Didn't take long for this new franchise . . .

Rating: 2/10 (5 June 2013)

. . . to jump the galactic shark.
I really liked the Abrams reboot and was hoping for the best here. But apparently, J.J. Abrams does not have the courage of his own convictions.
After creating a temporal loophole that allowed for a fresh parallel reality for the new franchise and its characters, Abrams and company have perversely turned back to the original series' timeline, not only for a recycled plot but also its key moment of grandiose tragic aspiration -- which inevitably came off as hollow and unearned.
In his remake of "The Wrath of Khan," Abrams is by halves both too clever and not clever enough. If you're going to bounce the new film's tropes off the old one's -- including the famous Spock death scene -- you should know that doing so automatically undercuts the existential reality of the new story. Instead of living and breathing as authentic drama, these echoes and reflections of pre-enacted scenes play like so many postmodern post-it notes on the studio white board. They're by nature counterfeit. The mind just won't accept the authenticity of the new drama, not for a New York second. This is not just because history must repeat itself as farce, but because the new film's contrivances feel so wrong in their own moment, and in the context of the specific arc leading to that moment.
Consider: when Spock died in "Wrath of Khan" (1982), we'd known him and Kirk since 1966. That's a lot of time for us to observe (and imagine) the ups and downs of an intimate friendship. This is the advantage of television-time -- which is expansive and quotidian -- over movie-time, which is condensed and schematic. It's also an advantage gained by the long hiatus between Trek on TV and Trek in the theaters, which only burnished and deepened the bonds between its principal characters.
In the parallel reality of the reboot, however, Kirk and Spock have only just -- and only provisionally -- become friends. So the drama of Kirk's apparent demise just doesn't bear tragic weight and feels glaringly artificial. Not only are you unmoved by the Death of Kirk, you're annoyed at the filmmakers for tossing it in so carelessly and expecting anyone to take to heart. (Dude, it's obvious he's going to pop back to life by picture's end.)
Additionally, Spock's anguished cry of "Khan!!!" resonates not in the heart but in the brain, and in the wrong part of the brain, the permanently 12-year-old part that thinks it's cool that this time it's Spock who gets the line. Apart from that, there's no resonance -- just a thin po-mo echo of the original, as if that in itself signified anything whatsoever (beside the fact that the writers were trying hard for a twist).
I didn't accept Scotty's resignation from the Enterprise, either -- just an awkward contrivance to get him off the ship so he could be of use further down the road. (An order is an order, even in Starfleet. And since when has Scotty been so principled, or when have his principles trumped devotion to captain? Since it was necessary to get him of the ship, that's when.)
Further, Spock and Uhuru canoodling every time he's to beam off into danger? Such behavior would never occur in the quasi-militaristic milieu of the Enterprise. You can imagine the effect on discipline. Spock, as first officer, would not allow himself to be less than a paragon of proper decorum. (I've no problem with Spock and Uhuru being lovers, but we all know they would both act with more discretion. Problem is, Abrams' writers don't. They don't know some basic things about these characters or the world they inhabit.)
As all these plot points -- large and small -- fell with successively louder thuds, there arrived a creeping and awful sensation that we long-time Trek devotees were inhabiting a parallel universe of cheap, shoddy construction, that Abrams was simply tipping a cynical hand to the Enterprise enterprise while attending to his real passion -- the reshuffling and regurgitation of Lucas' and Spielberg's greatest adolescent action tropes, and was doing so without too much thought or conviction. This film feels more like a mega-budget CGI parlor game than a story; as an entertainment, it barely manages to function as competent melodrama.
"Into Darkness" joins "Prometheus" and "The Hobbit" in a special hall of infamy, an inferno populated by artists we thought we admired and trusted who have turned around and betrayed/exploited their fans' loyalty with risible, self-parodying, steaming microwave cow-pie versions of their classic earlier work. The reason for this $ell-out is anyone's gue$$ (do they REALLY need the money?), but regardless, "Into Darkness" remains a most bitter-tasting rip-off and cynical exercise in fan exploitation. Heh. J.J. got my money this time; I wouldn't bet on the next.