Star Trek to Chicago 2024 Photos, Part 2: Cosplay!

Anne posing with three different Uhura cosplayers.

Uhura Squad! Maybe they can save Paramount+!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Creation Entertainment, one of America’s longest-running convention companies, runs an annual Star Trek gala in Las Vegas that invites scores of Trek cast and crew members to mingle with fans at Vegas prices and at a considerable remove from more than a few states. As a sort of outreach to us faraway fans, in 2024 Creation has launched a “Trek Tour” comprising much smaller versions of that vaunted Vegas show on the other side of the Rockies. This past weekend it was Chicago’s turn. The location was convenient and the guest lineup included so many missing names on Anne’s Trek-actor checklist, we did something we haven’t done in ages: we attended all three days, from the opening minutes Friday morning to the very end of the final panel Sunday night…

Before we get into the anecdotes and panel rundowns, fandom law requires us to post costume photos ASAP. Please enjoy this modest collection of cosplayers who brightened our weekend around the show floor. We regret we can only represent some of the total cosplay wonderment that was on display throughout the weekend. We’re just an aging couple doing what we can for happy sharing fun. Enjoy! Corrections welcome for those we misidentified!

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Star Trek to Chicago 2024 Photos, Part 1: The Stars in Our Galaxy

Us doing jazz hands with Jeri Ryan!

It’s Jeri Ryan! You might remember her from such shows as Star Trek: Voyager, Star Trek: Picard, Boston Public, Leverage, AMC’s Dark Winds, and more!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: my wife Anne and I are big fans of geek/comic/entertainment conventions. Anne’s first con was November 30, 1991; years later she introduced me to that world. Our hometown of Indianapolis would host a modest Star Trek-themed con every Thanksgiving weekend (and still does!). We attended several of them together, back when those were the only game in town for years. As we’ve expanded our travel capabilities over time, the past decade’s Midwest comic-con boom has afforded us far more options for geeking out together and in large crowds. We’re the Goldens. It’s who we are and what we do.

The last Trek-themed show we attended was 2022’s Star Trek: Mission Chicago, a joint production between Paramount Pictures and ReedPOP (the producers of C2E2) that was meant to be the first in a series of large-scale gatherings celebrating the universe that Gene Roddenberry and his successors built. We attendees were impressed with the results; sadly, due apparently to insufficient attendance as measured by the unseen tricorders of The Powers That Be, plans for future installments were canceled.

Two years later, here we go again! Creation Entertainment, one of America’s longest-running convention companies, runs an annual Trek gala in Las Vegas that invites scores of Trek cast and crew members to mingle with fans at Vegas prices and at a considerable remove from more than a few states. As a sort of outreach to us faraway fans, in 2024 Creation has launched a “Trek Tour” comprising much smaller versions of that vaunted Vegas show on the other side of the Rockies. Two weeks ago they brought the fan-magic to Nashville; forthcoming stops are scheduled in New Jersey and Dallas. This past weekend it was Chicago’s turn. The location was convenient and the guest lineup included so many missing names on Anne’s Trek-actor checklist, we did something we haven’t done in ages: we attended all three days, from the opening minutes Friday morning to the very end of the final panel Sunday night.

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“Alien: Romulus”: When the Perfect Killing Machine Stops Evolving

Red-and-black poster with a xenomorph face-hugger attached to a buzz-cut Asian actress.

In space, no one complains about eating the same meal rations again and again and again.

I can’t speak for fans of Ghostbusters or of Harry Potter post-Deathly Hallows, but whenever I get attached to an IP, I’m excited whenever that universe shows signs of forward motion or at least simulating it. Granted, when it comes to the Alien movies, my opinions are already warped — James Cameron’s Aliens is one of my Top 5 films ever, which I saw years before I got around to Ridley Scott’s original. I also respected Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s engagingly bonkers Alien Resurrection for pushing the series’ boundaries and actually getting somewhere — anywhere — after edgy pre-auteur David Fincher’s Alien³ ramrodded Ellen Ripley’s story into a literal dead end.

All Alien works since then have treated Resurrection as The End, and/or as a disowned mistake. Directors — not to mention writers of its various transmedia spinoffs — limit themselves to rooting around the limited preceding timeline for unoccupied dance floors where they can twirl in place and try out their freshest moves, never quite distracting from how the club has had the same dusty disco strobe and jukebox since 1997. Double-dates with Predators were one-night stands that no one could maintain eye contact with. When Scott himself barged back in indignantly all, “SEE HERE NOW!” we knew he could make spaceships shinier and creatures slimier, but Prometheus gave us a half-unwritten origin and Alien: Covenant was a cram session to finish the same assignment in as few pages as possible.

27 years later the franchise continues moving nowhere at sub-FTL velocity with Alien: Romulus, a pre-sequel brazenly set between Alien and Aliens in hopes of blending in, in more ways than one. I’ve seen no previous works by Fede Álvarez or his co-writer Rodo Sayagues (though Don’t Breathe is on my extremely long mental to-do list), so I came into this with few preconceptions except a faint awareness that gore is his medium. I saw the first trailer at C2E2 with an exclusive Álvarez intro, which was promising, but the second gave away way too much. I offered benefit of the doubt for as long as I could.

