Happy 45th birthday, Star Trek!

More ukulele fun

Been playing my ukulele.

First, an attempt to play Jerry Goldsmith's marvelous theme from Star Trek: The Motion Picture.



Then I tried to perform Darth Vader's theme.

In other news, I am a nerd.

Live Like Spock

Logical advice and fascinating information:

Live long and prosper, babe.

Spock as Wisdom Figure - The Motion Picture

Last fall I did a presentation for PechaKucha night titled Spock as Wisdom Figure.

Well, I just discovered that they've put up a video of the presentation, so I thought I'd share it here.


Neil Shurley from Pecha-Kucha Greenville on Vimeo.

Spock as Wisdom Figure

A few weeks ago, I performed a piece for Pecha Kucha night. It's a format in which each speaker shows 20 slides, and each slide is shown for 20 seconds. It began as a way for designers to show off their works, but has evolved into something a lot more freeform and interesting. I decided to do a sort of expansion of a piece I wrote as a writing exercise a couple years ago. I had fun performing it and thought I'd share it here.


UPDATE: Now you can also see a video of my presentation.

The writing instructor told us to choose a Wisdom Figure to write about.

I had to wrap my head around the term for a moment. Who is a wisdom figure to me?

I guess I should list Moses or Jesus or one of those bible guys. My high school drama teacher inspired me. But wisdom figure? The whole concept sort of stumped me.

And then I had a revelation.

Okay, so he's got pointy ears.  Yes, he's from another planet. Yes, he lacks emotions. Yes, he's fictional. But Spock is there, in my memory, in my views of the world, in the views of my own life. He stands there erect, hands clasped behind his back in an "at ease" position that I still mimic to this day.

He's loyal. Rational. Yes, I have to say it, he's logical. He appreciates the scientific method. And while he maintains a cool reserve, we all know that underneath he's got a seething cauldron of raw feelings boiling away, kept under control by a single upturned eyebrow. Puzzles are a challenge, a way to learn. And he usually handles conflict with a zen-like detachment.

He's a stranger amidst a crew of irrational humans, trying to understand the foreign language of emotional responses. For a kid who kept moving to new houses, new cities, new friends, why not rely on someone constant, someone whose judgment you could trust, who would loyally appear in your living room weekday afternoons at 4.

Spock as Wisdom Figure. Why not?

  

What could be a better greeting than Live Long and Prosper? It’s the first indication that the renowned Vulcan “logic” is not just lifeless and computational. It’s a philosophy of rationality, yes, but also of radical empathy. And it’s a blessing. Famously, Leonard Nimoy based the salute on a gesture he once saw a Rabbi perform.

Vulcans also celebrate diversity. This symbol – perhaps created cynically by Gene Roddenberry as a way to sell jewelry – represents the IDIC, or Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.  It’s a cornerstone of Vulcan philosophy and it makes sense. It’s logical to understand that the universe derives power from the diversity of its natural phenomena and its differing cultures.

Diversity invites democracy. Diversity is expansive, it invites the embrace of exploration, of change, of growth. It shows that the Logic Vulcans practice is not cold and computational. It affirms life and peace as well as the triumph of intelligence over force.

Spock says many times that it’s illogical to kill without reason.  That’s why he’s a vegetarian, why he’d rather nerve pinch one of his enemies than phaser him out of existence.  Spock is part-human, and we can sense that even though he suppresses his emotions, even though he might deny it, he still feels compassion, still feels empathy.

Remember the space hippies? Spock found common ground with them in their concept of One.  “One is the Bginning.” They sought peace, you  know, like hippies everywhere, and Spock knew of their ideas, maybe even respected them. He reached out to the hippies in a way that the establishment – Captain Kirk – never could.

He even jammed with them. Because Spock digs music. He plays an instrument – the Vulcan harp. Yes, the arts are important to the logical, unemotional Vulcans. And that makes sense. Music can help us reach places that words can’t always touch. It delve deep into our, yes, emotions, and move us in distinctly unrational ways.

And why not? After all, Spock also practices meditation. He contemplates the divide between self and the world, keeps himself in balance between the emotions he feels and the world in which he exists. Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans have emotions, they just keep them under control.

And Spock learned the value of feelings. As you watch the character grow from the original series to the movies, you can see the change. In the first movie he learned that a machine cannot experience the joy of touch, of physically connecting with others. And that experience changed him. Spock learns. He grows. He became comfortable with the balance between his emotional human half and his rational Vulcan self.

By the time of the latest movie, Spock has mellowed significantly. He’s literally a wise old man, a sage who’s extremely comfortable in his own ears, so much that, if you watch closely, he pretty nearly smiles at the end of the film. Fascinating.

He’s also a cheerleader for science. After all, the scientific method is simply the best tool we’ve yet devised to understand our surroundings. Careful experimentation, reason, making choices based on evidence rather than instinct or intuition. Emotions have their place, but reason and evidence usually bring us to the best conclusion.

