Scripting the Final Frontier: Star Trek Generations

by ScottDS

Star Trek Generations was released on November 18, 1994 to mixed reviews. It was the seventh Star Trek film and the first to feature the TNG cast. This film was seen as an opportunity to “pass the baton” though the results are less than satisfying. I saw the film when I was 11 (my first theatrical Trek experience) and I thought it was the bee’s knees. Not so much today. It’s beautifully shot and the cast gives it their all but it’s often awkward and the script leaves much to be desired. As you’re about to find out, the writers feel the same.

For the Special Edition DVD, Ron Moore and Brannon Braga sat down for a surprisingly candid chat. The two had never written a film before and, with the benefit of 10 years’ hindsight, both wish they could have another crack at it. Paramount had approached Trek overlord Rick Berman with the idea of producing a TNG film. Two scripts were commissioned and the studio went with one by Moore and Braga. They ended up revising the script at the same time they were writing the TNG series finale and both admit the finale should’ve been the movie instead. Braga partly blames this on having too much time to develop a film, whereas they had no time to think when writing the episode, proving Parkinson’s Law: “Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.”

The creative process of turning a television show into film. . .

As you can see, the process went wrong from the very beginning. The studio presented a list of “requirements” that the film had to have, including: TOS characters could only appear in the first fifteen minutes (Chekov and Scotty appear only because Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley weren’t interested), only Kirk could return later in Act 3, the film needed a larger-than-life villain (“à la Khan”) and Klingons and a Data comedy subplot, etc. These restrictions made writing the script difficult. Incidentally, Braga initially had a great poster image in mind of the two Enterprises locked in battle (“Kirk versus Picard!”) but that concept went nowhere.

Also, in a true bit of irony, compare these requirements to the restrictions in the TNG series bible, a list of concepts created with the express intent of avoiding (these stories/concepts “don’t work well for us”): mysterious psychic powers, the crew acting as the galaxy’s “policemen,” original Trek characters, treating space as a local neighborhood, war with the Klingons and Romulans, anything with Vulcans (“We are determined not to copy ourselves. . .”), mad scientists, villainous technology, and jeopardy being created from the breakdown of technology or characters doing something stupid. Over the course of 178 episodes, the various writers and producers broke every single one of these rules. . . but that was 178 hours. Star Trek Generations broke most of these in two hours! (Truth be told, the fast-paced nature of TV production usually prevents strict adherence to what is basically a reference work.)

Moore explains that, ultimately, the theme they wanted to explore was “death.” Sure, Spock died in Star Trek II but then he came back. Through the death of his brother and nephew, Captain Kirk, and the Enterprise-D herself, Picard would come to terms with his own mortality. But it didn’t entirely work. Moore: “In my opinion, our reach sort of exceeded our grasp on that level.” Thanks to the studio’s list and all the things they couldn’t do, Braga replies: “I don’t think it coheres into anything. It’s a little all over the place, but interesting nonetheless.”

Even the TNG crew’s introduction was difficult to establish. They were to take part in a big action scene with the Romulans. Moore and Braga showed the script to TNG writer/producer Jeri Taylor who said, “It’s been done a million times.” Her idea for how the crew should be introduced involved Picard rolling an egg along the floor of Ten-Forward (the ship’s bar) with his nose. When asked what that meant, her reaction was, “I don’t know, but it’s an interesting image. . .” (I almost wish they had done this!) They started thinking about other unusual things and eventually settled on a holodeck scene aboard the 19th century sailing ship Enterprise. Of course, this doesn’t mean everyone at the studio understood the holodeck or any other Trek jargon. Star Trek film writers always had to walk a thin line between catering to fans – who would nitpick every detail – and the general public.

The temptation to make changes. . .

Braga mentions what is probably an antiquated concept nowadays: when you’re writing a TV show, you don’t want to make any radical changes because the viewer enjoys visiting the same family every week. But for a film, “you want to do bigger things.” That’s why they introduced Data’s emotion chip. According to Moore, the Data humor in this film received a mix of “groans and laughs” in theaters (I think it works). In any event, the addition of the chip basically ends Data’s character arc and the later films more or less do away with the concept entirely. In the next film, by way of comparison, they give LaForge ocular implants, replacing the VISOR. According to Moore, LeVar Burton had complained for years that it robbed him of a legitimate acting tool: the eyes, and the film gave them the chance to remedy that.

Writing themselves into a corner. . .

Malcolm McDowell plays the villainous Dr. Soran (with no subtlety whatsoever). The central plot device is a ribbon of energy called the Nexus. Soran had briefly experienced what it was like inside the Nexus – a paradise where a person’s thoughts can shape reality and where time has no meaning – before his ship was rescued by the Enterprise-B. (Future TNG bartender Guinan was on that ship as well.) 78 years later – the timespan between TOS and TNG – we get the plot: Soran is destroying stars in order to alter the trajectory of the Nexus so he’ll be able to re-enter it and achieve immortality. It’s up to Picard and Co. to stop him before the shockwave of one particular star destroys a civilization. The writers admit the mechanics of this were too convoluted but they never hit on the film’s real plot hole: Picard asks why Soran couldn’t simply fly a ship into the Nexus, to which Data replies, “. . .every ship which has approached the ribbon has either been destroyed or severely damaged.” But how did Soran get to it in the first place?

