HammerBlog

By now, I’ve grown accustomed to Hollywood pillaging my teenage memories and recycling them into hip, modern entertainment. Truth be told, I even get a sly kick thinking about the young ones grooving to the greatest hits of my post Square Pegs years. I mean, if they can make Battlestar Galactica cool and edgy for the 21st Century, who’s to say there’s anything that can’t be updated?

Nowadays, though, the slate is starting to look like a back issue of TV Guide. We’ve already got a remake of the miniseries V lined up for the fall (and the preview actually makes it look pretty decent), plus remakes in the works of everything from Red Dawn to The Karate Kid (insert wax on/wax off joke here). All of which makes me wonder: is Hollywood going through a serious case of nostalgia, or is it just too damn afraid to make an original movie anymore?

I can see the nuts and bolts logic of it. One only need look at the box office for the aforementioned Star Trek ($170 million in two weeks and counting) to realize that studio execs are following the money–and right now, that money seems to be in reboots and retreads. But come on! Do we really need to revisit Weird Science? Or Short Circuit? Or, God help us, Masters of the Universe? I still haven’t recovered from the Dolph Lundgren take on that franchise.

Which leads us to one of my favorite pieces of 80′s cheese: Fright Night. I’m almost afraid to see who might be in it. Zac Efron as Charlie. One of the Jonas Brothers as Evil Ed. Maybe Chris Sarandon is old enough to come back as Peter Vincent, just to keep it real. And you know they’ll want to cast Megan Fox as Amy–it’s inevitable.

The question is how long it’ll be until they go after Buckaroo Banzai.

Well, I went to see the new Star Trek last night–and judging from the filled-to-the-gills IMAX theater I went to, not to mention the projected $75 million take for the weekend, I wasn’t the only one. Distilling my thoughts to a simple phrase, all I can say is that the movie rocked. From start to finish, it moved along at a pace that makes one of my books look like Pride and Prejudice. That’s saying a lot.

Of course, the new Trek has its flaws, but they amount to little more than quibbles. Anyone familiar with the JJ Abrams ouvre will recognize the occasional reliance on happenstance and coincidence that end up being a little too integral to the story. Plus there’s a slightly clunky chunk of exposition right in the middle of the movie that could have been handled with a bit more aplomb (I think Mel Brooks did it best in Spaceballs, when Dark Helmet turned to the audience after a long-winded explanation of the plot and said, “Everybody got that?”)–but as I said, these are minor complaints when compared to the thrill ride that the rest of the movie provides.

And there are high points galore. The special effects are nothing short of spectacular, with combat sequences like we’ve never seen (and always wished for) in a Star Trek feature. But even better than that, we get a fresh look at characters we’ve come to know as old friends over the years, and what we see makes them even more interesting. Gone is the stilted Treknobabble that plagued earlier films, replaced with very human dialogue and interactions. It’s no wonder that new audiences are responding so well to these iconic characters, even if they’ve never had the pleasure of their company before: Abrams and his writers have managed to make them real and vital, and for me that’s better than a weekend on Wrigley’s.

I can’t remember the last time I went to a movie when everyone applauded at the end, but that’s what happened when the credits rolled on Star Trek. That more than anything makes me believe that we have witnessed the birth–and rebirth–of a cultural phenomenon. Don’t be surprised if you see kids playing Kirk and Spock on a playground near you, just like back in the good old days. Star Trek is, quite simply that good. Magic, even. It’s like falling in love all over again, with the person you’ve known forever.

Thanks for giving us that, JJ! So when’s the next one?

As the cemeteries are filled with indispensible men, the world has seen “revolutionary” inventions come and go–just ask the guys who came up with the smokeless cigarette or Microsoft Bob. Every now and then, however, you see something that could really be a game-changer, something that kicks the door wide open and screams, “Welcome to the Future!”

Well, I’ve seen that future–and its name is Espresso.

Imagine a machine that prints out any book you want and hands it to you, hot off the press, in five minutes flat. Doesn’t matter if it’s the latest Dean Koontz thrillerfest or some Penny Dreadful out of print for the last 50 years–it’s all available to you in a handsome, fully bound trade paperback, ready for a place of honor on your bookshelf. I think it’s absolutely brilliant.

Of course, you can still download thousands of titles to your Kindle right now–but for those who enjoy the feel of an actual book in our hands (and if the sales of eBooks are any indicator, that’s most of us), the Espresso is a bridge between the old and the new. You get all the convenience of an on-demand service, but walk away with the satisfaction that comes from buying a physical product. And from a publisher’s point of view, this machine must be like the Holy Freeking Grail. No more print runs, no more shipping, no more remainders–just put an Espresso in every retail outlet and print what you need, when you need it. The cost savings could be staggering.

I also think this bodes extremely well for new writers trying to break into the business. By reducing the expense of launching a new author, publishers will have more incentive to take a chance on fresh voices. We’ll see what happens with this bad boy, but I’m telling ya right now–we could be seeing a real paradigm shift here. Things are about to get interesting.

Back in high school, I had a serious crush on a girl who was a stellar piano player.  And although I was more of a rock and roller (my idea of classical music was Billy Joel), the way she could grace those keys–up and down the ivories with such aplomb that she made it look easy–I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the talent it took to make beautiful music, even if didn’t know the difference between Bach and Brahms.

Flash forward a few years, and I’ve long since gotten over the girl–though my fascination with the piano stuck around, so much that I thought it might be kind of fun to learn how to play.  One of my buddies, a gifted musician himself, even gave lessons, so from there my fate was sealed.  Armed with a used Korg keyboard, I dove straight in–though I quickly discovered that if I really wanted to become the next piano man, I would have to get an actual piano.  So out went the Korg and in came a nice little spinnet that I found at the local keyboard store.  This worked fine for a while–until one day, when trying to bang away at “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” I decided that the sound just wasn’t rich enough.  Long story short, I ended up trading the spinnet in for a studio upright that I spent the next five years paying off.  Talk about ambition!

Alas, the ambition was short lived.  I got as far as mastering “Against All Odds” before the siren song of writing called me back from my musical dalliances, and I gradually fell away from the piano.  All was not lost, however.  Turns out I met another girl during one of my lessons–and wouldn’t you know it, she played beautifully!  I must have a weakness for musical women, because I couldn’t get her out of my mind either.  Good thing too, as we ended up getting married a little over a year later.

So I went in for a piano lesson and came out with a wife.  Life is kind of funny that way.  And now my daughter Lexie is learning to play, on that very same studio upright I bought all those years ago.  Turns out that she’s got some real chops, too–far more than her old man ever did, in any case.  I still dream about playing every now and again, though–a wonderful dream where the music flows naturally and easily, as if I’d been playing my entire life.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll pick it up again someday, when other things aren’t so pressing and the demands of time aren’t so rigid.  In the meanwhile, though, I can at least listen to my little girl and hear the wonderfully unlikely journey that brought her to me, hidden within the chords like some divine gift.

How’s that for magic?

I swear, I’m not making this up.  It would never even occur to me to make something like this up.

And yet, and yet. . .I find myself strangely fascinated.  Maybe it’s the tagline,  ”Because tomorrow may never come.”  Whoever came up with that one clearly knows his Star Trek, aside from being a marketing genius.  But if you don’t want to smell like phaser bait, there’s always Tiberius–the fragrance that allows you to “Boldy Go.” And for the truly adventurous, seek out Pon Farr–because when you only get to hook up once every seven years, you better make it right.

What are the odds this will end up under my Christmas tree this year?