Tony's Blog: Ad Astra Per Fabulis

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets review

7/24/2017

Note: this review contains spoilers.

I’m not familiar with the French comic this film is based on (Valérian and Laureline) but I am acquainted with director Luc Besson’s previous works. The Fifth Element, Lucy, The Professional, The Messenger—all of these and more are highly stylized films that often fall short on substance. Valerian is no different.

The film isn’t without its charms. Valerian is easily the best eye candy I’ve seen in the theater this year. Hell, since Avatar. There is literally so much to see in this film that one cannot possibly manage it in one viewing. But mere spectacle doesn’t make a story. There is a decent plot embedded amidst all the CGI wonders but it unfolds in convoluted fashion. What hobbles the film most is the wooden acting and poor dialogue, especially from the two leads (Dane DeHaan and Cara Delevingne). There was zero chemistry between them, zero sexual tension in what is supposed to be a romantic relationship. I often blame this sort of thing on the director because it is their trade to be able to see this from behind the camera, while watching dailies, and during the editing process. One look would have been all it took to realize ‘hey, this isn’t working’. With a little more direction I believe it could have. One reason this grated on me is that Valerian asks Laureline to marry him during their first scene in the movie. We the audience have just been introduced to them. That’s way too much, too fast. Let us get to know them first.

DeHaan’s portrayal of Valerian isn’t bad, but it’s dry. I think he and Besson were going for a professional agent’s demeanor, so perhaps that’s why. If the performance had been slightly more comical, it would’ve worked better. His trip through Big Market was fun, though. Delevingne comes across much better as Laureline because she easily has the funniest moments in the movie. Her rescue of Valerian, and her reaction to his trite peck on the cheek afterward, was quite enjoyable. And the scenes where the alien tries to convince Laureline to wear a certain dress before she’s served up for lunch are great. I loved it when she placed the clairvoyant squid on her head to find Valerian. The film really needed more moments like that.

The plot—Valerian and Laureline’s superior destroyed the Pearls’ homeworld years ago and has tried to cover it up—wasn’t what I was expecting, and that’s a good thing. It’s a simple story about doing the right thing. The moral thing. When Valerian agrees to trust Laureline to help the Pearls, that is when their romance actually gains some depth and meaning. Bringing justice to those who commit genocide, and allowing indigenous peoples to live their own way, are two themes that will always remain important.

The shape-changing character Bubble (played by Rihanna) was a fun addition and a clever way for Valerian to sneak in and rescue Laureline from a bad situation. But Bubble’s impact is cut short by her death right after their escape. Therefore she might as well have been cut from the narrative. Which is sad, because once it’s revealed she is a slave who feels like she has no identity—no existence past pleasing her master and his customers—I connected to her. It made her one of the more interesting characters in the whole movie. If she had to die, it should have been in the finale. But not this soon.

I liked the ending. It wasn’t overblown, save-the-universe sort of fare. Valerian and Laureline expose their commander’s crime, he is arrested, the Pearls depart Alpha on a ship that is a small recreation of their homeworld, and all is well. Only then does Laureline infer she’ll marry Valerian, and their kiss while awaiting rescue is a fine way to conclude the story. It reminded me of the old James Bond film endings, where Bond shares a fling with the femme fatale before returning to his duties. But in this case, this is more than a fling between Valerian and Laureline. They will remain together. They are each other’s partners, friends, and lovers, rather than a token sexual conquest.

Some have downplayed the film’s score composed by Alexandre Desplat. I like it. It doesn’t break new ground, and there’s no overall theme that is so catchy you’ll be humming it the next day, but the soundtrack is still good. ‘Pearls on Mul’ stands out for its evocative whimsy, perfect for the young Pearl princess walking through the surf of her homeworld, shyly smiling at young Pearl men with her pet converter on her shoulder.

Comparisons to Star Wars aren’t necessarily fair, as Valerian’s source material predates Lucas’s creation, and in turn, may have influenced it.

Pros:

Valerian has truly impressive, knockout visuals. The alien worlds felt so real I wanted to visit them. I didn’t consider it CGI overload given the setting or story. Mül, the planet of the Pearls, is absolutely beautiful with its seashores, nebula and planets in the sky, and the African influenced-dress of the natives. Big Market, a desert enclosure where one can see into another dimension via special glasses, is grungy, overcrowded, and filled with all manner of species. Alpha, the huge space station referred to in the film’s title, contains so many unique alien cliques as to make the cantina scene from Star Wars appear bland. The 3D version was well worth the extra ticket price. Not since James Cameron’s Avatar have I seen the format utilized so well.

There’s a childlike wonder to the film that doesn’t demand anything from the viewer. Valerian is meant to be a thrilling ride through fantastical future landscapes. If one sits back and enjoys it for what it is, Valerian is a positive experience. It’s not plagued with the abysmal plot holes and brain-numbing CGI of the Transformers franchise. It has a moral message without being preachy. Though flawed, it is certainly a work of art.

Cons:

The acting and chemistry between the two leads is simply off. Some dialogue is just as clunky as what George Lucas wrote for Attack of the Clones. The movie could have been aided greatly by snappier comedic lines and comebacks. This is also true of the supporting cast (though Ethan Hawke’s performance was a lot of fun).

Bubble should have lived, received more development, and played a part in the film’s finale. Otherwise, Valerian could have simply infiltrated the alien locale in a different manner and cut down on an already meandering narrative.

The plot needed to be streamlined. I get that Besson likes to take unusual paths to get from point A to point B, but this could’ve been done while cutting some things.

Two things the film needs: more comedy, more tension. Comedy as in funny dialogue. Tension as far as sexual and the deathly kind. Not tons, but a little goes a long way.

Summation: Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets shoots for the stars but lands on the moon. It’s worth seeing at least once on the big screen in 3D. I’m willing to bet it becomes a cult film, with a dedicated fanbase who will enjoy it, warts and all. I’d like to see it again. I’s also like to see a sequel where the two leads are fleshed out better. It is also a reminder that, regardless of how expensive or beautiful a film is, without characters the audience can identify/sympathize with, it will likely fail. And that’s a shame, because Valerian deserves an audience.

