These were the adventures....
Dec. 11th, 2009 10:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
selenakOdd thought of the day: does Galaxy Quest count as the film version of a roman a clef? Because much as Primary Colors was obviously inspired by Clinton and American Wife by Laura Bush, Galaxy Quest doesn't just reference Star Trek (with some other sci fi thrown in as well). The early section, with the actors making the rounds in the convention circuits and the hostile relationships between them and their former leading man is instantly recognizable as specifically the TOS crew and William Shatner, if you've read any of the memoirs by people other than Shatner and Nimoy.
Of course, in Galaxy Quest by the end we've arrived at a new "he's an egomaniac but we love him anyway" status quo, whereas in real life, not so much. Though the reactions among the supporting cast aren't uniform. You have loathing from the start (Jimmy Doohan), first dislike, then loathing (George Takei), first sympathy and admiration, then indignation and dislike (Nichelle Nichols), and exasparation mellowing in a mixture of pity and amusement (Walter Koenig). Incidentally, I've always found the supporting cast's memoirs to be the most readable, not because of the common "Bill Shatner is a bastard" theme but because these people had interesting lives beyond Star Trek. In the case of Nichols and Takei, you get a perspective of what it meant to be an actor of colour in the Hollywood of the 60s. One of my favourite stories comes when Nichelle Nichols describes the filming of Porgy and Bess (directed by Otto Preminger), where she had a small part.
"Fed up with Preminger's condescending attitude toward everyone in the all-Black cast, Sidney Poitier called a full cast meeting. He carefully planned it for a time when Dorothy Dandridge was noton the set. She was a delicate, beautiful woman who deserved far better treatment than Preminger (who had an affair with her) gave her, and Sidney didn't want to cause her further problems with our director.
As Priminger stood there baffled, Sidney expressed his annoyance in no uncertain terms. "Otto! We are not Stepin Fetchits. We are artists!" he roared. "And we will not tolerate your bullying white slavemaster tactics!"
"Hear! Hear!" Brock Peters growled.
"You do not listen, Otto," Sammy added, somewhat more gently. "Otto, baby, you gotta listen, man."
Surprisingly, Preminger did listen without arguing. But to make certain that he fully understood the problem, Pearlie Mae settled it once and for all.
"Look, Otto, honey," she began. "There ain't no use going through this over and over. You've got professional people here, from the stars to the singers and dancers, even the extras. We know our business and we're all working hard, but you are not giving us the respect that is due us. And the way you're treating that poor child Dandridge is disgusting, with her her breaking down every day in tears and holding up production. You better figure this out, honey: we are human beings, not slaves! If you don't, you ain't gonna have no picture."
"Miss Bailey, what do you want from me?" Preminger finally asked.
Pearlie May's eyes narrowed. "Darlign, I know you ain't stupid, and I know you know what respect is. But just in case, I'll tell you. You can start with this damned script. It's written by some silly-ass white boy who's trying to write colored. It's insulting. First, he's written all these "dees" and "dems" and "dose" and "Ises" and "weeses" and "beeses". Well, we've tried to act this dumb crap, but it's all ridiculous. Besides," she added, chuckling, "they're all in the wrong places!"
"What do you suggest, Pearl?" Preminger asked, truly befuddled.
"Honey, just let them write the script in plain English without your white version," she replied. Lapsing into a stereotypical Southern dialect, she quipped, "Wese knows where dem deses and doses and 'i's 'sposed to beses, Mr. Charlie. We don't need no white boy tellin' us how to be cullud...suh!"
George Takei spent part of his childhood in the camps for Japanese-Americans during World War II (Rowher and Tule Lake), which among other things ensured a life long interest and engagement in politics. He campaigned for and was friend with first councilman, then Los Angeles mayor Tom Bradley (the first black mayor in a major American city) and ran for office at the Los Angeles City Council himself. The passage where he explains what playing Sulu meant for him is typical for the larger-context-awareness of his book:
"Throughout our theatrical history, Asians had been visible on American stages and screens from the time immigrants first becan arriving from Asia over a hundred and fifty years ago. In times of prosperity, the depiction of Asians had been benign - usually as quaintly charming or romantically exotic. IN times of stress - of economic hard times and social tensions - Asians and other minorities became scapegoats. The images became darker, depraved, dangerous. Chinatowns were transformed from quartrs of captivating exotica to ominous places of white slavery and opium dens. Quiet, servile Japanese became inscrutable and shifty. At tiomes of war, with Japan, with Korea, or in China, Asians were transformed into deadly omnipotent foes - the personifications of evil. The images of Asians were reduced to politically incited, media-manipulated stereotypes.
