Space Age Idols: What We Can Learn From Galaxy Quest (1999) About Fame, Fandom and Sci-Fi Womanhood

Written by Honora Quinn

Image courtesy of IMDb

In my pop culture world, people can be sorted into two buckets: Those who have seen Galaxy Quest (1999) and those who have not (yet). Of those who have I often find that that group can be further split in twain... into those who get it, and those who get it. 

It is a parody film after all, chock full of incredibly references to Star Trek: The Original Series (1966-1969) and its later 20th century spinoffs. There is a lot to‘ get’ even before you begin to tread deeper into the minutia this essay strives to explore. Whether it be the parallels between Jason Nesmith’s (Tim Allen) shirtless desert fight and practically every fight scene Captain Kirk (William Shatner) got up to planet side with men and monsters alike, or simply that the registration number of the Galaxy Quest’s Protector – NTE-3120 – stands for Not The Enterprise. But eventually, after your feast for the mind and senses comes to its inevitable conclusion you will (hopefully) begin to see how the film is more than just a time capsule for 90’s fan culture but has also become and analog for howe we interact with fame and celebrity in the present, 25 years later. 

But sure, we can also just talk about Sigourney Weaver’s poorly dubbed expletive is directly tied to the success of The Rugrats movie or how Alexander Dane (Alan Rickman) never actually takes off his alien prosthetics throughout the runtime – even in the comfort of this own home...but only after we explore a little further...

From the opening scene of the movie, it becomes clear that this cast – that being the cast of the show Galaxy Quest and not the film of the same name – cannot outrun the legacy of the show. Gwen DeMarco (Sigourney Weaver) complains how in her interviews no one ever asks what she did on the show, how she created her iconic character of Lt. Tawny Madison, or anything of note other than how she manages with fit her chest into her costume – a red and grey uniform reminiscent of the 80s- and 90s-Star Trek installments (Her objectification in it of itself is a slight critique of how we handle women in sci-fi but was ultimately doomed to falter, but we will circle back to the point later). And in that same scene Alexander Dane (Alan Rickman) expresses his dismay at being turned from a serious actor (he played Richard III (with five curtain calls!)) into a prosthetics-wearing, technobabble-spouting‘ joke’. 

However, the actors are grateful for the work, the fans, even if their entire lives since the show ended have begun to revolve around servicing the fans. The cast moves as a slow-moving pack, going from convention to car dealership openings, to convention again. They are expected to both exist as The Actor, interacting with fans and answering every little question down to the infinitesimal minutia while keeping up the act of The Character, to look the part and to behave according to their fictional counterparts, to stay in line with any preconceived notions that viewers will have. In recent years, our demands on performance and personhood on the creatives we follow have only increased. Social media has given us an even deeper portal and often unfettered portal into the lives and souls of those we admire from a distance, allowing us to feel closer than ever to the untouchable. The physicality of fandom has mostly transitioned to online spaces and has created two points of interest: an ever-growing spotlight and attention to stars both established and rising, and a level of anonymity both for the followers and the foes. Connection, as I just mentioned, has never been easier, but it has also never been more detached. With every possible motion being monitored, perfection and more specifically approval from fans has superseded any potential genuine connection between creatives and their followers. 

But back to 1999 and our stiff space-age onesies, before we tread too far away from the plot of this essay.

Our story kicks off at a sci-fi convention, Galaxy Quest Convention 18 to be exact, when Jason Nesmith is contacted by a group of aliens which he thinks are just very dedicated fans. The Thermians fit right in amongst the various costumes and prosthetic displays at the con, so when they attempt to approach Jason with the pleas of saving their dying people, he interprets it as nothing more than an invitation to be part of a fan film. Which at the time was a more pivotal part of the fan ecosystem, and a direct way of community and connection between the actors and fans However he quickly learns that the“ fans” think he is in fact, his Galaxy Quest character, Commander Peter Quincy Taggart. And that the episodes of the show were received by the Thermians as historical documents, chronicling the true adventures of the Protector. The Thermians cannot distinguish between Nesmith“ The Actor” and Taggart“ The Character”. And in fact, the distinction that only begins sinks in with Nesmith after his‘ acting’ (he does not take the task seriously at first and runs through all the possible actions he can to ‘kill’ the villain and get back to his life) causes the Thermian death toll to rise and he faces his first true failure. While this is an extreme case of fan fueled devotion – we can only imagine what might happen if Mariska Hargitay and the Law and Order: SVU crew get abducted by aliens to solve a murder on Mars sometime in the future – it does stand as a testament that, especially now in an era where media literacy and attention spans are at an all-time low, we risk crossing the digital boundaries between us and our‘ heroes’. They have been elevated to a higher position than just that of performer. Transitioning from merely a person to be admired or scorned on the cover of a magazine to the center of the social media universe. Our feeds are coated (sometime forcibly) with media tracking every celebrity’s every move and dissecting them thoroughly. There have been recent moves to distance ourselves from the entire celebrity economy, yet they continue to clog the airwaves, sex scandals become the topic of everything from a brunch with the girls to prime time news. It begs the question, is the conflation truly our fault if the studios behind the scenes spend boatloads of money with helping keep of this façade, to keep us devoted by feeding us small fragments of the self in puppy interviews or rehashed versions of The Dating Game? Is it our fault if we love these manufactured stars and find ourselves trusting them? 

