Paramount didn’t just abandon Quentin Tarantino’s batshit R-rated Star Trek pitch—they nuked it from orbit. And honestly? That might be the best thing to happen to this franchise in a decade. Instead of fan-service bloodbaths, we’re getting something far more dangerous: a completely new take from two directors who’ve spent the last five years proving that the biggest risk in Hollywood is playing it safe.
I’ve been chasing this story through festival lounges and studio whispers since Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves premiered at SXSW 2023. Someone close to the production told me the Paramount executives were laughing so hard during the test screening that they missed half the dialogue. That’s when the lightbulb flickered on. These guys—Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley—had cracked something. Not just comedy. Not just spectacle. The alchemy of making adults feel like kids again without insulting their intelligence.
Now they’re taking on Star Trek. And the whispers have turned into something else entirely.
The Franchise’s Long, Strange Detour
Let’s be blunt: the Kelvin timeline collapsed under its own weight. Star Trek Beyond (2016) wasn’t a disaster—it was a perfectly adequate summer movie that forgot why people cared in the first place. The box office reflected that indifference. And just like that, the greenlit sequel with SJ Clarkson attached and Chris Hemsworth‘s George Kirk slated to return… vaporized. No dramatic press release. Just the quiet death of a timeline that never quite found its rhythm.
I sat in a press screening for Beyond in New York, surrounded by fans in original series uniforms. Halfway through, a guy in a perfect Scotty costume checked his phone. Not out of rudeness—out of resignation. The magic was missing. JJ Abrams had jumpstarted the heart in 2009, delivered a divisive but ambitious sequel in 2013, then jumped ship to that other space franchise. The patient flatlined.
Paramount’s been scrambling ever since. Development hell is crowded with Trek projects—some announced, some rumored, all gathering dust. Until now.
The Comedy Alchemists’ Credentials
Goldstein and Daley aren’t random hires. They’re surgical strikes.
Their filmography reads like a manifesto against generic blockbusters. Game Night (2018) remains—I’ll die on this hill—the last great studio comedy. Not because it’s funny (it is), but because it cares about structure. Every laugh is earned through plot mechanics that would make Roddenberry nod in approval. The film respects its characters’ intelligence while putting them through a gauntlet of escalating absurdity. Sound familiar? That’s peak Trek storytelling.
Then came Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023). Here, they proved they could balance a nine-figure budget with actual soul. The sequence with the corpse interrogation? Pure farce. The found-family dynamics between Chris Pine‘s Edgin and Michelle Rodriguez‘s Holga? Earned sentiment. They didn’t just adapt a game—they translated the feeling of playing it. That’s the crucial distinction. Trek isn’t about space battles; it’s about the crew around the conference table debating Prime Directive ethics at 3 AM when everyone’s exhausted and the replicators are down.
Their upcoming Mayday—a Cold War action-comedy starring Ryan Reynolds, slated for 2025—apparently tested through the roof. I couldn’t get into those Skydance/Apple screenings, but the feedback loop was immediate. One exec described it as “Dr. Strangelove meets Midnight Run.” That’s… specific. And promising. More importantly, it’s the project that got them the Trek meeting. Paramount doesn’t want another paint-by-numbers space opera. They want whatever that description means.
What “Completely New Take” Actually Means
The official line—”not connected to any previous television series or movie”—is corporate speak for something radical. This isn’t a recasting. It’s a reimagining.
Think less “new Kirk” and more “what if Roddenberry created Trek today?” Same philosophical backbone, new muscle tissue. No Chris Pine. No Zachary Quinto. No obligation to recreate iconic moments. The sources I’ve spoken with (off the record, over terrible festival coffee) suggest a timeline reset so fundamental that even casual fans won’t need homework to understand it.
The genius here is the liberation. Daley and Goldstein get to build their own sandbox, Starfleet insignia and all. No canonical tripwires. No “but in episode 73” gatekeeping. Just the pure, undiluted premise: humanity stumbling into the cosmos with equal parts curiosity and incompetence, learning that diplomacy is often just a more complicated form of improv.
That’s the sweet spot for these directors. Their best work thrives on characters who think they’re prepared for chaos, then discover they’re the punchline. Game Night‘s suburbanites facing actual criminals. D&D‘s party of misfits learning their dungeon master is reality itself. Now apply that to Starfleet’s finest—trained for first contact, completely unprepared for actual first contact.
The Paramount Calculation (And Why Now?)