We were again engaged in a hot war in Asia. Vietnam was raging. Every night on the six o' clock news, we saw the enemy - deadly, black-pajamana-clad threats in the jungle. It was kill or be killed. These cunning foes had to be destroyed. Bomb them! Burn them! Napalm them!! They had to be wiped out. These enemies in black pajamas... looked like me.
But every night, a little bit after the six o'clock news, the Star Trek reruns came on. There on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise we saw our heroes, the good guys. And there at the helm console we saw Lieutenant Sulu, a crack professional, a swashbuckler, one of our good guys - one of us. ANd he was Asian; his face looked like that of those wearing the black pajamas on the six o'clock news. For the first time in the history of the American media at a time of war in Asia, there was a regularly visible counterbalance to the pervasive image of Asians as evil, of Asians as nemeses. Sulu was on "our side", he was one of the heroes. And his face was mine."
As far as Star Trek is concerned: what everyone's books agree are that DeForrest Kelley was a sweetheart and the nicest guy imaginable, Leonard Nimoy was remote but impressive (and came through for the supporting cast by insisting they should voice their characters in the ST cartoons instead, as the network had originally planned, being replaced by other actors while only the trio was kept, which made a difference to everyone's income)... and, err, that Bill Shatner was something else. Not coincidentally, by the time the books get to Wratch of Khan there is very pointed Ricardo Montalban praise, along the lines of "and then we saw it was possible to be a star and not be an asshole at the same time", or, as Takei puts it: "Ricardo felt he was there to serve the script. If an angle that favored another actor made sense, he deferred. If a scene needed to be tightened and his line of dialogue was slowing the action, he considered eliminating it. (...) Walter, who had many scenes with him, would come off the set marvelling. 'I can't believe it. Ricardo Montalban, this legendary star, is so generous! He's incredible!' Ricardo was a big star in every sense. THere was size to his presence. There was grandiloquence in his speech. And ther was bigness in his spirit."
Walter Koenig, the only one of the TOS supporting cast for whom lightning struck twice, so to speak (i.e. he became part of another cult tv show, Babylon 5), is probably the most self-critical of all the TOS memoirs writers - his memoirs read a bit like an early Woody Allen movie, Koenig as the entertainingly kvetching narrator - , which also contributes to the conciliatory tone towards William Shatner. Case in point, the description of shooting Generations, with which I shall conclude my overview:
"I braced myself the first time Carson offered an alternative approach to ta scene Bill had been rehearsing. (...) Shatner had no problem trying it a different way and brought to his lines the same dedication he ahd done previously. It didn't require great insight on my part to see what was happening. He admitted to me that for the first time he didn't feel like the star of the production. Not carrying all that baggage did wonders for his sense of proportion. He was much more a regular guy than I had ever seen him before.
In the absence of Leonard and De he also turned to me for the small talk around the set. I kidded him a lot. Particularly in his efforts to establish some kind of rapport with Jimmy Doohan. Jimmy was always professional but remained distant. Jimmy has spoken a thousand times about his differences with BIll Shatner. He wasn't about to have a change of heart now.
Now I'm going to relate a story with a one word punchline. THe reader might well wonder why I have included such an apparently innocuous incident here. Innocuous to you, maybe. To me it was historic. We were setting up the scene just after I introduce Sulu's daughter to Captain Kirk. We are both standing on the bridge, the Captain above and slightly behind Chekov, as we watch the young woman move away. The camera is facing us. 'I vas neverr dot young," says the wistful Russian. We rehearsed it a couple of times looking out past the camera, as was natural. Then Bill quietly suggested that, instead, I turn to him while saying the line. It doesn't take Ansel Adams to figure out that if I do that my back is to the lens and there is only one face in the shot.
