Jammersreviews

First, a moment of silence for the passing of Gene Siskel, a man who, along
with Roger Ebert, helped bring film criticism to the mainstream of America...










--
Hey, it's only two months late. Hey, the movie is no longer even playing in
most areas. But I promised it; here it is.

Warning: Spoilers follow for TNG's latest feature film, "Star Trek:
Insurrection." If you--after all this time--still haven't seen the movie,
then proceed only at your own risk of spoilage.

Nutshell: Entertaining but thin.

-----
Star Trek: Insurrection

Theatrical release date: 12/11/1998 (USA)
[PG] 103 minutes

Screenplay by Michael Piller
Story by Rick Berman & Michael Piller
Produced by Rick Berman
Directed by Jonathan Frakes

Review by Jamahl Epsicokhan
Rating out of 4: **1/2
-----

Two years ago, "First Contact" set a very respectable new standard for the
Star Trek film franchise. It maintained the perfect balance of everything
Trek cinema should, in my view, have: action, humor, neat sci-fi technical
aspects, a story with imagination and wonder, and an overall sense of
insight regarding what Star Trek is about. At the same time, it was
approachable as good science fiction, so even a non-Trekker would probably
find it well worth the time.

"Insurrection," on the other hand, is more of a Hollywood comfort film.
Omnipresent in the movie is the sense that everyone involved was so intent
on having fun while making it that they could barely extend themselves far
enough to tell a story bearing any consequence.

Don't get me wrong; there's a lot that works in "Insurrection." But overall
I couldn't escape the feeling that I was watching actors who were trying
very hard to deliver lighthearted lines with the underlying attitude of,
"Oh, but this is all just fluff and fun--feel good about it!" than a
genuine attempt to say much new about their characters or the state of the
Federation or Star Trek universe.

The plot involves a science-fiction device that's older than science
fiction itself: A Search for the Fountain of Youth. The fountain might lie
within the planet of the Ba'ku, a peaceful non-technological people who, as
the movie opens, are being watched by Starfleet. Is it a prelude to first
contact, or something more insidious? Starfleet high-ups talk ominously.

The plot thickens: Suddenly, Data comes bursting onto the scene wearing a
suit that makes him invisible to the naked eye. (Pretty neat.) Having been
damaged, he's malfunctioning and out of control. He turns his phaser on the
hidden Starfleet watching post, making it visible to the nearby Ba'ku. The
issue involving the Ba'ku is forced when Picard is brought to the planet to
disable and retrieve Data, who is operating on "conscience" alone: Data
knows there's something morally wrong with the Starfleet plan for the
Ba'ku, but he has no mental process for addressing it. What's Starfleet's
unusual interest in this planet--located in a turbulent and unstable area
of space known as the "Briar Patch"--and what is the motivation behind the
Son'a, the race with which Starfleet has allied itself while investigating
this world?

Who are the Son'a? Well, for one, they scream "BAD GUYS" in capital
letters. They speak in gruff, stern voices and wear ominous-looking hoods.
(How does a hood look ominous? I dunno; it just does.) And they look as if
they've had skin grafts on their faces just a few hours ago--probably
because they have; on more than one occasion in the movie, we see them
receiving grafts while lying down under a device that literally stretches
their faces to make the new skin fit better.

Once the Enterprise arrives on the scene, Picard, along with Worf (who's
presence on the Enterprise is so contrived this time around that we aren't
even allowed to *hear* most of the throwaway lines explaining it), retrieve
Data in an action scene combining music, singing, special effects, and
goofy comedy in a somewhat unlikely yet effective way that sets the tone
for the film: light, funny, relatively inconsequential, fairly diverting.

With Data's memory restored, a quiet investigation of the Ba'ku village
leads Picard to uncover the planet's mystery. A Ba'ku woman named Anij
(Donna Murphy) gives Picard the brief tour and history of their people. As
it happens, the Ba'ku are not as technologically primitive as they appear;
they were warp-capable space travelers at one point, but a small subset of
their civilization abandoned the problems of technology in favor of a
simpler life in this village. Picard becomes more suspicious of the
situation when he and Data discover a cloaked ship resting in a lake not
far from the Ba'ku village. The ship is equipped with a massive holographic
grid, purpose unknown. Eventually, Anij levels with Picard: The Ba'ku do
not age on this planet. No one does.

