In my decades on this Earth, I've been known to court controversy; and this temperament of mine certainly extends to the realms of Science Fiction and Fantasy.  All too often (in this space) I've ranted (politely) about the things I like and dislike because -- dare I say? -- it's the human thing to do.  It's also the 'fan thing to do' as those of us who do frequent genre properties in films, books, and television tend to sound off about what works, what doesn't, and what could be.

One of my less popular positions is that -- ahem -- I tend to prefer the original Planet Of The Apes movies over the newfangled ones.  This preference of mine honestly boils down to a single reality: I'm not all that fond of CGI.

Now, again, don't get me wrong: I do think the current era of PotA movies are grand stories.  I think they're spectacularly told, they're magnificently conceived, and they're splendidly embraced far and wide as great Science Fiction films.  I'd never argue otherwise.  The technology of filmmaking has grown to the point wherein directors can reveal some incredible tomes that serve to both educate and inspire audiences to know and to want even more.  In fact, I'd go one step further and say that the current PotA films are one of the best examples of how CGI can and should be used to advance storytelling.  Hands down, they're just that good.

But am I showing my age by admitting I prefer the costumed actors in the roles as apes?

I've always argued that our brains are wired in such a way that each of us can recognize when and where CGI is being used to either create a character or augment a human performance.  Though artisans can render some amazing pixels, I still don't think we've reached that level wherein we can truly trick a viewer's brain into accepting these digital creations as fully real.  There are nuances in the human face that just can't be equaled in the computer, and however minor these differences may inevitably be I believe the brain can see through the disguise.  This produces (at least, in me) the end result of pulling me out of the experience, thus killing the ability to be fully immersed in the story.

Yes, yes, and yes: I get that most folks are fine with this.  I'm just saying, "I'm not ... yet."

In my world, Maurice Evans was the perfect ape.

​His incarnation of the somewhat bigoted, somewhat genius Dr. Zaius remains a spectacular performance, one of the best in all of SciFi and Fantasy filmdom.  He was featured in only two of the films -- Planet Of The Apes (1968) and its direct sequel Beneath The Planet Of The Apes (1970) -- but despite all of the humans and ape and ape-like characters I've come to know since I can't help but always go back to that original work, to his original speeches about how ape couldn't be descended from man, etc., etc., and I just get chills.  It's cinema perfection ... perfectly conceived ... perfectly executed ... and perfectly preserved on film.

​It's a shame that the actor wasn't more highly regarded in his career.  In fact, his bio on IMDB.com implies that he never quite found silver screen fame though achieved a measure of recognition more for his work in television.  (He won a Primetime Emmy for playing no less than William Shakespeare's Macbeth, no small feat.)  It's hard to say why that may be: perhaps too many talented others of his generation were, let's say, "doing what he was doing," making it hard for a man who came from the live theatre stage to truly distinguish himself from the competition.  Given that the work in the PotA franchise was -- ahem -- Science Fiction in a time wherein SciFi wasn't as popular as it is today, maybe those roles never worked in his favor.

Whatever the case, I stick by my original assertion that so far as ape-based acting goes there was only one Maurice Evans, and fans will likely never see another.  Be thankful that his work lives on today in our franchise so that we can continue to celebrate what came before when we're blazing that trail into tomorrow.  I would hope the man appreciates this kind word for what would've been his one hundred and twentieth birthday: here's hoping his work as Dr. Zauis lasts to infinity and beyond.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ

Welcome to June, SciFiHistory.Net regular readers!  Here's hoping that your 2021 -- which is almost half over at this juncture -- is going well!

I know what you're thinking: "Hey, why doesn't a portal named 'Daily Launch' have stuff listed daily?"  Well, as I've always said, I first and foremost have a life to live outside of the web, which means like all of you that I have to find time to do an actual post ... and that ain't always easy.  Plus -- as I've maligned before -- I don't always have something interesting to say about what's going on out there in the wide, wide world; and unlike others I feel a compulsion to have something relevant to say before I say just anything.  So there.

In any event, I've a few links to share today, so I'm hoping you're all interested in some additional reading.  I'll headline them below and encourage you to check out what you like at your leisure.

SciFiHistory.Net Reviews 'A Quiet Place Part II'
Yes, I saw this one over the Memorial Day weekend.  It was very thrilling, of course, but I didn't much care for some of the light political messaging going on in the story's background.  Subtext matters -- whether or not a storyteller intended it -- and this one bugged me in a few ways.

Plan Ahead For Your Entertainment Diet
If your household is anything like my household then you know that both households like to plan ahead.  It's always helpful, too, when setting the DVR to actually know when and where something special is going to be on, so here's an efficient summary of things coming up this month.

10 Weirdest Laws In Star Trek
Every now and then in my trails I'll stumble across something that reexamines our beloved Star Trek from a decidedly unique angle ... and in that spirit I was referred to an interesting little video up on YouTube.com that's fairly new, fairly creative, and fairly worth your time!  Check it out.

'In Search Of Tomorrow' Looks Back
Believe it or not, a lot of truly great and entertaining Science Fiction came out of the 1980's.  E.T.  The Thing.  Blade Runner.  The Terminator.  Predator.  And honestly those titles are just the tip of the iceberg.  There's a video project coming which intends to fully explore that thesis.

NBC's 'Debris' Getting No Second Season On The Peacock Network
When the Kardashians can be around for countless seasons, one wonders why a decent SciFi show on a decent network can't be treated decently.  As is always the case, TV is a business, and a failure to find an audience will always doom decent storytelling.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ

Yes, yes, and yes: it's been quite some time since I've done a Daily Launch post at SciFiHistory.Net ... but what can I say?  I've been very, very busy aligning a lot of graphic changes to the site, and that has taken up a considerable amount of time, far much more than I predicted.  I guess it's just all part and parcel of trying to be one of the busiest sites in the world of genre entertainment, so all I can ask is that you please bear with me.  I'll do what I can to keep you as up-to-date with the greatest and the latest SciFi and Fantasy trivia imaginable as time permits.

