Why the Enterprise matters (and the rest is anti-matter)

I think the problem here is you've got a whole new generation of directors out there getting saddled with DPs and camera operators who tend to bully them. Let's face it - the frustrated DP is really a wannabe director. They like the percieved prestige and anonymous sense of celebrity that goes into being a director, but they don't want the responsibility of bearing failure and possibly losing jobs in the future, so they like to call themselves "hired hands". There are no directors like Kubrick, like Hitchcock; those who wielded considerable power from the late 60's to late 70's, chose their set-ups, chose their lenses and lights. In film school, prospective directors aren't even being taught the basics anymore (relationship of emulsions, light to film, stop-motion, set-up and composition) Instead, you get film school dropouts who can't seem to sit still long enough to understand what it is they photograph. They just want time on the playing field because the Unions have destroyed the concept of "auteur"-ship. They don't believe in a single vision and they rewrite the rules of collaboration.

Abrams is a Hell of a writer-producer, but this being a "Star Trek" movie, he had to employ thousands of people, and he probably never got a chance to look through the camera - (another oddly stiff Union regulation) or choose stocks and lenses. So he has to make due directing the actors and not the crew, when in reality, the director is responsible for everything and everyone on his/her set.

Terrific post, that. While I didn't mind the technique as much as you did, there were a number of times when I was taken out by wondering what a certain effect is supposed to be exactly. Particularly, I remember one of those gliding upside-down shots of the Enterprise, where I was too busy trying to figure out why it felt like the Enterprise was doing the moving instead of the virtual camera.

That being said, more often than not, I was impressed by the simple creativity on display. Ths is the first CGI film in a long time that I was actually interested and impressed with the concept behind some of the CGI. Shots that are genuinely awe-inspiring. Part of them are just superb technique (Like that misty shot of a Star-shjip under construction), but some of them have a bit of a twist on the usual stuff.
I appreciated the small stuff, like the first introduction to Vulcan. It looks like a typical futuristic CGI city, with the buildings getting taller and taller. Suddenly, we get a structure coming from on top of us, and see a massive building connected to it. Nothing big, yet the small twist in this and other scenes gave me a whole lot good-will towards Abrams. Director he may not be, but I felt a basic level of sincerity, and a basic level of wanting to share some interesting or fun or exciting image with the audience. He can't tell the difference between when something is an image we'll appreciate or just an obtrusive 'cool' moment...but at least he tries.

AMEN.

I liked this movie more than you did, Jim, but I totally agree with the "drawing energy" theory. Sometimes a sensory overload makes sense, in order to submerge the audience in a certain exotic environment (City of God is an excellent example) or to dizzy the audience with a range of conflicting impressions (the Omaha Beach scene in Saving Private Ryan), but a director needs to realize when this starts to get in the way of the drama and hold back when necessary.

I dunno, for every shot in "Star Trek" that might not work I think there's plenty that do. I like when Spock transports himself to Vulcan, there's something iconic about that shot.

There's a new movie on the rise, I call it the hip-hop movie because it's constructed to be more of a steady flow of action and drama than your more traditional verse/chorus (setup/climax?). Abrams with Star Trek, Nolan with his Batman films and then movies like Crank and The Bank Job, they're not out to make a collection of perfectly thought-out compositions but are more concerned with how the present shot connects with the movie as a whole. The emotions lie underneath the surface for the most part and is let out in bursts, like Spock's freak-out or the final Batman/Gordon/Two-Face scene in TDK.

Saying any of these films "need a director" is low and mean spirited, I'm sure Nolan and Abrams put just as much thought into their movies as Bahrani put into his. They just weren't thinking about how to please you specifically.

I agree with you that the lens flares and needlessly tilting angles were distracting an otherwise engaged and exciting film. I can recall a shot where characters were running down a hallway and the camera starts on a dutch tilt and as it pans tilts to the opposite axis, as if transitioning in camera from one unnecessarily tilted angle to the next was supposed to impart the idea of running down a hallway. Perhaps it's because we're in space and it's all crazy in space, despite the artificial gravity. Ok, so if this wasn't the reason there was probably a debatable one, a decision arrived at after considering a lot of different options. The only difference is that a director like Bahrani has exquisite taste and Abrams has, what I'll call, fanboy taste. Flash and pomp and circumstance are to the fanboy as carefully considered framing of natural environments is to the indie film darling. That Star Trek worked despite this would have to be a credit to the actors and perhaps the story, a jaunty little trip through space that gave us a Star Trek crew who was constantly in motion, taking advantage of the technology to beam around, shoot lasers, parachute out of space (...parachute out of space?) and whatnot. I would reason that this aesthetic choice with the flares and the digital bounce camera (ugh, remember the days when if a camera operator bumped the camera the DP and Director would say 'Well we have to do it again' instead of 'Good, now the scene has energy...now that you bumped the camera...yeah) and also the close-ups as coverage, not just a detriment of the TV director, but more were attempts to make the film feel "real" in a documentary sense. So rarely do sci-fi films adopt this strategy, usually being carefully crafted (or not depending on the budget) so that the action of actors can match up to special effects. The camera will be more static so as to create an overall feeling of the film being consistent when adding the effects called for by the sci-fi premise. What modern technology allows for is the ability to realistically (to a degree) add these elements no matter where the camera is. So what I would put forth as my assumption of what Abrams was going for here was a crazy, but not too crazy, camera that would be run-and-gunning it to give the visceral feel of an action film because the integrity of the effects is not dependent upon placement, thus adding to the realism of the out there premise. Thus why I called it the fanboy taste, because fanboys want this stuff to be seen as other films are, with all the same shortcomings I'm afraid. But they're turned on by the novelty, "You never see lens flare in a sci-fi movie, it's new, it's cool!" When Cool Hand Luke this ain't. But despite that I was genuinely entertained and will probably see it again, viva cinema! Oh and why the hell did the engine room look like a sub-basement boiler room? Cooling pipes and whatnot, pipes in general, I mean it's the future for chrissakes can't our spaceships been green! You're living for your car man, simplify!

The thing that kept distracting me about the movie was how tightly shot everything was -- not tight in the sense of economy, but tight in how relentlessly CLOSE UP everything was.

Even when the camera's showing the Enterprise in space firing up for its first jump to Warp Speed, the ship fills the frame and we can't see all of it. Why?

Vulcan seemed to be made up of a mountain range and a creepy classroom, and for all I know the room Spock gives the finger to his elders is 10 feet by 10 feet, because we never really SEE how big it is. I thought this was the best ST movie in the sense that it felt like a MOVIE and not a Very Special Episode of a small-time TV show, but it still felt oddly constrained.

Thanks for this. I'm baffled by the wild praise this thing is getting. "Soul of a producer" is exactly right. At least "TDK" was singular and memorable, even if Chris Nolan is a lousy action director and the film was awkwardly saddled with stiff speeches about Good and Evil and Heroism and Morality. Abrams' "Star Trek" is so dull that I would've gladly accepted some Nolan-esque pretensions just to give me something to do with myself. I was, for the most part, bored, although I agree that the cast was the best part (even if only Kirk and Spock had much to do). I thought Chris Pine would be another blandsome leading man, but it turns out he's quite charismatic and funny. So, nice surprise there, but everything else? Blah. I'd say that Abrams ought to quit directing and stick to the life of a producer, but really he's no worse than 9 out of 10 directors doing action films right now.

While I enjoyed this new Star Trek movie, I do wish it would have been more of a story about the characters, rather than simply setting up the characters so that they couold be thrust into the action. Also, many of the other Trek movies have had a central theme or idea that gets explored in the story; this one seemed lacking in that department. Mostly it was fun to see Leonard Nimoy on the big screen again while I ticked off the refernces to previous incarnations of Star Trek.

You absolutely nailed it. I saw Star Trek yesterday after a solid week of re-watching the original series on Blu-ray. I don't love all things Trek but I adore the original series and really had high hopes for this film (as a Star Trek film, just to be clear) and it is exactly the points you make that made my heart sink. Such a constant barrage of overbearing hand held camera work and always way too close in. I spent the whole film feeling agitated that they refused to pull the camera back and observe the bridge and that they kept shining lights in my face. What's really sad is that the production designer really did a beautiful job on the sets (unlike the bland gray of all other Trek in recent memory) and they were completely wasted by Abrams. The (techni)colors and the melodrama speak volumes; why do we need such frenetic camerawork and editing? Don't use it is it doesn't serve any purpose.

