Risk is Our Business

So with Skydance's acquisition of Paramount, it looks like we're going to get some new Star Trek. They want to reboot it because the license is a mess. But why is such a durable IP struggling so hard? Do we need more modern jokes? More self-aware references? More explosions? How about more revenge plots? What will fix it?

Well first off, redshirts, you can stay. But all you red hats, you won't like my answer: Star Trek isn't struggling because its “gone woke.” It’s always been woke. Go rewatch "Plato's Stepchildren," or "Day of the Dove," and imagine what your grandaddy must've said before he threw his Coors at the tube.

No, it’s struggling because instead of being smartly written, one-act, dialogue-driven morality plays with a horror spin, it has instead been desperately chasing being the second-banana version of Star Wars mixed with the latest pop format of soap opera. And being someone else is a terrible way to be yourself.

Let's be honest: If any recent Trek film or show had been the first Trek anything, there's no way it would have inspired nearly 60 years of fandom. No one in 2086 is going to be nostalgic for Section 31. But also Trek isn't special because it's old. So I promise that this is the opposite of a MAKE TREK GREAT AGAIN post. Rather, it's a make great NEW Trek post. The TLDR: neither goofy self-reference nor chasing pop trends are the answer. So here's my prescription for Trek - but the reason I'm posting this here is because I think philosophically it has to do with more than just Star Trek. It's about learning from the past as well as letting go of it. Something we could all use a bit of, I think.

Okay, on to the fixin.' I work a lot in videogames. Specifically, indie video games, which are currently in their 90's indie-film moment. 90% of indie games use 2d, 8-bit style art, even though its more and more possible for very small teams to make fully realized 3d worlds. This is because younger creators do not look at 8-bit art the way we olds do. They don't see it as a goofy throwback to the limitations of the 90's. They see it as a stylistic choice, and rightly so. They own it. They don't feel embarrassed by it, and they don't waste their time apologizing for it.

Like we do with old Trek.

So instead of taking classic Trek's production limitations as something we should be embarrassed by, what if we thought of them as tools? Just like the Mario Bava films that influenced the show did, like the luridly beautiful Hercules & The Haunted World (thanks to the amazing Sean Moyer for pointing this one out!).

We need to fall in love with this again. Films like this weren't limited by realism. Instead they used the elements of the stage to produce a dreamworld version of their setting. More examples: Orson Welles’ The Trial looks very much like Trek, realism be damned. Making The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari more photorealistic, scientifically accurate, or more expensive-looking would in fact ruin the horror of it.

For more modern examples, look at John Carpenter’s films. The Thing is basically a great episode of Star Trek. It's virtually a play, staged theatrically and almost abstractly, placing us somewhere deeper than reality...and far more frightening. The imagery doesn't engage the intellect, it stirs up the unconscious.

You can't Star-Warsify The Thing. You can't turn it into Bridgerton or Ransom Canyon. The film has something to say, and it says it with every element of its production.

It's true for the production design, and it's true for the script. It's not a soap opera - it’s not built to continue on and on until it's mercifully cancelled. Will MacReady ever seek treatment for his alcoholism? Will Blair ever get better at ping-pong? Who cares?

No, The Thing has a point. As does every single episode of Trek.

In fact, the reason we remember individual episodes of Trek so well is because each one is a short story. To get lit-nerdy for a second, the characters in this format are eternal concepts upon which the story is tested, and all other character stories exist as examples of the struggle itself.

It may seem it, but this is not simple storytelling. It's actually the hardest form, because it allows for no wheel-spinning. This is why it's iconic, in the same way any great single film is iconic, from Casablanca to Marty Supreme: the thing you are watching, all by itself, has something to say. It's not promising something will happen next time. Something's happening now.

And when stories like this are collected in a bunch, you end up with The Martian Chronicles, or Dubliners, or A Visit From the Goon Squad. Or The Twilight Zone. Or Star Trek. The individual stories are as powerful as the whole.

12 Angry Men would be a terrific episode of Star Trek—The Crucible, too. So when we think about how Trek should be rebooted for TV or film, we should imagine the creatives we’d want attached to material like this.

We should think about directors like David Fincher and Lynn Ramsay, and writers like Gordon Smith and Dan Erickson. No one in Mindhunter is making nostalgic callbacks. Audiences aren't unclear what Ratcatcher thinks of Margaret Thatcher. Pluribus and Severence have unique points of view, and each episode feels like an event. They aren't out to make it feel like Severance...because they are too busy creating Severance.

The goal isn't to remake what came before. The goal is to use the tools to say what you mean. Hell, to find new ways to use the tools to say it.

We shouldn't be in the business of making fun of what we love, just so we're not embarrassed to love it. Really the only way to create something that lasts is to love it with all your heart. It's risky, I know. But good old James T. Kirk had a great line about risk...