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Science Fiction and Alternate Realities at the Indy Shorts International Film Festival 2024

Sandwich board touting the Indy Shorts Film Festival on a brick sidewalk.

Coming to you not-quite-live from Mass Ave. in downtown Indianapolis!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: last year we attended a genuine film festival! For more than a single film! My wife Anne and I enjoyed the Heartland Film Festival experience so much that we’ve resolved to seek more of those opportunities where possible. As it happens, Heartland isn’t the only game ’round these parts.

Indianapolis is also home to the Indy Shorts International Film Festival, which began as a sort of Heartland spinoff but has taken on a life of its own. It’s the largest Midwest festival of its kind, enjoys a lofty status as an official qualifying event for consideration in the three Academy Awards short-film categories, and has indeed seen past participants go on to Oscar nominations (e.g., last year’s The Barber of Little Rock). This year they fielded 5,130 submissions from filmmakers worldwide and whittled them down to 200 selections that have screened over the course of 34 programs across six days up to and including this very weekend.

I scored two free tickets courtesy of my employer, one of the festival’s sponsors, to attend one program of my choice. I’m game for just about any sort of genre or category and didn’t feel beholden to seek the most geek-forward material, but their “Science Fiction and Alternate Realities” program lined up neatly with an open time slot in what’s proven a rather hectic weekend for us, so we leaned into our geek-aesthete side anyway.

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“A Quiet Place: Day One”: The Mega-Muppets Take Manhattan

Lupita Nyong'o hunched fearfully in an alley, hugging a black-and-white cat.

“I’m not coming out of this alley until you promise Nakia gets more scenes in the next Black Panther.”

Previously on A Quiet Place: Emily Blunt was a heroic mother surviving on a post-apocalyptic farm with her remaining kids and without her Concerned Husband until things once again went awry and they fled to a nearby island, the perfect hiding place from that unnamed alien army who jump-‘n’-slash at the slightest noises but whose fatal weaknesses happened to include bodies of water. Our Family’s happy ending was nice for about ten minutes until one of them learned how to boat. Nevertheless, the day was later saved and human life found a way.

Director John Krasinski kept A Quiet Place: Part II‘s premise simple: “What if the first flick just kept going and was actually three hours long?” The sequel was more an expansion pack than a standalone tale unto itself. It came packaged with a free mini-prequel on the front, needlessly depicting how Day One of the invasion quickly devastated their small town. It was a satisfying course of more-of-the-same, but not in any groundbreaking way that left me yearning for further adventures in the Hyper-Hearing Horror-Horde Cinematic Universe.

Nevertheless, here we go again with some more prequel, A Quiet Place: Day One. With Krasinski off doing other things (i.e., IF, which I skipped), apparently any new AQP extensions are forbidden from moving the main characters forward, much like the Star Wars universe’s treadmilling-in-place spinoffs. Within that common yet exasperating genre-series boundary, what were the odds of a substitute filmmaker steering away from more-of-the-sameness?

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Proclaiming the Good News of the “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes”

Smart ape holds a falcon on its gloved arm.

“So, eagle, you do for apes what you did for dwarves and hobbit?”

Previously on Planet of the Apes: apes rule Earth now! Andy Serkis’ Caesar led apes to victory but died for ape sins! Virus strike whole planet, make humanity stupider! Humanity also mute now! Lucky apes not have to hear human stupidity! Unless apes reinvent internet! Movies not say humans can’t type! Maybe ape moderators ban humans from simian media!

Everything’s coming up monkey-house as we continue with the prequel/reboot (preqboot?) series that’s been among the most consistently entertaining of its kind in this era of I.P. recycle-overdrive. (R.I.P. those once-cool X-Men preqboots whose producers turned their last two flicks into shiny dumpster clutter.) So far we’ve had nary a clunker in the new bunch, more than we can say for the original Apes pentalogy. That’s including the latest release, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, which box-office pundits are dubbing a failure because its opening weekend earned “only” $58 million domestic, nearly twice as much as all other May 2024 blockbuster openings. Guess it’s hard out here for a chimp.

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“Dune: Part Two”: Another 40 Days in the Loudest Desert Ever

Poster for

Fresh off Oscar Quest ’24, we bring you a sneak peek at Oscar Quest ’25.

Previously on Dune: director Denis Villeneuve brought his gloriously ponderous, A/V-intoxicating, starkly symmetrical majesty to Frank Herbert’s universe, the quintessential American “Chosen One on Planet Sahara” space opera, and helped me heal from the childhood trauma of sitting through David Lynch’s compromised beach-ball of confusion. Villeneuve gambled on a dissatisfying To Be Continued ending for Part One with no guarantee he’d be permitted to keep going. Dune: Part Two ties up a thread or two, but to viewers who never pored over the sacred Herbertian texts (or who, like me, tried and failed to slog through), it was perhaps a surprise to find To Be Continued shall apparently be the saga’s status quo evermore, for as long as capricious Warner Bros. execs permit.

