There is something about Star Trek first Contact that brings me to tears. It was just on Channel Four. That was a strange thing in itself really, as, lying in bed this morning, I was thinking about how long it had been since I had watched it, going over my favourite scenes in my head. I had no idea it would be on today, and shrieked with joy when I saw it coming up. Much to Lyn’s bemusement, then, I just spent two happy hours on the sofa getting reacquainted with an old friend, saying my favourite lines as the actors on screen say them, and trying to ignore the sarcastic chuckles coming from the two cynical women in the kitchen when data says things like ”I am…fully functional”.
I suppose I have a strange relationship with first contact. In a way I love it in almost the strongest sense; a large part of my master’s thesis is devoted to it. In a way it is deeply personal. There is one scene in it which I revere above all other moments in cinema – a scene where I think I can read all of my anger and emotion concerning the death of my friends on Patrick Stewart’s face. But I’ve written about that on here before, and I don’t feel like going over it again. There is something else about this film I like though: it is a kind of hope. It is a film that says that, no matter how badly humanity screws things up, we will have a bright future.
Evening is falling. Chopper asked me to go round to his after my film so iii might head out soon. On my way, I’ll look up: the sky is not as clear here as it was in Cheshire, but you can still make out the brightest stars. I still wonder, every time I see them, if we will ever explore space as we do on Star Trek. We can only hope that one day we can overcome our petty differences and together reach for the final frontier.