This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time, a series begun right here. As mentioned before, at one time I had a list of movies compiled with my initial, and usually, first-run experience with them. Turned out I didn’t need it. The internet would supply the impetus and order for bringing them forward. Yesterday, StarTrek.com did just that. By noting the 32nd year anniversary of what I believe is the best movie in their venerable Science-Fiction franchise.
“I have been and always shall be your friend.”
June 5, 1982: Having watched the Star Trek TV series as a kid, from its mid-60s inception, I’ve been hooked. The original, before they ever tagged descriptors at the tail end — The Next Generation this, Deep Space that, etc. No doubt nurtured by the classic Sci-Fi/Monster flicks of the 50s I’d watched on my grandmother’s black & white set in her living room whenever possible.
I’d even take in its Animated Series follow-up the next decade over, which played on Saturday morning television, a year after graduating high school. Such was my commitment to the breakthrough program. That, and the continual loop of syndicated reruns sealed my fate to Gene Roddenberry’s gem of an idea. I think my grandmother exasperatingly asked if I was watching the whole thing…yet again.
So by the time Paramount released Star Trek: The Motion Picture in ’79, you had to know where I’d be. Dragging she-whose-name-who-must-not-be mentioned to this. The R.N. I’d been dating at the time. Flash-forward three years, we’re now living together. Me attempting to cajole her into going on another Star Trek movie jaunt. “No.”, came her reply this time.
Deriding the whole Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan sequel endeavor (see title). Not wanting to stand in line once more for a two-hour plus movie she’d find boring. I assured her its runtime was less than that — having called the National Theatre‘s box office to verify. A venue I knew she enjoyed. My begging knew no bounds when it came to Star Trek. Or the Saturday night, after the film’s Friday release, I planned.
Promised her dinner anywhere in Westwood Village she wanted, quickly calculating the balance on my credit card as I said it. As long as we got there early enough to get into the ticket line, I added. There’s a mien she doled out that I’d grown accustomed to by now. The, You-Owe-Me-One, look, which resulted. She’d not complain about this Star Trek. Nor say anything about my eyes blinking back tears by the end.
Being a nurse and all, she probably was well aware of my darn Spring allergies, I reckoned.