In any event, I'd like to let you know the three very best reasons to #CelebrateSciFi for May 12th, so let's get started ... shall we?
​

I've mentioned before that I took the long way to get to Babylon 5.  When it aired originally in the television line-up, I was simply too weighed down with life to take on another series in my entertainment diet; and having unsuccessfully tried a few times to catch up with it on DVD I ended up setting it aside.

Then a birthday Tweet I sent out to series' regular Jerry Doyle actually drew the actor's attention, and he Tweeted back after reading my post about struggling to 'get into' his show.  He encouraged me to give it another go ... and, at his advice, I did.  I'm not convinced that my opinion of it changed much over the years -- it's good, has a great cast, has an incredible series' long arc for almost every character, but beyond its character I just didn't feel drawn to the program in the way I have other shows -- but you know what they say.  Different strokes for different folks.

But actor Bruce Boxleitner certainly did his part to elevate the show across SciFi and Fantasy fandom.  His 'Captain John Sheridan' brought some of the best traits of leadership to the station, tying his Fate to that of the galaxy in a war that was destined to take place despite the best intentions of everyone involved.  He built a great center to the program's talented ensemble, and I think it's a role worth exploring again and again -- the way we do some shows -- as it offers plenty of reflection for those who like that sort of thing in their entertainment.

Of course, I was already familiar from his work in the 1980's aboard the popular TRON franchise, and it's great that that entity have already put him on the genre map as I'd argue that his work on Babylon 5 probably encouraged folks to investigate what he'd done before.  And the actor has continued to work in genre since the end of the Michael Straczynski space saga, only making fans love him all the more.
​

I know, I know, I know: the BBC's long-running Doctor Who SciFi serial has had a great run with some very impressive companions for the singular Time Lord from Galligrey, but I was never much a fan of 'Donna Noble' as played by the fabulously funny Catherine Tate.  Hear me out!  Hear me out!  I'm just not that much a fan of the 'screwball comic character' as it's appeared in SciFi and Fantasy; and as much as I thought her performance was definitely spot on I still cringed from time-to-time at the all-too-obvious humor of it.

That said, I've always championed storytelling that takes the seemingly dunderheaded amongst us and turned them into heroes.  I think the screenwriters and Ms. Tate herself did the best they could with that type of person with her run on Who.  And it'd be foolish of me to deny that she had some on-screen chemistry with David Tennant as the two of them arguably made as clever a pairing as did the original Abbott and Costello when it came to delivering the laughs.

Plus, I think Tate came along at a time in Who's overall history that made the desire for a bit of comic relief a needed addition to the show.  As Tennant's run in the Doctor's shoes wore on and it became clear that his own professional clock was winding down, the injected laughs helped to soften the blow every viewer knew was on the horizon anyway.  Dare I say I can't think of another talent who could've performed so winningly in that capacity?

The actress is on to other things at present, but I suspect that she'd be willing to suit up again if the right opportunity and script presented itself.  After all, never say never again ... am I right?
​

Argh.  The JJ Abrams / Kathleen Kennedy Star Wars Sequel Trilogy was not to my liking.  I didn't find it a let down the way so many others did; I just didn't find it all that engaging as it really brought nothing new to the entirety of the franchise.  As Star Trek showrunner Rick Berman had said in an interview previously against managing that enterprise, there's always a risk of going too many times back to the well ... and I think that The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and The Rise Of Skywalker pretty much found that well dry for all intents and purposes.

Still, kudos on the casting of the fabulous Domhnall Gleeson (a name I've butchered I don't know how many times in typing).  His 'General Hux' kinda/sorta interested me as it looked like he was going to become a kinda/sorta young version of Grand Moff Tarkin in the saga's early days; while I liked what they did with him in The Last Jedi, the character was utterly wasted in The Rise Of Skywalker to the point of being irrelevant to the entire trilogy ... a risk to anyone appearing in a JJ Abrams' production.

The actor had already been on SciFiHistory.Net's radar with exceptional work in Dredd (2012) -- a much-needed makeover to a possible franchise previously killed-in-its-tracks by Sylvester Stallone -- and Ex Machina (2014) -- a somewhat predictable but still interesting exploration of Artificial Intelligence.  I'm aware that he's pretty much steered into the territory of more conventional dramas and comedies as of late, but let's hope this talented thespian isn't done with SciFi.

So ... in a nutshell ... there are today's 3 Top Reasons to #CelebrateSciFi today!  Let's get it trending!

--EZ

The dirty little secret about Science Fiction films?  They've always been commentaries on the state of our world.

In some ways, we -- as a species -- like to think that we're better than we are.  We like to think that we don't lie and cheat or engage in all kinds of borderline nefarious behaviors, but we do.  In fact, there could be no drama in our lives -- both that we lives and what we see on the big or small screen -- if there were no conflict, and so very much of conflict revolves around what we might classify as 'bad behavior.'  We have always been about pursuing something greater than we are, and we probably always will be.  It's just how we're wired.

Naturally, this doesn't mean that everything we do is tainted, though I could make an argument for that as well.  Flawed people created flawed things, and these flaws will forever plague us in our pursuit to craft the perfect product, the perfect event, the perfect being, even the perfect experience ... and that experience is what drives so much of The Running Man's commentary.

This particular pursuit of trying to find 'the best' details Ben Richards (as played by Arnold Schwarzenegger) and his attempt to put his life back together after refusing (as a police officer) to endanger the lives of those he had been tasked to protect.  In this grim tomorrow, society has reverted back to watching gladiatorial-style games, the ultimate one being 'The Running Man,' a show that pits convicts against one another in the quest to survive.  But -- in order to do so -- one must outlast some of the bloodiest methods of execution ever broadcast on television.