While I agree that the movie has some huge leaps of logic and science at times, and that the camera work was often off-putting, this is the first movie in years where I literally walked out and bought a ticket for the next screening and sat through it again. I have been watching movies for 29 of my 33 years of life, and that has only happened to me three other times: After Empire Strikes Back (age 7 in 1983 on a re-release at a $0.50 theater), after Terminator 2 (age 14), and after Doug Liman's "Go."

I waited for each of the DVDs of the new Star Wars movies to watch them a second time (actually I haven't seen Episode III a second time, though, oddly, I own it on DVD). I see tons of movies every year, but rarely do I plunk down an extra $10 these days to see a movie twice on the same day. Complain away about the poor lighting choices, the obvious acting choices, the needless, overdone coincidences, and the implausibility of practically everything, and STILL I loved it. I sat through Insurrection and Nemesis. This movie was WAAAAY better. It was fun!

Compared to the dreadful Wolvering the week before, this movie was a blast! Even during the scenes where I was being emotionally manipulated and KNEW it while I was watching, they still got me (Kirk's birth, Spock's moment with Uhura, the first money shot backed by Giacchino's score of the Enterprise, the enterprise showing up to save Spock and Kirk from Nero, etc., ad nauseum). I can't wait to see it again with IMAX!

Hi Jim,

The most disheartening aspect of this discussion is perhaps that so few critics actually raised the issues you mention here. There has been near unanimous praise --save for a few contrarians (e.g. Anthony Lane)-- for how JJ Abrams made Star Trek accessible and resurrecting it from the dead, that the actual film itself has become secondary.

I saw it over the weekend, and although I was well-entertained and intrigued while watching, it sort of became a blur in my memory. It's funny that you mention the pointlessness of the lens flares and camera movements, because they quite literally make the film a blur. For every great shot or moment that Abrams creates (e.g., Vulcan's destruction, the wide open interior of Nero's ship), he smothers another with flashes of light and motion. He doesn't seem interested in presenting a real sense of atmosphere or place. The Enterprise is truly a character in the old shows and films, which is why it's such an important moment when it perishes in Star Trek III. But here it has no life, no personality. To his credit, Abrams easily and pleasantly dances between melodramatic and comedic sensibilities, as Matt Zoller Seitz pointed out in his review. In this regard, Matt compared Abrams to Steven Spielberg, whose balance of moods and sensibilities from moment to moment is a major component of his style.

JJ Abrams was on Charlie Rose last week, discussing Spielberg, among other things. Abrams summed up his admiration of Spielberg by citing the filmmaker's compositional fluidity (paraphrasing), and his ability to locate a visual unity within scenes, moments, and shots. Not that I would want him to try to mimic Spielberg, but it's curious that Abrams' own visual style couldn't be more different than that of Spielberg, who, despite his use lens flares in his later work (e.g. Minority Report), approaches visual storytelling much in the same way Ramin Bahrani does, despite that they tell different stories.

JE: I love Matt's review -- which I'd put off reading until after I'd finished my post. (Went back and updated it with a quote from Matt later.) I thought of Spielberg, too -- and missed him. He doesn't waste energy or effects. He lets you take them in, not by forcing them down your gullet, but not by fragmenting them and making you feel cheated that you're not really getting to see them, either. Those much-parodied Spielberg moments of people's faces staring at something wonderful or awesome or terrifying -- they really worked. Doesn't anybody know how to do awe anymore?

I agree with you that "The Dark Knight" had some serious problems with its action choreography, mostly because it served no purpose. But I don't think it's the same for "Star Trek."

Chaos versus order... that's what it came down to for me. For instance, Kirk's reckless youth is staged much more jaggedly than Spock's relatively sedate upbringing forming a visual counterpoint that is also reflected in Nero vs. Starfleet.

If one accepts that Nero is an agent of chaos and Kirk and co. are agents of order, then the visual style is justified. In the early part of the film, every Nero appearance has a chaotic, dangerous feeling due to the tight and disorienting camera movements. His ship's design also reflects that in the sense that it's size or scale is hard to get a grasp of (except we know it dwarfs the clean-looking Enterprise). The dislocation felt by the viewer is also necessary to create the sense of the timeline being disrupted by Nero with the iciting event of the movie, the (SPOILER WARNING) death of Kirk's father.

Compare the sequence where the Enterprise first emerges into a starship graveyard over Vulcan - the dizzying dirtiness of it - to the same set of circumstances at the beginning of "Star Trek: First Contact" where the Enterprise zooms into a similar field of starship debris when fighting the Borg. How clean and antiseptic it was in that case. In this new version of "Trek," space feels dangerous in a way it hasn't since the days of the original series when redshirts galore were killed to prove that point.

This was one area in which I didn't mind the "Star Wars" influence (or more precisely "Battlestar Galactica" influence) of the "twisty-turny" camera in space. One of my biggest criticisms of space shots in "Star Trek" has always been it's two-dimensional thinking in regard to space. Space is not a flat plane. Kirk even used this to defeat Khan in ST:II, the last film in the series to really take advantage of this 3-D concept. How gratifying it was to see the film's opening shot be that of the USS Kelvin zooming in space upside-down, as there is no up or down in space.

Once Kirk and crew start to get a handle on the situation, and control of the film's events falls into their hands, then the space sequences become more visually ordered (the turning point seems to be Spock's hijacking of the future-ship from Nero's landing bay).

If I have any nits to pick it is in the script, where there seems to be a "Lost"-ification of Kirk by injecting a Daddy issue that was never present in the original character. This seems to be part of the effort to bring "Trek" closer to the more popular "Star Wars," i.e., Luke's destiny being informed by Anakin's decisions.

PS: Was your quote from "Hamlet" a deliberate choice to identify yourself as a fan of "Star Trek: The Next Generation"? This was a quote used by Captain Picard at an important moment on the series.

JE: Interesting, though, that Nero gets the most satisfying, sustained close-ups in the movie. I don't know if that ruddy complexion, freckles and all, are actually Eric Bana's, but the palpable texture of real skin beneath the tattoos -- and a working-man's beard -- go a long way toward fleshing out the character, as it were. I chose that quote from "Hamlet" because of all the Shakespeare that runs throughout the "Star Trek" universe (I'm not familiar with the Picard moment you mention), and because (as excerpted from a speech that's really about despair, at least) it exemplifies the exuberant humanism of "Trek."

Man delights not me, nor Klingons neither.

I think you get to the heart of what makes Star Trek tick with your description of what makes the Enterprise so compelling. I may be alone, however, in actually liking the lens flares. I enjoyed the idea of the ship as a bright, insular haven against the blackness and bleakness of space. Didn't distract me in the least.

I'm with you... again. But I wish I wasn't. I want to enjoy this and have heard good things about it but now I watch this clip and... Jesus! The lens flares are out of control! I can't focus on the scene. I'm really growing tired of being the old fogey in the room, the curmudgeon telling everyone how movies were made in the good old days before hyper-CGI and ramping but the thing is I can't ignore it. And I can't ignore the nagging feeling that if this kind of camera work doesn't bother you then you don't know much about what makes a movie good. Oh well. I'll try my best to ignore it when I see it.

Jim,

I do not find the lens flares bothersome at all; by itself, that is. It seems to compliment the overall ambience of the bridge, which I find rather pleasing.

But you are absolutely right. Were I a crew member of the bridge, I would definitely find the lights shining head on very distracting (akin to being flashed by the headlights of a car). For people who wear glasses, I imagine this to be more painful. I agree that they shouldn't have designed the bridge that way.

Jim, I think the overall idea that the filmmakers wanted to impart to the audience is crudeness. Except for the elegant form of the latest flagship Enterprise, this ugly-duckling crudeness is evident throughout all the sets of the film, harking more to dad's old truck than the envied neighborhood's sleek state-of-the-art aston Martin. The film is set many years before the Federation's encounter with V-ger, when Kirk was already an admiral. Even the Starship Enterprise in the V-ger time period was just beginning to bud in ergonomical beauty and finesse, though not yet fully.

One of the things fans complain about in Star Wars is its anachronisms by way of special effects and sets. (Though who can blame George Lucas for starting with the fourth series in the lot?) In Star Trek, I'm glad that J. J. Abrams took the pains to create authenticity within the timeline. It may not have been pulled off very thoroughly, but it is, I believe, mostly uniform in a competent way.

Except for the Red Beast, that is. How I wished Mr. Abrams had done away with the red beast that chased Kirk down the icy planet. What was that CGI Aliens thingy doing down there?! Lens flares are okay. Kirk having angst because of the absence of parents is okay, too (since that is the only natural thing to happen). Heck, even Chris Pine gorging down the apple in Kobayashi Maru is okay! But, the Red Thingy beast definitely is not, and it has got to go. It is very out of place in the film.

