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A lot of science fiction stories explore different aspects of fear, most especially the fear of loss:

• loss of self or identity,
• loss of autonomy or freedom,
• loss of values held dear,

and more. One of the classics that has been reinterpreted numerous times, including last year’s Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig film, The Invasion,, is The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney.

Written in 1955, the book has inspired four films and, doubtless, more to come. I found this very interesting article about the history and the different ways in which human duplicates have been used in fiction and film at the National Post. Check it out — it is quite interesting:

Scott Van Wynsberghe: A brief history of body-snatching

Sorry for the long break — long story that I don’t need to go into here. But I’m back now and hope to post much more regularly!

This Christmas I asked for and received the Starman DVD set. For those of you who do not know of which I speak, Starman was a Japanese superhero created in the late 1950s and based on Superman. In Japan, he was known as Supergiant and was the star of several 50-minute serials. In the early 1960s, Walter Manly Enterprises acquired the U.S. right and cut them together into six 75-minute films, dubbed in English for American television consumption.

These were the films I grew up on. I loved Starman — I think I had a pre-teen crush on him. I used to play Starman at recess and pretend that I was a part of the films I watched on the weekend.
Read more »

Guest Writer: Groshan Fabiola

In 1977, Star Wars reintroduced the world to the serialized space opera with groundbreaking results both creatively and financially. In the wake of this paradigm shift came a gaggle of embarrassing me-too projects both for film and television. Then there was Battlestar Galactica.

Battlestar Galactica was the brain-child of producer/writer/director Glen Larson. It was both a pastiche of the Star Wars formula, and a bizarre melding of wagon train and Egyptian mythology. The series chronicled the adventures of a “Rag Tag Fleet” running from the Cylons, a mechanized horde of robots lead by a human traitor; their destination is a mythical world called “Earth”. Battlestar Galactica was a success both theatrically and on the television. Despite it’s campy acting and plot lines there was an endearing element in the quest of these characters. Battlestar Galactica never made any apologies for borrowing the character archetypes made so popular in Star Wars. Apollo is a dark haired Luke Skywalker, Sheba the strong female cut from the Princess Leia strand, and Starbuck as the charismatic scoundrel that Han Solo would surely approve of. Despite these obvious pastiches, Battlestar Galactica got away with it. Read more »

This essay was an assignment for my “Science Fiction and American Culture” class.

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Science and technology are mirrors in which humankind can see who they are, what they want to be and what they are afraid of. In novels, movies and on television, popular culture explores these possibilities through works of fiction and horror. Sherry Turkle, in her book The Second Self, said, “We search for a link between who we are and what we have made, between who we are and what we might create, between who we are and what, through our intimacy with our own creations, we might become.” Science fiction films and novels explore the possibilities and implications that our science and technology may have for us.In the 1800’s, Mary Shelly told the tale of a scientist who created life from death and then in fear and revulsion of his creation fled. The monster he created, a child of Dr. Frankenstein’s intellect, used all manners of persuasion to gain parental attention. Frankenstein is a story about what humankind is as seen through the eyes of a human creation.

Other works have explored this same idea. With the passing of time and the increase in our technology’s capabilities the “Frankenstein’s monsters” of today have become more machine than human. In the movie Demon Seed, a computer takes control over a woman’s life in order to reproduce. In The Lawnmower Man, a machine distorts a man’s mind until he becomes one with the machine. In the Terminator movies, a computer takes over the world and attempts to eradicate humankind altogether.

Many works of science fiction explore how, in our quest, to be free of the mundane things in life, we might bring our own downfall. In 1964, a Twilight Zone episode told the tale of a factory that transferred control over to a computer (”The Brain Center at Whipple’s”). It illustrated how science and technology can dehumanize life.

In the movie War Games, directed by John Badham, a similar scenario is played out. Professor Faulken creates a computer that can learn from its mistakes. The computer is childlike. In a way, this echoes Frankenstein.

When Lightman, the main character, contacts it by using Dr. Faulken’s code, it responds with what seems like happiness at talking with its father. When asked, “Is this a game or is this real?” it answers, “What is the difference?” It hasn’t learned the difference. The climax of the movie centers on the computer’s struggle to learn. If it does not learn the futility of global thermonuclear war, humankind will die at its “hands.”

In less technological times, the fear of the future was manifested in literature as the coming of the antichrist, the monster with seven heads or other terrible creatures. Now we have the computer and the implications for its use.

Today our monsters are robots from the future, our own willingness to relinquish control to a machine, and the dangers of the environments that our technology can take us to. Popular culture manifests our hopes and fears of the future in literature, film and television. Visions of the future can be hopeful (Star Trek), wary (War Games) or Armageddon (The Terminator), although it has been my experience that the negative visions out number the positive ones.