"No," I said. I can't ever remember saying "no" to Mr. Shatner before. That it took twenty seven years and was such a big deal to me probably says more about my character flaws than his."
Of course, in Galaxy Quest by the end we've arrived at a new "he's an egomaniac but we love him anyway" status quo, whereas in real life, not so much. Though the reactions among the supporting cast aren't uniform. You have loathing from the start (Jimmy Doohan), first dislike, then loathing (George Takei), first sympathy and admiration, then indignation and dislike (Nichelle Nichols), and exasparation mellowing in a mixture of pity and amusement (Walter Koenig). Incidentally, I've always found the supporting cast's memoirs to be the most readable, not because of the common "Bill Shatner is a bastard" theme but because these people had interesting lives beyond Star Trek. In the case of Nichols and Takei, you get a perspective of what it meant to be an actor of colour in the Hollywood of the 60s. One of my favourite stories comes when Nichelle Nichols describes the filming of Porgy and Bess (directed by Otto Preminger), where she had a small part.
"Fed up with Preminger's condescending attitude toward everyone in the all-Black cast, Sidney Poitier called a full cast meeting. He carefully planned it for a time when Dorothy Dandridge was noton the set. She was a delicate, beautiful woman who deserved far better treatment than Preminger (who had an affair with her) gave her, and Sidney didn't want to cause her further problems with our director.
As Priminger stood there baffled, Sidney expressed his annoyance in no uncertain terms. "Otto! We are not Stepin Fetchits. We are artists!" he roared. "And we will not tolerate your bullying white slavemaster tactics!"
"Hear! Hear!" Brock Peters growled.
"You do not listen, Otto," Sammy added, somewhat more gently. "Otto, baby, you gotta listen, man."
Surprisingly, Preminger did listen without arguing. But to make certain that he fully understood the problem, Pearlie Mae settled it once and for all.
"Look, Otto, honey," she began. "There ain't no use going through this over and over. You've got professional people here, from the stars to the singers and dancers, even the extras. We know our business and we're all working hard, but you are not giving us the respect that is due us. And the way you're treating that poor child Dandridge is disgusting, with her her breaking down every day in tears and holding up production. You better figure this out, honey: we are human beings, not slaves! If you don't, you ain't gonna have no picture."
"Miss Bailey, what do you want from me?" Preminger finally asked.
Pearlie May's eyes narrowed. "Darlign, I know you ain't stupid, and I know you know what respect is. But just in case, I'll tell you. You can start with this damned script. It's written by some silly-ass white boy who's trying to write colored. It's insulting. First, he's written all these "dees" and "dems" and "dose" and "Ises" and "weeses" and "beeses". Well, we've tried to act this dumb crap, but it's all ridiculous. Besides," she added, chuckling, "they're all in the wrong places!"
"What do you suggest, Pearl?" Preminger asked, truly befuddled.
"Honey, just let them write the script in plain English without your white version," she replied. Lapsing into a stereotypical Southern dialect, she quipped, "Wese knows where dem deses and doses and 'i's 'sposed to beses, Mr. Charlie. We don't need no white boy tellin' us how to be cullud...suh!"
George Takei spent part of his childhood in the camps for Japanese-Americans during World War II (Rowher and Tule Lake), which among other things ensured a life long interest and engagement in politics. He campaigned for and was friend with first councilman, then Los Angeles mayor Tom Bradley (the first black mayor in a major American city) and ran for office at the Los Angeles City Council himself. The passage where he explains what playing Sulu meant for him is typical for the larger-context-awareness of his book:
"Throughout our theatrical history, Asians had been visible on American stages and screens from the time immigrants first becan arriving from Asia over a hundred and fifty years ago. In times of prosperity, the depiction of Asians had been benign - usually as quaintly charming or romantically exotic. IN times of stress - of economic hard times and social tensions - Asians and other minorities became scapegoats. The images became darker, depraved, dangerous. Chinatowns were transformed from quartrs of captivating exotica to ominous places of white slavery and opium dens. Quiet, servile Japanese became inscrutable and shifty. At tiomes of war, with Japan, with Korea, or in China, Asians were transformed into deadly omnipotent foes - the personifications of evil. The images of Asians were reduced to politically incited, media-manipulated stereotypes.