That said, I find this latest instalment of Star Trek very beautiful. Beautiful as in nostalgic, old-space beautiful. The masculine sexuality of the film matches perfectly with the Enterprise's elegance. Oh, how my heart pounded in excitement when Sulu, Kirk and Redshirt freefalled in the Vulcan atmosphere. And look at that ship old Spock came in with through the worm hole! I wish I had one of those!

Jim,

correction: complement, not compliment. Thanks. I'm mixing them up.

While I enjoyed the new Star Trek movie (as a lapsed fan), there was something really bugging me that I couldn't quite put my finger on. But, you got it! It's the whole "producer as director" thing you describe that I think held the film back.

Jim, I just had to echo: you nailed it. Your critique identifies precisely why I no longer wait in lines to see a (scifi/fantasy/super hero/etc.) movie on its opening day: it's made for the short attention-span theater crowd, and made badly.

You can apply all the exact same complaints you made to Lucas' butchering of his classics with the "Special Editions" of THX-1138 and Star Wars "Episode IV". My favorite example was the scene he butchered where the protagonists are heading into the canteena from the land speeder. In the original, it's a transition piece: you're heading from one chapter of the story into another. It's a simple, subtle long shot with believable backdrop. It's a great scene, giving the audience a moment to relax and reflect on what's happening and I happened to find this scene believable because there's nothing unrealistic about it whatsoever. I've always loved it because as a kid, I freaked out over those lizard creatures the stormtroopers rode and sure enough in the background there's one of the few shots of one, just lowing and slowly moving its head JUST LIKE A REAL GIANT BEAST OF BURDEN WOULD DO.

But Lucas wasn't satisfied, oh no. "There was a robotic malfunction" he said, "the lizard was supposed to be dancing a jig in that scene" he said. So he took some CGI spackling paste and converted a subtle, simple scene into a ridiculous paean illustrating all that is wrong in scifi/fantasy filming today.

The jerk.

Please keep up the great work, Jim!

This post crystallizes what I find is the core problem about the movie, which is that, for the most part, the movie failed to be about Trek and became about Abrams. The entire textual story, after all, is about a young hotshot getting a command he only recently wanted, and facing off against an ungainly mess of a ship run by an angry, bitter, fairly nondescript man: it feels very much like an Abrams et al. version of what their taking over the Trek universe is like, with Nero and his ship as the years of ungainly continuity the film chooses to excise. And maybe that would be okay, except that this doesn't put much in its place--as fun as the cast is (and it is lots of fun!), there are no philosophical or moral or intellectual insights here, and the emotional ones are fairly obvious.

I don't really get the J.J. Abrams thing, honestly; he really is a producer, an okay director, and almost certainly not a writer. I am basically going off of Lost, where he wrote the pilot episode which was certainly not exceptional from a writing perspective (here's the premise, here are some characters, oh, and look, here's a polar bear!); and my general understanding is that it was Lindelof and Cuse who ran the show after that. He was credited with Cloverfield but he neither wrote nor directed that. Maybe I need to watch Alias or Felicity to understand why people hold in high regard as anything besides a guy with a few basic ideas who should let other people take the reins.

I just read Matt's review. I agree with it, generally (I probably liked it less than he did). I think the destruction of planet Vulcan (and Romulus, in the 24th century) was another big moment that was not given any importance. It's genocide, for heaven's sakes, and I understand that genocide won't be treated the same in a sci-fi fantasy as in a historical drama, but a little effort to show this as being a big deal besides the cause of Spock's emotional outburst would be nice.

(Compare for Battlestar Galactica, which had a little more time, admittedly, but took it seriously.)

Still planning to see "Star Trek" with my dad at the IMAX (a real IMAX) this Friday, but this post -- and that clip -- just made me a tad less excited.

"In other words, just because you can send the camera hurtling through the air, or turning upside down and sideways, is -- in and of itself -- not a good reason to do so."

That instantly reminded me of something Jon Favreau said in an interview around the time of "Iron Man's" release, which perfectly indicates why he may yet emerge as the first-rate director of big-budget action movies today:

When Iron Man's flying we'd send real planes up to do the choreography so that we'd get the camerawork to really look like a cameraman was following from another plane. It gives it that Top Gun look. One of the first things I did was I sat down all the people working on the visual effects and we screened scenes from Top Gun and scenes from Stealth and I said, "Why does Top Gun look so much more real?" Stealth had all of this money, technology and state-of-the-art effects and it looks like you're watching a videogame.

We figured out that a lot of it had to do with how restrained the camera was. Don't give the camera too much freedom or choreography. Get the shading right, the lighting right and there are things you can do to make the CGI look more real. People end up going crazy and give themselves a little too much freedom in how they use CGI and if you overuse it, it draws attention to itself.

This is something the great animators have known and understood for years -- the best way to achieve real emotion and verisimilitude in animation is, for the most part, to compose shots as if you were filming through a "real" camera (see: any Pixar movie, particularly Brad Bird's).

This is why I found a lot of the effects shots in "Knowing" so effective, despite the fact that the CG quality itself was a little shoddy. Alex Proyas composed the shots in ways to make it feel like some spectacularly destructive sequences were actually occurring, with the characters actually experiencing them, and the camera actually picking it all up as it happened. When it comes to fooling the eye with CG, the quality of the effects do count for a lot, but even more important is using smart camera work to achieve a convincing level of credibility to the shots themselves.

Thanks Jim,
You've nailed it on the lens flares issue. I used to equate lens flares with poor cinematographic skills - forgetting the barn doors on the lens hood - but now it's all the rage, like scratchy vinyl records.
As much as I enjoyed this reboot of the franchise, I was trying to ignore the "messy" look of those lens flare and dutch angles. For the first time in the entire Star Trek universe, space felt claustrophobic. I never sensed the vastness of it because there was so much clutter and close-ups. All those cool designs, and rarely a moment to pause and get a good look at them. It was clearly meant to be a high-energy romp and it sure was, but I lament the fact that I have to wait for the DVD to be able to pause scenes to appreciate all the good design.

Frustrating when you're enjoying a movie and the camerawork demands attention.

JE: In the classic age of Hollywood movies, lens flares were considered flaws -- unprofessional lapses. Then, in the '60s, they came into fashion, giving films a less polished, guerilla-style look. Now they're just part of the repertoire of effects any DP has at his/her disposal. They were used very effectively, for example, in "Close Encounters" to make the lights of the SFX spaceships appear to be moving through real Earth airspace. (Remember the blinding -- oblong, anamorphic! -- lights appearing in the rear window of Roy Neary's truck? Or the little red blip that followed some of the other saucers up on what looked like Mulholland Drive?) And we've all seen lens flares used in desert landscapes to emphasize blazing heat and light. Why you'd throw 'em around, willy nilly, on the bridge of the Enterprise, though, is beyond me. You want to save these kinds of effects for moments of emotional impact. "Star Trek" uses them uniformly throughout the film.

Goodness, Jim. What ever happened to just enjoying a solid, entertaining popcorn flick? Well, at least I though it was a fun summer ride. You think Abrams set out to make a work of art with perfectly composed compositions and thoughtful camera movements? No. He set out to make a thrill ride for the masses, with humor and dazzling eye-candy. There is room in the world of cinema for those, I believe. Orlando Sentinel movie critic Roger Moore put it best in his 2007 review of the film '300': "In the cinema, there have always been 'films' and 'movies.' One speaks to art, the other to pure lost-in-the-popcorn-moment excitement." 'Star Trek' certainly qualifies as the latter. All this dissection of lighting, camera work, and frame composition just seems like you have a bit too much time on your hands Jim. Maybe instead you should watch another movie. Whatever you do, though, don't spend money on 'Wolverine.'

JE: Believe me, I won't spend money on "Wolverine." I'm not the target audience for that movie. As for "Star Trek" -- this is a TV and movie franchise with a 43-year history, one I've grown up loving. I don't buy the argument that just because it's not very good it's good enough. As a summer-movie roller-coaster ride, the track is pretty flat. Somebody with a facility for directing movies could just as easily have made a much more enjoyable one. It comes down to this: The relentlessly busy, fussy direction distracts from the story. Needlessly bad decisions time after time, scene after scene. You didn't notice those lights shining in your eyes? Fine. But "Star Trek" has a record of standards to uphold. I don't expect the picture to be a cinematic masterpiece, but I expect it, at the very least, to be emotionally engaging in the "Star Trek" tradition. OK, so the new movie is no "Wrath of Khan." But it doesn't quite live up to the values -- production values or storytelling values -- that made the series last this long, either. The cast is fun. The next one just needs a helmer who knows how to direct movies, that's all.

