Reality is the Fantasy of the Majority

The release of (and now multiple viewings of) the new Star Trek movie has awakened what many would call (and I will refer reluctantly to as) my inner geek. My inner geek – that part of me that is aware of and completely welcoming of the old sentiment that life truly is but a dream – has tuned me into the fortuitousness of a couple of events that have recently transpired in my life. It has also reminded me of a related note that I jotted down several months ago -- reality is the fantasy of the majority.
I googled these words within quotations before starting this blog. Aware that many before me have danced a tune or two around the sentiment (or in the case of Kerouac or Robbins have whirled about it long into the morning) I was concerned that it might not be an original turn of phrase (my turns of phrase generally resembling the wild twists and turns of a child’s imagined treasure map than the straight line constructed by the sentence in question). Only a couple of hits turned up and as a writer (that’s right Kundera, I said “as a writer”) I was relieved to see that they were all presented on my computer in that never-before-clicked Google blue.
The first was a blog by a guy named Dwight Sullivan that goes by the title of “I Always Play the Thief: Reality is the Fantasy of the Majority”. At a quick skim it seemed not unlike my own endeavors and included a link to his movie review page, which is something I myself am entertaining starting. The second link turned out to be part of Dwight’s e-signature in a forum for Marvel comics (I think). Though I didn’t get the attached comment (which read, “Thanks Wytefang and netherspirit for the work getting that up. Man that water in the Heroscape ad looks really nice. Has it been altered graphically?”) I was happy to find myself in good and articulate company. Such is the nature of great ideas. And as far as that goes I always admired Alfred Russel Wallace as much as I did Charles Darwin and am more than happy to play his part here.
But lets gets to my whies and hows and better yet a few stories.
I’ll start with the night after I saw the new Star Trek for the first time. I had turned on the TV in the hopes that I would find some station playing Star Trek II, IV, or V. The closest thing I could find was the Denise Crosby narrated Trekkies 2. Now I could go on about the good and bad of Star Trek fans but I am only going to focus here on a single comment (or group of comments) in the documentary. Crosby had basically posed the question of how far is too far to take fantasy. One of the women interviewed responded with the question of whether or not women who altered their bodies permanently for the sake of ephemeral images of beauty are that different or even worse than die-hard Star Trek fans. The concept related directly to a conversation I had with my old friend Wesley who pointed out that there is no negative term relating to fans of “Sex and the City”. “Sex and the City” (aside from showing the positives of empowered womanhood (something Star Trek was among the first to do in the history of television)) does nothing but depict the fantastical lives of a few super elite insanely beautiful New York women through plots that revolve around buying shoes and not understanding the men in their lives. The results of indulgence in this almost completely superficial fantasy can be seen in the grotesque woman that are often the subject of documentaries about plastic surgery who have been tragically deformed in its pursuit. Now compare that to a little removable Klingon make-up a Star Trek fan might don at a convention or a movie premier.
Oddly (or coincidently or serendipitously) enough I had walked by a geek convention of another sort earlier this week while strolling down Boylston. Colorfully speckled about the street were people, mostly younger, dressed in samurai and ninja like costumes often with really really spiky hair. The closer I came to the Hynes Convention Center the denser these groups became until I was walking amongst pokemon ball juggling anime fans talking about (I presume) DragonballZ. I don’t care for anime myself but I certainly don’t care that others do especially considering the light-hearted atmosphere that surrounded them.
As I was passing through I heard some grumbling and giggling out of place with the jovial atmosphere. Looking to my left I saw three sets of plentiful bosoms bouncing against the support of their black lightweight (recon?) armor as they clip-clopped on the spindly legs of their high-heeled steeds with their faces painted tones of baby blue and pink ready for yet another Friday night Battle of the Barbies. For a moment I found myself wishing I had a plastic sword to trip their spoke thin legs. Yet after they passed I found myself unconsciously glancing back to check out their behinds (the reality of behinds being that they are a lovely part of a woman still subject to more natural methods of beautification). Then, as expected, I forgot that they and their bums existed. Had the event not been connected in my head to Trekkies 2 or had I not gone to see Star Trek for the second time I would have likely forgot the giggling bimbos for all time.