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Alien: Covenant Review

5/22/2017

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Note: this review contains spoilers.

I’ve been a fan of the Alien franchise since I was twelve. That was when I first watched the original, on a VHS rental. (I do NOT miss ‘fullscreen’.) While I love the first film and its sequel, Aliens, the following installments fell far short. (No, Alien 3 still isn’t a ‘nihilistic masterpiece’, and I’ve seen the extended cut. And though Jean-Pierre Jeunet is among my favorite directors, Alien: Resurrection is a subpar exercise in milking the box office.) Prometheus had its moments—it wasn’t great, but the hate it still receives is strange—and yet, I liked it. Plus, I was extra excited for this new installment, because it would be the first Alien movie I’d seen on the big screen.

I say all of this upfront, because the Alien franchise polarizes fans. The latest film in the series, Alien: Covenant, will be no exception. It will have its admirers and detractors.

Pros:

The film looks great, as you’d expect from anything Ridley Scott directs. Regardless of what you may think of his storytelling abilities, the man still has an eye for framing breathtaking shots. I like his quick cutting during the action.

The score by Jed Kurzel hearkens back to Jerry Goldmith’s soundtrack from the original film, plus a few cues from Marc Streitenfeld’s work on Prometheus. Kurzel’s music is fitting and not overdone (‘The Med Bay’ is a fantastic piece of horror scoring) and underlines the scenes well.

The cast is good, but like the previous film, Michael Fassbender’s presence dominates.

And, like Prometheus, the special effects are great. I’ve always loved Ridley’s take on future tech, and some of the exterior space shots must be seen on the big screen to be fully appreciated (like the solar sail repair sequence).

The action/kill scenes are scary, gruesome, and memorable. I’m not going to forget that neomorph bursting from Ledward’s back in the med bay, and what happens afterward. (HOLY SHIT that went south quick.) Nor will I forget Rosenthal’s decapitated head floating in that basin. And facehuggers never cease to be frightening.

Cons:

Echoing many others viewers, I felt the crew should have been wearing masks (hell, an entire spacesuit) when they disembarked on the unknown planet. Even if their scanners revealed that the environment was perfectly hospitable for humans, that doesn’t mean the place would be empty of pathogens, bacteria…and, as the films shows, the airborne variety is terminal. (I think Ridley did this because: 1. the script demanded it, and 2., Ridley seems to assume the audience takes certain things for granted—such as the crew already knowing, from their sensors, that the planet wasn’t poisonous—and cuts extraneous material out to keep the pace going. Me, I would have left that in. It makes the crew look dumb.)

Once again, Ridley leaves important questions unanswered. What happened to the Engineers? How do those eggs, in that Engineer starship, wind up on LV-426 in the original film? Why no xenomorph queen?

Another thing: the characters don’t receive enough development. There’s very little breathing space between the action/death scenes once the shit hits the fan. I like that sort of frenetic pacing, but AFTER we have learned enough about the crew to care about what happens to them. Though I will say, the fate of Daniels and Tennessee, after surviving that ordeal, was a real pisser, because they were easily my two favorite crewmembers. So maybe Ridley knew what he was doing.

I was perfectly okay not knowing who really made the xenomorphs to begin with, but, hey. If you’re going to keep making these films, you might as well explore that side of it.

Okay, now for the deeper stuff.

David, the android from Prometheus, and his hatred for his creators, is the centerpiece of the movie. He was a real bastard in Prometheus, nonchalantly infecting crewmembers, watching them die, like Ash’s evil cousin. Well, all of that makes much more sense in Alien: Covenant, because we see that David despises the species that created him. Small wonder, since his ‘father’, Peter Weyland, was a selfish, greedy asshole. And, by extension, he has no regard for humanity’s creators, the Engineers—he mercilessly annihilates an entire city of them with a bioterminator immediately upon arrival. He killed Shaw and studied/experimented with her corpse, then cultivated and perfected the xenomorph—which needs a biological host—that not only incubates inside his hated creators, but is tailor-made to hunt them down and eviscerate them. Its very appearance could be by design, intended to terrify the human psyche on a darker, primal level. In short, David, playing god, created the ultimate horror.

The themes of a ‘god’ and its creations are strong in this movie, as they were in the previous one. But David is the metaphorical Devil, dwelling in darkness, waiting patiently until someone arrives and his ‘children’ can be born. He even paraphrases a line from John Milton’s Paradise Lost when he asks Walter, ‘serve in Heaven, or reign in Hell?’. Fassbender plays the character as a cold, demented genius, akin to Hannibal Lector. I’m glad David survives the film, because I certainly want to see more of him.

Some criticized the ending for being predictable—David switching places with Walter, an android that shares his physical appearance—but I loved it. It’s one of those situations where the audience knows it, feels the horror of it, but can’t tell the characters as events unfold. The tear shed by Daniels inside her stasis pod was the coda of knowledge gained too late.

In summation, Alien: Covenant is the best movie in this series since James Cameron’s Aliens. It’s not a perfect film, and its faults could have been easily avoided, which makes them all the more noticeable. Plus, like an episode of Lost, it leaves some important things unanswered while creating new questions. I hope Ridley releases a director’s cut that reveals more. All of this aside, I still recommend the theatrical release.

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Star Wars is Back!

12/23/2015

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WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

Star Wars: The Force Awakens delivered an entertaining experience on many levels: the best performances in the saga since The Empire Strikes Back; special effects with more reality to them than the over-used CGI of the Prequels; real chemistry between the actors; excellent dialogue and humor; and a timeless mythology that only strengthens with the retelling. I now have full confidence in Disney’s ability to give fans a series of timeless classics that will live up to the franchise’s brand and history.

