The ’60s in America were the perfect time for a kid to become a fan of sci-fi, if just for the optimism it lent that we humans did have a future to look forward to. Bad enough that the cold war was still on, but with the protests and violence over civil rights and Vietnam, America itself was divided over what was right and what was wrong. There were clearly great aspirations–we as a country were working to go to the moon after all–but the man who personified that idealism–and established the challenge to go to the moon–had been killed in the most horrible way. (Some days after Kennedy’s assassination, I remember confronting my parents over whether he was really dead because I had just seen him on television–obviously it must have been some tape of a prior speech–and was positive, absolutely positive, that he was wearing a bandage around his head, and so he had to be okay.)
So when Lost in Space first aired, I was open to it. A whole family, on their own, against the universe! And a year later, when Star Trek came along, that was even better. In fact, I couldn’t imagine anything better. Humans were colonizing the galaxy, system by system; no stopping us now. And the tech was wonderful, as well as “appropriately” mysterious. Yes, there had to be so much more to learn about nature and how to take advantage of it (and how to protect yourself from it). These guys had transporters–energy/matter conversion–and warp drive based on anti-matter. (Yes, why wouldn’t/shouldn’t nuclear energy as we knew it be old hat? That was only “right”.) But how did all that work exactly? No clue.
Ten years later I attended my one and only Star Trek convention, in New York. All the cast members were on hand; the plans to do a movie (the first) were confirmed as a done deal. A mock-up of the Enterprise bridge formed the stage. The cast came out, one by one, to banter with the full house. When Nimoy appeared, he gazed about the auditorium, stone-faced, and finally said, “Yes, you’re an emotional bunch of humans.” (God only knows how many times the poor man has been obliged to say that over the years.) Then of course Shatner came “on deck”. He took his time eyeing the center chair–it was actually rather wobbly on its base–then cheerfully climbed into it. Camera bulbs went wild. (However, the day before, someone had rushed forward at this point and thrown a pie into his face. He begged our crowd in all seriousness never to think about doing such a thing, asking us to appreciate how scary it was for him, since he could never take for granted that a pie would turn out to be just a pie.)
When TNG aired, I had my doubts at first. Wasn’t sure I liked the new Enterprise on the outside, though it was wonderful on the inside. And Picard: didn’t lead away teams, and came across as too reserved, calm, and collected, which while certainly not bad things in and of themselves did not seem to promise metaphysical angst. But the new series quickly won me over–the same old optimism was there, as well as the metaphysical angst. And Data was the perfect “twist” on what Spock had represented.
DS9 also quickly won me over. It was unquestionably different in tone and drama, but the overall storyline–a once-oppressed-now-free culture, greatly inspired by religion, which in turn was derived from the influences (cleverly presented as both intended and unintended) of another, other-worldly, alien race–was too promising not to pay attention to, and the subsequent plot line with the Founders also carried some wonderfully heavy baggage.
Voyager did not hold my interest nearly as well, but I watched pretty faithfully all the same because I thought Janeway was a great character, truly another “Kirk” in terms of her boldness and inner strength.
And then came Enterprise, for which I had high hopes. I watched through the first three seasons pretty regularly, but I was missing “the magic”. Like Voyager, most of the characters did not interest me terribly. I liked Archer, but not as much as Janeway; he seemed to be too unsure of his bearing too much of the time, which could yet have worked quite well if only it had been tied to some sense of the evolving Federation-to-be, and so a key theme. My hopes were renewed, briefly, with the Xindi plot line (with its initially potential thematic relations to 9/11 that turned out to be mostly my own imagination), but it eventually struck me as unimaginative. I’m glad to hear the current season apparently had some of the old “zip”, but sadly for me the local cable company stopped carrying UPN, and so I’ve missed it.
It’s a sad good-bye for me, but if the series has taught me anything, it’s the importance of believing in the future, and in this case that the series itself will always have a future, some way, somehow.