History books abound with stories of how two people in different parts of the world come up with similar ideas at about the same time. The same thing seems to be happening with science fiction movies.

First, we had a spate of pseudo-science fiction thrown together for teenage boys. Then, we had a long spell of monster movies, but with the advent of 2001: A Space Odyssey and later Star Wars, we saw real scientists acting as consultants, and the whole resources of the studios being thrown open for artwork, mattes, special effects, stereo sound, and throbbing music by the best composers conducting symphony orchestras.

In 1979, Star Trek: The Motion Picture and The Black Hole joined that wave. Star Trek has since grown into a cornerstone of sci-fi culture, while The Black Hole has found a loyal cult following.

Both films, in their own way, shaped the genre.Star Trek: The Motion Picture concerns itself with the Enterprise being suddenly confronted with a “ship” so enormous it could gobble up the earth in one bite; The Black Hole tells of a scout ship that discovers, directly in front of what its computer calls “the biggest black hole I’ve ever seen,” another enormous derelict ship of ghostly and somewhat sinister components. (And both leviathans turn out to have been initially man-made.)


Still from Star Trek

Both films, in depicting outer space and humanity’s reaction to it, seem unable to escape an overlying religious tinge, which is admirably covered up by the fantastic special effects. The miniatures were so good for their time, and the kaleidoscopic camera work so exciting, that you would have to be a sourpuss not to admire the breadth of imagination that created these wonders. For that, I thoroughly enjoyed both pictures.

Both pictures use too much music, amplified way too high—but I thought John Barry’s score for The Black Hole was far superior to Jerry Goldsmith’s for Star Trek. Barry’s haunting compositions hold up better over time.

Both pictures have spectacular encounters with meteors, which are handled differently but use optics to splendid, even breathtaking effect. Both films also have their metaphysical philosophy aimed at making the average viewer believe—at least during the time they are in the theater—that it represents “deep” thinking. We skeptics will see it as pseudo-religious claptrap, but perhaps most people simply watch to be entertained and amused. In order to explain this, first a bit of plot development should be given:

The Black Hole has acquired mystical proportions since, at the time, scientists had only recently discovered the phenomenon and had almost no knowledge beyond the fact that black holes seem to reflect back no light at all, and planets and suns disappear into them with no trace.
Composite image of the core region of Messier 87 taken at radio wavelengths showing glowing gas surrounding a supermassive black hole, image taken in 2017 | Wikimedia Commons

Now, with images of real black holes captured decades later, the film’s awe still resonates. The investigating crew, ably led by Anthony Perkins, Ernest Borgnine, Yvette Mimieux, and Robert Forster, is of two minds about whether to accompany the mad scientist Maximilian Schell (or is he really mad?) into the hole. Perkins elects to go, saying: “Of course I want to, who wouldn’t? It’s a chance to go into the mind of God.”

The film itself seems to imply that since black holes are so mysterious, there is every reason for humans to hold them in exaggerated awe.

The further implication (in both films) is that entering the hole and “coming out the other side” is a transforming experience if you survive—or maybe even if you don’t. The use of robots in this one is of considerable interest: the little fellow who accompanies them is humanized by constantly spouting proverbs and by being courageous and patting himself on the back for it, traits that are supposed to make us feel affectionate towards it, but which would clearly drive anyone crazy in a day, say, a day.

The soldier robots on the strange ship run by Maximilian Schell not only challenge him to target practice, but when our little robot wins, the chief robot is so angry he blows his circuits, thus committing suicide.

The big super-robot constructed by the scientist is named Maximilian (and if you don’t think he was named after the casting was completed, I miss my guess), but at one point, the scientist leans toward Yvette and whispers, “Protect me from Maximilian!”—a lovely bit of spoofery, for the big robot has just destroyed Perkins in what can only be described as a fit of pique.

Here, he sees, as always, the human element that is its Achilles’ heel. The fact that the argument is rather fuzzy escapes you until you’re out of the theater. Spock tells Kirk, “It’s the questions. It’s asking, ‘Is this all I am? Is there nothing more?’ It seeks answers.” Kirk tells it, “We will give you the answer if you promise not to destroy the carbon units” (the computer’s description of human beings).

Since the answer turns out to be love, and the importance of the one thing humans like to think is their big contribution to the universe—the ability to feel (since computers have already outstripped our ability to think)—the writers have set themselves a hopeless task, as the climax relies on depicting a cosmic orgasm for a G/PG audience. Their sudden burst of intuition was that the computer had accumulated so much knowledge in its wanderings through the universe that it acquired a consciousness.

Ah, well, it’s very pretty, a sparkling finale of cosmic fireworks, supposedly the creation of a new kind of baby for the universe to deal with.

All science fiction stories have holes in them, some just small plot potholes, others big black holes of defective reasoning, but this is truly the nature of the speculative genre. All in all, phony elements notwithstanding, including pseudo-religious mysticism, it is a film work stretching its muscles, and must be admired as such. 

Certainly, the film industry gave its bows generously: the credits rolling off the screen at the end list hundreds of special effects people of all kinds, from optics to miniatures to mattes to stunts. Even now, these films’ blend of wonder and speculation still holds up.


© 2025 Shoaib Rahman