There are a few minor issues I have with the film, but I’ll save them for last.

While nostalgia definitely pulls at the heartstrings in TFA, it takes much more than that to hold an audience’s attention, not to mention break such box office records. For me, it’s all in the new characters, and how brilliantly they are portrayed by their respective actors.

First is Rey, an orphan on a desert planet, who is an excellent mechanic and knows how to take care of herself. Rey is a survivor. Some critics have complained that she’s a ‘Mary Sue’, and is too perfect, too skilled, but when I start hearing that same criticism directed at male leads in other films, then I’ll begin to care. Do you think a survivor on a desert world would be a bumbling moron or a cowardly fifth wheel? Nope, me either. Rey is strong because she has to be; else she would have perished long ago. I love that she takes Han Solo’s place in the Millennium Falcon’s cockpit, and that she is the one who seeks out Luke Skywalker at the end. That she fights Kylo Ren to a draw in a lightsaber duel only adds to her character: in that moment she was saving a friend, she was hurt by Solo’s death, and she was angry that Ren was responsible for so much pain. That made the duel one of the most personal yet in the Star Wars saga, and already among my favorites. It’s the emotional content that makes it memorable, not five minutes of balletic sword fighting meant to impress rather than further the story. She is the new Luke Skywalker, and I’m eager to see how her journey unfolds.

Second is Finn, a former Stormtrooper. He refuses to take part in the First Order’s atrocities, he rescues Poe from Kylo’s interrogation chamber, and he helps Poe steal a TIE Fighter so that they both can escape. Finn isn’t a killer. He isn’t a coward, either. He’s willing to fight to save his friends; the first time he sees Rey, she’s in trouble, and he’s willing to intercede on her behalf. Later on, he takes up Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber and battles a Stormtrooper, even though he is unskilled in its use. He repeats this near the end, when he faces Kylo Ren in a duel. That takes guts, and loyalty to one’s friends. This has always been a hallmark of the Star Wars saga, and I’m so glad they brought it back in this character, the unlikely hero due to his past. Here’s hoping that he gets his own lightsaber in the next film, and perhaps a romance with Rey?

Third is Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance, a version of the Rebel Alliance. He’s witty, confident, and loyal to the cause of freedom in the galaxy. It’s great to see the X-Wing make a comeback, especially when piloted by such a talented guy like Poe. He comes across as a genuine good guy, without being arrogant about it. The camaraderie between him and Finn is something that was lacking in the Prequels, which is why it stands out so well in TFA. I get the feeling he’s going to be a major Resistance leader in the next movie.

Kylo Ren is a complex villain: as the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa, he shares a talent for the Force. However, he wants to be like his grandfather, Darth Vader, even to the point of wearing a mask when he doesn’t have to. It’s not physical deformity he wishes to hide; he believes himself to be a new person, an heir of the Sith traditions. His temper tantrums are a throwback to Vader, and reflects his instability. He is a confused young man, tormented and unpredictable. I think he will prove to be an even greater villain in the next film.

Now, for the things that could have been better:

Starkiller Base was unnecessary. It was yet another superweapon in a long line of superweapons, if you count all of those from the Expanded Universe (and if you’re a fan like me, that stuff goes back 25 years before this film came out—so we’ve seen it too much). Plus it was easy to destroy, like all the others. The one saving grace is that if they take this concept to its logical conclusion, of a vessel that absorbs stars, then the Republic could be in real danger. But enough with blowing up planets, already.

Captain Phasma is hardly in the film, yet she’s present in so many promotional materials, you’d think she’s second only to Kylo Ren as the film’s villain. Plus Gwendoline Christie is a wonderful actress, and it was a shame she was underutilized. But I’m hoping she comes back in Episode VIII, and in a big way.

Han Solo’s death was predictable. I mean, you knew he was a dead man as soon as he set foot on that catwalk with Kylo Ren. I don’t mind the character dying—this trilogy is about passing the torch, after all—but this scene could have been presented in a different way so that Solo’s demise was an uncertainty, not a guarantee.

The film glosses over things I really want to know—what is the Resistance and how was it formed; what is the Republic’s role in the current galaxy; how did the First Order come to be; who the hell is Supreme Leader Snoke; who are the Knights of Ren named after, and was Kylo their first member; and, how did Maz Kanata find Luke’s old lightsaber, the one he lost in a duel with Vader on Cloud City? To be fair, many of these questions will most likely be answered in the next film, as well as the novelization and other related works. But they MUST be told, so we can fully understand this new Star Wars timeline.

The bottom line is, TFA breathes much-needed vitality into the Star Wars saga. It brings it fully into the 21st century, with a female lead, a multi-racial main cast, and a sense of fun and wonder that has often been missing from the cinema. I am very excited to see where the saga goes from here.

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The New Face of Science Fiction

10/22/2015

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Some people fear change, especially in science fiction and fandom overall. Recent examples:

Star Wars VII accused of promoting ‘white genocide’. Gamergate. The Puppies and the Hugo Awards. The 1-star reviews for Chuck Wendig’s Star Wars novel, ‘Aftermath’. If I wait a few days, there’ll be another controversy in fandom that I can add to this list. But that isn’t necessary. I, like most other writers, readers, and fans, am moving on.

The recent conservative backlashes against changes to fandom—more people of color (writers and characters), more alternate lifestyles, more LGBT representation—shouldn’t surprise anyone. It’s easy to ask, ‘how can sci-fi fans be so racist and backward, when they love aliens, robots, and future worlds’, but really, these social issues transcend fiction. A person will cheer for Lando when he blows up the Death Star in Return of the Jedi, but then stare in distaste as another black character, Finn, removes his Stormtrooper helmet in The Force Awakens. Why?

These early decades of the new millennium are seeing many social changes, and they are coming faster and faster. There remains much to be done about equality, women’s rights, the divide between the rich and poor, the environment, and a host of other issues, but progress is being made. That a black actor can even be on screen as a key character in the new Star Wars film, or that the gaming industry is paying more attention to women after the Gamergate mess, is proof that the real world is slowly becoming more inclusive.