Having seen Star Trek sober the first time around I decided to get a little stoned for the second viewing. As a result I purchased myself a treat, a pack of three Lindt dark chocolates, to enjoy in the theatre. Looking forward to indulging in fantasy and chocolate I took a seat in the back to the theatre leaned back, grinned and thought happy thoughts. After the opening action sequence the slower moving geek stuff began tracing Spock’s childhood explaining why he was the unique Vulcan that he was. It was then that a group of three hooligans, drunk and stoned (I assumed accurately), enjoying their Memorial Day weekend, decided to interject their anti-Star Trek comments. The first couple got a laugh out of me but then they went overboard to the point that nobody in the theatre could pay attention to the film. Not wanting to waste my chocolate indulgence on something so un-entertaining I got ready to say fuck it and walk out to go see one of the many other movies playing at the giant many-theatered cinema in Revere (which, completely unrelated, I had worked in the food court of years ago). Just before I got up though a couple of gruff voices were cast back from the front row. The hooligans bit quickly. After a few more moments of terse comments the two groups were facing off on the stairs. The hooligans were a group of three black guys, which is something I mention only because the other group was two white guys with crew cuts so straight they could have been cut by a phaser who were adding some racial non-sense to the fray that I don’t care to repeat. The hooligans shot back with their own racial comments and the tension rose exponentially. Next, the stockiest of the hooligans spread his arms apart welcoming a punch. Even in the shadows of a theatre you could make out the bulges of his shoulder muscles that pinched together the middle of his t-shirt.
Seeing things escalate the smallest of the hooligans stepped between the two groups. With one arm he tried to hold back his friends while his other arm was against a baseball jersey stretched like Mark McGuire’s over the thick chest of one of the GI Joe’s. The aggressors ignored him and punches were soon thrown. Their heavy dull thuds could be heard easily over Spock’s logical musings. As the struggle continued a sixth man got up from the front row to join the fray while the rest of the theatre whispered and grumbled.
The latecomer was older an older guy probably in his late sixties. He shared the same build (plus a gut) as the two crew cuts and it was pretty clear that he was their father. Along with the peace-keeping hooligan he threw himself in between the fight and with his help they managed to break it up and a couple of them even shook hands before leaving the theatre. A short while later only the three white guys came back.
Ignoring the racial nonsense I was thankful. Soon I was able to forget about the drama and how I did nothing about it and even how the movie fucks up the entire Star Trek universe. It turned out to be even more enjoyable than my first viewing. To show my appreciation of the end result of their actions I found them after the movie and shook their battered hands.
But that does not mean that I condone their actions, only their actions results. Sitting back not completely aware that I was wearing a grin full of chocolate I had watched the drama unfold. The thoughts that all that violence and hate was occurring because of a Star Trek movie or that these guys were defending Star Trek fans had comically crossed my mind. But the real humor went beyond that knowing that the motivation for these fellows was not anything even remotely that altruistic (as I imagined them later when they would be telling the story to their mothers, their wives, their girlfriends and their buddies). No, their motivations were boyish and simple.
And it’s not that I don’t get that. Shit, under the right circumstances I completely indorse it. There have been times in my life when I was rugby fit or drinking lots of whiskey that I too have certainly had the same impulses. In fact, they are the same fighting impulses that underlie one of my favorite fantasy characters. Who but one with the balls and macho grit of Captain Kirk could be stranded on a planet unarmed to fight a seven foot tall warrior crocodile armed with a knife and defeat it by fashioning a cannon out of sulfur, diamonds and a fucking log. With a character like that one might think that there would be more brawls in movie theaters except there is the difference between those goons and the average Star Trek fan. Whether consciously or unconsciously they know that the glory of battle is more of a cerebral concept than a cold hard reality. Even though Kirk epitomizes that boyish bravery his character - reader of Shakespeare, climber of mountains - shows overtime that he is motivated by much more than glory.
So what was my solution to the hooligans in the theatre? Well, as I mentioned I would have eventually left and went into another movie. Now, had I been watching Star Trek for the first time I would have probably reacted in a different manner but certainly my solution would not have been as directly effective (or as hateful) as beating them up. Probably I would have just found someone in the theatre to ask the fuckers to leave. And if I couldn’t do that, well, to quote a sentiment of Kirk’s, “there are always possibilities.” One only needs the intelligence and flexibility of the mind to come up with them. Sometimes, of course, even for Kirk the solution must be violence (which as I mentioned does have the virtue of effectiveness). But in the face of such decisions Kirk’s most admirable quality, fantasy or not, was his ability to judge when it was necessary and when it wasn’t.
As any fool knows, hate begets hate and like fantasy it is a construct of the mind. Good fantasy, that is fantasy like Star Trek that deals with issues like race and gender and beyond, has the potential for great good. Bad fantasy, that is the fantasy of beauty and glory where the ends don’t simply justify the means rather render the means irrelevant, has the potential for great evil. And any good geek knows that.