Clearly, the film is making a statement about us in ways we don't often like to acknowledge.  While it's obviously poking fun at television's never-ending quest to garner the highest ratings, Man is also indicted the culture that supports the ritual blood lust associated to violent confrontations.  Just like we can't help ourselves but slow down to look over at the accidents on the side of the freeway -- perhaps secretly hoping we see something no person should have to -- we cheer and root for our victors to vanquish our enemies, and we're often very accepting of the most violent coup de grace possible.

Indeed, isn't that why a muscular strongman the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger would be catapulted to the likes of a major action star?  After all, Humphrey Bogart wouldn't have done a role like this, and neither would Gregory Peck.  But scripts like The Running Man are perfectly crafted for Arnold aesthetically.  He's the ultimate action figure brought to life, so he must be provided with an equally imposing storyline.  He is who audiences aspire to be in conflicts like those portrayed in this film, so let it be said that he's perfectly cast.

Interestingly enough, the film really only performed on average as par with other Science Fiction gems 'the Arnold' has been part of.  His work in the Terminator franchise boasts far more successful box office receipts, and many would argue that 1990's Total Recall is perhaps the actor's highwater mark in film.  Predator also opened in 1987 (in the summer with The Running Man coming in the late fall), so perhaps audiences were suffering from a case of Arnold overload and, thus, stayed away from the flick.  It was still mildly successful, true; but I suspect it didn't gross what those involved thought it could.

The film is fondly remembered by the audience who embraced it, and Man even received some praise back in 2017 (upon its thirtieth anniversary) for correctly predicting the state of the world in which we live.  (If you're interested in knowing more about that, simply head on over to the feature's Wikipedia.org entry for details.)  I found it largely forgettable, almost to the point of suggesting that were Schwarzenegger not involved with it who knows whether or not it would be even on anyone's radar three decades later.  It's entirely predictable, shackled with a barely obligatory romance (the beautiful Maria Conchita Alonso deserved better), and plays out in high camp fashion so often that there's never any true sense of dread.  It's a film I hoped to like but didn't ... and not the first.

As to its central cynicism about our world?

Meh.  That kind of thing had been done before.  1975's Rollerball immediately comes to mind.  The Norman Jewison picture is also a bit imperfect -- an occasionally leaden performance by James Caan robs some of the quieter moments of greater impact -- but it said many of the same things more than a decade earlier, and it even went a bit further about indicting our society for relishing bloodshed in a capitalist setting.  As I said above, I think we've always been this way, will likely always be this way, and are waiting for the next cinematic incarnation to merely remind us of our cultural shortcomings.  But Rollerball shuns camp whereas Running Man embraces it, and that will always make the former the better film in my opinion.

Still, I do 'Celebrate SciFi' around here, so I wanted to offer a few quick thoughts on its anniversary today.  As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ

On this day all the way back in the year 1987, the SciFi/RomCom Cherry 2000 premiered quietly in the great nation of Austria, giving the young Melanie Griffith one of her earliest silver screen roles of note.  Just a year before, the actress lit up the screen in the critically acclaimed Something Wild (from Jonathan Demme), so Cherry was a marked departure: Wild's 'Audrey Hankel' was an unpredictable free spirit while Cherry's 'E. Johnson' was a tough, no-nonsense kinda guy good with a gun and quick with a quip.  Yes, she may've turned a bit warm and gooey in the right moments (that tends to happen in the traditional RomCom, peeps), but the appeal of her character was the demonstrated grit it took to survive in the film's 'Badlands' and her willingness to do what was necessary to get the job done.

Not a lot has been written about the film (at least, not that I've been able to locate).  For those interested, it looks like on Amazon (reviewed here) that there was one of those Special Edition style releases done back in 2015 via Kino Lorber available which boasts a commentary from director Steve De Jarnatt that could be worth a purchase.  (It's sad that video rental stores have fallen into obscurity, no?)  Griffith is joined by David Andrews, Tim Thomerson, and the late Pamela Gidley in the principle roles; and there are some familiar faces like Brion James, Marshall Bell, and Laurence Fishburne in small ones.  I certainly don't think the film set the box office ablaze wherever and whenever it played (I'm not seeing any numbers even provided by the public postings on IMDB.com), but I do recall the film creating a bit of an excitement when it was released on home video in the United States.

As for the story?

Those of you following the developments in the sex doll industry of today might be tickled pink to know that such a robotic companion figures central to Cherry 2000 as that's the make and model of Sam Treadwell's mechanical mate in the film.  In the year 2017, it would seem that human copulation has become passe, and successful businessmen pair up with these Cherrys in lieu of the more conventional flesh-and-blood housewife.  As tends to happen in B pictures of every era, Earth has falled into disarray (there are hints of a previous Apocalypse with society broken between the big city, these small Old West style towns, and the Badlands).  When Treadwell's Cherry suffers a catastrophic malfunction, he needs to obtain a new processing chip to re-animate her.  He learns that these can likely only be found in the wasteland, so he hires the resourceful E. Johnson as a guide.  Anyone with half-a-brain knows that these two are eventually destined to fall in love, so the fun of a film like Cherry 2000 is that inevitable road trip to happiness that's fraught with adventures along the way.

Essentially, Cherry's story is a metaphor for life and love: you get out of any relationship what you put in.  When you're living an existence with a partner programmed to provide you with every pleasure, the question becomes, "Are you truly being fulfilled?"  Treadwell's idyllic marriage was always only one system failure away, and it took such devastation to eventually pull him out of the routine to show him what he was truly missing in his life was the unbridled spontaneity a journey alongside E. Johnson could deliver.  By contrast, E. is used to serving as guide largely to those who take a back seat to her commands; as Sam either deliberately or accidentally keeps throwing her off-track, the woman comes to understand that she's a better woman when relying on her instincts.  It's when her instincts tell her that she's falling for Sam that she truly finds a purpose other than driving and fighting.