Fear is a common reaction to something new. Science and technology are bringing in new things at such a pace that it can be overwhelming. I think this is the reason that there are more visions of what we fear in science and technology than there are of what we can be and what we can accomplish.

The following essay was a paper I wrote for a class I took called “Science Fiction and American Culture.” It compares Harry Bates’ short story “Farewell to the Master” to the movie based on it, The Day the Earth Stood Still.

“Farewell to the Master” first appeared in the October 1940 issue of Astounding Stories. You can find a copy of it online at The Nostalgia League’s website.

The Day the Earth Stood Still was directed by Robert Wise and released in 1951, starring Michael Rennie and Patricia Neal. You can find more information at IMDB. If you would like to purchase a copy of this movie on DVD, click here to go to Amazon.com.

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Translating the printed word into a visual medium is not always easy. Oftentimes, films based on short stories or novels turn out pretty bad, especially in comparison to the original work (Clan of the Cave Bear and Dune are two that come to mind.) Often what can be written down and be exciting to read becomes boring and dull when placed on the silver screen. Changes have to be made for the story to be entertaining visually. I think The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) was a succesful translation of Harry Bates short story, “Farewell to the Master.” What follows is my reasoning.For me the key points in both the movie and the film were: the robot, the spaceship, and Washington, DC.

The Robot

The robot played a much more important role in the short story than it did in the film. In both the short story and the film it was a symbol of raw, unadulterated, and incomprehensible power. In an effort to render Gnut harmless, the scientists in the short story “sent electrical currents of tremendous voltages and amperages through him. They applied terrific heat to all parts of his metal shell. They immersed him for days in gases and acids and strongly corroding solutions, and they … bombarded him with every known kind of ray.” In the movie this wasn’t done, but in both, the robot was encased in a clear block of solid plastic or glass-like material. And in both the short story and the film, the robot broke free of this prison.

The robot’s name changed from story to film, I think, was a good move. When I read the word “Gnut” I get a different image than if I just heard it. In the movie, “Gnut” would have sounded more like “newt,” which doesn’t imply the same sense of the unknown. “Gort” was appropriate because there is not a common word, “gort,” that means something in English. It sounds alien.

The Spaceship

The spaceship in the film was much how I imagined it when I read the story. It was smooth and sleek. It looked like flying saucers are purported to look. “No slightest break or crack marred the perfect smoothness of the ship’s curving ovoid surface,” wrote Bates. The spaceship in the movie was similar, as Sobchack (1987) describes, “treated as a thing of beauty, the … flying saucer … is so pure in line, so ascetically designed … that it concretizes the Platonic virtues of clarity, sanity, reason — virtues sadly lacking in the Washington, D.C., mise en scene in which the saucer comes to rest.” (p. 77.)

Washington, D.C.

The mise en scene, so to speak, for the short story was more the Smithsonian museum than Washington, D.C. However, in both versions, the importance of the place is not necessarily as important as what those places represent. Washington, D.C. is a place where the primary government of a major world power rests. It is a town that is relatively easy to get around in, it has a lair where the primary government of a major world power rests. It seems a logical place for an alien to land. It also has a large press population, and can be considered the seat of American patriotism.

In the story, these aspects of locale took more of a back seat than in the film. In the film, Arlington Cemetery was an important symbol of humankind’s petty wars. The “great words” of Lincoln served as a catalyst to spur Klaatu on to his next contact, Dr. Bernhardt. It would be difficult to find such commonly known symbols in any other town.

What the Printed Word Can Do that Film Can’t

“Bates’ story is a hoary piece of work when read today and Edmund H. North’s screenplay was a great improvement on it.” (Brosnan, 1978, p. 85.) I disagree with this statement. I found the story to be quite riveting and tense. I wanted to keep reading. I felt the fear that Cliff felt, as well as his curiosity. However, I also agree that the screenplay was an improvement for the screen. Bates’ story, as written, would have been a boring movie. The tension was more psychological than visual. It would have been very difficult to get the same emotional impact on screen as there was in the written story.

What Film Can Do that the Printed Word Can’t

I also disagree with Brosnan’s comment about the interior of the ship: “though its interior was a disappointment and showing it destroyed the essential mystery of the craft.” (p. 84.) I thought the use of lighting (compounded by the moody music by Bernard Herman) was quite effective. It adequately gave the impression of sterile science, of the frightening unknown, and of mysterious, alien origin.