It's not long before the brass have to come clean with Picard: Admiral
Dougherty (Anthony Zerbe), on orders from the Federation Council, has made
a deal with the Son'a to relocate the Ba'ku to another planet, using a
holographic simulation on the specially designed ship as a way of
transporting them without their knowledge and therefore, as what would be
the cause for objection, without their consent. The Federation wants to
study the world because of its properties that slow or halt aging, and
they've made a deal with the Son'a because only they have the technology
that will allow Starfleet to harvest any permanent scientific advances from
the planet's mysterious properties. Unfortunately, this will leave the
planet uninhabitable. Starfleet has looked at other alternatives, Dougherty
tells Picard, but this is the only option.

Picard calls the action an outright theft of a world. He will have nothing
to do with it and intends to argue the matter with the council. Problem is,
doing so would render the issue moot; by the time the council hears what he
has to say the Ba'ku will be relocated (which could potentially have
serious consequences to their survival) and the planet will be all but
destroyed.

The morality question is the film's most interesting element: At what point
do the ends justify the means? Is research of a phenomenon that could
literally be a fountain of youth benefiting billions of people worth
sacrificing one's principles? After all, Dougherty argues, it's only 600
people. But how many people, Picard responds, does it take before it
becomes wrong?

As interesting as the moral question is, the film doesn't develop it nearly
as far as it could've and should've. The film's titular "insurrection"
comes when Picard and crew decide to take up arms ("Lock and load," Data
says, obviously unaware he's been reprogrammed as a sound bite for
Paramount Studios) and defend the Ba'ku from being forcefully removed from
the planet. Being inside the Briar Patch, with complications arising from
the intervention of the Son'a and a host of other mitigating factors, the
Enterprise crew's actions comprise not so much an insurrection as a minor
resistance against an adversary that becomes completely severed from the
rest of the Federation's knowledge and control (though I must admit that
"Star Trek: Isolated Skirmish" probably wouldn't have been a very good
movie title). Picard isn't taking a stand against the Federation; he's
taking a stand against Dougherty, who's judgment and actions clearly become
suspect as the film progresses, thanks to the presence of Son'a leader
Ru'afo (F. Murray Abraham) who's personal interest in the matter is neither
selfless nor subtle.

Particularly since Ru'afo changes the master plan whenever he damn well
pleases--deciding to remove the Ba'ku from the planet by force once Picard
intervenes--the moral ambiguity dissipates rather quickly, turning the
conflict into an entertaining but routine example of the Enterprise crew
versus the bad guys. Admiral Dougherty just gets stuck on the wrong team.

That's a shame, because a real "insurrection" could've been very
interesting--something that might've actually challenged the moral compass
of the Federation. I liked the idea of Picard putting his career on the
line to defend these people, but if two-thirds into the film it becomes
clear that Picard's actions will ultimately be unquestionably heralded as
the Right Thing by the Federation Council, it seems a little too much like
the Easy Way Out. The risk to Picard's career isn't real because he was
never in any real danger of facing any consequences.

The "battle for paradise," as the taglines put it, works through a familiar
two-tiered plot structure. On one level is Picard's planet-bound defiance,
as he leads the Ba'ku from their village into the rocky area terrain where
they can hide from flying Son'a "tagging" devices, which tag people with
small transmitters that beam them into a Son'a ship's holding cell.

On the other level is Riker in command of the Enterprise, which is pursued
by Son'a ships, leading to the entertaining requisite battle sequences
involving technobabble and gas particles that ignite and explode, thanks to
the volatile properties of the Briar Patch. The space battles between the
Enterprise and the Son'a ships (which look really cool, by the way) are fun
in their cavalier sense, including a line where Riker actually says, "We
aren't running from these bastards anymore!" and then uses a *joystick* to
manually take control of the helm. Meanwhile, Geordi is ejecting the warp
core as a necessary defensive measure, and when the Son'a regroup for
another assault, Geordi gets the priceless opportunity to say, "We're fresh
out of warp cores!" I liked the departure from the TNG battle standard
(this turns back the clock to "Star Trek II" battle attitudes), although
the cavalier sense also supports my argument that the film panders to a
mass-market audience.

Of course, if you want mass-market pandering attitudes, you don't have to
look much further than the humor undercurrent. The tone of "Insurrection"
is very different from "First Contact" (and very different from its own
advertising campaign), and I have no problem whatsoever with that. Star
Trek has always been diverse in story theme and approach. The problem with
this approach, however, is that "Insurrection" has a tendency at times to
beat the audience over the head with the sentiment.

Natural humor is one thing; obligatory forays into humor are another.
"Insurrection" has both, but it seems there's more of the latter than the
former.

