Star Trek Beginnings Movie Review (Spoiler Alert!)

I grew up with the Star Trek classic series, and later graduated to Star Trek: The Next Generation when the masses cried out for new blood and politically correct scripting. I have seen all of the movies, based on these series, and even once attended a Star Trek-a-thon marathon (clad in pajamas, me) with fellow geeks and aficionados. So you may understand that I was filled with great hope and enthusiasm when Beginnings was announced.

Like all prequels, I suppose, STB provides us with great and profound insights into character origins and development. We learn how and why Kirk is ruled by his libido; how Uhura looked before she gained weight in later years and acquired man crushing hips, and yes, how Spock struggled with the shame of being a half-breed on the planet Vulcan, and then rebelled against his need for man love in favor of Uhura's budding hip sockets. It all comes together for us in the latest opus in the franchise.

But as I sat in the theater eating salt nuggets disguised as popcorn and reclining gingerly on the scratchy blue upholstery of the cineplex with my spousal consort beside me, it occurred to me that I already knew the story. I knew that no one of interest would die; I knew that Star Fleet Academy would be populated by sprightly nubile students in plum-colored spandex unitards (well, they were actually bi-tards), and I knew that our heroic ensemble would save the day, no matter how ill advised and daunting the situation.

What I hadn't counted on though was the distracting pathos inspired by Leonard Nimoy's dentures writ large on the silver screen. Surely, what with past royalties, no doubt an astronomical salary for his bit part in Beginnings, and his 401K proceedings, the man could find a dental specialist able to fit him with a deluxe set of dentures? But this was and is not the case. The camera often hovered cruelly over his mouth as he said Spockish things, and I feared the false choppers would lose their grip and fly 3-D style into the hapless audience, spraying us with virtual prosthetica. It was unnerving.

I felt so sad for Leonard Nimoy. And where had his upper lip gone? There was no evidence of it, and I must assume it was neatly snapped off by the ill-fitting dentures when he was eating casaba melon or some other forbidden substance.

This all put an alarming spin on the whole movie going experience. I no longer cared that Spock was engaging in raunchy doings with a fellow crew member. Nor did I care that a planet killing weapon conveniently described only as "Red Matter" simply didn't make sense, scientifically speaking. I no longer puzzled over the pedamorphic physique of young Uhura, and no longer asked myself why, after it has been explained to us time and time again, that the director of this film tried to make us believe that we can hear ambient noise in space, when everyone knows that this is just not possible.

I cared for none of this, thanks to Leonard Nimoy's selfish, incompetent dentist. For two cents I'd have his license revoked.