We were again engaged in a hot war in Asia. Vietnam was raging. Every night on the six o' clock news, we saw the enemy - deadly, black-pajamana-clad threats in the jungle. It was kill or be killed. These cunning foes had to be destroyed. Bomb them! Burn them! Napalm them!! They had to be wiped out. These enemies in black pajamas... looked like me.
But every night, a little bit after the six o'clock news, the Star Trek reruns came on. There on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise we saw our heroes, the good guys. And there at the helm console we saw Lieutenant Sulu, a crack professional, a swashbuckler, one of our good guys - one of us. ANd he was Asian; his face looked like that of those wearing the black pajamas on the six o'clock news. For the first time in the history of the American media at a time of war in Asia, there was a regularly visible counterbalance to the pervasive image of Asians as evil, of Asians as nemeses. Sulu was on "our side", he was one of the heroes. And his face was mine."
As far as Star Trek is concerned: what everyone's books agree are that DeForrest Kelley was a sweetheart and the nicest guy imaginable, Leonard Nimoy was remote but impressive (and came through for the supporting cast by insisting they should voice their characters in the ST cartoons instead, as the network had originally planned, being replaced by other actors while only the trio was kept, which made a difference to everyone's income)... and, err, that Bill Shatner was something else. Not coincidentally, by the time the books get to Wratch of Khan there is very pointed Ricardo Montalban praise, along the lines of "and then we saw it was possible to be a star and not be an asshole at the same time", or, as Takei puts it: "Ricardo felt he was there to serve the script. If an angle that favored another actor made sense, he deferred. If a scene needed to be tightened and his line of dialogue was slowing the action, he considered eliminating it. (...) Walter, who had many scenes with him, would come off the set marvelling. 'I can't believe it. Ricardo Montalban, this legendary star, is so generous! He's incredible!' Ricardo was a big star in every sense. THere was size to his presence. There was grandiloquence in his speech. And ther was bigness in his spirit."
Walter Koenig, the only one of the TOS supporting cast for whom lightning struck twice, so to speak (i.e. he became part of another cult tv show, Babylon 5), is probably the most self-critical of all the TOS memoirs writers - his memoirs read a bit like an early Woody Allen movie, Koenig as the entertainingly kvetching narrator - , which also contributes to the conciliatory tone towards William Shatner. Case in point, the description of shooting Generations, with which I shall conclude my overview:
"I braced myself the first time Carson offered an alternative approach to ta scene Bill had been rehearsing. (...) Shatner had no problem trying it a different way and brought to his lines the same dedication he ahd done previously. It didn't require great insight on my part to see what was happening. He admitted to me that for the first time he didn't feel like the star of the production. Not carrying all that baggage did wonders for his sense of proportion. He was much more a regular guy than I had ever seen him before.
In the absence of Leonard and De he also turned to me for the small talk around the set. I kidded him a lot. Particularly in his efforts to establish some kind of rapport with Jimmy Doohan. Jimmy was always professional but remained distant. Jimmy has spoken a thousand times about his differences with BIll Shatner. He wasn't about to have a change of heart now.
Now I'm going to relate a story with a one word punchline. THe reader might well wonder why I have included such an apparently innocuous incident here. Innocuous to you, maybe. To me it was historic. We were setting up the scene just after I introduce Sulu's daughter to Captain Kirk. We are both standing on the bridge, the Captain above and slightly behind Chekov, as we watch the young woman move away. The camera is facing us. 'I vas neverr dot young," says the wistful Russian. We rehearsed it a couple of times looking out past the camera, as was natural. Then Bill quietly suggested that, instead, I turn to him while saying the line. It doesn't take Ansel Adams to figure out that if I do that my back is to the lens and there is only one face in the shot.
"No," I said. I can't ever remember saying "no" to Mr. Shatner before. That it took twenty seven years and was such a big deal to me probably says more about my character flaws than his."
