As an early example of the fandoc, TREKKIES tells a familiar tale of the extent to which fans of the long-running television series are prepared to go in pursuit of their obsessions. They might look and act grotesque on occasions, but we have to understand how their obsessions can have positive outcomes both personal as well as moral. Dressing up can help the discover hitherto buried aspects of their personalities, and thereby give them a more positive outlook on life, while the series' strongly moral constructing provides a role-model for anyone, whether viewer or fan.
Yet what Roger Nygard's film raises are some ambivalences about fandom that remain frustratingly unresolved. Trekkies all over the United States as well as other territories regularly assemble(d) at conventions where they would be addressed by cast members and have the opportunity to network with one another. Such gatherings would have psychological benefits. On the other hand they provided suitable merchandising outlets for manufacturers to sell every kind of knick-knack imaginable, as well as auction materials from the television series that drew high prices in charity's name. We wonder whether the fans' sensibilities are not being deliberately exploited by capitalist interests - make more money by offering the chance to possess some realia.
That impression is further compounded when individual fans show off their collections of Trekkie material, often stored in glass cases, cabinets or rooms set aside especially for that purpose. They might be quite happy spending money and thereby indulging their passion, but we wonder whether or not they would like being viewed as victims of a franchise determined to maximize its profits by sponsoring or licensing miscellaneous products.
That dilemma is one that dates back to the earliest days of the movies when studio publicity departments invited punters to dress up at specially-staged performances of particular films, preferably in period costumes. By offering prizes to the lucky winners, they could guarantee high box-office returns. The Trekkie phenomenon merely extends and updates that strategy. We would love to know what fans really thought about this issue, but such issues are far beyond this mostly celebratory piece.
Yet what Roger Nygard's film raises are some ambivalences about fandom that remain frustratingly unresolved. Trekkies all over the United States as well as other territories regularly assemble(d) at conventions where they would be addressed by cast members and have the opportunity to network with one another. Such gatherings would have psychological benefits. On the other hand they provided suitable merchandising outlets for manufacturers to sell every kind of knick-knack imaginable, as well as auction materials from the television series that drew high prices in charity's name. We wonder whether the fans' sensibilities are not being deliberately exploited by capitalist interests - make more money by offering the chance to possess some realia.
That impression is further compounded when individual fans show off their collections of Trekkie material, often stored in glass cases, cabinets or rooms set aside especially for that purpose. They might be quite happy spending money and thereby indulging their passion, but we wonder whether or not they would like being viewed as victims of a franchise determined to maximize its profits by sponsoring or licensing miscellaneous products.
That dilemma is one that dates back to the earliest days of the movies when studio publicity departments invited punters to dress up at specially-staged performances of particular films, preferably in period costumes. By offering prizes to the lucky winners, they could guarantee high box-office returns. The Trekkie phenomenon merely extends and updates that strategy. We would love to know what fans really thought about this issue, but such issues are far beyond this mostly celebratory piece.