Here’s what nobody’s saying out loud: Paramount’s streaming Trek shows are eating the movies alive. Strange New Worlds delivers weekly adventures with classic Trek optimism. Picard gave closure to legacy characters. The films have become an afterthought. A theatrical Trek movie needs to justify its existence beyond brand extension.
The studio’s solution? Lean into the one thing streaming struggles with: scale and surprise. A theatrical event that doesn’t feel like three episodes stitched together. Daley and Goldstein’s comedy background becomes a feature, not a bug. They understand the difference between a set piece and a gag. Their action sequences in D&D moved like choreography—every beat revealing character while advancing plot. That’s cinematic language, not television pacing.
Plus, there’s the financial reality. Comedy directors (especially white male ones, Hollywood’s favorite safety blanket) come cheaper than established sci-fi auteurs. If this works, Paramount owns a new sandbox. If it fails, they can blame the “experimental” choice and reboot again. It’s cynical. It’s smart. It’s exactly how studios think.
Can Comedy Do Justice to Trek?
This is the question that’ll dominate message boards until the first trailer drops. And it’s the wrong question.
Trek was always comedy. Not pratfalls, but the humor of juxtaposition—logical Vulcans versus emotional humans, utopian ideals meeting messy reality. The best episodes (“The Trouble with Tribbles,”“In the Pale Moonlight”) are fundamentally about the absurdity of believing you can impose order on chaos.
Goldstein and Daley understand this at a cellular level. Their humor emerges from character, not situations. Game Night works because Rachel McAdams‘ Annie is genuinely competitive, not because the script demands wacky antics. D&D works because Chris Pine’s Edgin is specifically a washed-up bard who misses his daughter. The jokes are symptoms, not the disease.
A Trek movie that remembers its characters are people first, icons second? That’s not just welcome. That’s revolutionary.
What This Reboot Means for Star Trek’s Future—In Six Sharp Takes
The Kelvin timeline is officially dead, and nobody’s mourning it.
That timeline served its purpose—reintroducing the franchise to a global audience—but it suffocated under its own nostalgia. A clean slate means new mythology, new allegories, new reasons to care.
Comedy directors are the new sci-fi vanguard.
Studios are finally realizing that humor and stakes aren’t mutually exclusive. Denis Villeneuve‘s Dune is masterful but solemn. We need filmmakers who understand that audiences laugh when they’re invested, not when they’re distracted.
Paramount is betting on theatrical experience over franchise continuity.
This isn’t about setting up Disney+ spinoffs. It’s about creating a two-hour event that demands a big screen and shared gasps. Refreshing, if true.
The “completely new take” line is either brilliant marketing or a studio hedging its bets.
Either way, it works. Fans can’t complain about canon violations if there is no canon. It’s Trek by way of narrative immunity.
Ryan Reynolds’ Mayday is the secret audition tape.
If that film’s “through the roof” testing translates to box office, Daley and Goldstein become Hollywood’s hottest duo. Trek is their victory lap.
We’re about to see what Star Trek looks like when it’s built for 2025 audiences, not 1966 or 2009.
That means new cultural touchstones, new anxieties, new hopes. The Prime Directive meets the algorithm. I can’t wait.
FAQ
Is this just another grimdark, deconstructed Star Trek?
No—Goldstein and Daley’s track record suggests the opposite. Their work finds hope through humor, not despite it. Expect flawed characters trying their best, not cynical antiheroes. The darkness will be in the universe’s indifference, not the crew’s morality.
What happens to the legacy cast and storylines?
They’re done. Chris Pine’s crew won’t cameo. Picard won’t narrate. This is a hard reset, which is exactly what the franchise needs after fifteen years of timeline acrobatics. Think Battlestar Galactica 2004, not Star Wars sequels.
Will this connect to Paramount+ shows like Strange New Worlds?
Early reports insist on zero continuity. The streaming shows can keep playing in their sandboxes while this film builds a new beach. It’s a smart corporate firewall—protecting both divisions from each other’s failures.
Why these directors instead of a “serious” sci-fi filmmaker?
Because “serious” sci-fi has become a visual effects reel with existential voiceover. Daley and Goldstein understand that Trek works when it’s about people in rooms talking, not just ships exploding. Their comedy background is the disguise for actual humanism.
When can we expect actual details or a trailer?
With Mayday slated for 2025, this Trek is likely a 2026 or 2027 play. Paramount will stay quiet until that film proves the duo’s commercial clout. Patience, cadets. Good things come to those who wait in the Federation’s notoriously long development cycles.