The Nexus was a problem, too. Moore says they were looking for a way to bridge the two generations without resorting to time travel again. That’s how they chose the Nexus but the concept, Braga admits, “was never properly conveyed or exploited enough.” At one point, Picard finds himself “inside” his own Nexus fantasy in which he has a family. While Moore believes this Victorian scene is true to the character, Braga points out that it’s difficult for viewers to watch their captains – who are usually one step ahead of things – be one step behind. They discuss how difficult it was to make Picard realize he was in a fantasy – he ends up noticing a Christmas tree ornament that reminds him of an exploding star, an idea that Moore wonders if people ever understood. And yes, they debated whether or not Christmas still exists in the 24th century. (Moore wanted Picard’s fantasy to be a “Roman orgy.”) Picard then encounters Guinan who had previously entered the Nexus along with Soran, but this isn’t Guinan, only her “echo.” After the film was released, fans started asking, “. . .is there an echo of Kirk in the Nexus?” To this day, neither writer has an answer.

However, one scene they did like. . .

The Nexus plot and Data’s emotion chip subplot both lead to what the writers think is the best scene in the film: Picard and Data plotting the course of the ribbon in the ship’s stellar cartography lab, complete with a beautiful wall-sized projection of space. This scene is, in Moore’s words, “most true to what the series was” given that the other three films would turn out to be big action adventures (of variable quality). A scene like this would cause the writers to ask, “What’s a map in the 24th century?” On that note, Soran carries an antique pocket watch and the writers found themselves asking if pocket watches would even exist in the 24th century and, if so, where would he get one?

Other long-standing problems were never quite resolved either. . .

Neither Moore nor Braga knew what the hell Guinan’s powers were, nor for that matter, what Troi’s powers were. Braga labels Gene Roddenberry’s idea of perfect humans a paradox: in this utopian world, “Why is there a therapist on board? What hang-ups do they have?” Fellow writer Joe Menosky felt the presence of a therapist – sitting next to the captain – would date the show as a relic of the 80s. Moore admits they ended up turning her into a glorified cruise ship social director. During a scene with Troi, Picard grieves over the death of his brother and nephew and starts to cry. Both writers cringe, especially given that it’s Picard’s big-screen debut. They also wonder why there are no seatbelts and why the crew cabins have pictures depicting space hanging on the walls!

“Techno-babble” was always a struggle and Braga – whom some fans label “Public Enemy No. 1” for various reasons – admits they frequently went too far. Moore recalls script conferences with “other seemingly intelligent people” arguing about what the warp drive could or couldn’t do. Here’s what a typical script page would look like:

LaForge: “Captain, I’ve TECHed the TECH but it’s not working. But if I TECH the TECH in a TECH direction, maybe we can TECH.”
Picard: “Very well. TECH the TECH, Mr. LaForge.”

The script would then be handed over to the science consultants who would suggest various options for the TECH placeholders. Braga: “Our show at its worst.”

Kirk’s death(s). . .

The death of Kirk is still controversial and Moore admits to getting misty-eyed as they wrote it (Kirk had been his childhood hero). In the final cut, Kirk is mortally wounded from the wreckage of a collapsing bridge. In the original script and rough cut, Kirk is simply shot in the back by Soran in a rather anti-climactic fashion. Moore says “it was expected” that Kirk would die on the bridge of his ship so they wanted to go in another direction. He cites Sands of Iwo Jima in which John Wayne is shot by a sniper at the end of the film. He also enjoyed “the irony of it.” After a poor test screening, the studio ordered changes. The “Oh, my” was Shatner’s idea. Braga: “I think about the fans and I don’t know that there’s anything we could’ve done to make everybody happy.”

Moore and Braga are actually somewhat disheartened by the meeting of Kirk and Picard. Braga feels they didn’t do enough to exploit the pairing and the only conflict comes from Picard trying to convince Kirk to leave the Nexus to help him stop Soran. He acknowledges the classic time-travel cliché: Picard and Kirk leave the Nexus and reappear just moments before Soran destroys the star. Braga: “Go back a couple years. Get Soran when he’s in the bathroom!” (Plus we don’t see Picard from before he enters the Nexus.) The scene in Kirk’s Nexus fantasy – at a cabin in the mountains – continues to disappoint them. Braga: “This is just painful!” They admit they wanted to do something charming and offbeat but failed and that Kirk’s speech to Picard about making a difference is nice but really doesn’t fit with anything else in the film.

As an aside, meeting William Shatner was a nervous experience, especially after he looked at the two writers and said, “They’re so young!” Moore mentions “The Kirk Moment” in which they were trying to convince Shatner of some plot point, to which he replied, “He is not! In fact! Integral! To the plot!”

Believe it or not, no one consciously sets out to make a bad movie. While filmmakers are limited by the time and resources available to them, they strive to do their best. Only with the benefit of experience and retrospection can artists look back on their work and see where they went wrong. To use William Goldman’s popular phrase: “Nobody knows anything.” Sometimes they do. . . 10 years later.