The success of the new Star Trek film can in part be measured by the fact that no one leaves the cinema saying, “...Yes, yes – but did you see what were they wearing?” They’re too busy discussing the return of Leonard Nimoy in a cameo role as Spock and whether the new Scotty beams up better than the old one. As a result, they’re not so focused on the how the 1960s TV series has been lovingly updated by costume designer Michael Kaplan. Of course, that may be a conscious decision by the filmmakers.
Lately it has seemed that minimising the impact of fashion statements in science fiction has become a film industry goal. Who remembers the clothes in Stargate, for example? This is an interesting, if dismaying, development, since style has always mattered more in science fiction than in other genres. At times, for better or worse, it’s actually mattered more than anything else.
Just think back to the first Star Trek film in 1979, imaginatively titled Star Trek: The Motion Picture. In deciding it was no longer seemly to present the 23rd century as ruled by vaguely moddish sensibilities, the film’s designers decided to maximise its stylistic distance from the source material with everyday uniforms that had faint echoes of 1970s leisure suits. For true style, as is often the case in science fiction, one had to look to the secondary characters – remember, this was the film where Persis Khambatta’s baldness signified the future (ie, only in many, many years could people be so open-minded).
 |
| Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner in the 1960s TV series |
To avoid that, retro films such as Blade Runner avoid kitsch by looking to the past via noir’s heels and trenchcoats. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow goes a step further by declaring that sci-fi, paradoxically, is best-suited to riffing on bygone design elements. As a result, such films never look dated because, in effect, they preemptively date themselves.
Of course, another option for handling the potentially embarrassing business of predicting fashion is simply to embrace the present – make believe everyone will dress much as we do today. The emphasis here is on functionality, on avoiding flashiness. Think of the Alien films, with their blue-collar feel, or the recently-concluded Battlestar Galactica TV series, future-style for the Carhartt generation, where everything is grittily “real” as in coming centuries we’ll be too busy fighting for survival to worry about looking fabulous.
It’s no accident, then, that the current Star Trek producers chose a costume designer whose credits include urban, ultra-contemporary films such as Miami Vice and Se7en. Yet like any other mega-fandom property, Star Trek must present a somewhat consistent style with each iteration. So the new film is “1960s retro” only accidentally, using style as a touchstone to reference the original series. Put simply, despite how fetching Uhura appears as she swivels about in her black boots, Star Trek plays things safe. It’s a movie in which nothing drapes, nothing dazzles, nothing sticks out (literally or figuratively). The coolest outfit is worn by a motorcycle cop who may not even be human.
As the script makes clear, Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry but they also evidently shop at the same stores. Heavily favouring earth tones, the two groups are far less vivid than the Enterprise crew in its golds and blues, let alone those lucky cadets in cardinal red. (The style transformation that takes place upon joining the Enterprise is exemplified by Simon Pegg as Scotty, who migrates from dishevelled DJ to IT professional.) The Romulans sport dusters even in a controlled, presumably dust-free, environment, though the Vulcans’ nomadic look is a little more upscale by virtue of their polo-necks. Winona Ryder, aka Spock’s human mum, fits their crypto-Asiatic vibe well, sporting something that’s a step or two removed from a burka. Of all the cast, Star Fleet’s leaders are the worst off, since apparently they are sufficiently powerful to get away with wearing throw rugs.
All of which raises the question: when this Star Trek migrates to the afterworld of whatever cable TV becomes in the future, what will such sartorial choices suggest about the time period in which this movie was made? That we were postmodernly opportunistic about appropriating the past, perhaps, and that we had both an aversion to risk and a sense of globalism – not to mention a knack for brand-building.
Golly, they nailed it perfectly.
