On hearing of Leonard Nimoy's passing, I
felt the same kind of emotion I'd experienced when Sir Alec Guinness passed on.
The characters they created helped shape who I am. Not real, not imaginary, but
people of the in-between, a nebulous place where friends from books, film, and
television exist when you're a child.
I come from a family who have always loved stories, without
pretension. My parents would gift a classic and a pulp novel in the same
way: with enthusiasm, and an interest in my opinion. My brother and I grew up on
a diet of narrative, and television was an important source of nourishment.
People love to denounce TV as mind-numbing
garbage, but we watched everything, and were better people for it. Fellini
films, Western classics, kung fu movies, Hollywood musicals, endless sitcoms, and constant cartoons. If there was a storyline, we were in, and it was rare for
anyone to watch TV alone.
The original Star Trek was a staple. From the very first
episode I was hooked. They were in space! Gene Roddenberry's idea was
breathtaking, and all the characters were magnificent, but especially Spock. He
always held a special place in my heart.
Spock taught me that it was okay to be
smart, and that the right people would like it. While his friends teased him
for his detachment, they also loved him. Whenever Spock spouted some fact that
helped save the day, my dad would say, "Good old Spock," as if they
were old friends.
We'd watch the movies over and over, till a
new one came out. The crew of the Enterprise were often in trouble, but always managed to get out of every predicament, all the while saving people (and whole civilizations,
if not planets) along the way. I watched the other Star Treks television shows
that came along, and adored them in varying degrees, but Spock and Kirk held a
special place in my heart.
Television writers will tell you the
characters of Spock and Kirk embody the trope of the odd couple, a pair who
alternate between exasperating and assisting each other. Initially appearing mismatched, it soon becomes clear the differing personalities are a perfect complement. These pairings are very popular in entertainment mediums, and appear constantly on television for a reason, but Captain Kirk and his science officer
were always my favorites.
When it comes to the films, many cite
Spock's death scene (and eventual resurrection) as the most affecting, but for
me, it was Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country that resonated. Partly due to
circumstance: my parents bought me the VHS (showing my age) after surgery, and
I watched the movie repeatedly while recovering.
Mostly, though, because of the storyline, and because of Leonard Nimoy's performance: Spock's initial inability to truly
understand the depths and repercussions of Kirk's grief over the death of his son, likewise his ability to envisage a
brighter future for both the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Not to mention his handling of betrayal, and his use of
logic as a tool in the face of great obstacles. He had to work to save Captain Kirk from a predicament resulting from Spock's own choices (and of course, in the end he did) and then together with the crew they saved the precarious peace in place across the galaxy.
Instead of being a film about defeating
power-mad baddies, the movie was about the moment when a civilization previously presented as the enemy, become victims of circumstance, and for want of a
better word, are humanized. The "enemies" this time were those who
had given in to fear (on both sides) and wished to maintain a status quo of
cultural mistrust. A brave, interesting premise. Shatner and Nimoy's
performances were brilliant, stretching across myriad emotions, leading the
audience through both humorous and psychologically harrowing scenes.
I know that as an actor Leonard Nimoy had a sometimes uneasy relationship with the role of Spock; I imagine it must be incredibly
difficult to play an iconic character over so many years. Audience perception of the line between the character and the actor invariably begin to
blur, an odd situation I'm guessing is terribly frustrating, especially
when your career spans much more than a single portrayal. While I vastly
appreciate his myriad talents–acting, writing, directing, music making–Spock will
always be the role that had the most personal impact.
Which is probably why I was hesitant to watch Nimoy in the recent rebirth of the Trek film franchise. What if his portrayal of Spock somehow jarred, failing to
transition to this new variation of the Trek universe?
But I shouldn't have worried. When Leonard Nimoy
appeared in the Star Trek reboot, he played the part with so much
emotion, brought so much wisdom to his role–and echoes of pain–it was
obvious that beyond the role itself he had become a true master of his craft. The
part of me that had looked up to him as a child, woke up, recognized the
character, and recognized the messages Nimoy was imparting about life, love,
and loss all these years later.
Hearing of Leonard Nimoy's passing made the portion of my psyche that perceived Spock as a metaphor for all things magnificent
and complex, cry out in sorrow. Ironic that someone presented as part
alien portrayed the most human conflict of all; the struggle between emotion and
logic. Perhaps because deep down, all of us feel a tad alien sometimes, and the
character of Spock was a reminder that somewhere in the universe there is a
place for us all, with people who love us despite our quirks, who will appreciate our
skills, and with whom we can achieve great things.
If it wasn't for Leonard Nimoy bringing such
life, vitality, and depth to the idea of Spock, the character could have ended up little more than a long forgotten gimmick. I doubt I would have the love of science
fiction that I do today, or written the kind of stories I tell, without the
years of Trek that helped shape my appreciation for the potential of the genre,
and, I guess, bolster a belief in humanity's potential for great achievements... In science, yes, but also in moments of selflessness and empathy.
LLAP x
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