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Film Reviews

Star Trek

Keep on trekking

J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek is amazing

Star Trek / Geek demi-god J.J. Abrams’ second feature film is thrilling, visually arresting and filled with an infectiously rousing manic energy. The most surprising thing? The movie is called Star Trek.

Snarkiness aside, Abrams managed to make the reverence–and borderline pompousness–usually associated with the series seem more inspired and revisonary rather than facetious or overbearing. Throw in a stellar list of actors and what is left is a first-rate space adventure with a genuine sense of wonder and entertainment.

Our beloved characters are introduced to us in a crackerjack first act that zooms with suspenseful torpedo battles, Winona Ryder in a cameo as a human wife in an inter-species marriage, the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” (no kidding), and the gnarled monstrosity of an evil starship that looks like a bunch of ebony pussy willow branches sprayed out in a goth Pier 1 arrangement. Soon, a plot with the familiar Trekkian sense of bombast surfaces. Nero, a Romulan with a major grudge, is on a mission to drill deep into planetary surfaces and drop into the cavern a canister of “red matter,” a mysterious substance with the power to create a black hole that can vacuum suck an entire world into oblivion. (Those with phobias about the Large Hadron Collider will want to steer way clear of this puppy.) The crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise learns of Nero’s scheme and recognizable heroes rise to fill the bridge’s organization chart.

The ensemble dives into their roles gamely and does a Herculean job of making us forget the iconic original cast. Chris Pine–a James Van Der Beek-lookalike with wider blue eyes–puts an athletic, fratboy Friday Night Lights-spin on Captain Kirk. His youthful mavericky swagger is a perfect foil to Zachary Quinto’s reserved, stoic, Spock. Quinto even brings an open-faced curiosity to the character’s trademark quizzical eyebrow arches, as well as an unexpected sensuality and sense of hidden, seething rage to the unemotional Vulcan. (Another credit: not once does the actor remind us of Sylar from Heroes.)

Best of all though is Karl Urban as Leonard “Bones” McCoy. As the exasperated voice of reason of the trio, he manages the feat of uncannily channeling DeForest Kelley from the series, while looking absolutely nothing like him. He even shows off comic straight-man timing in the movie’s hilariously wacky slapstick sequence that has the doctor running around the Enterprise, chasing a frenzied Kirk who is suffering a violent allergic reaction to a vaccine. Apologies, but a Star Trek movie just isn’t supposed to be this darn funny.

Rounding out the roster is Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead) as the enthusiastic chief engineer Scotty, Zoë Saldana as a business-like Uhura, John Cho (the Harold and Kumar movies) as a swashbuckling Sulu, and under-rated young actor Anton Yelchin (Alpha Dog, Charlie Bartlett) as Chekov, the Russian ship navigator who hysterically struggles with his thick accent.

All the iconic nods aside though, Abrams adds his particular sense of individuality. He stages everything on an epic scale with the breakneck pace of the most mind-blowing, plot twisting Lost episodes. Helping immensely is his go-to composer Michael Giacchino. (Keep those ears peeled for a quick reference to the director’s pretend drink brand motif Slusho.) The only real gripes are some questionable job evaluations in Starfleet Academy (some cadets get promoted very quickly), a time travel plotline that calls into minor question whether or not this is truly a reboot and not actually Star Trek 11, and an over-reliance on lens flares, glaring reflections of light in the shot that seems to be there for no apparent dramatic reason.

Still, Abrams should be commended for making the first Star Trek movie that actively seeks to embrace a non-geek audience. As Leonard Nimoy himself said about the diehard fans on a recent SNL sketch, to not like it would make them dickheads. If anything, Trekkies will probably feel resentment at the legions of newborn acolytes who are suddenly descending onto their prize piece of pop culture. For better or worse, a sequel has been given the go-ahead, and to paraphrase what an elder captain said to the hotheaded Kirk in this film: J.J., we dare you to do better. Go on, mount that Holy Grail of Roddenberry lore: Khan!

Yeah, fanboys… we so just went there.

SURFER, The Bar

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