Talkin' 'Bout My Generation
 Last night I went to see the new Star Trek film, Nemesis, more out of a sense of habit and obligation than any real interest. It seems that the cast and crew made the film in that same spirit. Maybe I'm the only Trek fan (not Trekkie - I don't own a uniform or speak Klingon) in this quadrant to have missed the memo, but did anyone else notice that Nemesis is a remake of Wrath of Khan? Well, it pretty much is, and if you ever wondered what the only Star Trek film to get it right would be like without the dueling-diva performances of Ricardo Montalban and William Shatner, then run out forthwith and see Nemesis. All others need not bother.
Nemesis highlights all the reasons why the soft-edged, ingratiating, self-conscious Next Generation falls short of the mythic status of the original series, despite its inarguably superior sophistication, production values and acting talent (particularly Patrick Stewart). While the character interactions that made the original Trek series so appealing grew naturally from the action-oriented plots and social themes, in TNG, they are so clearly contrived that it's hard to invest them with any genuine emotion. Deep Space Nine, the bastard stepchild of the franchise, is the only latter-day Trek series to get this balance right. In the absence of meaningful character development, all that's left to Nemesis is the preposterous plot and a lot of special effects (which, to the producers' credit, look a lot better than in the previous, awful TNG film, Insurrection).
The end of Wrath of Khan featured the most traumatic incident in the entire Star Trek cannon – the death of Spock. That the comparable plot turn at the end of Nemesis packs nowhere near the emotional punch – and is so clearly foreshadowed by the by-the-numbers script – is a ringing indictment of the poverty of imagination that has struck the Trek world lately. Rick Berman’s ass has grown fat and comfortable in Gene Roddenberry’s chair, while his cast – Stewart in particular – has clearly grown weary of the endless string of command performances. The well is dry. It’s time for TNG to vanish into the sunset of some distant star, warp factor nine. Please, Rick, make it so.
9:22:03 AM 
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