxygen. Speaking of voices, there is no other voice that says "science" as much as Leonard Nimoy's. Well, maybe Stephen Hawking's. I died inside when I realized Spock wears dentures. Sigh. Not enough quirks, buzzes, or whistles to tempt me again. time, I'll rent Galaxy Quest. But still, Leonard = Love.