Example: "Have you noticed your boobs starting to firm up?" Beverly asks
Deanna in one scene, obviously amazed at the wonderful benefits of a
Fountain of Youth. Data overhears. Then he walks a few feet away and
repeats what he has overheard to an innocent bystander. Funny? Somewhat so,
if for the wrong reason--the I'm-surprised-they-stooped-to-such-silliness
reason. There's plenty of that sort of thing in "Insurrection." Worf is
detoured into the film mostly so he can be on the receiving end of jokes
involving pimples and the nature of Klingon puberty. (I suppose that's
better than Gates McFadden's character, though; for the third movie in a
row, Crusher is reduced to a cog in the wheel of the plot and given little
to do.)

I have nothing against Trek humor, but I enjoy it more when it comes
naturally. "Star Trek IV's" humor was somewhat understated, and grew
naturally from the characters as we knew them. "Insurrection," however,
goes on fairly large detours of circumstance to arrive at goofy situational
humor, and comes off as more forced as a result. But some of it is fun.

And concerning matters of romance ... it's something of a mixed bag, too.
The Riker/Troi thing is something that's obviously been in the character
histories for a long time, and I particularly liked the amusing issue
concerning Riker's beard. But this is the sort of thing that worked better
in television series format, where one could get an update every few weeks.
Coming in the third TNG film, it seems out of the blue, and I have to ask
if it's worth the time given how rarely we see the cast these days. It's
exactly the sort of thing that makes "Insurrection" more difficult for the
non-Trekker to understand; they aren't in on the joke. In film format, I'd
rather see a solid story than a bunch of detours into past elements left
unresolved.

Picard's gradual affections for Anij make more sense in story terms, and
the chemistry between Patrick Stewart and Donna Murphy is always right
there on the edge of being powerful ... yet it doesn't quite get there.
Anij has an ability to slow down time, and she shares this experience with
Picard, but in the flurry of the plot the romance almost feels like an
afterthought.

The other subplot involves Data's friendship with the young Ba'ku boy,
Artim (Michael Welch). Artim initially fears Data as an artificial being,
as he was raised without an understanding of technology, but a friendship
begins to develop, especially after the boy's father, Sojef (Daniel
Hugh-Kelly), is tagged and beamed away to the Son'a ship. This subplot is
amiable, but not very useful in terms of Data's quest for humanity. We've
been here, and done this, haven't we? There's also the whole issue of
Data's emotion chip, which now apparently can be removed on a whim. My
question to the producers of the TNG film series: Do you want Data to have
emotions or not? Whatever the case, it's a waste to simply have Data in a
state of non-growth. The dialog here between the android and the kid at
times seems to regress Data back to mid-run of the television series--at
the very least pre-"Generations." There are only so many opportunities for
Data these days; wasting him like this is a shame.

Overall, the guest cast is entertaining, but, again, thin. They certainly
cast these roles perfectly, and the guest actors did a great job with what
they were given. Unfortunately, they simply weren't supplied with much
substance.

Anthony Zerbe is perfect as Admiral Dougherty, a figure of bureaucracy that
finds himself on the wrong side, comes to his senses too late, and pays the
price for it. He gets the movie's best death scene when Ru'afo knocks him
around and then shoves him into one of the face-stretching machines and
face-stretches him to death. Fine and good, but there isn't much subtlety
or depth to Dougherty concerning his motives and actions. His about-face
once the situation runs out of control is nothing short of obvious, and the
second he went into a room alone to confront Ru'afo, I said to myself,
"Welp, he's gonna die."

As a villain, Rua'fo is essentially a thug. He isn't coolly bitter like
Malcom McDowell in "Generations," and he isn't manipulative or mysterious
like the Borg Queen in "First Contact." He's an intimidating brut short on
patience and high on repressed rage, and he doesn't hesitate to throw an
admiral around a room when he gets ticked off.

It's almost as if a conscious decision were made in the pre-production
stage that Rua'fo would be a return to the scenery-chewing comic-book
villains like Khan or Kruge (which is not to slight Khan at all, because
his style and dialog as such was unforgettable). The problem is, Michael
Piller's script doesn't give Rua'fo much in terms of good dialog to flesh
out the character. Lines like "If Picard or any of his people interfere,
eliminate them" seem to emanate from the comic-book realm.

But even if Rua'fo is a one-note thug, he's a *good* one-note thug. F.
Murray Abraham, not surprisingly, brings a lot to a relatively underwritten
villain, with an explosive anger and a directness that sells the
intimidation well. Abraham has an urgency that transcends the part, making
Rua'fo teeter on the edge of obsession and bitter fury. When Abraham says
something like "eliminate them," it's still enjoyable on a sort of cheesy
theatrical level.