Love is found, but it isn't without sacrifice.  In the big finish, Sam finally realizes that Cherry's perfection isn't the attention he craves; and, thus, he lets her go, albeit kinda/sorta heartlessly leaving her to her own curious wiles in the desert frontier.  (Never fret, as she does find her own 'partner' in the comic finale.)  Unwilling to give up her career, E. sacrifices what she believes could be a life of happiness by instead ensuring that she finishes the job: she truly believes she's given Sam what he wants, and -- ever the fighter -- she agrees to "go down with the ship" (as it were) by giving him and his Cherry the distraction they need to escape the film's villains.  It's this shared sacrifice that textually means Sam and E. are truly meant to be: sacrifice leads to personal epiphany, and our lovers are re-united the way couples are in cinematic fashion.

Though imperfect (don't even get me started), Cherry 2000 is still one of those B Movies that deserves being discovered.  The flick has more than its fair share of eye-rolling moments, and Michael Almereyda's adaptation of the Lloyd Fonvielle story never quite strikes a perfect balance between comedy and camp.  Still, the characters are given enough heart to make even the smallest audience root for them to find the happiness they do (even in a wasteland), and who among us can't appreciate 'love conquers all' message of a man choosing flesh-and-blood over the potential Skynet fiasco some other franchise delivers?

If you haven't seen it, then check it out.  Why, it's only an incredible 33 years young today!

​-- EZ

Hey, peeps!  Happy U.S. Presidential Election Voting Day!

It's a great day to be an American.  This is, perhaps, our most sacred day, going to the polls and casting the votes for our future leaders.  Whether you're a Democrat or a Republican or whatever else suffices for a political party out there, I certainly wish you well.  Get out there.  Cast your ballot.  Make a difference.  And graciously accept winning or losing no matter how much it may personally affect you: at the end of the day if we're all still breathing, consider that a win.

Not all that much to report from SciFiHistory.Net Headquarters today, but I did put up a series of small(ish) posts on the MainPage area of the Site.  Nothing all the grand or earth-shaking, per se, though I suspect some of you might find something of merit if you take a gander.  Naturally, I'll put up more if I see something worthy of our collective attention.  Here's just a summary below of what you have waiting for you if you dare:

Real-Life Stormtroopers Stops Real-Life Wrong-Way Driver!
This is one of those heartwarming stories that makes the Web from time-to-time: an off-duty police officer who happens to be in her Star Wars costume happens across a crime-in-progress and saves the day.  These aren't the droids you're looking for, I'm told.

1985's 'My Science Project' Coming Home For The Holidays
Kino Lorber has a vast library of flicks from the past, and whenever I see one that falls into the realm of Science Fiction and Fantasy I'm willing to give it a shout.  This 1985 flick wasn't as grand as it could've been, but it maintains a solid cult status for those who know it.

Talk About Your 'Mint Condition,' Check Out The New Zealand Mint!
I mention in this blurb that I've been meaning to give the New Zealand Mint a ShoutOut for some time, and what better time than the present wherein fans near and wide are prepping for some holiday shopping?  Put Gold on the list, my dear.  Gold!

1987's 'The Barbarians' Are Ready To Rumble ... On Blu-ray
It's rare that a legitimate Fantasy film be made and presented by folks who -- let's say -- didn't exactly take it seriously, but The Barbarians is that rare gem that's worth a single view.  Well, why not make that view on Blu-ray?  And it's just in time for the holidays, too!

Batman V. Superman Lands In The Emergency Room
The 2016 DC Comics flick from Zack Snyder suffered through an awful lot of hate, but must all of it be bad?  It would seem that an ER doctor thought that the warehouse fight scene deserved a bit of medical attention, and I thought his diagnosis was worth sharing.

'Parallel' - What Would You Do With What You Knew?
Parallel universe stories have always been interesting, and this forthcoming release certainly has generated some positive buzz from showings on the film festival circuit.  Coming attraction looks solid, so let's hope this one can go the distance.

-- EZ

Greetings and salutations, gentle readers!

Not all that much to update this morning and I've been both battling a bit of an infection (it's not COVID, dammit) as well as taking time off to help the wifey celebrate her birthday.  So this week I've had very limited time to get online and do much of anything.  Hopefully things will be back to normal next week, and I can get the occasional think piece in line for those who read that sort of -- ahem -- journalism these days.

Still, I've put up some tidbits on the MainPage area of SciFiHistory.Net, and I'll list them below for interested parties to check them out today, tomorrow, or at your leisure:

Doctor Who's Scariest Villain Ever!
That's right!  One of SciFi and Fantasy's richest properties has definitely served up plenty of scares throughout the decades ... but which one has viewers found scariest?  The answer might surprise you, though it didn't me.

Superheroes Wear Masks ... But For Different Reasons
No, no, no.  I'm not anti-Science, though I'll easily admit I don't 'get' all of the science involving mankind's most recent pandemic.  In any event, I don't like fictional characters giving me advice for real-world problems.  So there.

What Might Our First E.T. Look Like?
I think that's a question for the ages, though I have done some reading that suggests we might be our galaxy's original E.T.  Still, it's always interesting when science-y types sound off on what other alien species could look like.

There's More Galactica In Our Future
Though there's no word on if and/or when, NBC Universal is definitely interested in returning to the 'Saga Of A Star World,' and the truth is that we may be getting both new versions for the silver screen and the small one.  Frakkin' cool, no?

George Clooney Is Watching 'The Midnight Sky'
An adaptation of a popular SciFi/Apocalypse novel, 'The Midnight Sky' is coming to show us the end of the world as we know it this December.  Looks like it'll be in (select) theatres as well as on the popular streaming service.

Amazon Continues Growing 'The Expanse'
I've struggled with this show.  It's meaty -- meaning a bit heavy on the brain -- and arguably one of the smartest SciFi's to come along in years.  Thankfully, Amazon salvaged it once it was cancelled by Syfy, and there's more on tap very soon.

