As a pop culture behemoth, the Star Trek franchise has long been a ripe target for satire. In fact, just about every sketch comedy show has fired off a Trek spoof, whether it’s Jim Carrey’s clipped, histrionic Captain Kirk on In Living Color, or Bill Shatner himself mocking Trekkie superfans on SNL. All this pointing and snickering crystallized in Trekkies, the documentary that showcased Trek fandom’s wackiest fringe. From the outset, Galaxy Quest joins a very crowded field.
That fact makes this movie something of a minor miracle: For all its hilariousness, Quest never feels mean or rings false. Every minute of it is an invitation for diehard fans to laugh at franchise tropes and then to laugh at themselves. I’m a lifelong Trek devotee, and the young version of me bears a slight resemblance to the teenage goobs found in this film. Make no mistake: This isn’t a satire. It’s a valentine.
That love letter begins about twenty years after the cancellation of Galaxy Quest, the fictitious TV show within the movie. (With its kitschy 80s aesthetic, Quest actually bears stronger resemblance to Star Trek: The Next Generation, but I’ll happily listen to rebuttal.) The show’s cast now finds itself in comic-con hell, signing autographs and answering mundane questions from obsessive fans.
Jason Nesmith (Tim Allen), who played Cmdr. Peter Quincy Taggart, is the Shatner avatar. He’s cocky, self-absorbed, and completely oblivious to the contempt of his co-stars. Sir Alexander Dane (Alan Rickman) stands in for Leonard Nimoy. Dane probably dreamed of being a thespian on the order Sir John Gielgud. (“I played Richard III, damn it! There were five curtain calls!”) Now he’s forever stuck in the role of Dr. Lazarus, a brilliant scientist with a bumpy lizard head. In a sly move, the filmmakers underline that joke by never removing Rickman’s alien prosthetics.
The disgruntled supporting players are equally spot-on: Sigourney Weaver plays Tawny Madison, the show’s requisite eye candy. She’s akin to Generation‘s Counselor Troi, replete with plunging necklines and a superfluous role on the ship. (For all its uncommon quality, TNG really struggled to develop its female regulars.) Fred Kwan (Tony Shalhoub) mocks the Trek franchise’s inclusivity, as he’s a man of vaguely ethnic origin. Of course, no Trek spoof would be complete without an obnoxiously precocious child prodigy. Much like Wil Wheaton, Daryl Mitchell’s Tommy Laredo has grown up to realize how ridiculous his character is.
I’ve purposefully saved my favorite shipmate for last: Sam Rockwell steals most of his scenes as Guy, the crew’s smarmy, high-strung promoter. Once he joins the adventure, Guy recoils at becoming a sudden Redshirt. (For noobs not familiar with the Trek phenomenon of Redshirts, I’ll let you google it.)
That adventure borrows heavily from Three Amigos!, itself a daffy spoof of The Magnificent Seven. (Seven springs from Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai, making this one of the stranger family trees in movie history.) At a comic-con, Nesmith is approached by a squad of Thermians–lovable, benign sitcom aliens. Their world is under threat from Sarris (Robin Sachs), a squid-like warlord. Nesmith assumes this is another half-assed personal appearance in somebody’s basement, so he takes the gig. Once he is beamed across the cosmos, Nesmith realizes the crazy truth: These aliens live under the delusion that the Galaxy Quest crew are real, and the show is a document of their adventures.
Nesmith, intrigued by the excitement of an actual quest, rallies the apathetic crew to his cause. They react in disgusted disbelief, but also can’t turn down a potential payday. The crew hitches onto the Thermian crusade, and now must prove themselves equal to their fictional heroics.
The resulting story feels a lot like a souped-up Trek two-parter. Series devotees will find countless easter eggs tucked into the plot. (Example: Allen’s Gorn-style battle on an alien planet. “I see you managed to get your shirt off!” Rickman howls.) The Trek franchise has been around long enough to be a clothesline for sci-fi tropes, and Quest sends up just about every one.
Beyond its careful aim, Galaxy Quest scores with a magical cast of actors. Allen absolutely nails the Shatner knockoff, right down to the blustery diva behavior that alienated most of his castmates. That goes ditto for Rickman, who’s both funny and poignant as the embittered Spock clone. (Leonard Nimoy titled his autobiography I’m Not Spock, in a futile escape attempt.) Meanwhile, Weaver’s character endures her own frustration–what might’ve been if the camera had never found her cleavage. Apart from the Quest crew, Enrico Colantoni has a ball playing the tics and quirks of Mathasar, the Thermian’s selfless leader.
Galaxy Quest viewers will likely fall into two camps: Trek neophytes will greet this satire with mild amusement. After all, some of these tropes have become universal enough to be funny for anybody. On the other hand, franchise fanatics will recognize this as a labor love. If you’re in the second camp, those four stars are for you. For anybody else, this will feel like a silly little movie. And it is. It’s also one of my all-time favorites.
102 min. PG-13. Amazon Video.
