“Was it not Gautier who used to
write about la consolation des arts? I remember picking up a little
vellum-covered book in your studio one day and chancing on that delightful
phrase. Well, I am not like that young man you told me of when we were down at
Marlow together, the young man who used to say that yellow satin could console
one for all the miseries of life. I love beautiful things that one can touch
and handle. Old brocades, green bronzes, lacquer-work, carved ivories,
exquisite surroundings, luxury, pomp—there is much to be got from all these.”
--- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian
Gray (1891)
"To the man who loves art for
its own sake," remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement
sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its least important and
lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived.” -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Cooper Beeches (1892)
Two very
different concepts on the curative power of art, written only one year
apart. However, recent events have led
me to believe that it may be Sir Arthur and not Mr. Wilde who was closer to the
mark.
Your
Correspondent has recently been thinking of the pleasures of pop art versus
those found in the Fine Arts, the proper subject of this blog. Dealing with multiple responsibilities, I
relaxed within the warm confines of some delightful junk art. It has gotten me thinking that often, when tired,
that it was not towards the highest, but, rather, towards the lowest that I
went for succor and comfort. Why, I
wonder, would that be?
The
reasons are multiple and, as is usual when considering art of any type,
complex. It would be too easy by half to
say that junk art provides only expected sensations, and, consequently, comfort,
pleasure and even a kind of solace. Nor
do I think that good junk art was created solely for the groundlings, who are
unworthy (or unwilling) to interact with the higher branches of the fine
arts. No … I would argue that good junk
art stimulates essential pleasure centers of the brain, pleasure centers that
were meant to be stimulated, and that need that stimulus in order to remain
healthy.
So, we
have to agree when Sherlock Holmes
says that art’s keenest pleasures are often to be derived in its least
important and lowliest manifestations.
(It is important to remember here, too, that the Sherlock Holmes stories
are junk art of the very highest pedigree.)
I have
been enjoying a great deal of junk art over the past couple of weeks, and
wanted to share both the delights and pitfalls to be found in them. And how better than to start with that global
phenomena, Star Trek.
For
those readers who have not been living in a cave for nearly the last 50 years or
so, Star Trek started as a science fiction thriller on network television in
the 1960s. It fairly limped along for
three seasons until the network pulled the plug in search of something that
would generate better ratings.
Normally,
the result would’ve been that the vast majority of American viewers simply
opened another beer and moved onto to some other program. But Star Trek would not die. It was saved once during its initial run by a
letter campaign that ensured the final two seasons, and once it was off for
good, it was kept alive in syndication, comic books, novels, fan fiction and on
the convention circuit.
A decade
after the last television episode saw the first, big-budget film adaptation,
and the franchise has not stopped for breath since. There have been 12 movie adaptations, and
five later television series. It does
not seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
As with
any huge entertainment franchise, there is much that is good and much that is
bad in Star Trek. Your correspondent has
a soft spot for the original series, starring William Shatner and the late Leonard
Nimoy, and likes Star Trek: The Next
Generation a great deal. But … it’s
all still junk.
Though
there will be calls for my head on a pike, the ugly truth is that when Star
Trek is good, it’s pedigree junk, and when it’s bad, it’s nearly unwatchable.
What’s
the good? Well, Star Trek will often
confront questions on the nature of the human condition … but only in the most
surface and reassuring way. Vindications
of our simple humanity and calls for universal tolerance and progress are all
good things. And when these homilies are
delivered by an actor with real gravitas (such as Patrick Stewart, who played the Shakespeare-quoting Captain Picard), they can sound wonderfully
profound. However, their profundity is
of the Reader’s Digest sampler kind;
propositions no one is really going take issue with, and never to be examined
in any depth.
This
often makes terrific television and compelling movies, but it is not art of a
high order. In short, Star Trek is an
imitation classic – it is Shakespeare for those too tired, or uninterested, in
the real thing. But, unlike Shakespeare,
any real profundity is brought to it by the viewer, and is not really inherent
in the text. But its deficiencies are
not the point … Star Trek, in terms of high-minded themes translated into
compelling drama still manages to get the job done.
What’s
the bad? Well … like many offerings that
generate obsessive fan-bases, Star Trek is often its own worst enemy. Too often plot, character development or even
the underlying philosophy of the concept are driven by demands of an entrenched
fan-base. That kind of outward direction
has killed greater modes of artistic expression, and for a franchise it can be
the kiss of death. (For an example of
this, look at the disaster that is Star
Trek IV: The Undiscovered Country.
Designed as the farewell film of the original cast, it is little more
than a litany of shtick, none of which seems to make sense in context of the
story.)
Another
problem is that, with an enterprise like Star Trek (sorry), it is impossible
not to come to the well too many times.
Though it is often reinvented with tweaks that give the appearance of
freshness, the franchise is filled with tired blood and should be put out of
its misery.
Wait … I
hear you saying, isn’t the whole point of this the consolation of the
arts? Indeed it is. Your correspondent admits that when he is
tired, there are few things more comforting that an episode of Star Trek: The
Next Generation. Just listening to
Stewart mouth the platitudes and homilies that Star Trek provides in great
profusion can be a tremendous solace. It
is also a delight to know that someone, somewhere, believes that the race will
continue to exist hundreds of years from now, and will even move out into the
stars. Finally, while Star Trek would
never argue in favor of the perfectibility of the human race, it continues to
underscore what is worthy, heroic and noble in our natures.
And
that’s not junk.
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