Click on any of the links above, and you'll be directed to the respective posts on our MainPage.  There are other links within a few of them back to the source material for those of you who'd like to know more.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

-- EZ 

Argh.  The wifey and I spent the weekend unfortunately watching a spate of sub-par movies off of the DVR (thanks, COVID, for killing the movie theatre business).  A few of them weren’t half-bad; they had solid premises, but some last-minute improbable plot shenanigans left us wondering if they’d lost their shooting scripts well into the productions.  And a few of them showcased some very big name stars in their rosters; one would think such known commodities would think twice about attaching themselves to such curious oddities.  Still, sitting through a bad movie has a universal way of making even the most uninformed viewer ask, “How did this get made?”
 
In short, how did a movie as derailed as Ad Astra get off the drawing board?
 
For the record, I’ve never been a big fan of films written and directed by the same person.  (I’m even less of a fan of stars writing, directing, and acting in vanity projects.)  While I respect auteurs, I think practically all stories have weaknesses; and the closer one is to preserving the story the less likely they are to seeing any shortcomings.  Mostly, I say this because I consider myself, at first, a writer; and I’ve experienced firsthand the phenomenon of someone I’ve asked to proofread my story uncovering something – a narrative blip that troubles the plot, if even a small way – that requires further attention.  As much as any author might hate to admit it, constructive criticism is a necessary part of the creative process; divorcing one’s ego in order to improve the piece gets harder and harder the more committed the auteur remains to ‘preserving the story.’
 
Ad Astra’s writer/director James Gray certainly isn’t a household name.  (I realize he co-wrote the script, but my criticism regarding writing/directing remains the same.)  A review of his record via IMDB.com shows that he strongly favors such a role; indeed, of the six feature-length productions to his name prior to Ad Astra, Gray had been heavily involved in writing all of them (one was adapted from a novel).  All of these motion pictures seem to have solid critical reception, but dare I suggest that there’s no blockbuster nor awards-burning-sensation in the mix?  While box office returns and statues do not necessarily underscore ‘quality,’ they do speak to how well audiences embraced a film … and I’m not seeing any hugs one way or the other.
 
Perhaps even a bit stranger (at least to this old dog), of these six productions before Ad Astra there’s nothing even remotely like Science Fiction in the mix.  As a storyteller, Gray clearly had mapped out a career in character/crime dramas – one even with a distinct period setting – so one might wonder how a studio head decided it was time to send this director into outer space?  Forgive me for pointing out that there’s a demonstrated need for directors to stick to their strengths.  After all, Marvel didn’t hire Woody Allen to write and direct Iron Man (2008), did they?  It would’ve been a markedly different film, and it probably wouldn’t have made Phase I possible.
 
However, when you look at Ad Astra’s story a bit more closely, it does make sense why Gray told the tale he did: it’s a very non-traditional Science Fiction film – one that relies less on the typical SciFi visuals and more on the human interest side of storytelling.
 
World-renowned astronaut Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is sent by SPACECOM into the Final Frontier when it appears that his astronaut father H. Clifford McBride (Tommy Lee Jones) not only survived what was believed to have disastrous space mission but also now threatens the survival of mankind.  Essentially, this pits son against the father in more ways than one as Roy realizes he’s lived his life under a dark shadow perhaps from the beginning.
 
Personal dramas and Science Fiction can be a difficult mix, mainly because audiences can be already taxed with comprehending future technology and world building when presented with the potentially burdensome psychology of family dynamics.  While I’m not arguing that Ad Astra bit off more than it could chew (though it did), the film’s script could’ve benefitted from paring down Jones’ mythic backstory as well as the younger McBride’s: stories that focus on singular greatness have to invest more time in how said greatness was achieved only then to fall apart – a fall so great here that the entire universe is at stake – and writer/director Gray may’ve benefitted from having an average father/son pairing instead of the God/GodPlus presented here.  There’s just too much at stake psychologically, and the film’s 120-minute run time requires Roy’s omnipresent narration to fill in far too much weight.
 
Take away Clifford’s vaunted reputation.  Make him more of a commoner who happened upon an incredible career.  As a consequence, SPACECOM could be expecting great things from Roy, and perhaps he’s fallen short.  Instead of living a life trying to surpass dear ol’ dad’s stellar reputation (which happened far too easily anyway), Roy could be a commoner just trying to be his own person under the weight of what Cliff luckily stumbled into.  Then when confronted with the truth of his father’s massive failure, his hero’s journey could one to redeem the family name instead of securing its rank of godhood amongst the star-faring elite (as gets presented here).
 
As screenwriter Gray’s story is crafted, Ad Astra has no villain, giving Pitt and Jones very little to do visually as their respective conflicts are entirely internal, leaving director Gray with not all that much interesting to put up on the silver screen.  As a consequence, the feature felt padded with action sequences here and there that have little to do with the central struggle – pirates on the moon, the conspiracy surrounding Clifford’s LIMA Project, Roy’s memories of a failed marriage, etc. – and the audience is never really given any reason to care about dad and son’s reconciliation whether it’s bound to happen or not.  They’re already legends, and despite what you may think about Earthlings as a species I only see the already-disenfranchised, self-destructive loons truly interested in tearing apart their legends.  Regular folks?  We just wanna live.  And we’ve long ago made peace with the idea that nobody’s perfect.
 
As a consequence of the disconnection from Gray’s characters as designed, I found myself instead being sidelined by questions that really distracted me from the central threads.  If space exploration is so commercial and widespread, why haven’t we made any other attempt to find out what happened with the LIMA Project?  Why would we have so cavalierly equipped it with a power source capable of destroying life as we know it?  Why was there a dog running around the subterranean levels of our Mars installation?  Was that a dream sequence?  And why was there a dream sequence with a dog running around our Mars installation?  Who in the name of Sam Hill could relax in a room where flowers were projected as big as elephants?  Why is Brad Pitt only whispering?  Did he strain his voice?  Does space travel make you whisper constantly?  And how did not one but two members of the McBride family with deep, deep, deep nihilistic tendencies slip through SPACECOM’s pre-employment hiring process?
 