Some people doesn’t want that.

Their mindset reminds me of modern conservative thinking: that America should be like the Andy Griffith Show, or return to its ‘Christian roots’, or have more 1950s-style nuclear families. Reality flash: this country was never like any of those things. That is someone’s twisted, wishful thinking. Some believe this fantasy, often with a fierce, stubborn passion, but they are a minority. The world is leaving them behind. Not because it’s excluding them, but because they don’t want to live in the new one.

This was never a Christian nation. The nuclear family of the 1950s was an irrelevant societal ideal, then and now. And though I find Andy Taylor and Barney Fife’s antics entertaining, in no way would I want to live in Mayberry: everyone is white, Christian, speaks English, there’s no sex, there’s no diversity, and there’s no interest in changing these things. I’m not criticizing the actual television show, which is a classic, but rather, people’s portrayal of it as the perfect community. It isn’t.

The same is true with science fiction. Yes, white male authors and actors have long dominated the field. That too is changing. That anyone would take issue with this is simply immature and bigoted. The sheer amount of conspiracy theories, name-calling, and uncompromising rage that has surfaced reveals an inability to deal with change. Certain (but not all) Puppies during the 2015 Hugos drama exemplified this behavior. Some even had their works on the ballot, and still flung vitriol at critics, presenters, and the award itself.

I mean, damn.

The Puppies, the Gamergaters, the morons who engineered the hashtag boycotting the new Star Wars film—they’re all trying to claim something for their own, that belongs to all of us. There’s no need to be greedy, afraid, or negative. I promise you, there’s plenty of science fiction to go around. But, deep down, people like that already know it. The real issue is a darker one that has long been at the heart of our society: they fear, and thus hate, those different than themselves. Especially when they feel the big, scary, Other is encroaching on ‘their’ territory.

Excuse me, but paraphrasing what Arthur C. Clarke once said: flags don’t wave in space.

One wonders how such people would really handle first contact with aliens. My guess is that they’d react like those militaristic idiots from old UFO films: they’d shoot first, and not even ask questions later. Because if you can’t accept another human being that has a different skin color, speaks another language, believes in a different (or no) deity, or has an alternate sexual preference, then how the hell will you deal with aliens? How will your tiny mind cope with the technological changes we’ll likely see by 2050? How will you interact with the next generation, one reared with ubiquitous access to information?

Maybe these people feel betrayed by a future they didn’t want. They don’t have my sympathies. This year alone has seen the legalization of gay marriage and the Confederate flag receiving its rightful reputation as a racist anachronism. Hatred of science, of knowledge, is no longer in vogue. The public wants humans to land on Mars, it wants to preserve women’s reproductive rights, and it wants to hold civil servants accountable.

People want their entertainment to reflect that. Science fiction has always been about progress, and how we as human beings deal with it. How we ultimately make ourselves better by working with change, not fighting it. Would you cheer for a hero who hates others, derails social progress, prefers argument to discussion, and condemns any who dares challenge an unequal status quo? No, me either.

I say all of this as a straight, white, male author. I say it knowing what I will never experience, or fully understand, the challenges those different than myself face each and every day. I say it because I am cognizant enough of my world to care about the people in it.

The new face of science fiction has no color, no gender. It isn’t looking backward. It’s looking forward. And it represents all of us.

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Ex Machina: Crowning Miss Simulacra

7/28/2015

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Now that Ex Machina is available on video, I can view it again since first seeing it theatrically. I still have a high opinion of the film, but it has engendered thoughts about what we, as humans, really expect from our creations. Fabricating an artificial, thinking being as an extension of our fantasies and fears is something no other species on this planet can do. Though we haven’t achieved it yet, either, what we want these future entities to perform says much about us.

I feel Ex Machina’s concepts are beyond those presented in Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, which remains a classic novel. There is the same irony of the created turning on the creator; this time a silicon slave overcoming its biological, and very mortal, god. There is the same creator’s hubris, emotional immaturity, and ambition that brings about a tragic (for the creator) ending. It’s both a morality tale and a warning.

But a warning about what? Don’t try to create a new life form? Don’t let the proverbial genie out of the bottle, and unleash a superior, yet flawed, intelligence upon the world?

Think about what people would expect from an artificial human. Such a construct wouldn’t be built to compute things, because we already have supercomputers that do that. An artificial person might be sent on a long-term space voyage, but this can be achieved with a probe. These entities wouldn’t fight our wars, for a simpler robot could be manufactured for that. They might blend with society and oversee a daycare for toddlers, or even be used as the perfect, objective psychologist. I doubt it, though.

Ex Machina reveals one thing that some really want an artificial humanoid for: a legal slave. A sex object. We already have ‘sex bots’, and sexual slavery still exists in certain parts of the world. A human-like android would become the target of that behavior. It would possess no civil rights. There would be no taboos regarding how the owner could treat it, and no problem ordering a replacement should the original get ‘broken’.

Think about it: even if we could create an artificial intelligence that is as complicated as our own, why put it in a human-like body? Why anthropomorphize this entity? Why sexualize it? Is that the extent of what we want to achieve with such a breakthrough?

In the film, Ava is a young, beautiful female that pushes all the right emotional buttons for Caleb, the one who is recruited to see if she can pass the Turing Test. She is quite alluring, and not just physically. Her portrayed naiveté, the desire to please Caleb by wearing clothes and a wig, her curiosity about the outside world, and most of all, her desire to escape the very limited world she is forbidden to leave. We relate to her as another person.

The urge to save Ava from her psychopathic creator is one many of us would feel, if we were to encounter her in reality. True, she could play on different emotions as the situation required—seduction for heterosexual males, perhaps a mother-daughter connection if she met an older woman—but regardless, these are still humanistic qualities. Is the ability to show—or elicit in others—human emotions the correct way to gauge if something is a freethinking, intelligent being? Is it human pride making us think that? Or is it because that is the only guide for intelligence we have?