I haven't seen the new Star Trek movie, and as someone who's never been fond of the franchise, I probably won't.

Some of the discussion here has revolved around the idea that we ought to apply different standards to movies based on their intention as art or entertainment. That's a load of bunk. Spielberg, mentioned a few times here, is a perfect example of a director who has applied rigorous standards to "light" entertainment. In doing so, he has given us the best entertainment possible. An entertainment that isn't mere pyrotechnics, but a key to our very powers of imagination.

Somehow I think that Abrams and Paramount were afraid to make a Star Trek film that harkened back to the original series. Afraid to study "Close Encounters" for what it really is, and use it as a blueprint. It might not be fair for me to make these judgments having only seen the trailers, but there it is...

Thank God for "Close Encounters" and "E.T."; works of wild entertainment, full of deep sorrow and brilliant imagination.

Goodness gracious, Jim. A sudden thought occurred to me at lunch. I hope I haven't offended anyone by mentioning the wearing of glasses on the bridge of the Enterprise. If so, I am terribly sorry for making such a thoughtless, offhand remark like that.

Best regards,
Robert (back to work)

JE: No offense taken here. I'm legally blind without my prescription lenses, but I'd want sunglasses if I were working on that Enterprise bridge.

Jim, I know you're not a fan of Danny Boyle's work, but if you've seen Sunshine, a lot of the choices in lighting were made to use reflected and refracted light as a psychological pinning and undercurrent for the characters - a constant reminder of the danger of their mission and how the very notion of light can be in and of itself, destructive, physically, mentally. In the movie, there's a constant, immediate feeling of light piercing through, damaging, enhanced by the close-up handheld work and the tension in the performances, but it works much better in that movie than in Trek. No doubt, they looked to Sunshine for at least some visual inspiration.

J.J. Abrams explained that the reason he has all the lens flares in there, other than personal love and aesthetic appreciation of them, is to keep the Enterprise bits from getting too sterile. Opinions on how well this worked are obviously gonna vary; for me it worked in theater but stuck out as horrendous on my computer screen in that clip you've got there.

I mostly want to address the idea at the end of your post, the cautionary bit: "When you apply the approach to storytelling, you'd better have a well worked-out idea of what you're trying to convey and why."

I don't want to accuse you of lacking in goodwill, but I thought chalking up the stylistic tic to Abrams personal lack of filmmaking acumen or using it as a reverse-example, to be illustrative of unmotivated filmic stylism, was a tad harsh, like nailing DFW on his use of footnotes. The lens flares ARE there for a reason, they just happen to have wildly varying subjective effectiveness.

JE: Point taken. But does that reason make any sense to you? How does bright white light make a set look LESS sterile? I've never heard anyone try to make that argument before. It would seem to me that the bridge would be rather dimly lit (certainly less so than the bright '60s TV lighting), to make all the colored lights and display screens stand out better -- and, theoretically, make them easier for the crew to read in order to do their jobs. That might make the bridge look less sterile. Over-lit white, however, creates the most sterile environment imaginable. (See "THX-1138.")

Jim, I think you’re absolutely right that this shaky cam style owes more to MTV music video aesthetics and commercials than documentaries. The complete spatial disorientation of this style can work in a non-narrative music video, where the images are meant to be merely associative, and where spatial/temporal continuity isn’t an issue. It’s okay to violate the 180 degree line to your heart’s content in such a context. But, usually cuts between such fragmented images are motivated by, well, the music, obviously. Adapting this style to a narrative feature is inherently problematic, and what usually happens is not a sense of rhythmic montage, of crescendo and de-crescendo, peaks and valleys, but rather tonal uniformity. I really liked (and, being a Star Trek fan, wanted to love) J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek, but I felt this tonal uniformity, resulting from aggressively cutting shots together without any stylistic schematic, made the film feel like it was in warp drive all the way through. It didn’t properly build and climax. It felt hectic and rushed. This is a problem that affected Abrams’ Mission Impossible III, as well. Abrams over-directed both of these movies, never achieving a proper integration of style and narrative. The lens flares, the overexposed stock, the whip pans, and unmotivated cuts, felt like an extraneous desire to arrest our attention, aside from what the actors were doing or saying, or what story beats the narrative was covering. Visually, it almost felt like a sit-com, as if Abrams had set up multiple cameras to cover the same action and then cut various pieces of action together without a true motivation for cutting. This sense that rapid cutting and constant visual affectation is necessary betrays a fundamental lack of confidence in the story and characters, which is a shame, because almost every mainstream critic in America who loved the movie loved it for its story and characters, not for the lens flares and whip pans. It probably goes deeper, actually, than Abrams’ own lack of confidence in his material, but a fundamental skepticism about whether or not today’s audiences can suspend their disbelief about fantastical scenarios on film. David Bordwell has summed it up best, when he writes in his essay “Unsteadicam Chronicles” that there’s a fear that U.S. audiences won’t be able to believe in certain action scenes, stunts, or special effects, so there’s a desire to make these elements more realistic by using handheld cameras, zoom lenses, and rapid editing to seemingly ground the action in a more tactile reality, and in the process actually making these stunts more difficult, if not impossible, to see. I, like many, found The Bourne Ultimatum’s shaky “run and gun” style to be integrated with the film’s narrative of surveillance, detection, and paranoia, but upon further viewings I’ve become to suspect that this may be, in actuality, sloppiness passed off as a provocative visual choice. The same definitely goes for The Dark Knight, where it seems very likely that the fact that Gotham City is clearly just Chicago is not an attempt to integrate a comic book fantasy-scape into the “real world” (with all the ham-handed attempts at political relevance included), but maybe just cutting corners. The fact that The Dark Knight looks so very different from Batman Begins, which exists in an expressionistic alternate reality of mad psychiatrists on horseback, not corporate criminals in Hong Kong, would seem to indicate the latter. Basically, because people have started to associate the “run and gun” style with documentaries and therefore “reality” (however false that may be), even though it really started with commercials and music videos, directors think using a shaky, handheld camera with rapid cutting will allow viewers to “buy” into the images and action scenes, accept them as real, in a way they don’t think they will if they’re shot in a more classical style. So directors like Paul Greengrass, Chris Nolan, and J.J. Abrams honestly think we need incomprehensibility to believe in cinema? How impoverished do they think our imaginations really are? In a film like The Bourne Ultimatum--or even The Dark Knight—this “run and gun” style may not be revealed as the artificial, manufactured “realism” it really is, because these films don’t feature that much CGI. But with Star Trek, that’s another matter. Ever notice how chintzy music video CGI looks? Well, it’s because music video CGI is usually accompanied by lens flares, whip pans, and rapid cuts. Okay, music video budgets aren’t usually great either. But this frenetic cutting seems to suggest that the director is trying to distract us from the fakery he’s peddling, and in the process calling all the more attention to it. I recently re-watched the original Star Trek films, and I was very impressed with what Nicholas Meyer, Leonard Nimoy, and yes, even William Shatner, were able to accomplish with such meager budgets, by sticking with a classical style that actually allows us to see all the special effects. Some of the effects, like the destruction of the Enterprise in Star Trek III, are beautifully rendered and call out to us to watch them again, to scrutinize them and drink in their beauty. But with the special effects in Abrams’ Star Trek, I feel I’ll only be able to appreciate them on DVD, when I’ll be able to continually review certain shots that only stay onscreen for the blink of an eye. This is where the TV commercial style comes in, or rather, the style of TV preview commercials for upcoming programs. I felt at times like the effects in Star Trek were so poorly edited together, so dislocated spatially and temporally, that I felt like I would have to review them on DVD the way I might want to review clips of “next week’s episode of Lost” in a preview of what’s coming next. This is the worst aspect of television from which Abrams has appropriated his visual aesthetic for much of Star Trek.And I concur that Abrams is capable of more. Case in point, he directed several spectacular action sequences (that are similar to but better than anything in Tarantino’s Kill Bill movies) in the second season finale of Alias, entitled “The Telling.” And as Seitz pointed out, he let his tracking shots beautifully convey narrative information without over-cutting in the pilot episode of Lost. He can do better, and in some ways, I feel like this new Star Trek film is almost just an overture for, or maybe a preview or commercial for, the subsequent film in the franchise. But his poor visual choices in this film seem due to a lack of confidence as a director, a lack of assurance in his material, and a lack of faith in his audience. And probably, more than anything, a desire to reimagine and upgrade Star Trek for an audience reared on music videos, Bourne movies, and Christopher Nolan films, especially when critics and entertainment journalists across the land have declared Star Trek a dead franchise for years.

Hi Jim,

I enjoy your blog -- love the intellectual discussion about films and filmmaking -- I agree that "Star Trek" is not a perfect film, but you are way too picky. It's not the film, it's YOU.

