The 'hate Star Trek V' bandwagon.
- Thread starter HansVerhaaden
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Welp I haven't had 2 sigs in a row from ST:V because of my pain, noooo sirree.
I never understood why Sarek, who took a human wife, was so intent that Spock live the Vulcan way on Vulcan. It was unbecoming of him and doesn't really fit the character. But factor in Sybok, his full-Vulcan son who was banished for refusing to follow Surak, and it all makes sense. Sarek pushes Spock to be Vulcan because he's afraid that Spock, and possibly Amanda too, would get the same treatment.
Sybok was a hugely embarrassing failure and now he must make sure the second one doesn't do the same, uphill battle though it is.
This is the most ridiculous thread I've seen in my 2 years or so of lurking on these boards. I happen to love one of the most universally disliked films in the franchise - Nemesis. I accept that there's things that people dislike about that movie and fully understand them. I don't feel like other fans are ganging up on me, I simply enjoy the discussion and and have taken on board a lot of other opinions about trek in my time here, and it has enhanced my love for trek, not made me feel persecuted. People have brought up points that I'd not considered before and made me see certain scenes/films in another way. What I don't do is try and create a gang of fellow lovers of it and question everyone else's opinions.
The right way to go about this is to simply start a 'Star Trek 5 Appreciation Thread'. The people who like the movie will simply naturally 'come forward' as he puts it. I won't be one of them as I don't rate the movie.
I bet HansVerhaaden has managed to piss of even people who like the movie with his attitude.
The right way to go about this is to simply start a 'Star Trek 5 Appreciation Thread'. The people who like the movie will simply naturally 'come forward' as he puts it. I won't be one of them as I don't rate the movie.
I bet HansVerhaaden has managed to piss of even people who like the movie with his attitude.
It's possible that was the intent all along.
'Cept, this clique is fucking awesome.[/QUOTE]
Um, not to everyone, Admiral. Still, your point is taken and many of us try to,contribute and enhance as best we can. It can be a very tough room.
"Thank you, Thank you, Alpha Quadrant!" "i'ii be here all year!"
I don't know about that, but let me tell you a story.
Back in the day, when TFF first came out, I went to see it in theatres. I can't say as I actually watched any of the movie at all at that particular time, because I was with my girlfriend and we spent the entire run-time making out and drinking the vodka we'd managed to smuggle out of her parents' liquor cabinet and into the theatre. Nevertheless I can tell you that for whatever reason, I walked out of that theatre surfing a powerful wave of euphoria and looking forward to even better things to come.
But then... and I will never forget them... then there were these two men. They were wearing these black suits with Nehru jackets, like, well... like Star Trek villains, I guess. And they had dark glasses and earpieces and this really menacing, swaggering manner about them. And they saw Nikki and I (Nikki was my girl) and pointed us out to one another, and approached us.
"You two look very happy," one of them said in a voice cold as a tombstone on a midwinter's night. "Did you enjoy Star Trek Vee?" He actually pronounced the "Vee," which I remember thinking was odd.
Nikki and I looked at each other. It was clear to me that neither of us wanted anyone to know what we'd really been doing instead of watching the movie, so I lied and said: "Yes, it was great. Really cool."
"We're glad to hearr that," said the second man with a faint accent that I couldn't place. "We arre marrket resarrcharrs. We would like you to conduct an intarrview with us, if you'd be so kind." He said it just like that.
We were a little confused, but we were also kids, and gullible. So we agreed to go with them.
They led us out of the theatre and into a sleek black sedan waiting in the parking lot. I remember that they were playing Barry Manilow on the tape deck. "Could It Be Magic." That song gives me chills of nameless terror to this day.
After that, I remember nothing. I woke up in a hospital bed, and the doctors told me I had experienced a minor fainting spell outside the theatre. But when I asked them about the men, the car, what had happened to Nikki, they just looked back at me blankly. None of them knew what I was talking about. Disoriented, I demanded a phone so I could call Nikki... but the woman who picked up at her number, and who sounded like her mom, denied knowing any such person.
There were some dark days after that. I felt as if I was going mad. I raged at the doctors, my parents, my teachers, insisting on the existence of the men, demanding that they call the police, find out what happened to Nikki. I searched for my girlfriend at all our old haunts, like the corner store where we used to buy candy bars together, and the park where we went for a walk, and the... the corner store. But there was nothing.
I was distraught, and distracted. I began to skip classes, and my grades spiralled steadily down into the low B's. I fell in with a bad crowd and started getting into dangerous habits like fantasy football. I felt all alone, the only sane person in an insane world on a road to nowhere.
And then one day a thought occurred to me. I had to go back. Back to where it had happened. I had to see Star Trek V again.
I scrounged together my allowance and the money from my paper route, and I went. And this time I sat in the theatre alone, and I actually watched the film.
It was the worst thing I had ever seen, and filled me with a choking fury. I mean: "Row, Row, Row Your Boat?" *!@#ing seriously? I staggered out of the theatre reeling with an all-consuming anger, and several of my fellow movie-goers had to restrain me from flat-out punching the usher for no good reason.