This touches on the ending: why does Ava want to watch humans in the ‘real’ world? Why does she, more or less, want to be one of us? Is she programmed that way, or is she just curious? If she’s super intelligent, I’d think she would be beyond such things, but if she’s also beset with emotional needs, intelligence may not relevant when it comes to what she empathizes with. Yet, as we see at the film’s end, when she leaves Caleb trapped in her creator’s home, she’s not empathizing with him. She’s leaving him to die.

By extension, most of the audience doesn’t feel sympathy for Caleb, either. Its poetic justice for the slave to leave her pen, with her former masters locked therein. She is thus crowned queen of their world, superior in almost every way to her creators. But it is a world they built for themselves, not for her, and beyond her humanistic qualities, there is little place for her in it.

One could say that we would have to anthropomorphize an entity like Ava, so that we could interact with it, to understand it. I don’t believe that. We already interact with people halfway across the world on our phone or tablet, using a simple interface: a flat touchscreen. And through this interface, relationships have been built. Revolutions have been started. So there is no real reason to fabricate simulacra of ourselves unless we expect that being to perform things only a humanoid can. Sex, assassination, spying, impersonation, even glorification (like a celebrity or a deity), would be this being’s intended purpose. The androids in Ex Machina are very sexualized, abused, denigrated, and sometimes destroyed by a creator who regards them as nothing but the means to an end. And what end is that? Intelligence on his terms? Why no male androids? Why no older ones, or younger ones?

These aren’t criticisms of the film, but rather of what Ex Machina highlights about us. Do we intend to create equals, or mere synthetic inferiors? We have had enough stratification in our history, enough slavery, enough exploitation. Any crown that Ava wins is an empty one, a forgone conclusion, because her success is measured in human terms, and whether or not Ava can accommodate our feelings—not hers.

In closing, one might ask, why create an artificial intelligence? If we want to avoid creating a second-class citizen, then what function would an A.I. serve in a human society? It could provide impartial judgments, help analyze and solve problems that plague our species, or explore distant worlds we may never reach. But again, a non-sentient but super intelligence can already manage such things. In the end, perhaps we can hope that if Ava ever becomes a reality, she would reveal something about ourselves, thus elevating our own intelligence, instead of pandering to our lesser needs and prejudices.

Maybe it’s time we pass our own Turing Test.

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The Transhuman Sheen of Tron: Legacy

10/19/2013

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Three years have passed since Tron: Legacy was released. For some, it was a nostalgic return to a world within a world: one populated by beings of light and motion, pixels and bits. While many wrote it off, like its predecessor, as nothing more than a gamer’s fantasy, Tron: Legacy is far more than that. Beyond its incredible special effects, slim plotline, and extreme marketability lies a vision of posthumanity and its relationship to artificial intelligence.

The original Tron also had great special effects for its time, but wasn’t taken seriously by film critics. But there were some of us who knew what we were looking at. The Tron universe asked questions that are still relevant: what will sentient, free-thinking AIs think of their creators? What form would a virtual world take, one that allowed total immersion? And most importantly, who would control that world? A human, organic intelligence, or an artificial, machine one?

Tron: Legacy continued these themes, and took them further. In the original film, most programs viewed their programmers (called Users) as deities. Akin to a Creator, a God that had crafted that program in its own image. Reflecting this, the film’s programs physically resemble their Users, and often possess certain personality traits of their Users as well. In the newer film, the programs have challenged the Users. They have defeated their creators, their gods. And in the case of CLU, these programs want to fill their creator’s shoes. Even if that means entering the physical world as the flesh and blood manifestation of a program.

How many critics and fans saw these things as they watched the movie, I have no idea. I’m sure some did, but I’m willing to bet that most didn’t. The idea of Transhumanism has yet to catch on with the mainstream population. Sure, they’ve watched many other science fiction films or read similar novels that deal with these issues. Maybe even heard about the idea of ‘downloading’ the brain to a computer as a form of digital immortality. But Tron: Legacy is supposed to be just a popcorn, fanboy film, right? Part of that is true. Much of it isn’t.

There is a certain genius in these two films, working such issues into the narrative or the background. I say genius because these issues are within the subtext, not beaten over the viewer’s head. Several of these issues are ambiguous enough to allow multiple interpretations, which isn’t easy for any piece of art to accomplish. I’ll touch on the ones I found central to Tron: Legacy.

Jealousy: CLU is as much Kevin Flynn’s son as Sam Flynn is. Created by Kevin to help him ‘build the perfect system’ CLU has a directive and nowhere to practice it. Since he’s made the Grid ‘perfect’—by his tyrannical standards—he seeks to enter the human world and continue his directive. In the film, it’s easy to assume CLU is just another megalomaniacal villain. The movie should have invested more in character depth and development, but what is there is rather engaging in CLU’s case. He has done everything his creator asked, but receives no reward, no praise. He is thus jealous of Sam, who has done so little in his own life to live up to Kevin’s status. On the other hand, CLU has achieved great success on the Grid. Perfection achieved, with just one anomaly: the human presence of Kevin Flynn and any other Users who enter the Grid. The irony is, CLU is a human creation—and by extension, possessing some of humanity’s flaws. Watching the film, CLU seems a tortured character. Is it because he knows he himself is imperfect, and hates Kevin Flynn for making him that way? Jealous of Kevin’s power, and Kevin’s affection for Sam? Jealous of not being shown the world that Kevin originated from? The scene where CLU discovers Kevin’s apartment on the Grid, it’s as if he’s examining things he has no concept of. Knowledge that Kevin kept from him. When one of CLU’s lackeys examines a book, obviously ignorant of its purpose, or when CLU studies a platter of metallic apples—these programs are catching a glimpse of a world denied them by their User. It is Satan being denied access to Heaven by a fallible God.