I would love to see you direct a movie.

JE: Me too. I've edited a few. And you're right: I'm not expressing anyone else's criticism, I'm expressing mine.

I thought the flares were sort of effective on the bridge. If this new Enterprise were real, certainly it would be lit in a way that wouldn't look like a well-composed soundstage. It would have flares, glares, and back-lit silhouette problems. Maybe that's what JJ was going for? Or I could be meeting him way more than halfway.

In the old show - which I adore - there were plenty of "TV" lighting and camera effects that called attention to themselves. Kirk would be in a closeup, delivering some dramatic line, and there would be a diagonal band of light across his eyes and shadow across his face that did not appear in the 2-shot or wide shot. Female characters would often get the soft, glowing defocused treatment in closeup, that sparkling Vaseline look - and I'm sure there are other examples of artificial "look at me" compositions.

In The Wrath of Khan, I seem to recall a ton of those dramatic dolly-ins. Kirk appears in a giant backlit, godlike could of smoke for his first appearance. I guess each era's Trek gets the cinematic (or televisual) look of the day. I just wish a more classic direction style would come back into fashion.

Re: the notion that it's just an "entertaining popcorn flick" and that we shouldn't be critical of it.

Paramount obviously thought very highly of this project when they decided to hire a "name" director such as Abrams. The first Star Trek film came with a star director too: Robert Wise. That film also failed to deliver a satisfying Trek, but for different reasons. The point is, in both cases, the studio made a calculated move to hire a star director for the project which illustrates that they too expected a higher level of craftsmanship than a run-of-the-mill summer film.

Furthermore, we have a standard in place for these films. When I saw the new Trek, I couldn't help but compare Abrams direction to what Meyer and Nimoy did in the past. For that matter, isn't it within reason to compare this film against any of the well directed "popcorn films" of the past? I only wish that all summer blockbusters could be as competently made as Donner's Superman, Raimi's Spider-Man, Spielberg's Raiders of the Lost Ark, Kirshner's The Empire Strikes Back, or Meyer's The Wrath of Khan.

JE: Exactly. Nobody's saying "Star Trek" isn't a "popcorn movie" (I even thought it was, as I said, a mildly enjoyable one). But, especially given all the power and money behind it, is there some reason it shouldn't be a well-made "popcorn movie"? I mean, there are well-built, well-designed rollercoasters and then there are poorly planned ones that are not-so-thrilling. Wouldn't you rather spend your time and money on one that provides the most satisfying experience? Why settle for less? It's funny, I was just making a comparison between the rather faceless styles of Robert Wise and J.J. Abrams, and why they both made unsatisfying "Star Trek" movies in completely different ways -- the former too slow and reverent, the latter too fast and flashy.

I was afraid this would happen. No doubt Abrams isn't really much of an artist--- but the previous things I've seen that he's directed have benefited from his using of a myriad of techniques at the right time to hit the right notes and best serve the scene. There was 'shaky-cam' in M:I 3, but it's used sparingly and effectively. The movie begins with a Tom Cruise's Ethan Hunt being held hostage, and the handheld work there really adds to the tension of the scene. From what I remember, it's not used again until the film 'catches-up' with that scene in about the middle-ish of the movie (it was a flash-forward beginning). So you notice the use of it there and it works well. It wasn't a freaking running constant of the movie.

And the pilot of Lost must be the best thing he's ever done--- cinematic in its own right and benefiting from a Producer's knowledge of economic, effective storytelling.

But that scene you hosted really turns me off. Maybe I'll catch it, I dunno.

I was too caught up in the plot and the references the first time I saw the movie and I was getting distracted by the camera as well, though I enjoyed the movie. The second time I saw it, I enjoyed it more, maybe because I knew what to expect. (It certainly doesn't look like any "Trek" film of the past).

Both times I enjoyed the thrill of recognizing the old characters and that slow(for this film), triumphant reveal of the Enterprise that is heartstopping. Is the style off-putting and distracting at times? Sure. Did the movie still make me feel like a kid again? Absolutely.

FYI - I don't know if he's being serious or not, but Abrams said the reason he included so many light flares is that "I love the idea that the future was so bright it couldn't be contained in the frame."

http://io9.com/5230278/jj-abrams-tells-us-why-star-trek-has-so-many-lens-flares

JE: You mean it's all just an elaborate 1980s Timbuk 3 reference?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wvIAyxpjEuc

One of the things that's irked me the most about the critical over-praise of the new Star Trek is how it always seems to involve blanket dismissal of much of what's come before in the franchise. The consensus seems to be that, other than "The Wrath of Khan", most of the Star Trek films have been unsatisfying failures.

Actually, I've just finished re-watching most of them, and I have to say I find them to be lovingly crafted, adopting a sturdy classical style that makes the most of the special effects featured, with a keen eye for character interaction and psychology (not to mention humor!) that one rarely finds in a science fiction franchise. The biggest complaint about these films, from J.J. Abrams, who said he preferred Star Wars to Star Trek because it provided a "more visceral experience", to a number of journalists who have labeled the previous films as "often abysmal," is that these films aren't Star Wars. Of course, the worst dismissal I've ever heard of Star Trek comes from Roger Ebert in his 3.5 star review of Star Wars: Episode I--The Phantom Menace:

"Hey, I've seen space operas that put their emphasis on human personalities and relationships. They're called "Star Trek" movies. Give me transparent underwater cities and vast hollow senatorial spheres any day."

Talk about celebrating the dumbing-down of science fiction!

What I hope this new film will do is get people interested in experiencing the previous films and television series and realize that there is actually more to Star Trek than the original series' camp value, Kirk/Spock slash fiction, "The Wrath of Khan," and a few episodes of "The Next Generation." I hope this will happen, but the hyperbole regarding the new film, with Ty Burr calling it the "greatest prequel ever made" and numerous critics labeling it the "best Star Trek film ever" might actually dissuade people from going back and revisiting 43 years of brilliant sci-fi. If this new movie is the best ever, then everything else about Star Trek has to be sloppy seconds, right?

Ironic, that, despite the nostalgia inherent in the new movie, Abrams' Star Trek might actually do little to spawn interest in the rest of the franchise.

What do you think, Jim?

JE: Hey, "Phantom Menace" was the movie that started off with a "thrilling" crawl about tariffs. It's a bad movie -- badly paced, stiffly directed -- by any standard. (Isn't it generally accepted that the second Star Wars movie and the second Star Trek movie -- "Empire Strikes Back" and "Wrath of Khan" -- are the best in their series?) Me, I feel just the opposite of Roger and JJ Abrams: I never cared much about the cardboard retro-serial world of Star Wars, but I grew up caring a lot about the Star Trek characters (though I only saw the TV episodes and movies in what is referred to as The Original Series). Visual effects can be bought... and incompetent direction can make them look like crap. The stuff I like about Star Trek can't be purchased at any price. The 2009 "Star Trek" has a good cast, but the avowed purpose is to sell Star Trek to people who like Star Wars better. It's about flash that Paramount can buy. And that's one way I think it falls short as a satisfying "popcorn movie."

Rouben Mamoulian on camera movement (American Cinematographer, Feb. 1932):

"The idea that camera movement will give cinematic movement to an otherwise static scene or study, so prevalent among directors and executives, is basically false . . .   Unjustified movement is a sign of directorial weakness, not strength . . .   Once camera movement is decided upon as dramatically necessary, however, director and cinematographer must cooperate closely in realizing it with the utmost of technical and artistic perfection, for a badly executed move is worse than none at all. Many factors must be considered: speed, angle, and above all, rhythm. The preceding action will inevitably have established a definite dramatic (and often physical) tempo or rhythm; the moving camera scene must follow out the same rhythm, or, in some rare instance, increase it."

(from http://www.theasc.com/magazine/mar99/two/pg2.htm)

JE: Nice. Thank you for that. Mamoulian is someone who understands the deep connection between film and music.

Christian: I agree completely. This movie was Star Trek for people who didn't like Star Trek, and then suddenly people who didn't like Star Trek went into overpraise, shocked that they found a Trek they liked! Interestingly, Ebert, who wrote that line in The Phantom Menace, in his Abrams Trek review wrote about the original series' Gene Roddenberry days with fondness.

