Quote:By most measures, the latest in the “Star Trek” franchise, “Star Trek: Beyond,” is a really good movie. It may not be perfect, but critics like it because, for one thing, it develops the individual characters, while remaining a balanced ensemble piece.

Audiences like it because, overall, it remains a breezy, over-the-top action film (with one of the best and longest spacecraft-destruction sequences ever).


But, predictably, the part I loved the most was the use of pop music woven into both the soundtrack and the drama itself. (Spoiler alert: I don’t think I’m giving too much away, but just the same, if you haven’t seen the film and plan to, you might want to stop right here and come back after you have.)

In a critical moment, the crew assaults the enemy with a destructive high-frequency signal consisting of a recording found on an abandoned starship from Earth: The Beastie Boys’ song “Sabotage.”

That made me smile, but what made me laugh out loud were the reactions of Karl Urban’s character, Dr. McCoy, who asks, “Is that classical music?” and Spock, played by Zachary Quinto, who responds, “Yes, I believe it is.”

Spock is, of course, half alien, but also an expert on human society and cultural history. He’s intensely logical and rarely ironic. So are we to believe “Sabotage” is regarded as classical music in the 23rd century? Yes, we are, and frankly, I have no problem with that.

More than 200 years from now, after the messy dust of contemporary culture, with all its stylistic boundaries and bruising biases, settles to the ground of history, some culture that today seems largely commercial and crass will be highly regarded.

The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, David Bowie and Prince, almost certainly. Public Enemy (also featured in the film) and the Beastie Boys? Hard to tell from here, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

Before you dismiss the idea, be aware that this has happened many times throughout history. The popular entertainment of Greek tragedies became the foundation of all modern theater. Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre was dependent on the love of common Londoners, especially those willing to pay a penny each to stand in a crowded pack in the unroofed yard in front of the stage for an entire three-hour drama.

Most of Charles Dickens’ novels were published in installments by popular magazines — he even used an early form of crowdsourcing, writing subsequent chapters to incorporate (or disregard) suggestions from readers.

In classical music, the 12th-century songs of the troubadours were a profane diversion well outside the liturgical music that would serve as the foundation of the classical tradition. But it would influence that tradition in many powerful ways. Likewise, the waltz, the string quartet and wind ensemble all originated as popular entertainment and were later developed into high art forms.

Originally regarded as a debauched style that appealed to base instincts, ragtime found a foothold early in classical music circles through its influence on Stravinsky, and has continued to rise in the estimation of musicologists, easily outliving and transcending its critics.


Similarly, the tango and bossa nova have moved out of the club to be embraced by the concert hall. Today popular artists are pushing their styles deeper into serious art, such as Bjork, Radiohead and rap artist Kendrick Lamar, to name just a few.

On the other side, composers like Leonard Bernstein and Kurt Weill recognized the gray area between classical and popular Broadway forms, and sought to colonize it. Their counterparts today are busy with similar explorations of rock and hip-hop styles, including violinist Daniel Roumain, guitarist Gene Pritsker and Princeton University composer Steve Mackey.

But with the “Star Trek” selections, maybe it is the troubadours that are the best precedent. Their poetry was full of ideology and elevated love beyond the rule of law. Yes, the idea of the Brooklyn rappers as tomorrow’s long hairs made me laugh.

But if the troubadours, with their politics, their poetry and their deliberate attempt to appeal to a popular audience could be remembered, revered and imitated 800 years later, the notion of primal, angry, anti-establishment hip-hop artistry doing the same seems not so far-fetched.

This is what good science fiction always does: it paints a picture of the future in the outline of the present day. It places our current experience into the broader context of history, and makes us look at ourselves afresh.

Maybe in this, “Star Trek” itself is destined to become an example of a kind of classical literature.