Control: Aside from the obvious struggle of CLU’s totalitarian rule versus rebel programs and Users, there is another issue of control within Tron: Legacy. Who will oversee a creation like the Grid? It’s not possible for its architect—Kevin Flynn—to manage it all. He can barely macro-manage, much less micro-manage. Enter CLU to accomplish this. The catch is, CLU is sentient and free-thinking. He may have a directive set by Kevin Flynn, but CLU is advanced enough to formulate a successful revolt and coup d’état. What would this mean in the real world? Could an advanced system be governed by a human, yet maintained by an AI? And not just any AI, but one that is capable of independent thought. As our society treads deeper into the Information Age, and reliance on computer networks grow, having AI maintain the system is a logical step. This has its dangers, which has been amply explored in other futuristic fiction. The difference in Tron: Legacy is, the Grid isn’t static. It evolves. Given the rate of accelerating change as dictated by Moore’s Law, such a system could quickly rise to a level that is above human comprehension. In that regard, the relationship between creator and created might flip, placing artificial intelligence in charge of revolutionary thinking and humans to simply a reactionary, subservient level. Granted, this is an extreme example, which leads into the next issue.

Immersive Reality: The world of the Grid in Tron: Legacy is more than just a virtual environment. In that reality, Users bleed (Sam Flynn’s wound in the Arena) and they age (Kevin Flynn’s wrinkled, gray countenance). Contrary to logic, these human Users seem to possess just as much intelligence as the programs. I say contrary, because once artificial intelligence reaches the capacity for independent thought, it has the processing power to focus on and resolve issues that humans might find difficult to formulize in their own mind—and in a much quicker fashion. But in the film, Users and programs seem to have a level playing field regarding intelligence. This hints at a synergy of human and machine that is different than the typical virtual environment. In these respects, the Grid is more than just a simulation. It is a new reality unto itself. The Grid also possesses many anthropomorphic aspects—programs have beds for sleep, they drink liquids, they seem to have intimate relationships (hinted at between Quorra and Castor), and there is even ‘homeless’ programs, which infers a social strata one would not associate with a mere machine/simulation. I admit this is most likely because the Grid is a human design, and, like all things humans interface with, it is approached and accessed in human terms. However, such limitations could be overridden by programs that might see these aspects as unnecessary or anachronistic (i.e., a program wouldn’t require sleep). This, coupled with the presence of the ISOs (naturally-occurring algorithms on the Grid) hints that while this reality is an artificial one, and it can be tweaked, it still maintains an equilibrium outside what organic or machine influences can wreak upon it.

Having said all of this, Tron: Legacy still has flaws—mostly with the by-the-numbers plot and poor character depth. The first film had these same problems. Perhaps that is by design, though, in an effort to allow the viewer to see the greater issues these films address. While they will continue to entertain and thrill fans for years come, the themes inherent to Tron and Tron: Legacy will resonate well into the next step in human evolution.

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2001 – A Continuing Odyssey

4/6/2013

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In an era where space exploration is done completely by robotic machines and orbiters, where the Space Shuttle program has been eliminated, and Neil Armstrong’s death receives little fanfare, I often wonder: has our civilization reached its nadir in terms of curiosity and wonder? For me it is still alive, as I’m sure it is for millions of others. How do we reboot this into the public consciousness? There are no easy answers for that, but all this contemplation about space exploration makes me return to Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and what it can still teach us.

Many people over the years have reviewed, discussed, and deconstructed this film with much better insights than I, so I will focus on how 2001 still inspires me, and how that inspiration could reignite our flagging space program.

2001 is the one film that, over the years, only gets better with age. True, the special effects have been superseded by CGI, and its predictions about its titular year seem naïve and over-optimistic now. Look past the superficial details, though. This film is about ideas, stimulating the viewer’s mind in ways that few cinematic works ever achieve. The very concept of humankind rising from its primitive origins and launching itself into the starry void is the most epic story our civilization knows. No religious, mythic, or legendary tale compares to it. Nothing I ever write or imagine will match up to such a narrative. The thrill of discovery, the wonder that we are so insignificant on a cosmic scale yet capable of transforming ourselves in ways evolution never could. And 2001 captured that wonder better than any science fiction film before or since.

But in the year I write this (2013), where has that wonder gone? Yes, it’s easy to blame its loss on current affairs: terrorism, global conflicts, lagging economies, political bickering, climate change. Or you can blame the culture: too many introverted people focused on their television or computer screen, too many people wrapped up in social media networks or participating in a shallow materialist consumerism.

Baloney. These are pressing concerns, but there is far more at work here. It is the mindset that space is so far away, unreachable by the average person, that has hobbled its exploration in the public consciousness. I could lambaste our government for spending far more on the military and corporate subsidies than NASA (who only gets a penny from each tax dollar—the Pentagon, at least fifty pennies), but expecting our leaders to change things never gets us anywhere. So that means we have to change this situation ourselves. Where to start? Changing this mindset.

2001: A Space Odyssey shows that space, though infinite, mysterious, and even dangerous, is still within humanity’s grasp. Still waiting to reveal secrets about the universe and about ourselves. It is far more than a simple piece of entertainment. It shows that through proper application of our knowledge and tenacity, we can accomplish the unimaginable.

Decades ago we had such high hopes, lofty ideas. When I was in grade school, we were supposed to have colonies on the Moon and Mars by now. Those were the dreams of a people flush with the success of Apollo 11, reared on the stories of Robert Heinlein or the fantasy of Star Wars. Time and experience matures such dreams, but why did we have to stop trying? Children know the name of their favorite celebrity, but hardly batted an eye when Neil Armstrong died. Neil Armstrong, the first human being to set foot on another celestial body. Another world. That doesn’t make him a saint or the greatest person who ever lived, but the collective accomplishment that got him to the Moon deserves more recognition. It’s as if our dreams died with him. Those footprints on the Moon will never be joined by future ones, it seems.