The original series (and original series features) are uneven to say the least, but there is a lot of heart and a lot of attempt at genuine philosophical and moral insight. Sometimes it doesn't work, but when it does--as in a "City on the Edge of Forever," or the largely ignored and underrated "The Empath"--it is something very special, basically unmatched from works of that era. (The Twilight Zone didn't have characters we cared about.) And The Next Generation, while off to an extremely rocky start and occasionally featuring what was too much a Stepford crew, dared to take a slower, more thoughtful pace than the original series, and had some truly remarkable episodes. Admittedly, only one of the movies really demonstrated that series' best qualities--First Contact, which still turned up the action from the series; Generations tried but didn't come together. (Deep Space Nine is an interesting case--probably the best Trek series in terms of human drama, but never quite having the follow through it needed; at the very least in its delving into religious and cultural conflict it seems to be one of the modern precursors for Ron Moore's Battlestar Galactica.)

I describe myself, somewhat facetiously, as a "recovering Trekkie"--I grew up on The Next Generation, and several years of Voyager in my teens more or less wore my fandom out of me. But it holds a place near my heart, and the things I like best about it are not the qualities this film chooses to highlight.

"It's a bad movie -- badly paced, stiffly directed -- by any standard."

Well, not by any standard. According to RottenTomatoes, 64% of critics liked it. I personally loved it (stiffly directed? Maybe. Badly paced? Not at all). But I agree with you on Star Trek. In fact, if anything, I think you were too kind on the movie (which I found to be poorly written in addition to being poorly directed).

JE: Lots of critics (and audiences) like bad movies for various reasons, which is something I've written about before. "Plan 9 From Outer Space," "Star Wars," "Mommie Dearest," "Crash" -- whether they're competently made or well-acted may have little or nothing to do with what some people like about them. (Look at the way fans and non-fans have long made fun of the acting styles and message-plots and cheap '60s TV production values of the original "Star Trek" series. That's part of what we love about it.) "Phantom Menace" had a pop-culture classic trilogy and all the goodwill in the galaxy behind it in 1999; many of us were inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt. And some of us just couldn't get past the deadness of the movie itself.

I agree that the shakey cam and lens flares were distracting, but my disbelief was stretched more by the number of fist-fights. In this presumably technologically advanced era, why does each and every conflict get settled with hand-to-hand combat? The bar fight was the only instance where it was remotely justified. But Sulu just HAS to finish his opponent with a retractable katana, right? And how come this device that drills into a planet's core and knocks out communication for miles is guarded by two mooks with little more than bayonets on their (highly ineffective) rifles. No automated security countermeasures? Even Nero couldn't simply disintegrate the Capt. of the first ship, but had to use a SPEAR!

JE: I am fond of quoting Artie (Rip Torn) on "The Larry Sanders Show": "Don't start pulling at that thread or our whole world will unravel."

"Lots of critics (and audiences) like bad movies for various reasons, which is something I've written about before. "Plan 9 From Outer Space," "Star Wars," "Mommie Dearest," "Crash" -- whether they're competently made or well-acted may have little or nothing to do with what some people like about them."

I don't buy your argument. In the case of Plan 9, people love it BECAUSE it's a bad movie. There is no other reason than that. But nobody loves Star Wars or Crash because they think they're bad movies. They love them because they think they're great movies. If you disagree, that's just your opinion.

JE: You misunderstand. People can and do love a movie they don't really believe is "great." (I'm not prepared to defend "Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy" as the height of cinematic achievements, but I love it to death.) Let me quote... you, from your blog on May 9: "I don't understand how 'Lost' can be so utterly pointless and stupid, and yet still be so damn entertaining." So, I'm not saying people necessarily love certain movies BECAUSE they are intentionally or unintentionally badly made (though the rough edges could very well be part of their appeal), but that there are other aspects to them that fans appreciate -- regardless (not in spite, not because) of the skill or artistry of the filmmaking involved. Yes, that's my opinion.

Re: Lens flares -- I once saw an interview with DP Conrad Hall about "Cool Hand Luke," something to the effect that when the studio brass saw the dailies of the chain gang scenes, they sent him an urgent message warning him of the "problem" with the flares. But the use of them in that context is perfect -- with them the sun becomes practically another character in the scene.

JE: Yes -- a classic Hollywood story!

I found myself thinking part way through the comment by Christian Blauvelt on May 13, 2009 6:22 AM, that it could be summed by "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain..." (aside from agreeing with almost everything written therein).

However, Christian, in regards to your:
Of course, the worst dismissal I've ever heard of Star Trek comes from Roger Ebert in his 3.5 star review of Star Wars: Episode I--The Phantom Menace:

"Hey, I've seen space operas that put their emphasis on human personalities and relationships. They're called "Star Trek" movies. Give me transparent underwater cities and vast hollow senatorial spheres any day."

I think I know Roger's writing enough to detect sarcasm when he commits it. What I get from that sentence is a feeling that Roger's attitude is that George Lucas should stick to pure popcorn, and not try to scale the heights of character-driven drama (at least as far as Star Wars is concerned).

I remember hearing Brad Bird talk about "The Incredibles". In an early sequence, former superhero Bob Parr is called into his boss' office to be dressed down. While there, he looks out the window and sees a man being mugged. He says, "I have to do something," gets up and starts to leave.

Bird's commentary track talked about how, all through this scene, his "camera" was static. But when Mr. Incredible stood up to go save the day for the mugger, the camera rose with him. Bird was purposely putting dyanamism into that shot to show that something was happening, as contrasted with the doldrums that Bob Parr's life had become.

And then, of course, it comes all to a jarring halt as Bob's boss says, "Take one more step and you're fired!" And the camera freezes again.

While writing this comment, it suddenly occurred to me that there's even a comment in Mr. Incredible's "civilian" name. Parr. Normal. Average. Par for the course. I can't believe I didn't see that until now.

I actually really admire the use of lens flare, particularly in the CG space shots. Truthfully, I thought the CG space stuff was the best I'd ever seen. The lens flare wasn't distracting to me at all--in fact, I didn't notice it as a visual strategy until I came home, read about people talking about it, and went and saw it again. And when I did see it again, I realized that it really contributed to why I liked the CG work so much the first time around, and exactly for the reasons Abrams described.

If there's one word to describe all the CG space shots I'd ever seen before Star Trek, it would be the word Abrams used--sterile. I always thought that the physical models used for 2001 and the original Star Wars trilogy looked much more--well, physical. I can't quite describe it, but every CG model of a spacecraft I'd ever seen--particularly in the Star Wars prequels--was just not quite real. No matter how spectacular the explosions were, or how many details were crammed into in the shot, it always called attention to itself in exactly the way you described your experience in Star Trek. Whether it's down to how the light reflects off of it in such a perfect, rendered way, or that the textures were too smooth, or how all the ships seem to be uniformly lit with no contrast between shadows and highlights, I couldn't tell you, but I knew for sure that it looked sterile and lifeless in a way that the physical models in 2001 never did.

But when I saw Star Trek, for the first time, I didn't get that "Oh look, we're back to CGI" sense, and I'm convinced that the lens flares had a lot to do with it. For the first time, I felt like I was looking at shots that were not just a background star field with CG models superimposed in the foreground, but actual space with actual objects being lit by light coming from the actual stars that were in the scene. After all, within a solar system, essentially, the only source of light is the sun, and it's practically a point source. There's no atmosphere to diffuse and soften it. It should be harsh light, and lens flare is certainly one way to convey that.

I have to also say that I was not at all distracted by the camera being "upside down" in the opening establishing shot because (as previously mentioned) in space there is no up or down, and the shot established that fact brilliantly. I don't remember the camera movement in the shot of the shuttle leaving Iowa being all that complex (although admittedly, I remember getting chills because that was the first time in the movie that Michael Giacchino used Alexander Courage's four-note chiming motif in the score).
All in all, I thought the space shots was great stuff.

As for the interior stuff on the Enterprise--well, I agree, I wanted more from the camera in a great setpiece like Scotty's pipe adventure, and a little more Lost pilot-like patience and contemplation between the characters as the film went on. (The pacing of the scene of Kirk and Spock's climactic confrontation seemed terribly rushed to me, in particular.) The fact that Lost once had that and then threw it all out the window and adopted the shaky-cam aesthetic ever since Abrams left the show makes me very sad indeed...

Actually, you misunderstand me (which I kind of figured would happen when I read back what I wrote). I didn't say YOU said that people love these movies because they're bad. What I'm saying is that your argument doesn't apply to the movies you mention (save, perhaps, for Mommie Dearest). In Plan 9's case, there are no "other aspects" to Plan 9 that people respond to. The incompetence is precisely what they love about it (in general, of course). But in the case of Star Wars or Crash, their admirers do genuinely believe they are great movies. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say, "You know, Crash was a bad movie, but I really liked it anyway."

I don't mean to derail the discussion Jim, but since "Star Wars" was brought up by Jim as being a "bad movie" (and a bad movie on the level of "Crash" and "Mommie Dearest" no less!) I'm feel the need for some clarification.