Naturally, this led me to question how a film as misguided and poorly conceived as Ad Astra ever got made in the first place.
 
When one asks a question like this, readers love to point out that there is a vast number of films – especially Science Fiction films – that have been made; but Ad Astra was never meant to be Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space.  To the contrary, Ad Astra stars Brad Pitt, arguably one of Hollywood’s best know faces.  IMDB.com reports the film had a budget near $100 million.  And the feature is peppered with a host of familiar faces (Donald Sutherland, Liv Tyler, Natasha Lyonne in a bizarrely useless cameo-style role), all of whose participation underscores the reality that somebody somewhere had big plans and no doubt big rewards expected.
 
Still, it’s impossible to escape that, in the end, it’s a lifeless vehicle, one that drearily explores Pitt’s ill-founded daddy issues and moseys from plot point to plot point with no sense of urgency despite the scripted presentation of impending doom.  It’s painfully dry and impressively empty … and I have to wonder how this debacle ever got greenlit in the first place.


​-- EZ

​Does Star Trek matter any more?

The short answer is: No.

If you want to know more, then read on.

I can remember as a very, very, very little boy being plunked down on the floor in front of the television set at a family friend’s house.  If I recall correctly, my parents were there to play cards with another couple.  My slightly older sister had some dolls and whatnot: as she had reached the age where she could speak and grasp conversation, she was elsewhere in the room, occupied by her own interests.  I was of that age wherein TV held more fascination; and while I can't remember what episode it was that played on the network, I do distinctly remember being fascinated by a certain Vulcan’s ears.  His name was Spock, and my young mind just couldn’t figure out those ears.

As many of us know, the original Star Trek inspired a generation of television viewers (in more ways than one!) to eventually get up off the couch and do great things for their fellow man.  In fact, there was a time when many card-carrying scientists proudly confessed that their whole reason for pursuing such a career was because they saw science being suitably explored on the Gene Roddenberry program.  Trek fueled the interests of military men and women, of astronauts, and even budding storytellers who wanted to capture their own ‘wagon train to the stars’ if and when given the chance.

But the space show’s influence didn’t stop there.  All one need do is look around at the various inventions now a reality that began (in one way, shape, or form) as little more than a prop or plot device in Star Trek.  Today’s tablets are clearly derived from those shown on the original Trek and The Next Generation.  In case you missed it, Lieutenant Uhura certainly sported the very first Bluetooth earpiece.  Automatic doors and giant panels television screens are everywhere, both in the home and beyond.  Things like GPS, portable memory drives, and the flip-phone began with the inspiration of storytellers; and now you could very well be reading this think piece on a smartphone yourself.  It’s true that we’re still waiting on holodecks and warp drive but rest assured that the tech is on someone’s drawing board as you finish this very sentence.

Though I’ve always argued that Star Trek is one of television’s only programs that is truly timeless (some of that’s owed to being set in an era a few hundred centuries away) as well as universal, I’ve never insisted that it would always ‘matter.’  In fact, I’d strongly suggest that today’s Treks – those airing almost exclusively behind CBS’s pay wall – might be best forgotten when compared with what’s come before.  That’s not a reflection on quality because these ventures are arguably well-made, well-produced, and well-acted.  Simply put, I simply I find them hollow by comparison to what I grew up with.

That’s why when I woke up this morning I asked myself, “Does Star Trek matter any more?”

*****

I come from the generation of kids that built things.  We built forts.  If we wanted to play superhero, then we had to cull together our own suits, our own capes, our own weapons.  If it were the winter, we’d go out in the snow in our gloves and our boots, and we’d spend the better part of a day building this expansive fort to house our adventures; we didn’t care that Mother Nature would have most of it thawed out by tomorrow or the next day, if not certainly by the weekend.  To us, a half-melted fort only meant that the alien invasion had arrived sooner than we’d planned, and we’d soldier on.

Infamously, we cut our knees.  We scraped our elbows.  If we weren’t careful, then we broke a few bones.  We’d get back up, dust ourselves off, and try again.  We knocked the wind out of one another.  When we rode bikes, we’d build ramps, and we’d soar through the air even though we knew we were about to suffer the worst pain imaginable when we hit the ground again and our testicles were suitably mashed.  (Boys, that is … and maybe even the girls amongst us who imagined themselves as boys, but that’s an argument for another day.)  Our parents may have invented Bandaids, Mercurochrome, and Bactine, but we were the generation that forced them to put it to good use.  They paid for our wounds, sometimes handsomely.

Today’s children?

Well, it would seem that they do the bulk of their living virtually.  (No, no, and no: I am not putting down gamers and/or gaming.  This is a cultural reflection about why Trek mattered then and how that’s evolved.)  And, indeed, carpal tunnel can be a harsh mistress, but that’s a far cry from falling face-first from your treehouse from twenty feet up.  One generally leaves a mark; the other is treated with anti-inflammatory drugs.  While it’s true that both require a bit of imagination – a requisite part of any good childhood – there’s still something intangible about getting your hands dirty: it just feels good.

Because much of the child’s experience has transformed from the real world to the virtual one, dare I suggest that we, as a society, have lost some of our ability to dream?

Think of it this way: one generation put a man on the moon, while the next one put a robot on Mars.  One generation sent a man thousands of miles away from Earth at the risk of life and limb while the other sat at a receiving console safely watching a video stream play out.  One man planted a flag somewhere that the wind never blows, and another punches buttons, releasing the footage to the world so that everyone gets a participation trophy for this trip to the red planet.  Both events have significance.  Both events require an incredibly amount of technical expertise to make them happen.  Still, one of them seems fairly hands-off.

*****

Storytelling interests people, and good storytelling inspires them.

