Movie review: Galaxy Quest

Originally published January 28, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1367

Ask any Jew what we do on Christmas Day. I mean, we don’t have family gatherings. We don’t run downstairs to look under the Christmas tree. We don’t go around singing carols, and you can’t count on a White Christmas for sledding or building snowmen. Of course, if you’re a Jewish doctor (and aren’t those rare as hen’s teeth?) you might well be on call.

But for the average Jew, what can we count on for the day where the country which mandates a separation between church and state shuts down offices (including all government ones) in order to celebrate the (most likely mythical) birthday of a noted religious figure?

Movies and Chinese food.

No question. Go to the movies, because the theaters are open, and bring in (or go out for) Chinese, because the proprietors of said restaurants could not give a dámņ about whose (mythical) birthday it is. (Perhaps Mr. Garrison runs around to Chinese restaurants and wishes them a happy bleepin’ Christmas.) And if you’re really lucky and live in the right area, you can even do the Jewish Triple Crown: Chinese, movie, and Kosher deli (the meal order is interchangeable.)

At long last, Hollywood is taking notice of this grand Jewish Christmas tradition and has actually started opening films on Christmas day. I think I speak for Jews all over America in saying it’s about bloody time.

So this Christmas past (not to be confused with Christmas present and Christmas future) I trekked out, appropriately enough, to the local cinema to see Galaxy Quest.

Judging by the box office receipts, not enough people are doing so. I cannot recommend it highly enough. This has the potential to be the best overlooked film of 1999 since The Iron Giant.

The basic premise is as follows: “Galaxy Quest” is a Star Trek-like TV series which went off the air some eighteen years ago, and the type-cast actors have been eking out an existence doing in-costume appearances for the enthused and obsessive followers of the show, known as “Questerians” (not to be confused with “Questies.”) Now granted, the Trek actors never appear in uniform, but certainly Adam West did enough Batman costumed appearances, so it’s not without precedent.

The nominal leader, Jason Nesmith (Tim Allen) is William Shatner redux, not so much in his acting or hair considerations, but rather because he is considered a scene-stealing glory hog by his fellow castmates and is utterly oblivious to the contempt in which they hold him. Whereas Shatner learned how he was perceived while preparing his Trek-related autobiography, Nesmith ignominously overhears the truth of his “friend’s” feelings while in a men’s room stall. Moments later, in a sequence evocative of the famous Shatner “Get-a-life” speech, he practically eviscerates a fan for asking the sort of picayune technical question that he previously thrived upon.

Matters take a rather unexpected turn, however, when the cast of “Galaxy Quest” is caught up in what could only be called a massive interstellar misunderstanding. They are approached by what they believe to be a group of fans who are so into the show that they want them to re-enact sequences on a set in someone’s basement. Unbeknownst to them, the “fans” are actually a shape-shifted race of jello-mold octopi called the Thermians from the in-jokingly named Klatu Nebula. The confusion goes both ways: The guileless Thermians, having no concept of deceit, believe that the “Galaxy Quest” TV series was “historical tapes” depicting the actual adventures of a real crew of adventurers. (The misimpression is not limited to “Galaxy Quest”: The mere mention of Gilligan’s Island prompts a tragic sigh of “Those poor people.”) The Thermians, who have modeled their entire civilization upon the broadcasts, desperately need the assistance of the crew of the Protector before an evil despot named Sarris (a move certain to endear the movie to film critic Andrew Sarris) wipes them out

The basic concept of the story is not screamingly original. The same basic notion of a transplanted TV actor was seen in the TV movie The Adventures of Captain Zoom, not to mention in Peter Jurasik’s novel Diplomatic Act, which basically thrusts a pastiche of his Babylon 5 character Londo Mollari into the midst of a dicey interstellar negotiation. I also seem to recall a fan-written story some twenty years ago in Star Trek: The New Voyages in which the actors from the TV series find themselves thrust into a Trek reality.

Still, there are no original ideas, and it’s all in what you do with it. And screenwriters Robert Gordon and David Howard do a hëll of a lot, ably aided by Dean Parisot’s brisk direction. The script treads a remarkably fine line without falling off. Its jabs at Trek fandom and the mentality thereon are gentle jabs rather than fierce stings, the send-ups of the original Trek series clearly in good fun rather than nasty fun.

The cast is clearly having a ball, because let’s face it: If you’re going to do a space send-up, who better to have leading the way than Buzz Lightyear and Warrant officer Ripley? Allen wisely evokes Shatner without slipping over into outright imitation, subtly paralleling the Kirk mannerisms while sitting in the command chair (and naturally losing his shirt at one point.) Sigourney Weaver as Gwen Demarco sports a blonde wig and a Wonder-Bra enhanced pair of breasts (at one point she’s introduced by an MC at the convention with, “It’s Gwen Demarco! And just look at those great effects!”) Her “Quest” character of Tawny Madison is a deliriously hysterical send-up of Yeoman Rand and Lieutenant Uhura, rolled into one, since her job is basically to sit around, look gorgeous, and repeat what other people (or in this case, the computer) say.

Alan Rickman as the world weary Alexander Dane evokes both Leonard Nimoy and Patrick Stewart, feeling choked by the popularity of his alien character (remember I am Not Spock?) and pining for the Shakespearean career he feels forever denied. Daryl Mitchell (thankfully having dropped the “Chill” from the middle of his name) is Wesley Crusher, all grown up , a former kid actor who never had a chance to develop any sort of career outside “Galaxy Quest.” Tony Shalhoub does incredible work with the underwritten character of Fred Kwan, generating laughs by tossing away lines with flippant abandon, and clearly going through much of the adventure while buzzed.

Impressively for a Trek-inspired film, absolutely no Trek terminology creeps in. “Engineer” becomes “Tech Sergeant,” “Transporter” becomes “digitizer,” “deflectors” or “shields” become “plasma armor,” and so on. But there are additional nods for those in the know, most of them involving Guy (Sam Rockwell), the panicked bit actor who comes along for the ride and is terrified that he’ll be quickly dispatched (like a typical Trek red-shirt guard) “to show that the situation’s dangerous.” It is Guy who deconstructs a typical “Quest” episode by ruthlessly and accurately predicting the mishaps their landing party runs into during a refueling run (“Didn’t any of you watch the program?!” he shouts at one point). He also suggests a solution at one point taken straight from the Trek episode “Arena.”

With all the send-up of science fiction clichés in general and Trek in particular, Galaxy Quest does hit on one ageless question that is relevant to fandom in general. Fans always encounter their idols/heroes/what-have-you with a certain degree of expectations. How much of an obligation do those in the public eye have in terms of fulfilling those obligations? The short answer is, “None.” Unfortunately, the other short answer is also, “A lot.” Let’s argue it both ways next week.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)