‘Star Trek’ sequel is a noble Enterprise 1_ ♦ • »-»i:*- _ Brian Barber/Daily Nebraskan By Chris McCubbin Staff Reporter This country seems to need “Star Trek.” Massive, myriad doses of “Star Trek.” Reruns, noveliza tions, novels, cartoons, movies, games and comic books of “Star Trek.” It’s been more than 20 years since the first “Star Trek” episode aired. The original show featured one spaceship and less then a dozen recurring characters. It’s easy, there fore, to see how the various forms of new “Star Ta'k” adventures have long since descended into minutiae. TV Review The comprehensive “Trekkic” now know s the name of Spock’s childhood pet, w here Dr. McCoy’s parents were at the time of his conception, w ho built the Enterprise, and w here and what we did to get the Khn gons so licked off. The crew of the starship Enterprise and its five-year mission are, in short, drained. But "Star Trek" creator Gene Rodden berry has come to the rescue of those of us who feared that all “Star Trek” held for the future was a descending spiral of biographi cal, historical and technical trivia. For Roddenberry has given us “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” an hour-long, weekly, syndicated, all-new, live-action Star Trek that airs at 6 p.m. Saturdays on KPTM, channel 42. “Star Trek: The Next Generation” takes place more than 80 years after the original adventures. It’s set in an all-new Enterprise that’s eight times the size of its predecessor. The old Enterprise was a large warship, but the new one is more of a mobile military base. Officers can bring their wives and children along on the ship. The old Enter prise may have had a bowling alley and a movie theater, but the new one has an on board shopping mall. So it’s not surprising the new- scries has a larger cast than the original. There are nine regulars in ihe"NcxtGencraiion’cnsemblc. Sensibly, the scripts focus on only one or two characters an episode, in rotation. Patrick Stewart, a wonaenui snaxo spearean actor, is Capt. Jcan-Luc Picard. Picard is older than Kirk and less of a swashbuckler, but like Kirk he has a gift for thinking and bluffing his way out of impos sible situations. Jonathon Frakes is Ryker, the Enterprise’s executive officer. It’s Ryker, not Picard, who leads dangerous off-ship missions, a leap in realism over the first scries. Ryker and Picard are developing a rapport almost as engaging as Kirk and Spock’s. Michael Dorn is Worf, the second offi cer. Worf is a Klingon — they’re on our side now, the bad guys are loathsome little rat men called the Fercngi. Worf’s militaristic “death before dishonor” philosophy pro vides a necessary counterpoint to the rest of the crew’s humanistic pacifism. The rest of the recurring characters all have unique backgrounds, skills and traits. For the most part the performances are excellent But there are a few disturbing things about “The Next Generation.” For one thing, there’s a tendency to play up ship board romances and sexual tensions. This detracts from the air of sexless professional camaraderie that was so attractive in the first series — no man ever ogled Uhura’s mini skirt unless he was possessed by some weird space-drug. I’d hate to see “Star Trek” turn into “Dynasty on the Space Love Boat.” More disturbing is the new show’s ten dency to lift plots from the old. The two-hour pilot, for instance, featured the familiar tale about a pesky alien with super-mental powers who decides to judge humanity based on the performance of the crew of the Enterprise in a crisis. It also featured a very funny cameo by DcForcst Kelley as a 115-year-old Dr. McCoy. Although direct references to the first series, like the cameo, arc minimal, you’d think that in 80 years some new plots would have been discovered in the infinite reaches of the last frontier. But ihc final word on “Star Trek: the Next Generation” has to be simply that it’s a lot of fun. We fans who’ve yearned for more, but refused to settle for recyclings and trivia, no longer have to now. Film 'Less Than Zero'indeed ZERO from Page 13 muse, is completely ignored in Harley Peyton s screenplay. Peyton and director Marek Kamevska decided to turn the film into a turgid, unwalchablc melodrama about drug abuse that is never convincing and a chore to sit through. The fast lane never seemed this slow. Andrew McCarthy plays Clay, a wealthy college kid attending school back East who flics to L.A. for Christmas break and discov ers that his two best friends from high school arc addicted to cocaine. Jami Gertz, the preppy snob from the ill fated “Square Pegs” sitcom, plays Clay’s girlfriend Blair, a coke-snorting model who just stands around in high-fashion outfits and looks pensive most of the time. That’s about all that happens in “Zero”: Bored, strung-out patricians stand around, snort snow and ponder the essence of the “fast lane” while the camera zooms in on their sleek sports cars, designer clothes and immaculate houses. Robert Downey Jr. plays Julian, a hope less, haggard coke addict who has to resort to homosexual prostitution to keep the powder up his nose. The plot, if one wishes to call it that, relics on every hackneyed cliche about the “beau tiful people.” The trouble with “Zero” is that it doesn’t even attempt to explain why these people are so unhappy. Unlike all the half-baked, name-drop ping novels and films before it, like Jac queline Susann’s “Valley of the Dolls” and everything by Harold Robbins, “Zero” barely tries to unveil the depraved scenes of the jet set. We sec a few lavish parties, a sampling of the L.A. after-hours nightclub society and an elegant Palm Springs snort and-sex wallow. But such scenes arc never explored with much depth or detail. “La Dolce Vita,” if you remember, spent three hours delving into the warped, surreal istic exploits of the rich looking for excite ment. Fellini showed aristocratic bimbos getting covered with feathers and honey at 4 a.m., old men paying money to watch trans vestites in cat costumes strip in cabarets, and stylish alcoholics searching for ghosts at sunrise. But in “Zero,” we see only trendies with six-figure allowances grooving lo remakes ol Kiss songs and Julian posing elegantly on a beach \uth his sunglasses and beer Oh yeah, Clay and Blair hit a coyote with their ‘Vctte. “Oh, no, we’ve hit a coyote'” screams Blair tearfully. That's the most excitement in the film. One would think that in a movie where nothing happens, the characters and their backgrounds would at least be examined. All we hear about the three friends is that they went to high school together. Clay wants Blair to go East with him and attend college. He’s so upset about her superficial modeling career that he has a dream in black and white, and the two seriously discuss why she should dump modeling and become a game-show hostess. Clay also wants Julian to go to college. “Do 1 look like I’m ready for homework?” Julian whines defensively. As in all tragedies, the kids have prob lems with their parents, but again we only gel to sec a tenuous glimpse of it. Blair goes home to give Daddy his Christmas present, but he’s too busy bopping his girlfriend and tells her lo just leave it on the kitchen table. Blair pouts, looks glamorous and leaves for a party so she can dust her sorrows in snow. Julian’s Beverly Hills daddy disowns him, and when the coked-up little degener ate tries to go home and sleep after one of h is nightly snortfests, Daddy tells him to get out, and his little brother beats him up. Oh, such is life without love. Julian owes his dealer-pimp Rip (Janies Spader) $50,(KM), and since the little dead beat isn’t doing enough gay hooking to pay his bills, the cold-hearted thug threatens his life. Clay tries to borrow the money from his father, but Daddy refuses. Clay's family is a ejean, upstanding one — they spend Chrisunas day singing songs by the piano while he and Blair make it in his bedroom with enough leather and artsy lighting to fill umpteen Calvin Klein ads. Then the climax occurs. 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