Star Trek’s morality tales were clearly grounded in the popular mythmaking of television’s Golden Era.  Don’t get me wrong: I’ve never believed – unlike others – that Trek’s ability to spin good yarn had all that much to do with catapulting mankind into some new age of modern thinking and holistic living.  At the end of the day, a character whose face was painted half black and half white was only just an actor in make-up; a good story that made me think about the wider world outside was honestly little more than that … a mirror held up for my own reflection.  After all, here was a show that purported to whisk us culturally to a time when mankind had apparently done away with all vices; and still each villain-of-the-week required audiences to undergo yet one more rectal exam of said defeated vices?  Erm … if the future was so perfect, clearly not everyone was getting the memo!

Like all good morality tales, Star Trek needed heroes, and the crew performed admirably whenever given the chance.  Each of them had a purpose, a function on this ship, and it was their particular skill sets that more often than not helped save the day, be it more fast flying by Sulu at the helm, Dr. McCoy handling a particularly difficult surgery in Sickbay, or Scotty squeezing one last bit of power out of the warp core.  They proved themselves the best at their respective positions, and rarely were they required to be as exceptional outside of that requisite box.  (See where I might be going with this?)  In other words, Uhura was a master at communications: never did she pull a second shift in, say, Medical.  Her role was on the Bridge, supporting command in any related capacities, and in that respect she served wonderfully.

When you have a purpose – a driving inspiration – you can be the best.

When you’re all over map or taxed with being an expert on everything within your reach, the best is rarely – if ever – achieved.  Any professional athlete will tell you that excellence is ninety percent repetition.  An excellent pitcher pitches, all the time, every game, every chance he gets.  It’s that repetition that turns into muscle memory; and when the muscles are trained to do something over and over and over again they naturally get very adept at performing under all kinds of circumstances and stresses.  While you can’t win every game based on solely on pitching, there’s no doubt that quality pitching will have occurred in every game that’s won.

That same analogy can be made of every starship crewmember: even the best navigator known to man will have a tough time surviving when the captain keeps requiring you to steer through Hell.

*****

Today’s Star Trek, from what I’ve seen, doesn’t appear to be crafted as morality plays.

Instead, they’re gripes about what the scriptwriting staff just plain doesn’t like about the world around them.  More specifically, they’re slightly veiled attacks on political policies they personally abhor.  These screenwriters are using these characters – many of them beloved – to deliver not so much messages of unity as they are clarion cries of revolution for things that might not be in the best interest of humanity but rather for their personal wish list.  Instead of championing ideals that we, as a culture, have already come together against, these storytellers appear more interested in tearing things apart than in putting things right.

This, by itself, is not without inspiration.

The casual Trek enthusiast need only peruse the Information Superhighway for mentions of – ahem – “We Are Starfleet,” a phrase downright majestic if it weren’t for its own ambiguity.  Instead of focusing on the action phrases of seeking out and exploring strange new worlds (much like the children of a certain generation who rode bikes, climbed trees, and broke bones), this next generation has taken to rallying its youth and young-at-heart with politically-sounding catch phrases that have no doubt been test-marketed and focused grouped for maximum malleability.  “We Are Starfleet!”  What does it mean?  Well, it can mean anything you want it to!

Perhaps I’m reading more into it than I need, but I’m older than most and tend to do that on every occasion.  Perhaps I’m seeing seeds planted in this new cavalry of viewers meant to inspire them to run out, burn down cities, and tear down statues if for no other reason than to avoid being offended.  Perhaps a franchise once meant to unite the species around one central path forward is being used to divide us, to categorize as ‘for Starfleet’ or ‘against Starfleet’ at a time when unity has been found out-of-step with the contemporary intelligentsia.  Perhaps I find it painful to see one of televisions most beloved franchises – something that’s brought joy and personal inspiration to countless millions – being refashioned into something meant to be a vehicle of change for only a fateful few. 

Or perhaps I’m wrong … as usual.

*****

I’ve always said that – first and foremost – Star Trek is a business, and throughout much of the late 1990’s when Trek’s motion picture films went through some curious highs and lows as ‘the next generation’ separated itself from its parents, labeling it as a commercial property was controversial.  I can’t tell you the number of times I was berated for doing such a simple thing – something honestly fairly benign given what creates debate online today.  I was threatened with being banned from message boards (ask your parents).  I was warned I wasn’t getting Trek’s central message.  I was even branded ‘not a true Trekkie’ by some who claimed to know better.

For those who don’t know their history, Gene Roddenberry left the original show in its third season; and one of the first things he did was to expand on the marketing possibilities surrounding his show.  Like George Lucas saw with the potential for growing an empire around Star Wars about a decade later, Roddenberry saw it with Trek, and he turned his eyes toward capitalist ventures that could possibly grant him the income required to continue seeking out and exploring other possibilities.  Go figure.  He treated Trek like a business.

Granted, he still made the rounds speaking at colleges and universities and conventions.  He met with anyone willing to host him for the purposes of, once again, keeping alive his vision of mankind’s future – that very enterprise, itself – and he did so with the hope that Star Trek would live long and – dare I say? – prosper.  He never wanted it to end; and thankfully he didn’t let it, nor did Paramount.  They persevered – the way good businessmen and women do – and it’s still around today.  It’ll likely grow and change into something else for that next generation – those who were born today while I’ve been writing this piece and have obviously yet to discover it.

While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, I’m still convinced that what Trek is today bares so little resemblance from where it’s come that it needn’t even have the ‘Trek’ name attached to it.  It does solely because it’s good business sense (there’s that whole business thing again).

But does it – Star Trek – matter?

Well, the long answer is above, and I gave you my short one at the outset, so you’ve no one to blame at this point but yourself.  I suppose it’s safe to suggest that it only matters so much as you want it to matter – art is, after all, entirely subjective, so it only matters so much as any one of us wants to give it meaning.  I think not – that it doesn’t matter – but, as I’ve said, I’ve been wrong before.