Sound is an added effect available to film that the printed work cannot imitate. The music track for this movie was very effective — if not a bit too loud at times. It set the mood of the movie as a whole, as well as for each scene. It made benign images seem terrifying.

Conclusion

What impressed me the most about both the story and the movie was the concept of the robot. In the short story, Gnut was another race. He was another form of life incomprehensible to people with carbon-based biases. He was the “master” in the sense that he was more technologically, and maybe even emotionally, evolved than Klaatu. The story implied, for me, that Klaatu was like a beloved pet. Gnut’s efforts to bring Klaatu back were reminiscent of those many times when I rushed my pet rat to the veterinarian because she was ill. My pet was a life dependent on me and I felt responsible for her. I imagine that Gnut felt the same way about Klaatu, that Gnut felt guilty of putting Klaatu in a situation where he was unable to protect him.

I disagree that this story, and the film as well, was pessimistic; that it portrayed a “brave new world run by robots,” as Healy and McComas (1945) suggested. Brosnan (1978) said that “the idea of placing our basic human rights in the custody of a machine, or any ’superior force’, is not only an admission of defeat but also one which smacks of totalitarianism.” (p. 84.) I think they missed the point. In the story, Gnut was another form of life. Nowhere in the story does Klaatu say that Gnut was manufactured. However, in the movie, Klaatu does say that Gort was made — but to free them. To say that relegating police authority to robots is like acquiescing to totalitarianism is like saying the mechanization of production is also that. Humanity has always sought for easier and faster ways to do things, thus freeing up more time for leisure. Since crime threatens leisure time, as well as other things, it makes sense to mechanize a method for preventing it as well.

The following essay was a paper I wrote for a class I took called “Science Fiction and American Culture.” It compares Philip K. Dick’s novel Blader Runner, originally titled Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? to the movie based on it, Blade Runner.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? was first published in 1968. You should be able to find a copy of it at your local library, or you can purchase one from Amazon.com.

Blade Runner was directed by Ridley Scott and released in 1982, starring Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer and Sean Young. You can find more information at IMDB. If you would like to purchase a copy of this movie on DVD, click here to go to Amazon.com.

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Blade Runner, the book, and Blade Runner, the movie seemed like alternate realities of the same story. They were completely different except where they overlapped.

Some of the names were the same (Deckard, Pris, Roy and Rachel) and some of the ideas were similar (in book John Isadore is a chickenhead who helps Pris, in the movie J. F. Sebastian is a rapidly aging person who helps Pris). But, although the names were the same, sometimes the personalities weren’t. Rachel in the movie was very different from Rachel in the book.

Blade Runner is one of my favorite movies. I like the macabre feel of its mise-en-scene. I like the 1930’s-1940’s detective flick feel. Everything about the film adds to the dream-like surreal mood — the lighting, the camera angles, the music, even the voice over.

The book doesn’t have quite the same feel. The mood is less macabre and more apathetic. Iran, Deckard’s wife, programs their Penfield mood organ to give her a feeling of despair twice a month. People “plug in” to empathy boxes to “become one” with Wilbur Mercer who walks up a hill as unseen tormentors hurl rocks at him. At the end of the book Deckard attempts suicide.

Life in the book’s world is pathetic and depressing. Life in the movie’s world is cluttered, dark and moody.

The movie is more straightforward than the book. The movie follows a relatively linear story where things seem to be, at least mostly, what they appear to be. Almost halfway through the book, however, Blade Runner enters the twilight zone — and stays there for a long time before the reader realizes what is really going on. The whole sequence at the replicated police station run by replicants threw me for a loop. It was very disorienting.

The endings are quite different in mood, as well. The book ends with a hopeless sense of things-are-as-they-are-and-there-is-no-way-to-change-them. The movie ends with a sense that although things are as they are, you can always make the best of what you’ve got and enjoy it while it lasts.

Both the book and the movie approach replicants in a similar manner as well — a way that is different from most imaginings of androids. Replicants are made of flesh — in the book you have to do a special bone marrow assay to tell the difference between real people and replicants. This gives new meaning to the phrase “artificial life.” They are artificial and they are made of the stuff of life — unlike the typical robot, which is made of metal and plastic.

This raises the questions, ìDo we have the right to call replicants less than human? Do we have the right to “retire” them? It almost seems like God destroying its own creation. If something that we create can live a life of its own, do we have the right to take away that life? Instinctively, I’d say no. But that probably stems from my basic reverence for life in general. I don’t condone unnecessary vivisection either.

The book, in a way, looks at these questions. Deckard decides that he can’t retire replicants anymore. He empathizes with them now. The Deckard from the movie ends up falling in love and running away with a replicant. He, too, decides that he can no longer kill replicants.

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