Showbits

Jerry Seinfeld's recent team-up with Bill Gates for a bizarre set of advertisements has put me in mind of other famous celebrity endorsements — especially when it comes to Star Trek. The show's futuristic setting has left Star Trek relatively immune to product placement, but that hasn't stopped the franchise from appearing elsewhere to promote services both related and otherwise. I'm not speaking of the show's actors, taken out of their galactic context, hawking wares such as the Commodore VIC-20, but actual in-character sales pitches.

The most recent and famous example may be William Shatner plugging DirecTV:

Of course, once you find the DirecTV channel you want, put down the remote and get your hands busy with some finger-lickin' goodness:

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For the third time this year, I bring you news of several talented artists who have passed on.

Composer and Emmy winner Alexander Courage passed away last month at age 88. His works include the theme to the original Star Trek television series. Yet he received little of his dues from that famous piece. To cut costs, Gene Roddenberry wrote lyrics to accompany Mr. Courage's music. Despite no intention of using the (awful) lyrics, Mr. Roddenberry was then able to claim half the royalties that would've otherwise gone to the song's rightful creator. Whether or not any reparations were ever made between the two, I am unsure. Snopes states that "After scoring a couple of first-season episodes, Courage declined to perform any further musical work for the series." But his influence on what eventually became the Star Trek franchise is noted in his filmography, which gives him attribution on practically every Star Trek movie, show, and game of the last half-century.

Shortly thereafter, the musical world also suffered the loss of Earle Hagen, also aged 88. Mr. Hagen was responsible for such memorable theme songs as those of The Dick Van Dyke Show and Andy Griffith. These are the shows I grew up on, and though these comedies played out in a different situation every week, we were always introduced to them with the familiar opening sequences and tunes. Thank you, Mr. Hagen, for leaving that mark.

I'd intended for these two passings to be the extent of this post, but I unfortunately recently learned of two others. Unlike the musicians above, Robert Justman's talent was in directing and producing for both TOS and TNG. Though he worked on only one season of TNG, his decision to cast Patrick Stewart over Gene Roddenberry's objections was a decision with an indelible mark on Trek lore. Mr. Justman died last month at age 82.

Also a directorial veteran of TOS was Joseph Pevney, who gave us such episodes as The City on the Edge of Forever and The Trouble with Tribbles. Possibly more than any episodes in TOS's short run, these two have spawned numerous plots, threads, and novels throughout the Trek timeline. Mr. Pevney was 96 when he passed.

How fortunate we are to have had the musical and directing talents of these men, both within Star Trek and without; how fortunate they were to have lived such long and notable lives.

(Hat tips to TrekToday and Dayton Ward)

They say the mind is the first thing to go — yet it's a part of the organ we understand, and are able to replace, the least.

Now, Dr. Gordon Bell intends to bring Harry Potter's pensieve to life by developing a way to duplicate the memories of the human mind as easily as any other storage device. Via Slashdot, Fox News asks, "What if you could capture every waking moment of your entire life, store it on your computer and then recall digital snapshots of everything you've seen and heard with just a quick search?" A query meant to excite — or scare?

This is more a science and human interest story than a cinematic one, but consider how many films deal with cybernetic transplantation of humanity. Recreating the essence of man through artificial means is at the core of films such as Blade Runner and episodes of Star Trek like "What Are Little Girls Made Of?" in The Original Series and "Schizoid Man" in The Next Generation (in contrast to Bicentennial Man, which is about a robot becoming human). These fictions embody a very real fear of death and a desire to live on after the failure of the organic body.

But at what price immortality? Besides ethical and spiritual dilemmas, there are also legal and privacy issues inherent in such permanent records. Consider the low-tech solution currently employed by the inventor cited above: "Bell wears a SenseCam, developed by Microsoft Research, that takes pictures whenever it detects he may want a photograph. The camera's infrared sensor picks up on body heat and takes snapshots of anyone else in the room, adjusting itself as available light changes." How would you like to be in that room with Mr. Bell, knowing he was playing Big Brother?

There's a film that employs uses a similarly problematic technique for recording human experience: Robin Williams' The Final Cut. In this movie's world, parents have the option of having their unborn child implanted with an EyeTech Zoe chip. This chip piggybacks on its host's senses to create a visual and aural record of its carrier's experiences. This chip is extracted upon death; someone with the profession of "cutter" then uses this footage to create a 90-minute "Rememory", a montage of experiences by which the living can remember the deceased. A cutter is bound by only three rules: he cannot sell Zoe footage; he cannot mix footage from different Zoe implants for a rememory; and a cutter cannot himself have a Zoe implant.

I stumbled across this film two years ago, roughly at the same time I was given an open-ended assignment to "write something academic about something cinematic." At the time, I had also been reading plenty of Star Trek novels, and the intersection of the two media begged for comparison and contrast. I put two different implants — the Zoe chip and a Trill symbiont — under the microscope and came up with a 2,000-word paper entitled "Preservation of Memory as a Means of Immortality: A Science Fictional Approach".