1. I readily admit that roughly 90% of the dialogue is rubbish and there are some - fairly obvious - plot holes and logical errors peppered throughout the first film. But how does that make it a "bad movie" on the level as a manipulative, overwrought piece of garbage like "Crash" or a sleazy exploitation flick filled with unintentional camp (the depressing kind, not the fun kind) like "Mommie Dearest"?

2. What are your feelings on the other two films from the OT?

Again, apologies for derailing the discussion although sometimes I find it quite enjoyable when one discussion manages to turn in to completely different one over time. It's one of the small joys of critical debate.

I don't mean to derail the discussion Jim, but since "Star Wars" was brought up by Jim as being a "bad movie" (and a bad movie on the level of "Crash" and "Mommie Dearest" no less!) I'm feel the need for some clarification.

1. I readily admit that roughly 90% of the dialogue is rubbish and there are some - fairly obvious - plot holes and logical errors peppered throughout the first film. But how does that make it a "bad movie" on the level as a manipulative, overwrought piece of garbage like "Crash" or a sleazy exploitation flick filled with unintentional camp (the depressing kind, not the fun kind) like "Mommie Dearest"?

2. What are your feelings on the other two films from the OT?

Again, apologies for derailing the discussion although sometimes I find it quite enjoyable when one discussion manages to turn in to completely different one over time. It's one of the small joys of critical debate.

Not for nothing, but having now seen "Star Trek," I'd like to offer two more rules I think should immediately be adopted in the Star Trek franchise:

1) Avoid trying to film a Star Trek movie like a Wes Anderson movie. Or in other words, what's with all the whip-pans and (far more annoying and distracting to me than the pans or lens flares) sudden zoom-ins? Especially when the sudden zoom-ins occurred during effects scenes in space -- it felt like I was watching an awesome vision of the future through a handheld camcorder.

And 2) Just as Wolverine recently proved no child should ever, ever be given a "NOOOOOO!" moment, Star Trek now proved no child should ever, ever be given a "YEAAAAAAAH!" moment either (especially when accompanied by the Beastie Boy's "Sabotage").

Yeah, what was the point of the "Sabotage" scene? To show that Kirk is a badass, even when he was a little kid? Is this the movie's idea of character development? And why exactly did he drive the car off the cliff anyway?

In regards to Star Wars, I remember Isaac Asimov's review of it, which was generally positive. I believe he said something like, "park your science fiction sophistication at the door, turn your brain off, and have fun."

Which goes to show that if a movie aims to be the best popcorn movie it can be, it can still be enjoyable...

Frank, Jim has said that he thinks The Empire Strikes Back was the best, sort of like how the darker Temple of Doom was the best of the Indy movies.

The worst part of the movie for me was when they tried to pay final "homage" the original by playing the original theme, but of course they can't leave well enough alone and have to crank up the volume and remix. Couldn't they have carried over Jerry Goldsmith's great ST: The Motion Picture score, like Bryan Singer did with Williams' score in his Superman Reboot? Michael Giacchino apparently can't compose any memorable, catchy theme of his own.

I gave another look at ST: The Motion Picture recently, and despite its obvious cheese and dated effects, it was a refreshing look at a film that was shot to be seen on the big screen, making actual use of Panavision.

Until reading this, I didn't even realize there were lens flares! I guess I'm just a person who takes in the visual aspects of a movie without noticing them, because my brain is preoccupied with caring about the stuff that's happening.

It's always interesting to me when I see someone who agrees with me about a film but for TOTALLY different reasons. I disliked the visual style of the film because it was so hamfisted in its attempt to bludgeon the audience over the head with its themes, not because of the overuse of camera tricks.

For example, look at the Romulans. They're evil. Did you not get the message? OK, we'll tattoo all their faces with evil scorpion-like claw marks. Still don't get it? OK, we'll make their entire SHIP look like some kind of scorpion, with claws sticking out all over the place for no comprehensible reason. STILL don't get it? OK, we'll hang their silly space power drill on a super-long chain which ALSO has spikes and claws sticking out of it. There, get it yet? They're the BAD GUYS.

The new Star Trek: holding your hand through every scene, in case you're really slow on the uptake.

Speaking of the visual style of the Romulans, was it me, or did Nero look remarkably like Nomak from Blade II?

And on a completely separate note, I have a question for the Star Trek fans: Why are beings from the planet Vulcan called Vulcan, and not Vulcian, or Vulcling? If life existed on Mars, we wouldn't call a being from the planet a "Mars," nor would we refer to ourselves as "Earthes." So why are they Vulcans? Even the Romulans aren't called Romuluses!

I was taken out of the movie (this "Star Trek" is not a film) for good when I noticed the two obvious retail store barcode-scanners on the front of the Enterprise helm. Was Chekov ringing people through his cash register in between bridge scenes?

I was raised in Montreal in the early 70s, proud that my favourite captain and engineer were both played by Canadians, and never liked the look of the revamped Enterprise as much as I did the original. She was gorgeous.
However, I disagree that she was the "most exquisitely designed vehicle in the history of Science Fiction". Other readers may propose their own choices, but I think that the Valley Forge, from Silent Running, is the most beautiful spaceship ever designed for an S.F. film or series.
Thank you.

ps: My second-favourite captain and engineer were also both played by Canadians, in Firefly/Serenity.

You lost me at "could this movie use a director." There's a hell of a lot more to directing than whether or not there are lens flares and how tight each shot should be (although that is part of it). Then you said that you'd made the same comment about "TDK," and I quit reading altogether.

You're entitled to your opinion, popular or not. I'm often in the same boat: I'll tell anyone who'll listen how utterly useless I find "Transformers" and the "Pirates of the Caribbean" sequels, while praising "Quantum of Solace" and the criminally overlooked "The Air I Breathe" last year. I understand.

That said, failing to recognize great direction because the camera movements aren't your cup of tea is unforgivable. Not that "Star Trek" is the pinnacle of great filmmaking, but "TDK" is. And 50 years from now, people will still be studying both J.J. Abrams and Christopher Nolan as two of the greatest filmmakers of their generation.

If you think the primary focus of directing is deciding when to move the camera and how (not that it's not important), then I'll be avoiding any movie you direct. At least you'll be happy with it.

JE: Yeah, I don't think it's likely we have much common ground for a discussion here. Sounds like you and I don't value or enjoy the same things in movies at all.

I don't know, Adam T -- isn't directing all about what you put onscreen and how you put it there?

Yeah, Transformers is terrible (and you'll find few haters whose first-time response was more enraged and disgusted than mine), but the final lengthy battle sequence -- for all its incoherence -- actually does something interesting in that it actively tries to place the camera in a bystander's POV. As if the camera itself were one of the frightened onlookers, desperately trying to avoid the conflict. I complained along with everyone else about the dreadful script and the impossible-to-discern action, but I can't deny that the film actually tries to use a limited POV to some purpose.

(Note: In contrast, did any film feel more "staged" than Cloverfield of the same year? That camera was always pointing at exactly what the studio wanted you to see -- the money shots -- and not giving us the genuine perspective of a bystander on the ground, much as it claimed to.)

(Note 2: But now, of course, I feel stupid because I've just defended Michael Bay, of all directors, who usually fills the role of my mortal enemy. Maybe we can attribute this particular nifty decision to the effects director, yes? ...)

And the Pirates sequels?! Yeah (once again), the scripts are trash, but nobody shoots loopy, stylish and, yes, poetic action sequences like Gore Verbinski. I may have bulged my eyes in disbelief at the appalling "rally-the-troops" speach by Knightley (in the third film) -- which practically gives the lie to every other such scene in the movies, it's so bad -- but I grinned idiotically at the ship-mast duel between Depp and Davy Jones (same film), or the spontaneous wedding ceremony between Bloom and Knightley (same again), or the fencing match on the giant, tumbling wheel (second film) that plays out like a Buster Keaton routine on RedBull. Say what you will about the general likability of these films (I still don't think they're great), but they definitely had a director, and one who knew what he was doing visually.

(Let's just say Transformers had a decent effects director and leave it at that, 'kay?)

Christopher Nolan is a great writer, I think, and he plays around with layered (meta-)narritive structures like few others in Ho'wood at his budget level, but it's tough to argue against his workman-like utilitarianism behind the camera. Maybe it's intentional on his part -- maybe he gets at precisely what he wants to get at, with or without a sense of rhythm or grace (and maybe that's okay) -- but that still doesn't make it a quality of great direction, whether they'll be studying his films in 50 years or not.