We should have taken Galaxy Quest as more than just the Star Trek parody it is often taken to be and instead an exploration of what it means to exist as a creative especially in a world where both your fans and your employers urge you to play along, even if your actions lead to disaster. This issue is only exacerbated when we realign our focus on the treatment of women (in every industry but specifically) the arts. Let’s go back to that line about Gwen DeMarco and her interview which in turn will take us through a slight detour into costume history. One of the most notable costume features of Star Trek: The Original Series is that all the women on the crew are shown wearing a short minidress (with the exclusion of the original pilot The Cage) in either yellow, red, or blue. These mini dresses were intended to reflect the contemporary fashions of the 60s with high hemlines but featuring a space age twist. While they often get swept up into a conversation of sexualization (while not even addressing the objective lack of practicality), love them or hate them, we cannot deny that they have become one of the most recognizable costumes in science fiction history. Fast forward to 1987 when Star Trek: The Next Generation hit the scene and brought back the bare legs look but for women and men. Enter the“ skant”. While this shorter and more feminine coded uniform slowly moved to the wayside this era of Star Trek also introduced a new full body uniform which the film most directly riffs.  However, there would be cases where women would be placed in skintight costumes, covering every inch of skin from ankle to neck but highlighting every attribute of their figure. Literally, “leaving little to the imagination” This is the era where the film to most of its costume inspo from. Producing a confusing conglomerate of conservative yet sexual dress that is tied exclusively to Gwen. Her continuous sexualization by fans and reporters alike is treated as a joke, something ridiculous yet is never addressed in any further productive way. The writers, through this scene, clearly claim that her interview boiling down to the physics of how she stays inside her suit is stupid. Further claiming that Gwen is more than Lt. Tawny Madison, but they don’t seem to fully grasp why this tradition, or a focus on‘ substance’ over character is a problem in the first place. Or how by the nature of her character she is made to further contort towards the whims of fans more than her male co-stars – let’s remember that only one character in the film is asked by fans about romantic relationships or tension between the characters, and it’s Gwen. The writers continue to poke fun at this‘ tradition’ through her specific job on the Protector. Like in Star Trek, the Protector’s computer has the ability to verbally answer questions and prompts – usually about how screwed they are – and Lt. Tawny Madison repeats whatever the computer says often with slight rewrites or simplifications.“ I have one job on this lousy ship…” Gwen says leading into the final showdown,“ It’s stupid but I’m gonna do it!” In the fact of death, it’s all that she can contribute, all she is allowed to do. There is no room for character evolution which when considering its relative‘ parent franchise’s’ inclusion of useful and heroic female characters seems a bit out of step. While a parody of sci-fi at large, which does contain its fair share of fair maidens in need of saving, this stereotype waters down the role women have played in science fiction both on screen and behind the scenes as creatives. And it only gets more reductive when we consider the fact that Tawny is apparently the only woman aboard the Protector. Further highlighting the gender disparity in the genre. She isn’t just the woman on the ship that repeats the computer, it would still be a dumb job but not making the direct stand that that is all a woman can do. But she’s the only woman on the ship. Whose sole job is to repeat. Not to create or contribute, or to assist in any directly significant way. Yet Gwen stands out. She has become a character worth rooting for, and one that is able to help save the day. At at the fictional Galaxy Con 18 we see numerous young women cosplaying as Tawny, dedicated to the part with blonde wigs a plenty. On our world there are women cosplaying as Gwen DeMarco, a quarter of a century later. This could stem from a host of reasons, her bravery, her heroism, or maybe even her quick wit, or again because she is the only woman and unless you’re willing to pull out all the stops for Unnamed Alien Woman #3, you don’t have a lot of options for costume inspiration. Elements of this movie, while reflective of our own time, are inevitably going to be stuck in the 1990s despite how hard we attempt to force them into the mold of our current morals and opinions. But I think we can utilize this point as more than just a blessing or curse. The film is intended to reflect the culture and time that it captures, and I hope we can use that point as a marker, both of how far we have come but also to keep us grounded in all that still needs to change. 1999 was 25 years ago and while we have carried with us a lot of the good, we have inevitably too taken the rot, and Galaxy Quest can help us digest this truth. 

So, the next time you are scrolling on streaming services, looking for something ANYTHING to kill the next hour and half, I highly suggest you check out Galaxy Quest, whether you’ve never seen it before or like me you keep rewatching it when in need of a laugh, or somewhere in the middle. And I hope you can understand how in the end, it is far more than just a cheesy sci-fi parody. Galaxy Quest grapples with our past and modern notions of fan identity, our relationships with fame and the famous, and what it can mean to be a woman existing in the science fiction world.