The philosophy that sums up Spock’s experience? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. You have to apply this idea on a case-by-case basis, of course, and that’s where logic fits in. If killing one person would save a million people from a nasty headache, do the needs of the many still outweigh the needs of the one? Probably not. But it’s worth spending time thinking about how your own personal needs conflict with the needs of the many - and whether there are instances where you might be able to put others' needs first.

And isn’t that the point underlying many of our earth-based philosophies? Some guy named Jesus said lots of stuff about subverting your own needs, your own desires, about giving away what you have and serving others. Spock serves others by operating as a vessel for science. He’s your first officer, your trusted advisor. Your friend. He’s got your back.

Sure, Kirk got the girls. But the girls WANTED Spock. And he truly understood -- if not himself, at least the world - the universe - around him. Maybe, one day, I'll be able to say the same. It's not logical, I know, but maybe, someday, it will be true. After all, sometimes I think he’s actually part of me, lurking deep within, forged in childhood, shaped in high school.

For a district speech contest, I had to perform a dramatic monologue. I chose a selection from Leonard Nimoy's book, I Am Not Spock, an internal dialogue section, in which Nimoy wrestles with the Spock inside himself. “Don’t forget that I’m real and you’re a fictional character,” says Nimoy. “Are you sure?” Spock replies.

Maybe, inside me, there's still a Spock, a logical creature, trying to get out. I know my wife thinks so. Since I didn’t cry at my wedding, nor at the birth of my children, I must be part Vulcan, she says. And I'll admit I'm insanely jealous of her ability to raise a single eyebrow, a trait that's passed me by, despite years of practice.

So Spock as wisdom figure. Why not embrace it? Yes, I am a nerd. And I can embrace the inner Vulcan, appreciate what I’ve learned from a TV character. I’m not going to go out and have my ears surgically altered. But I will go out of my way to say that I truly wish that all of us Live long and prosper.

•Sources include Charlie Jane Anders “How You Can Live Like A Vulcan Without Bleeding Green” from io9.com

•I Am Not Spock by Leonard Nimoy

•“Raised Vulcan Eyebrows and Hopeless Human Hopes” - amormundi.blogspot.com

•My sad nerdly brain

Star Trek 365

So I got myself a present. 

It's a big, fat book full of Star Trek.

And I quite enjoyed it.

It bills itself as the "definitive" guide to Star Trek, but, as the owner of many Star Trek reference books, I beg to differ.

It's got a lot of interesting stuff, a lot of stuff I already knew, and a lot of photos. Sadly, most of the photos were really just frames from the episodes themselves, but they were well selected and well reproduced.

I found it very odd that third season producer Fred Freiberger, a figure universally shat upon by Trek fans as the one who killed the show (and similarly scorned by fans of Space: 1999, for which he served as producer for the hated second season) is not once mentioned by name in the entire book. That, to me, is simply spiteful and certainly not definitive. So bottom line is, if you're looking for a book that gives you a list of all the cast and crew, you need to look elsewhere.

But it does work as an overview of the production and life of the original series, with all its ups and downs.  It's handsomely put together and does contain a lot that was new and interesting to me, despite all the Trek non-fiction I've read over the years. Discussion of the disposition of the original Enterprise model, particularly, and photos of same, fascinated me. And it actually discussed the music, which is, unsurprisingly, a favorite topic of mine.

One of the most striking features of the book, though, is a completely unintentional reveal of the immense cultural divide that separates us from the 1960s. And I'm not talking about go go boots and short skirts and such.

There's a backstage photo from Amok Time featuring several actors getting Vulcan make up applied. And here's the thing. The make up artists are all men. And they're all wearing ties. You can even see fancy cuff links on the sleeves of chief make up artist Fred Phillips. What a shock! Can you imagine seeing anyone on a movie or tv set today actually wearing a tie? And, really, aren't almost all film/tv make up artists women these days? People in the sixties still dressed up to go to work at the movie studio. Being professionals meant dressing like a professional. And that meant a suit and tie. Sure, you can take off your jacket while actually gluing on ear tips, but by gum you're going to keep your tie on.

This all put me in mind of Jesse Thorn's web series about "dressing like an adult" and how unusual it is that director Paul Feig wears a suit and tie to the set every day.

Maybe I'll star wearing a tie whenever I write a blog post. There are worse ways to dress.

Untitled Five Minute Fiction

Leah Petersen hosts a weekly Five Minute Fiction contest on her blog. This week, I decided to play along. She posts a one-word writing prompt and you then have five minutes to write a story.

Here's what I came up with. Oh, and I won the contest. Woo hoo!

“Hungry?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. Stupid Vulcan. He hasn’t got more than that one stupid expression. At least not that I’ve seen in these seven months.

“I found another bug under the mattress.”

