“By Grabthar’s hammer, by the sons of Worvan … you shall be avenged.”
If you have seen Galaxy Quest, those words may bring you close to tears. They mark the moment when Alan Rickman’s character – a Shakespearean luvvie turned sci-fi sidekick – realises that the ludicrous catchphrase he has reluctantly uttered thousands of times does matter after all.
1999’s Galaxy Quest is such a good sci-fi parody that it was once voted the seventh best Star Trek film of all time … by Star Trek fans. Its genre send-up is effective and affectionate, with gags about underwritten female characters and illogical spaceship design. It is also a genuinely fun space caper: there’s a properly scary baddie, a spaceship chase sequence, a high-jeopardy mission on a foreign planet and not one but two romantic subplots. There are Beryllium spheres and a rock monster and an Omega-13 (whatever that is).
Rickman’s character, Alexander Dane, is one of a group of washed-up actors from a cancelled cult 1980s sci-fi show, now reduced to appearing at fan conventions. He’s joined by Sigourney Weaver’s continually objectified Gwen DeMarco (“My TV Guide interview was six paragraphs about my boobs and how they fit into my suit”), Tony Shalhoub’s eternally laid-back (read: stoned) Fred Kwan, Daryl Mitchell as former child star Tommy Webber and the show’s insufferable lead, Tim Allen’s Jason Nesmith, AKA “Commander Peter Quincy Taggart”.
When some apparent superfans prove to be actual aliens who have intercepted and misinterpreted the TV episodes as “historical documents”, the show’s cast find themselves beamed up to help defeat a lizard-like warlord named Sarris. It is every sci-fi fan’s dream come true: it was all real, all along.
What ensues is a beautiful dismantling of cynicism via a comedy in which everyone is totally committed to the bit. Nowhere is that more true than the aliens in question. The Thermians are squid-like creatures who assume a human form albeit one with some of the most unusual mannerisms ever committed to screen. Their utterly bizarre speech patterns were created by Enrico Colantoni, who plays Thermian leader Mathesar in a performance that should have won him a best supporting actor Oscar: hysterically funny but deeply – ironically for an alien – human.
When Mathesar confidently puts his people’s future in the hands of their beloved Galaxy Quest crew, the actors must play their parts for real this time. And of course, in pretending to be something they’re not, they discover who they really are.
Author and film-maker David Mamet has called Galaxy Quest a “perfect” movie, and I would agree. It is a film in which every decision – every line delivery, every splatter of space goo – feels like the right one. In particular, there is the most satisfying character arc for a scene-stealing Sam Rockwell as Guy Fleegman, an actor who appeared as “Crewman Number Six” in a single episode of the show and was swiftly killed off. As a result, he spends the entire film terrified he’s about to be offed in reality. Another parody might revel in giving him a stupid death but there is an innate kindness to Galaxy Quest. Instead, Guy is gifted many of the film’s best lines – “Look around you. Can you form some sort of rudimentary lathe?” – and sees himself shift from “glorified extra” to “plucky comic relief”.
This is indicative of Galaxy Quest’s determination never to punch down. At its heart, there is a deep respect for fandom in a genre where it is often mocked. It understands the inherently funny visual of punters in homemade alien costumes lined up at the urinals, but it never makes jokes at the expense of those people. Indeed, the film’s climax is a salute to the power of nerdery as Justin Long’s teen superfan Brandon – crushingly dismissed by Jason early on in the film – ultimately saves the day (in between his mum making him take the bins out).
You don’t need to be even a casual Trekkie to appreciate Galaxy Quest’s brilliance because, really, it is about the value of storytelling. For the Thermians, Galaxy Quest was literal: they genuinely believed that what they were watching was real. But the lesson is that it doesn’t matter how hammy the acting is, how poundshop the sets look or how ridiculous the lore seems if it means something to you. Galaxy Quest gives you permission to immerse yourself in the culture that you love, even – or especially – if it appears silly and slight to everyone around you. In the words of Commander Taggart, “Never give up! Never surrender!”
Galaxy Quest is available on Paramount+ in the US, YouTube in the UK and to rent digitally in Australia