And Abrams? I'm not sure what he is exactly. A great carnival barker? A great huckster? (He sure knows how to sell a mystery.) But he also sure didn't bring his A-game to the latest Star Trek. It's a damned mess (entertaining or otherwise), and it seems only appropriate to point that out. (Though in doing so, one needn't necessarily exclaim quite so loudly about lensflares as Jim did. But this is merely his wont, and all the more power to him for it, right? No need to get nasty.)

As much as I find myself disagreeing with a lot of things on this page, I'm humbled by the courteous response from both of you, Jim and Kevin. I feel I owe you both a better explanation than I gave yesterday.

First, to clarify: I didn't mean to imply that the directing in Transformers or Pirates is poor; I was just using them as examples of popular and somewhat well-received movies that I didn't think worked for many reasons that are too tangential to discuss here. However, part of a director's job is to make the best of what he has, whether a writer or not. Blame for the campy, narrative messes that make up the above films can rest on the shoulders of the directors just as squarely as the writers'.

On that subject, I seem to be hearing a lot of people boil down the director's job to picking camera angles and deciding whether or not to "shake" the camera. On top of that, those same people then judge the whole movie based on whether or not that's how they would have directed it. (I'm just making a point, not accusing anyone here of anything.) This probably wouldn't have bothered me much before I started directing short film, but now I'm really starting to appreciate all the decisions that a big-budget director makes.

I have to examine every scene in the script to judge the pacing of it and the story as a whole. Then, I determine the atmosphere and emotional journey of each scene. After that, I have to decide what perspective for the camera to take and what the advantages and disadvantages are in terms of the audience's experience. Then, the real work begins, and most of it has very little to do with the camera angles and much more to do with working with the actors on their characters and the story they're telling. It doesn't matter how I point the camera if what's in front of it isn't worth filming.

You already know all this stuff, but I'm finally getting to my point: this is why I think J.J. Abrams deserves more credit than you're giving him. He's created a world for Star Trek that feels habitable as opposed to the staple squeaky-clean sci-fi sets, and he's balanced the humor and action so well that it's accessible to myself, my 16-year-old brother-in-law, and my 52-year-old mother.

It just so happens that I agree with you that some of Abrams' visual choices are questionable at best; using a zoom during exterior space shots and shaking the camera just to shake it don't improve the viewer experience at all. But it's not a complete wreck, as he also keeps tight on actor's faces during dramatic scenes to really capture the nuances of their performances, something Christopher Nolan also did to wonderful effect in TDK. And some of the shots that seemed to bother you, Jim, made the audiences I saw the film with "ooo" and "aah" more than a few times, which is what they came to the movie for.

I don't think Star Trek deserves any Oscars, but Abrams had an almost impossible job on this film and still managed to deliver what he'd promised. I hope I've explained my feelings more clearly this time around. Thanks for facilitating so much interesting discussion with your article.

I'm not at liberty to wax auteurist this time round, but I just wanted to say:

Adam, I hear you.

Directing a film is hard work, and b!tching about the result is easy. Perhaps we should try to keep that in mind before savaging the latest "mess" -- and in an open forum, at that -- with complete disregard for the people behind the thing and the people who love it. Sounds squishy and utopian, I know, but a healthy dose of humility never hurt anyone, right?

Still...

It remains important to stand up for one's values (cinematic or otherwise), so it's a tricky balancing act between idealism and rationalism, between raging passion and reserved humility.

Thanks for the elaboration.

JE: Humility is a virtue in many contexts in filmmaking and criticism, but not always appropriate. (Directors, actors, writers -- few are known for their artistic humility. We wouldn't have "Citizen Kane" OR "Touch of Evil" if Orson Welles had been guided by humility in his artistic decisions.) A film is not a private conversation between the artist and himself. It is exhibited for the (usually paying) public -- and it seeks a public response. Sometimes we seem to forget that films are art, and commercial entertainment, and are presented to be judged as such. You don't show something to an audience and then say, "Keep your responses to yourselves." That's not part of the pact between the viewer and the film. Once it's put on a screen it's not about how hard it was to make it, or what somebody intended to do with it. All that matters to each individual viewer is what they got out of it for their ten bucks. It's Show. Business. And that's true whether you're showing the films in a gallery or a multiplex, whether you're Andrei Tarkovsky or Michael Bay.

As much as I agree that artistic ambition should supersede humility during the act of creation (despite the fact that it can make an artist darned hard to work with), I hope you don't mean to compare the latest violently dismissive pan from Joe Critic to either Citizen Kane or Touch of Evil. : )

A publicly released film is not a private conversation between the artist and him-(or her-)self, no, and neither should we feel at all bound to keep our responses to ourselves; but I get nervous about the direction this argument can take, particularly when it ends up justifying the kind of rampant cruelty and foolishness we see so prominently displayed on newstands (as well as joyfully indulged in all over the internet), which takes more interest and delight in savaging a thing (or the private lives of its stars), than in even remotely trying to engage with it. (In other words, the kind of behaviour that Roger referred to simply as "snark".) "Beware the slippery-slope," I guess.

The right to criticism, like the right to freedom of speech, is not the equivalent of "the right to say whatever the heck I want, whenever I want, without regard for anyone but me." Or shouldn't be, anyway. (And I figure you'd probably agree.) Thus, while the effort that goes into a film (i.e., how hard it was to make) does not justify the film artistically,* it does, however, make a case for critiquing it respectfully (i.e., without recourse to petty insult or -- much more difficult to bottle up/push past -- righteous indignation**).

(*It never justifies the film artistically. In fact, this kind of argument is just as bad, just as damaging, and just as culturally debilitating as the kind that equates freedom of speech with "saying whatever I want, sans personal responsibility," etc.)

(**Of which I am, of course -- 100% -- utterly and irredeemably guilty.)

To wrap up (briefly, since I'm suddenly pressed for time): isn't it "better" to criticize from a place of sorrow (that a thing isn't great, or even good) than from a place of anger (that a thing would dare be so awful)? More squishy utopianism, yes, but (to come full circle) I never meant to evoke "humility" in any kind of "small" or self-effacing sense. I mean it in the largest sense possible, as representative of a deeply valuable kind of wisdom. An impossibly high ideal, and all, but worth shooting for, yes?

(And when we consider our favourite films, isn't it awfully difficult to even withstand -- let alone engage with -- criticism that comes from anywhere but a place of love?)

(Me and Gandhi, I guess...)

JE: I understand what you're saying, Kevin, and I was playing devil's advocate somewhat. Even more than the tone it's the substance (or lack thereof) of criticism that disturbs me. I think if "critics" were able to concentrate on the specifics of the film itself rather than making grandiose (and often spurious) generalizations, they would be less likely to sound so snotty. On the other hand, when you've been assaulted by a film, maybe "tough love" is an appropriate and understandable response.

I can't remember the last time I had the opportunity to engage my brain so much in a film discussion. This is truly refreshing.

I'm heartened by your comments, Kevin. We're all here because we love film and support those who endeavor to create it, but as such, we're the harshest critics of it. This is not unhealthy, and as Jim astutely pointed out, it's not the "snotty" critiques we should pay attention to, but the ones with an attitude of "tough love." Good artists understand that the reactions of others, particularly in an entertainment medium, are an important (if not the exclusive) gauge by which they can measure their success. Similarly, as an aspiring filmmaker, I thrive on the thoughts and reactions of others, learning more and more about how people experience film and what they expect from it. However, this puts us as intelligent viewers and critics in a position of certain responsibility.

The thing to remember is that nobody sets out to make a bad movie. I like your term, Jim, for when a film "assaults" you; I usually choose the term "insults." I think we mean the same thing. Even while Roland Emmerich was writing and directing the paper-thin and unimaginative 10,000 B.C., he really set out to make what he thought was the best film possible. I was angry about it, because I had paid good money to sit and watch that drivel. But I can't accuse him of putting me in that position on purpose.

One thing I've come to realize is that there is no right or wrong way to do something in film, only many different ways. Different decisions have different effects on the audience, and sometimes the desired effect either fails to work or doesn't facilitate the rest of the film. We can criticize a film for such failure, but we can't blame the filmmakers for trying.

But what do I know? Maybe I'm a terrible director.

There probably is no one still reading this discussion, but I'd say a lot more people enjoyed the movie than did not. And it'll make half a billion when all is said and done and the video is distributed. I'd rather beat up on Land of the Lost, which I paid a matinee price for, still felt cheated and walked out of after an hour. But that is another thread...

Jim, Kevin and Adam.

And it's certainly more worthwhile to spend time discussing how Star Trek or The Dark Knight could have been better, than it is to discuss how Transformers, 10,000 B.C. or Land of the Lost could have been better.