Though the professors evaluated the essay favorably, neither were familiar with the background material. I've yet to find to find someone who is and can thus evaluate my work from that perspective. If you're a Trekkie who's seen The Final Cut and are interesting in reading the implications of each medium's method of providing permanent mental capacity, please drop me a note.

After a week of blogging about Star Trek: The Next Generation, you might get the impression it's my favorite of the Trek series. Even I haven't decided if that honor belongs to TNG or DS9 — but definitely not in the running is TOS.

That's not an indictment of the show's datedness or lack of quality, but more simply a lack of exposure. The Original Series' debut predates my own by a decade, and since it has the least number of episodes of any Trek series and I cancelled my TV service eight years ago, it's simply not something I have much opportunity to watch. But I love the characters and have found that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy make for much more captivating novels than any other crew (especially Voyager's — blech).

Now comes the opportunity to watch The Original Series in a way previously afforded to only The Next Generation: on the silver screen. As a promotion for the November 20th HD-DVD release of Star Trek Remastered, the updated "Menagerie", which features footage from the rejected pilot "The Cage", will be shown in 300 theaters nationwide the evening of Tuesday, November 13th. "The two-hour screening includes a special introduction by Eugene 'Rod' Roddenberry, son of Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, plus an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at the making of the Remastered series," says StarTrek.com, which has links to both the press release and theater listings. (Yet another tip of the hat to Dayton Ward)

"The Menagerie" is one of the few episodes I have seen of TOS, but not like this. I already have my tickets and will my calling my father shortly to introduce him to this event, just as he did me to TNG two decades ago. If you've never seen Trek before, this might be the franchise entry point you've been looking for.

This is it: the entire week has been building up to this. Star Trek: The Next Generation turns 20 today, having aired "Encounter at Farpoint" on Monday, September 28th, 1987.

How best to mark this event? What would be an appropriate climax to this week of commemorative blogging? I could reflect on how different my life would be had my father not sat me down to watch the latest iteration of the show he had grown up with. I could analyze the show's cultural impact, or wax poetic about its message of hope and optimism for humanity's future. I could take a serious look at its special effects, its genesis from Star Trek Phase II, or the franchise's future.

But I think the most dramatic impact the debut of two decades ago was on a most beleaguered class: the red shirts.

When TNG debut, it marked a dramatic change in Starfleet's taxonomy: red, previously the shirt color of security and engineering personnel, was now worn by the indispensable command track. Former redshirts the quadrant over breathed a sign of relief to receive their new uniforms, as in the era of the gold-dressed Kirk, a red shirt was the mark of death, with these expendable bodyguards suffering more away team fatalities than any other group. This trend wasn't just a popular misconception born of fear and superstition, either: courtesy StarTrek.com, a recent statistical study proves what an unfair lot redshirts have.

Not everyone appreciates the burden of being a TOS-era redshirt; in fact, some groups are downright insensitive. Courtesy TrekToday comes news of a health care company that promises its clients "the RedShirt Treatment". Independent Health promises that, no matter who you are, when you call, or what your problem is, you're pretty much screwed.

But that's okay, because even though death is final (unless you're Spock, Kirk, Scotty — or even Denise Crosby), Eternal Image will be the last ones to let you down. When you're ready for the final frontier, this Michigan-based funerary company will ensure you receive the honor normally reserved for photon torpedoes: to be buried or cremated in the Star Trek-branded funeral or urn of your choice. (Tip of the hat to Dayton Ward)

Star Trek is a story with powerful lessons for all of humanity. But most of all, The Next Generation offers us hope for change and for a better future — no matter your shirt color. So live long — or die trying!

• T-Minus One Week and Counting
• To Everything, There Is a Season
• Where, Oh Where, Has My Little Spock Gone?
• The Human Condition
• The Voyage Continues
• But Don't Take My Word For It

The upcoming TNG complete series box set has a bonus disc of unique features, interviews, and documentaries. Though there is some unearthed arcana from decades ago, much of the material is retrospective in nature, created exclusively for this DVD collection.

It can be fun to look at the making of Star Trek: TNG as it was actually being made. Without the benefit of hindsight, documentaries that are as old as the show they're inspecting have a certain nostalgic quality. And who brings that magic to life better than LeVar Burton, host of Reading Rainbow?

Before (and while!) he was Geordi LaForge but after Kunta Kinte, Mr. Burton hosted this PBS children's educational series that explored the power of books, fiction, and imagination. He took advantage of being an explorer of both space and imagination when he brought the show he hosted behind the scenes of his "other" show. Now available on YouTube as a three-part series is that episode of Reading Rainbow.

So open the video — and open your mind.