He didn’t even glance at me, just sat there, meditating or whatever it is Vulcans do for hour upon hour, day in, day out.

“Fine, I’ll eat it.”

When they threw us both into this cell, I figured his super strength and logic would get us out in no time.

No such luck.

Green blooded bastard.

“Hey!”

He glanced over.

“Why don’t you work on a plan to get us out of here instead of just sitting there another day like a big, stupid pointy eared rock.”

He reached over, pinched my neck.

Sometimes, it’s the only way I can get to sleep.

Where No Man Has Gone Before

In which we meet Captain James R. Kirk and the valiant crew of the Enterprise as they venture beyond the great barrier at the edge of the galaxy.

The single most striking thing about this, the very first episode starring Captain Kirk, the second pilot film for the series, the episode meant to sell this whole venture as a series, is the way it begins: a chess game between Kirk and his alien science officer. No grandiose introductions to the vessel and its mission. No tedious assemblage of a team and shots of a captain getting his first command. No origin story at all. We’re simply thrust right into the action. This is the story of a captain and his crew and we learn everything we need to know about the ship, its mission and the dynamics between crew members by watching the story unfold. Even the opening title sequence lacks the traditional “These are the voyages” narration. We’re dropped into the future, onto a starship exploring the outer fringes of the galaxy, with almost no explanations for anything. Technology is taken for granted. When Kirk orders the Valiant’s stray recorder be brought on board, we cut to the transporter room and watch the machine appear on the platform. There’s no expository dialogue about dematerialization, no explanation given or necessary. We see it happen, we’re shown, not told, in the way the best stories are always handled. Just do it and trust the audience to figure it out.

Another striking element is the story itself and the overarching themes brought up. This is man versus god, or, more specifically, a man with godlike powers. It’s a theme Roddenberry will bludgeon us with over the decades to come, including the TNG pilot (where we spend a ton of time putting the crew together and learning their backstories before tangling with a being gifted with godlike powers). Roddenberry consistently presents humanity, raw and vicious as it can sometimes be, as ultimately preferable over omniscient hyperadvanced species. Maybe, somewhat ironically, he’s illustrating a verse from the  Bible (King James version): For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.  We also get arguments about the merits of compassion and emotion, concluding with Kirk’s comment that there may be “hope” for Spock after all. Emotion, compassion, are vital elements, not just of a commander, but of a human being. Gary Mitchell’s use of superpowers robbed him of the capacity to identify with ordinary people, stripped him of his very humanity. As we learn over and over again in science fiction, with great power comes great responsibility.

Other elements that popped out at me, particularly with the benefit of seeing what happens in the future, are little things. Spock’s quick conclusion that Mitchell should be dumped off on a nearby planet (eerily reminiscent of young Spock’s actions in the latest Trek movie). The mention of the blonde lab tech Kirk almost married (which immediately brings to mind Carol Marcus). The ubiquitous Eddie Paskey.

Stylistically, the show is still finding its ground. The uniforms are noticeably different, in color, collar, and decoration. The bridge retains elements of the almost primitive look it had in the first pilot, The Cage. The phaser props seem too Flash Gordon-y, the communicator needlessly chunky, highlighting what a terrific job the production team did with redesigning things when the series fully launched itself. Also missing is the emotional core that McCoy provided. Dr. Piper is just another member of the staff, not the trusted advisor and deeply humanistic conscience Kirk comes to rely on. Spock is almost himself here, but still barking orders and acting a lot more, well, emotional. But Kirk is pretty much Kirk. Except, of course, that his middle initial is wrong on his tombstone. Makes me wonder if that got digitally changed in the “remastered” version.

Alexander Courage’s music here is mostly too melodramatic, but there are a few classic moments, especially the slow build when Mitchell starts reading faster and faster. His music here also demonstrates how much Fred Steiner contributed to the feel of the show starting with the very next episode, The Corbomite Maneuver. Sure, Courage wrote that bongo-inflected main theme and both Gerald Fried and Sol Kaplan wrote some of the most iconic moments for episodes much later, but Steiner is the true architect of the Star Trek sound and it’s noticeably absent here.

After the “too cerebral” pilot, Roddenberry delivered an episode that still manages to give its characters a lot of thoughtful dialogue while also upping the action quotient. In an earlier review of the latest Star Trek movie, a commenter pooh-pooh’ed my opinion because the original Trek was “thoughtful, provocative, while this was eye-candy.” This episode, Where No Man Has Gone Before, proves to be an excellent example of that very point. This is science fiction filled with ideas while at the same time giving us slam bang action. I loved the new Trek movie because it was tons of fun to watch, a rollicking good time no doubt enriched merely due to its heritage. I loved Where No Man Has Gone Before because it was a great story that made me want to find out more about these characters, this ship and this universe. And, thankfully, we’ve been given more for some 45 years and counting.