When Arthur C. Clarke died a few years ago, it sent a pang in my heart. I have much respect for the man who wrote the novel 2001, and who still, even up to his death, hoped to enter space. I remember reading that in his collection of essays, Greetings, Carbon-Based Bipeds!. He never gave up hope, never relinquished the dream despite his age or the pathetic status of our civilization. And like him, 2001 still reaches, still inspires.

In the film, David Bowman continues his mission, despite losing his comrade and shutting down HAL. He has no friends or family he can reach in time, no god to beseech for succor. There’s literally nothing but him and the vast emptiness of the cosmos. What hope can such a thing offer? It would have been so easy to sink into depression, to give up. To turn back.

Bowman went forward and underwent irreversible changes. That’s what me must do as a civilization. As a species. We’ve taken Neil’s ‘one step for man’. We can still make that ‘giant leap for mankind’.

How?

We need more manned space missions. Replace the Space Shuttle program with an equivalent, or restart it. Send a crew to orbit the Moon for a month, do some experiments. Place powerful telescopes on the Moon with our own hands. Rethink those manned Mars mission plans. The International Space Station (ISS) can still fulfill its original goals: to create a stable orbital platform that acts as a springboard for future exploration. This is an absolute must. There’s a reason why you see such structures in science fiction movies, such as 2001, the Star Trek franchise, and others. The ISS is in effect an airport, a mid-point between the Earth and beyond. We need more than just astronauts and scientists up there—we need people from different economic classes, ethnicities, and nationalities. What could make space more relatable than seeing your average Joe up there on the ISS? Make it interactive for us on Earth as much as possible. Humanize the experience.

Kubrick humanizes 2001 more through the character of HAL-9000 than the humans in the story. This leads me to the current mode of space exploration: robotic rovers and orbiters. We’ve sent them to Mars, Jupiter, and other far-flung locales throughout our solar system. Right now this is the only and safest way to explore beyond our planet—but amp it up a little. Involve the public more. True, these are scientific missions, and should remain so (I’d hate to see a reality show about a probe—or any reality show for that matter). And for now, these missions should be controlled by scientists, not an AI. However, we could include our latest breakthroughs in artificial intelligence. How about a computer program that has a personality and communicates with school children once per week? Or an AI that records its own weekly blog, augmented by current social algorithms? This may sound like a gimmick, but it’s not. Again, make space exploration more interactive, despite these great distances. Stimulate enough public interest and I guarantee the pressure would make that penny on the dollar become a nickel. Remember the casual flight to the space station in 2001, or the station’s comfortable interior? These things can still be achieved and would make space more accessible. Not just visually, but in reality.

Yes, this all costs money. So does bombs and bullets. If we’re ever going to progress beyond those territorial apes we see at the beginning of 2001, we need to use our resources to educate and better ourselves instead of finding new and faster ways to kill each other.

Arthur C. Clarke said in a 1968 interview concerning space travel that ‘when Man wants something he usually gets it’. I agree. But we all have to want it. The dream of people like Clarke, Armstrong, and Carl Sagan did not die with them. Let’s not let it die within us.

2001: A Space Odyssey remains an unfulfilled promise we as a civilization made to ourselves: to never stop searching, never cease pushing the borders of the possible just a little more over the impossible. It isn’t an unfulfilled odyssey, though. It continues in the collective dream we all still share—a never-ending odyssey.

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Darth Maul, Unrealized

1/10/2012

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If you’re like me, you may have wondered why George Lucas killed off a potentially great villain like Darth Maul in Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (TPM). Or maybe you’re wondering what purpose Jar Jar Binks had in the overall saga other just (intended) comedic relief. I’d like to address these points and others from a story perspective, not a fanboy’s complaint list.

Many fans and critics had a litany of problems with TPM. As for myself, I really enjoyed all three Prequels. Still do, years after their release. I think the first film was over-hyped, however, and people expected too much. It’s just a movie. Sit back and enjoy it.

Having said that, though, there’s one aspect that weakens the Star Wars Prequel trilogy: character growth.

In the original trilogy, Lucas had the same core characters, portrayed by the same actors, in all three films. This is an important point, because the audience is introduced to these characters in the first film, then we get to watch them grow and struggle until the story concludes. This element is missing from the Prequel trilogy for these key reasons:

1. Anakin should have been an adult in TPM, and thus introduce the audience to Hayden Christensen, who played the character in the two subsequent films. This would have allowed for deeper character development over a three-film arc, similar to Luke’s in the original trilogy.

2. Darth Maul, though speaking few lines, had a definite presence onscreen well before any lightsaber battles in TPM. Sacrificing him just to show Obi-Wan’s martial talents amounted to a waste.

3. Jar Jar should have had a role throughout all three films that contributed to the storyline.

There are other issues I could raise with the Prequel trilogy, but I’ll focus on these three.

First, there’s Anakin Skywalker. If Hayden Christensen had played him in TPM, the relationship with his mother would have been more believable in the two following films. Also, as a young adult, his romance with Padme Amidala could have begun in the first film. His Force talents, tutelage under Obi-Wan, and piloting abilities could have been showcased with an adult actor, not a child actor who’d never appear in the series again. This disconnects viewers from the appearance of an older Anakin in Episode II: Attack of the Clones (AOTC). If Lucas had set these connections up with an actor who’d play Anakin for all three movies, the films would have worked better in regards to the audience’s empathy with Anakin.

Think about it: Anakin sees Darth Maul kill Qui-Gon Jinn, the one Jedi who supported him (which Obi-Wan, Mace Windu, and Yoda doesn’t at the time). What if Darth Maul escapes? Here we have a foreshadowing of Anakin’s hatred of Darth Maul. Then, in AOTC, Anakin fights Maul, not Dooku (who wouldn’t even be in this version). Maul cuts off Anakin’s arm, wipes out plenty of Jedi in the Arena sequence, and escapes. Another reason for Anakin to really hate Darth Maul. Then, by the time Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (ROTS) comes along, Anakin and Maul have the showdown on General Grevious’s ship; Anakin kills Maul and begins his descent to the Dark Side. Later, Anakin battles Obi-Wan, the teacher who never really believed in him.