Also in the TNG at 20 series:

• T-Minus One Week and Counting
• To Everything, There Is a Season
• Where, Oh Where, Has My Little Spock Gone?
• The Human Condition
• The Voyage Continues
• A Good Day to Die

Twenty years ago this autumn, I was a sophomore in college. I remember watching the premiere of Star Trek: The Next Generation (or TNG) with friends. While most of us were fans of speculative fiction, we had little idea of how entertaining and influential TNG would become.

I had grown up on the writings of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, Isaac Asimov, and Arthur C. Clarke, but I had watched the original 1960s Star Trek only in reruns. During freshman year, I had fought for the dorm lounge television with people who preferred The Late Show With David Letterman over some old show with people wearing colorful pajamas, odd makeup, or both. But we were a small but dedicated band, and we made it to the stars. Among the friends I met then was my future wife.

Over the course of many late nights and foosball games, I learned about the United Federation of Planets, its Starfleet, and the Prime Directive that forbade its explorers from interfering in the internal affairs or development of alien worlds. The so-called "Wagon Train to the stars" combined Westerns with ray guns, and mythology with scientific speculation.

By the time TNG began, I was indeed a Trekkie — or "Trekker," as some prefer — having learned the cant among the franchise's fans: phasers, warp speed, and the Vulcan nerve pinch and salute. Of the eventual six movies with the space opera's original cast, the best two — Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan and IV: The Voyage Home — had already been released. Thanks to magazines such as Starlog and various "technical manuals," I learned about transporters and Jeffries tubes (the access tunnels throughout starships, named after an original series art director). Around Thanksgiving of 1987, I would attend my first science fiction convention, one run by Creation Entertainment in New York.

It's also worth remembering the context into which this Enterprise was launched — that, despite the success of multimedia franchises such as Planet of the Apes and Star Wars, there was little genre entertainment on television at that time. As we look forward to 2007's premieres of Heroes, Lost, or Battlestar Galactica: Razor, among others, note that 20 years ago, there was only Stephen Spielberg's anthology Amazing Stories, horror drama Friday the 13th: the Series, and another Earth-based movie spin-off, Starman. Weak visual effects, even weaker writing, and a lack of interest among mainstream viewers and networks had doomed all but the U.K.'s Doctor Who to short lifespans or syndication.

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Star Trek is a tale not of aliens, technology, and anomalies, but of humanity. However evolved the future's citizens claim to be, they still find ways to learn and and places to grow. Though Worf or Data or even Wesley may've developed the most over The Next Generation's seven years, the hero I found to be the deepest, most complex, and most intricate was their guide through the stars: the very human Captain Picard.

As many commanding officers do, Jean-Luc Picard initially came across as a stiff and remote authority figure: barking orders, didactically lecturing his crew, and providing an extremely straight man for the tomfoolery of Q. But when Picard was given the opportunity to not be a foil but take the center stage for himself, his humanity truly shined.

Though we met almost everyone else's parents and children, Picard had neither. Yet it was his estranged relationship with his brother Robert that we found most empathetic. This wasn't an unknown child appearing on his doorstep or a licentious mother causing him embarrassment; it was two siblings — one who stayed in the family business, the other a prodigal son. That very basic bond is one with which many of us have struggled, and though we'd hope to overcome such issues by the 24th century, it gives us hope to see a man as great as Picard overcome them.

It is one of many trials Picard faced in his time aboard the Enterprise. He lived decades in an unreal life — separated first from his starship family, then from the one he came to love. He was given the chance to put right what once went wrong, only to see the entire tapestry of his life come unravelled. He loved one woman, only to have duty take her away; he loved another, only to give her away himself. Despite a broken heart, he was held prisoner, tortured to the point of a broken mind.

And, of course, there was Wolf 359: where he was a mere onlooker as his own mind and body were used to send hundreds of his fellow Starfleet officers to their deaths. How does any man — not an android, not an empath, but just a man — overcome so much tragedy?

I don't know — yet Picard did so, and somehow became stronger for it. And he showed his unwavering spirit in his love for Shakespeare, archaelogy — and his crew. The most brilliant Star Trek short story I ever read was "The Promise", by Shane Zeranski, which I will spoil for you by quoting Picard's breakdown when he realizes, after thirty years, he may never leave Kataan:

I loved them… and I never told them. I never told a one! Not Data, not Worf, not Riker… not even Beverly. And now they're gone and I'll never see them again! I always — expected that… that I might, but — but I won't… If only I could see them — just once more, just… once… more! They were my family… my family… and I've lost them.

I can hear each of these words come from Jean-Luc's mouth, and they speak of a man wracked with a despair that can come only from a deep and powerful passion. Picard engages in the full range of human experiences, from joy to sorrow; it is this fearlessness with which he faces his own nature that exemplifies Star Trek as an exploration not of mapping stars and studying nebula… but of charting the unknown possibilities of existence.

The full breadth of Picard's character is demonstrated in the videos presented after the jump:

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