​So was Kirk.

Last night, I was treated to a special advance sneak preview of a motion picture that's due to be released next summer.

This isn't the first one of these such events I've had the good fortune to attend, but -- for the record -- I do believe this is the first Science Fiction release I've been able to see in this format.  I've seen comedies and dramas -- usually the big tent-pole-style ones which studios want to promote come Academy Awards seasons -- so even though this wasn't "a first" per se I can happily say it was "a first" for SciFi and Fantasy.  And because I'm bound to the obligatory confidentiality clause, I won't be able to enlighten you as to any of the particulars of the film, but I can assure you that the flick is everything mainstream audiences have come to expect from a potential summer blockbuster: it has a big star at the center, it filled with mostly non-stop action from start-to-finish, and it sports some memorable one-liners and comic relief to help make it all both go-down-easy and also promote repeat business.

However -- without getting into any of the particulars -- one of the things that bothered me about the story is something that I do believe has plagued Science Fiction films for quite some time; and I thought I'd spout off just a little about that this morning in this space.

Namely, true originality is long dead.

I don't say that to insult any motion picture, screenwriter, or director.  After all, a wise man once postulated that in all of storytelling there are only -- what was it? -- seven plots.  Everything that we're presented ends up being some combination of said plots, and the main premise ends up being tweaked in any number of little ways.  A + B + C has always been on the drawing board; but how about we make A a female instead of the traditional male, swap out B for comic relief; and voila!  A whole new world!  If nothing else, producers hope viewers aren't watching closely enough to understand that you've seen it all before, and imitation is the greatest form of flattery.  Blah blah blah.  And blah.

Again, I don't mean this as a gripe.  It's only an observation.

When Star Wars came out in 1977 and in so, so, so many ways revolutionized the way Hollywood thought about the summer movie season, every other studio under the sun raced to tap into that magic.  For roughly the next five years, audiences were treated to SciFi release after SciFi release; and as much as I may've wanted to find fault with that trend (critics lamented it occasionally) I didn't -- as a viewer -- because each successive release changed up the formula enough that the flicks seemed fresh.  True, there were knock-offs, but serious SciFi enthusiasts could see fairly significant narrative differences between Star Wars and Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  Buck Rogers In The 25th Century shared a bit in common with Flash Gordon but not so much that audiences tuned them out.  Battlestar Galactica staked out its own territory in the distant stars; The Black Hole took us to the edge of the event horizon; and even The Last Starfighter dished up some hometown charm by way of its tiny star saga.

These films -- while obviously derivative of a single source -- tried only to emulate the basic formula.  They didn't simply repackage one central theme around a new hero; instead, they took the central figure (or figures) in different directions.  Sure, the end result may be that a whole lot of Death Stars were blown up, but that hero's journey was respected, given ample exploration, and provided a destination worth the ninety-minute-plus engagement.

These days?

Meh.

I hate sounding like a disenfranchised viewer because that's far from the case.  I truly love Science Fiction: the good, the bad, and the ugly.  This doesn't mean that I embrace every single program that comes out of the replicators -- I'm arguably more discriminating than most I read on the Information Superhighway.  I can appreciate big films, and -- far more than most -- I appreciate small films, so much so that I'm far more prone to recommend them (at a risk) because they tend to be chocked full of little surprises that pay off in bigger ways than the traditional blockbusters.  I accept that there's good and bad in every film -- they're all far from perfect -- and I try to celebrate what I find of merit, be it performances, effects, dialogue, or even quality production value.

Still, too many releases suffer from what I saw on the screen last night.  Typically, this phenomenon is that it's easy to see what inspirations a screenwriter has drawn from for the purposes of crafting his or her own vision.  (Again, this doesn't mean it's bad; it's just so obvious it distracts from the total experience.)  We're given a leading man who's doing what he's done before.  He's being set out on a mission audiences have already seen him embark upon and succeed with (maybe even multiple times).  And then we're delivered a script which draws heavily upon previous Science Fiction and Fantasy releases -- some of them even being fairly current -- and they're mixed in the scriptwriting blender loosely ... so loosely that we can see whole chunks of ideas from these other films merely being inserted in a new production.

Sure, I love Jurassic Park.  Sure, I love Aliens.  Sure, I love Edge Of Tomorrow.  Sure, I love Battle Los Angeles.  Sure, I love Back To The Future.  Sure, I love Starship Troopers.  Sure, I love Blade Runner.  Sure, I love Escape From New York.  Sure, I love The Matrix.  And, sure, I love The Thing.  (I could go on and on, but I'm sure you get the point.)

But I don't love them so much that I want to see every single film evolve from them.

1988's Die Hard spawned such a trend in filmdom, and I'm sure those of you old enough will appreciate this.  Die Hard -- an unquestioned action classic -- ended up being so powerful that studios quickly sought to copy the formula; and for the next twenty years audiences were treated to Die-Hard-On-A-Plane, Die-Hard-On-A-Train, Die-Hard-On-A-Bus, etc.  Some of them were good, some of them were bad, but they were all still essentially Die Hard, dependent upon the formula, making the formula the story and not the actual people, places, and events within the film.

Science Fiction, by contrast, has always been best at exploring ideas.  Time travel can be good, or it can be bad.  Space exploration brings risk, or it can be universally rewarding.  What if we're all living inside some simulation?  Some may choose the red pill; some will happily take the blue.  While there's nothing wrong with drawing inspiration from what's come before, that inspiration shouldn't be so omniscient and omnipresent that it overwhelms the story.  Have an idea.  Create a conflict around that idea.  Send a hero in to explore the idea while resolving the conflict.  But without an idea at the center of the house of cards it's all bound to fall apart upon closer inspection or, at the very least, before the credits roll.

Did I see a good film last night?

Oh, yes.  It was perfectly entertaining.

But ... with a little extra polish ...it -- like all of Science Fiction -- could be so much more.