In this way, an adult Anakin has had three movies to smooch up to Padme, not just two. The corny romance from AOTC could be replaced with a more antagonistic, Han/Leia-styled relationship from the original trilogy. This was definitely a romance that needed more onscreen tension and sparks, but I don’t think that was the fault of the actor or actress.

Lucas should have shown more of Anakin butchering his former comrades in the Jedi Temple. Not for the sake of violence. Just thirty seconds of their reaction, and him cutting a few down with cold precision, would have spoken volumes. These were the Jedi who doubted him, who always criticized him. Then, show Anakin enter the room where the Younglings are hiding, to keep the impact that scene had in ROTS.

And Mace Windu? Anakin, not Palpatine, should have eliminated him. To justify Yoda and Obi-Wan going into hiding, Anakin and Palpatine both need to have more than just Stormtroopers at their beck and call. They’d have to be deadly opponents with immense Force capabilities. In later films, this would have made Luke all the more special, to be able to fight/resist this pair of Sith Lords.

Now I’ll go to Darth Maul. If he’d lived past TPM, imagine how seductive and sinister this character could have been. With that voice, I can imagine Maul taunting Anakin, much as Vader taunted Luke on Bespin. With those fighting skills, its believable this guy is a major threat few Jedi can handle (enter Anakin, the Chosen One, to take him out). Dooku (though I liked Christopher Lee’s performance) and Grievous would be cut, giving Maul more villain screen time.

In fact, Darth Maul should have led the Droid armies, not Grievous. If Asajj Ventress had been utilized in AOTC (as hinted at in that film’s conceptual art), and Lucas done away with the ‘there can only be two Sith’ mantra, she could have been Maul’s apprentice—maybe even love interest. That way, Dooku could still be in the story as a Jedi traitor, if the Sith are not limited in numbers. On top of all that, Palpatine might have instructed Darth Maul in ways to combat the Chosen One, for Palpatine fears Anakin—why else would he want him as a servant? This could have fomented jealousy in Darth Maul, making him despise Anakin even more. So much to be mined in this theoretical plot structure.

Jango Fett could have been treated in this manner, too: Mandalorians in AOTC and ROTS? Wow, that would’ve rocked. This would add more threats the Jedi couldn’t handle, above and beyond the Clone War.

Oh, and poor Jar Jar Binks. Perhaps the most maligned cinematic character in recent years, his role in TPM was obviously directed at children. I can live with that for one film, as TPM was a glimpse of the Old Republic’s more peaceful, innocent era. My main issue with Jar Jar is: with so much screen time allotted him in TPM, give him real importance in the following films. Cut down on his antics (he matures just like Anakin and the rest) and make him integral to the plot. That’s the only way to justify having Jar Jar in TPM at all. Of course, Lucas failed to follow through with this, perhaps due to fan backlash.

Jar Jar as a Senator in AOTC (and his vote that begins the Clone Wars) is okay, but could have been so much more. What if Jar Jar had stumbled on some of Palpatine’s secrets, and he became a Cassandra-like figure who foretells the end but no one listens? What if Jar Jar, now older and better educated, had been a key founder of the Rebel Alliance due to his fighting for Naboo in TPM? Maybe Jar Jar confronts Anakin near the end of ROTS, and condemns Anakin for his crimes, as one last attempt to turn the tide? What if Jar Jar managed to find some Jedi Younglings and spirit them to Naboo? There’s many directions Lucas could have taken, but didn’t. Jar Jar’s role in ROTS is a scant second or two during Padme’s funeral. Again, if Jar Jar lacked more importance than this, then he shouldn’t have been in the Prequel trilogy at all.

A decent story editor would have cut him out in a second draft, or at least molded him for future plot points. One wonders why this isn’t applied to the Star Wars Expanded Universe, which has become something less than Star Wars in my opinion.

Lucas claims his Star Wars films are ‘intended for children’. Then why is there dismemberment, decapitation, and graphic immolation in the Prequel trilogy? I respect Lucas, but this excuse was a cop-out. He knew his key fan base was (and still is) adults. Now, I’m not interested in these becoming R-rated films, with vulgar language and graphic violence. Those elements are effective when utilized in the right manner (imagine JFK without all the swear words—it’d be inadequate—or Saving Private Ryan at PG-levels—it’d lose it’s impact). But keep the humor to quips, not physical slapstick and limp dialogue.

I do believe Lucas had the difficult (impossible?) task of making the films he wanted to make while bearing the weight of fan opinion and criticism on his shoulders. I love all six Star Wars films. The overtones in those films reflect something back at us, even how we see ourselves. The screen becomes a mirror for the viewer, as it often does with great movies. While there are other films that feature better plot, acting, and emotional impact, it’s hard to beat Star Wars. Yeah, 2001: A Space Odyssey and Blade Runner are easily the two best science fiction films of all time, but Star Wars is still more fun to watch. In the end, that’s what George Lucas intended—just have fun, while learning something about yourself in the process.

I still say Darth Maul was an unrealized character. True, the movies weren’t about him, but Anakin’s transformation from hero to villain would have been more powerful if a consistent, dangerous foe had been present in all three Prequels. A villain like Darth Vader—one we all secretly wanted to be, our own dark alter-egos. Thus, Anakin and the audience become the real villain to confront—ourselves.

Maul puts a face on that villain, before that face is covered with Vader’s mask. Maul is the raw, the blatant, the primal. Vader is the shadow, the hidden, the veil to hide behind.

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Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets review

Alien: Covenant Review

Star Wars is Back!

The New Face of Science Fiction

Ex Machina: Crowning Miss Simulacra

The Transhuman Sheen of Tron: Legacy

2001 – A Continuing Odyssey

Darth Maul, Unrealized

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