The greatest Star Trek villain ever, is dead at 88.

''He was so gracious, and Aaron was always humbled by Ricardo's gratitude for 'Fantasy Island,'' said Candy Spelling, wife of the late Aaron Spelling, who created the show. ''I miss him already, and wish his family well.''

Montalban had been a star in Mexican movies when MGM brought him to Hollywood in 1946. He was cast in the leading role opposite Esther Williams in ''Fiesta,'' and starred again with the swimming beauty in ''On an Island with You'' and ''Neptune's Daughter.''

But Montalban was best known as the faintly mysterious, white-suited Mr. Roarke, who presided over a tropical island resort where visitors fulfilled their lifelong dreams -- usually at the unexpected expense of a difficult life lesson. ''I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island,'' he told arriving guests.

Montalban had already coined a cultural catchphrase before the show, which ran from 1978 to 1984. As the celebrity spokesman for mid-1970s models of the Chrysler Cordoba, Montalban unwittingly opened himself up to endless imitation when he described the car's optional seats as being ''available in soft, Corinthian leather.''

More recently, he appeared as villains in two hits of the 1980s: ''Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan'' and -- in line with his always-apparent sense of humor about himself -- the farcical ''The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad.''

Montalban's longtime friend and publicist David Brokaw said the actor was ''exactly how you'd imagine him to be'' off camera. ''What you saw on the screen and on television and on talk shows, this very courtly, modest, dignified individual, that's exactly who he was,'' Brokaw said.

If he hadn't been Mexican, I think he might have been one of the biggest stars in Hollywood--he had that kind of personal magnetism. His performance in Star Trek: The Wrath of Kahn, should have received a best supporting Oscar. With all the buzz about Heath Ledger's turn as the joker, I still think Montalban, as Kahn, gave him a run for his money.

Interest side note--Kahn's deeply cut vest revealed impressive pecs--those were real. Montalban suffered a riding injuring in the fifties and was relegated to a wheel chair later in life, but he did a lot of strength training to compensate, with gratifying results.

After the accolades of a local reviewer, the lovely bunny and I decided to see "This Is It"; the Michael Jackson concert series rehearsal documentary.

There is a temptation to think that a two hour movie coming out so soon after Michael Jackson's untimely death, has to be poorly-made schlock designed to cynically exploit his fans. The reality is that we are all beneficiaries of amazing serendipity--Jackson was filming the rehearsals for his planned concert series in London, England, giving us a heaping portion of what made Michael Jackson one of the greatest entertainers of the 20th century.

Gratifyingly, we can talk all we want about the documentary without spoiling it for prospective viewers. What one sees is akin to the shows common on the Discovery channel that detail the process of vehicle restoration or motorcycle building--seeing the sausage made doesn't diminish our enjoyment of the final product in the slightest.

Michael Jackson at 50 is barely showing his age, both physically and as a showman. He is less athletic, but just as graceful. His voice is undiminished. There is simply no hint at all that he is at the end of his life. Instead we see a man at the height of his powers, straining for perfection while exuding confidence that it can be and will be attained. He is unfailingly polite and respectful to his subordinates, but unmistakably in charge.

The respect accorded to him by all the many chiefs and Indians that populate an enterprise like a major concert series, is both awe-inspiring and a little creepy, yet it provides the necessary background to gain some understanding into why Jackson always seems slightly alien. At the very beginning of the film, a number of supporting performers are interviewed, and they are clearly in the throes of a transcendental experience. They have touched the face of God.

That kind of universal adulation has to isolate a man in ways very, very few of us will ever understand. Jackson comes across as intimately connected to his art, while at the same time profoundly disconnected from everyone around him. At several points in the film, he interacts with supporting performers, and while they are clearly aware of him, you feel nothing coming the other way--they are props, nothing more.

Jackson makes a political statement about "saving the planet" during the concert, but its emotional and naive quality, coinciding with the naive quality of the man, makes it backfire. Al Gore might wish that Peter Pan wasn't such an enthusiastic supporter of global warming's secular religion. Yet seeing Jackson directing traffic in the rehearsals, I got the sense that he wasn't naive at all, so when he does the "save the planet" schtick, I sensed a calculating effort in image-making reminiscent of the "We Are The World" nonsense.

In the end, the film is appears as Jackson's final insistent statement of his life--he gives the public his art; fully and unreservedly, while refusing to reveal anything else that he hasn't precisely calculated for effect and impact. Sad and glorious at the same time.

Father:

Son:

Unholy ghost:

Zappa's hierarchy:

Information is not knowledge.
Knowledge is not wisdom.
Wisdom is not truth.
Truth is not beauty.
Beauty is not love.
Love is not music.
Music is the best.