Old Trek, New Trek

Back from seeing Star Trek - the new film - at the Imax cinema, front row seats so close to the enormous screen that there was an even greater than usual sense of merging into the film's location that a good movie evokes. The screen was so huge that I couldn't take in the whole view at once, and some of the close ups were blurred (at least to my middle youth eyes). But a great experience, and I did love the film. The plot wasn't the most absorbing element; it worked ok and provided for the necessary respectful link back to old Spock ('Spock Prime' indeed) and Zachary Quinto's young, divergent reality version. The two Spocks meet towards the end and reminded me of an irrational sort of fear I had as a young girl that I might choose, somewhere towards the end, or indeed after the end of my life, somehow to go back in time and visit myself - I was so alarmed at this idea that I promised myself then and there that I would never do it. But the Trek incident had no exaggeratedly uncanny element here; indeed the overall story just had the frequent 'overcoming the monster' plot type quality to it.


The real heart of the film was watching the characters, remarkably channelled by these new-generation actors, meet, interact, clash and grow from their time together. Karl Urban was absolutely spot on with his Bones, and Chris Pine good too - he had the mannerisms of Shatner's Kirk, if not such a strong physical resemblance. Very meta, really, this casting of actors to replay the roles made so distinctly known by their originals. The recreation of Spock's development of the Kobayashi Maru test, where the virtual scenario of Klingon attack cannot be won so the 'player' has to learn to accept the inevitability of death, was very well done. Kirk, true to his character, sees no option but to cheat in order to gain victory after all. Spock claims he is thereby avoiding the true test of the situation. Thus the two personalities are revealed and slowly begin to learn from and trust each other. Both perspectives seem to have some truth and importance to them.

By way of unintentional contrast I have started catching up on the BBC's poetry season so watched Michael Wood's program on Beowulf this morning. Another good hour of viewing, and of course being a Norfolk girl I'm pleased that Wood highlighted the possible East Anglian origin of at least part of the Anglo Saxon text. The Sutton Hoo treasures always make an impact and bring the idea of 'Beowulf's Barrow' where he stows away his treasure into vivid focus. Beowulf is another perennial story of 'overcoming the monster'(and has had its own film version/ revision too of course). Three monsters in fact as warrior king Beowulf defeats Grendel, then Grendel's mother, and finally, towards the end of his life, a dragon who deals him a fatal blow.

There's a phrase towards the end of the text about Beowulf's fate being 'unknown but certain' which resonated with me: I suppose in a way because that's everybody's fate. We are all mortal after all, that much is fact. Wood interviewed Seamus Heaney whose translation of Beowulf won the 1999 Whitbread book of the Year. Heaney talked about that last challenge having a deeper dimension to it, perhaps exactly because of this atmosphere of mortal inevitability which Beowulf and the reader/ audience must face as squarely as any dragon. Here's some of the Heaney version, mainly because I enjoy the language. The dragon's been slain and there's a sense of things coming to an end.

Never again would he glitter and glide
and show himself off in midnight air,
exulting in his riches: he fell to earth
through the battle-strength in Beowulf's arm.
There were few, indeed, as far as I have heard,
big and brave as they may have been,
few who would have held out if they had had to face
the outpourings of that poison-breather
or gone foraging on the ring-hall floor
and found the deep barrow-dweller
on guard and awake.
The treasure had been won,
bought and paid for by Beowulf's death.
Both had reached the end of the road
through the life they had been lent.


Back to Star Trek and inevitably the monster is overcome, though at some cost, and the narrative's resolution opens up the prospect of a whole new parallel world of Kirk-led Trek. Why the attraction to watch a series which so inevitably does overcome its monsters? There's a satisfaction in this unspoken promise of a happy outcome, the 'unknown but certain' victory of good over evil, which is on some profound level good to watch. A cop-out or a sort of deeper truth? Perhaps we need both interpretations of the term.