Today, I decided to relieve the anxiety of waiting on an important phone call for 8 hours by spending a few hours in the cool, soothing megaplex. I saw Star Trek, which, yes, I’d already seen once. But it was worth spending another $9 on a ticket, not least because I was one of the poor suckers who got stuck in the first two rows. I literally could not capture the whole screen within my field of vision. Beyond that, I was overwhelmed by J.J. Abrams’ rather unsubtle directorial choices–not that this is a bad thing–and a second viewing allowed me to settle in and watch more of what was going on at the character level. Spock and Uhura (and Spock and Uhura), in particular, left me with questions that I thought a second viewing would help me to answer.
the new Star Trek knocked my socks off
GWC’s Trek wrap up cast raised the question that had been on my mind since opening night: How emotional is Spock in this new Trekverse? Watching Star Trek again this afternoon provided a few insights. In TOS, Spock was more emotional as a young officer, more conflicted about his dual inheritance, more ready to act out. As Leonard Nimoy and the writers developed the character, Spock became more reserved, more purely logic-driven. By the time Wrath of Khan hit theaters, Spock looked more like the calculated, almost chilly Vulcan we have gelled in our memories as the core of the character.
Strangely, for a series reboot that is based on the obliteration of Vulcan, a planet not inconsequential to the Star Trek we know and love, I find Zachary Quinto’s new Spock to be a more complete, realistic rendition of all that Vulcans are meant to be. I think this Spock feels emotions just as deeply as Sarek told him, after his spectacular primary school brawling, that Vulcans could. Perhaps, though, Spock feels those intense emotions more frequently than most Vulcans , due to his human heritage. We see it flickering behind his eyes repeatedly, most notably when he turns down acceptance to the Vulcan Science Academy.
This Spock appears to have less difficultly with actually suppressing his emotions than he does coping with the burden of the choice of whether to do so. The only time in the movie (aside from the childhood scene) that Spock seems truly unable to control himself is when Kirk attacks his reaction to his mother’s death. The rest of the time we see him struggle with the temptation to express his emotions, as though he aches for the catharsis that we full humans can achieve in giving reign to our feelings. For example, we can see him weighing how to respond to Uhura’s offered comfort/distraction after the singularity engulfed Vulcan. In that case he decides to act Vulcan, cover his feelings, acknowledge them and suppress them. Yet only hours later he considers a repeat offer and follows his human instincts and share a moment of tenderness with Uhura.
while no one can replace Nichelle Nichols as Uhura
Speaking of Uhura, she was the other puzzle that lured me back to the theater. Nichelle Nichols defined the character as more than just a space secretary. You could see the spark in her, and despite her long, long legs and short, short skirts, she was a strong woman. TOS Uhura was professional, quick, admirable, but not deeply developed as a person. That made the development we got in the new film all the more enjoyable.
Zoe Saldana nailed the role. She was smart, professional, confident, and owned her sexuality in a way that most love interests don’t get to. From her first scene in the cadets’ Iowa bar, the way she alternately flirted with and rebuffed Kirk showed that she knew she was in control. Withholding her given name seemed to be part of that control. Of course, it also set up a great blow to Kirk’s inflated sense of his own allure, once he inadvertently found out that she was not opposed to sharing her personal details with all potential love interests, just him.
Uhura’s simultaneous comfort with her body and her intelligence is highlighted somewhat ham-handedly in the scene where she arrives back at the down, strips down to her undies, and chatters to her roommate about translating Klingon distress signals regarding the destruction of forty-seven ships of the Klingon fleet by an unknown enemy. Even once Kirk crawls out from under the bed, she is completed unfazed by her semi-nudity, and escorts him out while continuing to discuss the meaning of her translation work. It’s funny, but it’s also bad ass. This Uhura knows that she’s hot and smart, and has the confidence to let people know who she is and what she wants. The only place she expresses any uncertainty is in the emotional realm: she is unsure what Spock needs from her following the destruction of his home world, and seems worried that she might not be able to provide it.
I like this version of Uhura. I’d like to see her character developed further as the reboot series continues, though. It’s ok not to have a starring female in this one, because it was concentrated so heavily on exploring new directions for the franchise’s two central characters, Kirk and Spock. That said, part of the reason that there was only one major female character in TOS who was never actually developed as a full human individual was the underlying sexism of the times. Uhura was in many ways an accessory, despite Nichelle Nichols’ amazing strong woman performance of the role. This reflected the level to which women were often discounted as major actors in society, the degree to which women were invisible. When I think about the ways that we see women portrayed in blockbuster cinema and prime time TV today, I am not sure we have achieved much progress. I’ll have to reevaluate that once the next Trek movie comes along. Hopefully that will deliver some better, juicier action for our Nyota Uhura to dive into.