Then an extraordinary thing happened. One of my fellow film-goers whispered to me as they were holding me back: "So they got to you, too. It's okay. You're not crazy."
Then the hands let me go and they left. I looked around wildly, tried to make eye contact with one of those patrons -- there were only about six of them -- to figure out who'd said those words. But there was nothing. Had I even really heard them?
Yet whether it had really happened or not... I felt some measure of comfort. Like I wasn't alone, even if I would never know the entire truth. It was enough, at least, to pull my life back together. The next time someone asked me if I wanted to skip class to do some fantasy football trades, I looked at them and proudly gave them back a firm "no." And I spent the rest of my days carefully avoiding any full viewings of Star Trek V, lest that murderous, inexplicable fury should take hold of me again, and the old, dark memories should come boiling up with it.
But that Nikki-shaped hole in my life was never filled again, and never again did I tell anyone, even my family, the real story. You, friend Hans, are the first person to whom I have confessed this secret in many long years. I am weeping as I type these words.
And look. I'm not saying it was aliens?
But draw your own conclusions.
But then... and I will never forget them... then there were these two men. They were wearing these black suits with Nehru jackets, like, well... like Star Trek villains, I guess. And they had dark glasses and earpieces and this really menacing, swaggering manner about them. And they saw Nikki and I (Nikki was my girl) and pointed us out to one another, and approached us.
"You two look very happy," one of them said in a voice cold as a tombstone on a midwinter's night. "Did you enjoy Star Trek Vee?" He actually pronounced the "Vee," which I remember thinking was odd.
Nikki and I looked at each other. It was clear to me that neither of us wanted anyone to know what we'd really been doing instead of watching the movie, so I lied and said: "Yes, it was great. Really cool."
"We're glad to hearr that," said the second man with a faint accent that I couldn't place. "We arre marrket resarrcharrs. We would like you to conduct an intarrview with us, if you'd be so kind." He said it just like that.
We were a little confused, but we were also kids, and gullible. So we agreed to go with them.
They led us out of the theatre and into a sleek black sedan waiting in the parking lot. I remember that they were playing Barry Manilow on the tape deck. "Could It Be Magic." That song gives me chills of nameless terror to this day.
After that, I remember nothing. I woke up in a hospital bed, and the doctors told me I had experienced a minor fainting spell outside the theatre. But when I asked them about the men, the car, what had happened to Nikki, they just looked back at me blankly. None of them knew what I was talking about. Disoriented, I demanded a phone so I could call Nikki... but the woman who picked up at her number, and who sounded like her mom, denied knowing any such person.
There were some dark days after that. I felt as if I was going mad. I raged at the doctors, my parents, my teachers, insisting on the existence of the men, demanding that they call the police, find out what happened to Nikki. I searched for my girlfriend at all our old haunts, like the corner store where we used to buy candy bars together, and the park where we went for a walk, and the... the corner store. But there was nothing.
I was distraught, and distracted. I began to skip classes, and my grades spiralled steadily down into the low B's. I fell in with a bad crowd and started getting into dangerous habits like fantasy football. I felt all alone, the only sane person in an insane world on a road to nowhere.
And then one day a thought occurred to me. I had to go back. Back to where it had happened. I had to see Star Trek V again.
I scrounged together my allowance and the money from my paper route, and I went. And this time I sat in the theatre alone, and I actually watched the film.
It was the worst thing I had ever seen, and filled me with a choking fury. I mean: "Row, Row, Row Your Boat?" *!@#ing seriously? I staggered out of the theatre reeling with an all-consuming anger, and several of my fellow movie-goers had to restrain me from flat-out punching the usher for no good reason.
Then an extraordinary thing happened. One of my fellow film-goers whispered to me as they were holding me back: "So they got to you, too. It's okay. You're not crazy."
Then the hands let me go and they left. I looked around wildly, tried to make eye contact with one of those patrons -- there were only about six of them -- to figure out who'd said those words. But there was nothing. Had I even really heard them?
Yet whether it had really happened or not... I felt some measure of comfort. Like I wasn't alone, even if I would never know the entire truth. It was enough, at least, to pull my life back together. The next time someone asked me if I wanted to skip class to do some fantasy football trades, I looked at them and proudly gave them back a firm "no." And I spent the rest of my days carefully avoiding any full viewings of Star Trek V, lest that murderous, inexplicable fury should take hold of me again, and the old, dark memories should come boiling up with it.
But that Nikki-shaped hole in my life was never filled again, and never again did I tell anyone, even my family, the real story. You, friend Hans, are the first person to whom I have confessed this secret in many long years. I am weeping as I type these words.
And look. I'm not saying it was aliens?
But draw your own conclusions.
Okay guys, I think it's time to close this. Hans, don't constantly accuse people of lying. That might be looked upon as trolling. Maurice, go after the post, not the poster.
CLANG!
CLANG!
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