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“The Creator”: Won’t Someone Please Think of the Robots?

Tiny robot Asian child places his calming hand upon the head of a faceless, four-legged warrior robot.

Whenever the teaser for this film came up between my rounds of Words With Friends, this was the exact image when the X would finally come up and I could exit the teaser and get back to my games.

“Robots are people too!” all the science fiction stories would plead with the ordinary citizens who dreaded a future where automatons immune both to Repetitive Strain Injury and to poverty might usurp our billions of factory jobs. Fantastical genre tales moved beyond Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws and into the pop culture firmament through the hard-luck journeys of Data, Short Circuit‘s Number Five, the Iron Giant, Chappie, the Westworld staff, the cast of Kubrick and Spielberg’s A.I., and legions of other eminently merchandisable microchipped personalities in between. If season 1 of Picard is to be believed, robots’ reputational status will remain a fragile thing even until the 24th century. All it takes is one malware-addled malefactor or one sinister organic-led false-flag operation, and robot rights can be tossed out the window as we revert to seeing them as our inventions and our property, rather than our friends, neighbors, or lovers.

Or, as we’re learning in A.D. 2023, all it takes is to redefine the parameters of the chat. Robots are out; A.I.s are in. Robots were willing to settle for our blue-collar jobs, but their non-corporeal cyber-brethren are coming for our white-collar and no-collar jobs. They aren’t even truly sentient yet, but limited-perception A.I.s on corporate leashes are being “hired” as journalists, writers and artists — utterly mediocre ones, to be sure, but just barely productive enough to please greedy employers and undiscerning audiences. Now the online citizenry are mobbing the networks with chants of “BURN THE A.I.!” as we’re ostensibly on the cusp of having literary discussions about the oeuvre of writer/director HAL 9000, auctioning off Skynet’s black-velvet paintings, or handing out Grammies and Newbery Awards to the dueling superprograms from Person of Interest.

Co-writer/director Gareth Edwards (2014’s Godzilla, most of Rogue One) doesn’t so much confront our current debates as he sidesteps them with The Creator, a quaint throwback to simpler times when robots, like immigrants, simply wanted to chase their personal ambitions freely in peace, and coexist with (and despite) the flesh-and-blood torch-and-pitchfork mobs at large. The film feigns relevance by referring to all its robots as “A.I.”, which is technically accurate yet may be confusing to anyone with a severe hangup about subgenre labels. To SF geeks, most of the cast are robots. ChatGPT and OpenArt do not in any way enter Edwards’ conversation here.

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Dragon Con 2023 Photos, Part 1: The Stars in Our Galaxy

Us doing jazz hands with four actors from "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds". The two actresses have far more animated dance moves than the actors, but the guys did fine, really.

Our weekend mission: to explore Strange New Worlds and seek out new jazz hands. Fun times with Christina Chong, Ethan Peck, Anson Mount, and Celia Rose Gooding.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: in 2019 my wife Anne and I attended our very first Dragon Con in Atlanta, Georgia. As one of the longest-running science fiction conventions in America, Dragon Con had received rave reviews from our internet friends over the past two decades, some of whom recommended it to us more than once and, according to my notes, would never shut up about it. We had so much of a blast that we returned in 2021 even though all 42,000+ attendees were required to wear masks and the celebrity photo ops positioned Plexiglas dividers between us potentially contaminated fans and the presumably vetted stars. Geek thrills persisted nevertheless.

Third time was the charm this Labor Day weekend as we repeated the eight-hour drive from Indianapolis to that amazing colossal southern spectacle. We can’t afford to do Dragon Con every year, but we’ll see how long we can keep up an every-other year schedule before we’re too old or overwhelmed to handle it.

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All Five “Black Mirror” Season 6 Episodes Ranked

A pale young filmmaker and his cooler girlfriend boggle at an open laptop.

Down in the dales of “Loch Henry” everyone gathers ’round the ol’ viewing device for another round of tales of terror.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: four years ago I finally took the plunge into Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror dystopunk series well after the rest of the world had already finished it and moved on. I wrote an untimely listicle seven episodes into my binge, more of a writing exercise than a useful post, but never circled back around once I’d finished everything available, up to and including the gamified “Bandersnatch”, which to this day remains the only feature-length I’ve ever watched entirely on my phone. (A clever experiment, granted, but our TV is large and current-gen enough that I hate watching anything longer than a .gif on a screen the size of a deck of cards.)

In their vast selfishness, Netflix released Season 6 a week before Anne and I went on vacation. I had time for only one episode before takeoff, made time for one more while we were out of town and supposed to be relaxing together (edgy bleakness is not her thing), and sped through the rest after we returned home. Now I’m caught up with the BM fandom that’s only two weeks ahead of me this time.

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