Okay, here's the deal. I've never been a "Trekkie." Was actually pretty apathetic about the whole thing. (Unless you count the one time I dressed up as Spock for Halloween.) Sure, I've kept in touch with the whole Roddenberry Revolution, and I'll admit I've seen my share of love scenes between William Shatner and some babe in body paint. But, most of my connection to Trek has been of a mocking sort. Ya'know, reveling in the campy dramaticism of the original technicolor series. (I mean, there's no finer "over-actor" than Shatner, with DeForest Kelly nippin' at his pleather-clad heels.) And I've certainly done my part to support the aging crew, seeing all of the feature films to date.

When "Next Generation" hit the airwaves, I glanced at it occasionally, and realized it was much too slick for my tastes, and my disinterest grew further over the last few years as we became bombarded with new attempts to cash the Trek check -- "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager" , "Star Trek: Lip Balm." And on and on and on.

Then came Star Trek: Generations and I felt it was a decent attempt to pass the torch, but with nothing new, nothing to moisten my armpits. So, when my dedicated Trekster and urologist friend Clevon K. Billups III begged me to accompany him to Star Trek: First Contact, I went more out of friendship than anything. In some ways, I was even dreading it, thinking, "No Kirk. How can there be a Trek feature without Kirk?"

Boy, it didn't take long for them to slap the dread out of my cranium. From the opening shot -- an amazing deep, deep, deep tracking shot created by some incredible special effects gurus -- through the first knock-down, drag-out fifteen minutes of activity, I was awestruck. My mouth hung open like an exhaust pipe on a Harley.

From there, things kept going at breakneck pace -- anchored by an inventive time travel script that didn't demand an intimate knowledge of the TV show and the Borg, some of the most frightening villains to appear since the Aliens first drooled on Sigourney Weaver's tank top. Patrick Stewart changes from Puff Pastry Picard to Cap'n Crunch, showing more range and energy than ever before. The rest of the cast trucks along nicely under the leadership of co-star/director Jonathan Frakes, and special mention should go out to Brent Spiner as Data, who finally gets a meaty role and a chance to show some skin. (On a side note: I want this guy's agent. ID4, Phenomenon, First Contact. None too shabby, tabby.)

The only thing that tarnishes the effort is the performance by James Cromwell (better known as the stoic farmer from Babe) playing Zefram Cochrane, the founder of warp speed. His drunken inventor schtick is stiff and thin, and I kept wanting him to DO something to let me know he could act. He just sort of phones in his part, while Alfre Woodard (as Lily) and Alice Krige (Borg Queen) blow the hinges off the joint in the other guest star roles.

During the screening, Clevon giggled relentlessly at a host of inside jokes and cameo appearances, but I never felt left out. Star Trek: First Contact is a dynamite deal. In fact, this thing was so sharp that this year for Halloween, I might even shave my head.