[*While I always assume readers have seen the movies I discuss, and thus I never worry about “spoiler alerts,” I still instinctively protect plot points for select films such as this one.  So, officially, there are spoilers below.] 

Star Trek:  The Wrath of Khan (1982) is one of the greatest films ever made.  Yes, I actually typed those words and published them on my website.  Critics and historians dance around this movie without stating that truth.  One finds only joy in discussing great movies, and this is one of them.

Nicholas Meyer’s film boldly immerses itself in grand, operatic themes of revenge, loyalty, parenting, friendship, lost love, Life, and most importantly Death.  It’s fun, spectacular, and deeply compelling, all while nourishing a constant and genuine sense of discovery.  This is not a timid movie.

Anchoring all of these ideas and themes is an unforgettable central performance, one deserving of an Academy Award.  Ricardo Montalban’s portrayal of Khan Noonien Singh is one of the great cinematic villains.  Any character whose name appears in a title automatically generates grand expectations, and when an actor not only meets but also exceeds those expectations…boy howdy, it’s time to rejoice.

Montalban commands his first scene.  Burdened with heavy exposition, he conveys the important information to the audience all while building a slow but steady sense of anger and violence.  He does it not only with his physique, but also with his eyes and his accent, an accent he uses to full advantage.  It is an unforgettable moment and a grand introduction to his character.

Foiled against Khan is Kirk (William Shatner).  Shatner is a very good actor, much better than he’s often credited for, and the proof is in this film.  He matches wits with and convincingly defeats Khan.  He’s not just going through the motions of a brilliant screenplay; he fully embodies the qualities that make Kirk so in conflict with Khan.

Make no mistake, and despite their similarities, Kirk and Khan are two characters who diametrically oppose each other’s perspectives.  Khan leads through isolated necessity and fear; Kirk leads through experience and empathy.  Khan enters the world through vengeance and righteous anger; Kirk enters through friendship and curiosity.  At the film’s open neither of them does what they were born to do, but by the end they each find their destiny.

More than at any other time, it is in dealing with death one witnesses the fundamental differences between hero and villain.  During the battle in the Mutara Nebula, Khan’s lieutenant, Joachim (Judson Scott), dies when he is crushed beneath pieces of their disintegrating vessel, Reliant.  While Joachim is still alive, Khan’s instinct is to try and save him; when dead, Khan’s instinct is to avenge him even though Joachim was his one soldier who questioned his motives and plans.

During the same battle, Spock (Leonard Nimoy) dies attempting to save the Enterprise.  When he sees Spock still alive, Kirk’s instinct is to try and save him; when dead, Kirk’s instinct is resignation to the reality of Death.  Unlike Khan, Kirk’s resolve is shattered and depressed when he understands his closest friend’s condition.  And instead of swearing violence, he chooses to find a way to give comfort while Spock lay dying.

Death scenes are fundamentally awkward, especially those written for dramatic poignancy.  Too often such moments cause unintentional laughter or worse, giggling, from the audience.  Shakespeare masterfully popularized dialogue between dying characters.  His method has, thus far, proven to be the best solution to writing a death scene that works.

Meyer’s film provides one of the best cinematic death scenes by using Shakespeare’s method, and just slightly tweaking it.  Kirk and Spock are able to exchange words through a transparent partition, giving the moment an intimate, almost confessional, feel.  They do not discuss large, grandiose ideas of Life and Death as Shakespeare often does with his plays.  Instead they spend the time offering each other nostalgia while simultaneously finding a way to express their friendship without being sentimental.  They talk to each other as friends.  Even though a large number of the crew stand around, the moment still feels private.  It’s a genuine, thoughtful moment, and the audience’s sadness is both sincere and well-earned.

Yet this story is not a tragedy.  Yes, it works as a tone poem on death and regret, especially with its inevitable, funereal atmosphere.  Interspersed throughout the story is the driving force behind the plot, and the film’s genius.  The Genesis Project not only propels Khan’s vengeance, but also gives the story the hope it needs to end on the right note.  If nothing else, Star Trek reminds us that the future can always be better than the present.  It gives us the hope that so many other science fiction franchises do not provide.

But I’m not going to start discussing Star Trek as a whole.  This article is about one film.  It’s a film anyone can approach and enjoy while still taking away something meaningful.  It’s a film that discusses very heavy subjects while remaining a compelling entertainment.  That’s not easy.

And despite all the death and destruction, the loss and regret, the movie ends on the right emotional note.  Kirk affirms his life, tells us “I feel young.”  Khan would never have felt that way.  What Khan could never understand, and what the film really tells us, is that against violence and wrath, hope remains.