Frontier In Finality

Many years ago I paid to see William Shatner read poetry and recite bits from "Cyrano de Bergerac." That wasn't my intent, exactly. I did go expecting to William Shatner, but I pretty much expected to see and hear Captain Kirk, not some self-important Canadian windbag. I wasn't alone, either. There were a great many others who shared my disappointment when we realized that we were in for an evening of "serious theater" instead of an extended trip down memory lane with one of the guy who ran the Enterprise.
Historically this makes sense, since the first "Star Trek" movie hadn't been made yet, and the cast and crew were all busy pursuing life after that initial five year mission. At that time, it was fashionable to diminish that experience as tacky and very much past tense. They were boldly going where no man had gone before: into endless syndication. Most of the principals, especially Bill, had no interest in being reminded of their Star Fleet credentials.
Thirty years later, an older and wider William Shatner is fully immersed in his Kirk persona. With yet another permutation of the Star Trek beaming into theaters in December, he could scarcely contain his disappointment over being passed over for yet another hitch: "I couldn't believe it. I'm not in the movie at all. Leonard, God bless his heart, is in, but not me." This may have something to do with the fact that his character was killed off when Captain Picard went back in time to find someone who knew how to fist-fight Malcolm McDowell. It may also have something to do with the fact that William Shatner is an incredible twit.
When helmsman Sulu, George Takei, tied the knot with his longtime partner, Brad Altman, last month, Shatner was outraged that he wasn't invited. That may be because when Takei made his decision to come out of the closet later in life, it was his Captain saying, "Who cares? Be gay. Don't be gay. That's up to you, George."
And now he's on the outside, looking in. Why is that so easy to understand? And for the record, when William Shatner, master thespian, had finished regaling the crowd with his poetry and prose, the lights dimmed yet again, a screen dropped from above and we were treated to twelve minutes of "Star Trek" bloopers. I guess he wanted to have his quadrotriticale and eat it, too.