Ru'afo's motives aren't very nice. Perhaps that's an understatement. Turns
out the Son'a and Ba'ku are really the same race. The Son'a had long ago
been expelled from the planet following an attempt to revolt against the
Ba'ku's non-technological ideology. Now the Son'a want the planet back (so
they can harvest its life-rejuvenating properties), and Ru'afo will do
whatever it takes to get what he wants. The Federation's interest in the
Ba'ku planet had unwittingly found its way into the middle of a blood feud.

I did appreciate that there's subtlety to be found in Ru'afo's number two,
Gallatin (Gregg Henry). He was also part of the original revolt against the
Ba'ku, but it becomes clear that all the killings Ru'afo is about to commit
to take the planet back is something eating away at Gallatin's conscience.
With time ticking down, Picard clues in on this, and, in a scene of extreme
swiftness yet surprising urgency (a Patrick Stewart performance can bring
urgency to about any situation) Picard talks Gallatin into listening to his
conscience and doing the right thing.

This leads to a series of events that nearly defies synopsis, as Picard
somehow beams Ru'afo and his crew onto the holographic-illusion ship to
trick Ru'afo into thinking he is on board his own ship. Thus, when he
thinks he's activating the "metaphasic injector" (the device that will
harvest the fountain of youth and poison the planet), he is actually only
flipping a dummy switch, thereby buying Picard and his crew time to foil
the plan. Jonathan Frakes, who brought great clarity to "First Contact,"
does his best in directing this confusion, but it somewhat strains
credibility. It makes more sense than it probably should, but I still felt
the symptoms of several double-takes.

Ru'afo figures out what's going on and beams himself onto the injector to
manually start it, leading Picard to beam over to stop him in The Final
Showdown [TM].

Like most everything else in the movie, the special effects are
entertaining and move the story along. But they're not
breathtaking--certainly nothing that connects the visual with the visceral
like, say, the opening shot of "First Contact." The invisible suits
comprised a reasonably interesting action scene. And there's the "palm
pet," which was cute but hardly essential. Then there are plenty of flying
tag robots, which provide a series of watchable though not exactly riveting
action scenes. And the decent holographic deceptions. Oh, yes, and Anij's
ability to slow down time until we can see the wing flapping on a
hummingbird--one of few visual effects that exists for its emotional
content rather than spectacle.

But most of the big special effects are about blowing things up. Case in
point: this final showdown, which comes complete with a Movie Bomb, which
naturally comes equipped with a digital readout that counts down while
beeping, while Picard and Ru'afo shoot at each other inside the metaphasic
injector--a huge device with awesome-looking space sails on the outside and
plenty of open space (conducive for a shooting gallery) on the inside.

Original villain death scenes are hard to come by these days, but Rua'fo's
death is another one of those instances where we're supposed to cheer when
Picard is beamed out of the exploding injector at the Last Possible Moment,
while Rua'fo gets blowed up real good. This is Hollywood moviemaking all
the way, lacking imagination and instead going with the safe bet.

In a way, Rua'fo's explosive demise perfectly sums up my feelings of
"Insurrection." Did I enjoy watching him blow up? Sure. Was there much
thought or ironic insight required to come to the conclusion that Rua'fo
must be blown up? Not a chance. Did I want something more? Yep.

The movie is entertaining in a superficial way. I sort of liked
"Insurrection." But I also felt kind of disappointed afterward. Considering
TNG movies only happen once every two (or more, in the future) years, it
seems to me that more should be done with a film than to make it a
glorified episode where the ship glides in, solves the problem, and glides
out--end of story. What's lacking are the lingering questions. A fountain
of youth is something that would change the perception of the entire
Federation. Isn't that worth examining? Having one admiral (who dies) as
the sole Federation representative for eternal youth is simply not enough,
and watching the Enterprise fly away from what could be the Greatest
Discovery Ever seems a little simplistic.

The bottom line is simple: The film is a good diversion. But you might want
to be sure your brain is in the "off" position before, during, and after
viewing.

--
Upcoming: Assuming there will be another TNG feature, I'm of the opinion
they should wait more than two years for the next one. As much as I like a
Trek movie, I'd much rather see them as "event" movies, rather than getting
in the habit of releasing them so frequently that the receiving attitude is
one of "Another Trek movie ... *already*?"

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Copyright (c) 1999 by Jamahl Epsicokhan, all rights reserved. Unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this article is prohibited.

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Jamahl Epsicokhan - jammer@...