- Published on
As one who does a reasonable amount of genre-related reading, I knew of the name Clive Barker for quite some time.
In fact, he’d been recommended to me as an author worth following, so a few decades back I’d picked up a short story collection and gave it a whirl. Contained within were one dark yarn after another with protagonists and antagonists often meshed in some bloody tale that involved one dark turn after another. Some of the stuff felt a bit mildly exploitative but not so much that the developments felt fast or cheap, and a good deal of what I read showed a level of inspiration not often seen in the written word. While I wasn’t quite won over (Horror stuff in film and in print rarely frightens me), I did find that the storyteller had some dynamic ideas trapped within his prose, so I kept my eyes peeled for more. It was about at this time that someone recommended I check out a few feature films for which he had delivered the scripts.
Now, I don’t pick on Horror authors even though their tomes may not exactly go bump in my night, if you catch my drift. Horror on the cerebral level – as opposed to being crafted visually in films and television – are two fundamentally different beasts that require different techniques; and what I find truly scary in my mind may not always translate well into images with characters in costumes backed up by ample technical effects. I’ve made observations in the past about how I think Stephen King adaptations suffer for much of the same reason – what chills me while reading in the dark isn’t the same as when I’m sitting with popcorn in a movie theater – so I’m going to preface my thoughts on Underworld (1985) the exact same way: all of this may’ve worked in prose, but so far as I can tell there’s a good bit that’s been lost – if not downright sacrificed – in translation.
As a result, I found far too much of Underworld underwhelming.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When high class hooker Nicole is kidnapped from her brothel, rich businessman Hugo Motherskille hires her ex-love Roy Bain to find her.”
Argh. In short? Well, Underworld’s a bit of a mess.
In fact, he’d been recommended to me as an author worth following, so a few decades back I’d picked up a short story collection and gave it a whirl. Contained within were one dark yarn after another with protagonists and antagonists often meshed in some bloody tale that involved one dark turn after another. Some of the stuff felt a bit mildly exploitative but not so much that the developments felt fast or cheap, and a good deal of what I read showed a level of inspiration not often seen in the written word. While I wasn’t quite won over (Horror stuff in film and in print rarely frightens me), I did find that the storyteller had some dynamic ideas trapped within his prose, so I kept my eyes peeled for more. It was about at this time that someone recommended I check out a few feature films for which he had delivered the scripts.
Now, I don’t pick on Horror authors even though their tomes may not exactly go bump in my night, if you catch my drift. Horror on the cerebral level – as opposed to being crafted visually in films and television – are two fundamentally different beasts that require different techniques; and what I find truly scary in my mind may not always translate well into images with characters in costumes backed up by ample technical effects. I’ve made observations in the past about how I think Stephen King adaptations suffer for much of the same reason – what chills me while reading in the dark isn’t the same as when I’m sitting with popcorn in a movie theater – so I’m going to preface my thoughts on Underworld (1985) the exact same way: all of this may’ve worked in prose, but so far as I can tell there’s a good bit that’s been lost – if not downright sacrificed – in translation.
As a result, I found far too much of Underworld underwhelming.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When high class hooker Nicole is kidnapped from her brothel, rich businessman Hugo Motherskille hires her ex-love Roy Bain to find her.”
Argh. In short? Well, Underworld’s a bit of a mess.
I know, I know, I know. Is it truly fair for me to say this definitively without making my argument. Well, I can do what I want with this space, and I’ll say that now and stand by it later, but I do try to be as frank and as blunt when I feel it’s necessary, and I think on this occasion it’s definitely warranted.
So let me explain …
I knew of Underworld under its other released name, Transmutations. (I’m uncertain as to just where and which countries it played under that name – either theatrically or with video release – but I’ve seen it referenced under that name far more than I have Underworld.) In fact, I’d seen it before – I believe it was on home video in the early 1990’s, but I could be amiss on the date – and I remember even watching a few sequences of it twice, mostly because I didn’t quite understand it. You see, there’s a great deal of world-building that has to take place in any picture in order for an audience to fully accept the people, the place, and the premise; and, sadly, that doesn’t quite happen effectively here. Granted, the script from Clive Barker and James Caplin strongly suggests some of the necessary details, but without greater specificity I found it a bit too murky for its own good.
Roy Bain (played by Larry Lamb) is a bit of a professional layout or errand boy … well, that’s only so far as I can tell in the film’s set-up. There are some allusions to the fact that he’s supposed to be a private detective – a hard-boiled gumshoe in the vein of Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, or Lew Archer – but, sadly (again), there’s very little evidence of that life on the screen. When the film opens, in fact, the impression given is that Bain is out of the business, smitten with far more personal pursuits like painting or artwork or some other effete hobby. Still, the affection for a pretty face is enough to pull any deadbeat off his couch; and Bain is enticed by criminal heavyweight Motherskille (Steven Berkoff) to go back on the job.
Now, just what transpires from here is where Underworld feels more than a bit undercooked.
Through exposition, we’re educated to the fact that Bain’s former squeeze, Nicole (Nicola Cowper), is tied up in some shady medical dealings tied to Dr. Savary (Denholm Elliott). Apparently, the good/bad doctor has taken it upon himself to get into the drug trade with an elixir that not only addicts its users but also transforms/mutates them into … well … into creatures, each and every one of them disfigured in curiouser and curiouser ways. I’ve read that these genetic changes were supposed to be somehow aligned to their respective fears, wishes, dreams, etc., but I didn’t quite see how this translated into the story as presented. (Suffice it to say, I found little to no logic for this emerging sub-class of the general population, but what do I know? I’m just a critic!) Nicole is apparently immune to the drug’s side effects, and so she becomes the hope for a cure for those who’ve been most heavily afflicted. As she’s apparently also the mistress to Savary, the script makes her both a source and a cure for the drug. How they were going to cure themselves never emerges, but that’s chump change in the world of hard-boiled drama, don’t you know?
Truthfully, there just isn’t enough foundation for the film to stand up under its own ideas. In appearances alone, these drug users and abusers seem to develop outward conditions that tie in with some internal mechanisms, be they fears, desires, or something more. Some grow lumps, sores, and stalks, while others manifest strength, speed, fangs, or even glowing eyes. Yet, the how and why for these differences never quite gets shaped up in a manner wherein the audience can capably follow along. Think of it as a kind of shorthand that was shared with the players and makers but was insufficiently scaled for the viewers to be ‘in the know,’ and I think you’ll agree.
So let me explain …
I knew of Underworld under its other released name, Transmutations. (I’m uncertain as to just where and which countries it played under that name – either theatrically or with video release – but I’ve seen it referenced under that name far more than I have Underworld.) In fact, I’d seen it before – I believe it was on home video in the early 1990’s, but I could be amiss on the date – and I remember even watching a few sequences of it twice, mostly because I didn’t quite understand it. You see, there’s a great deal of world-building that has to take place in any picture in order for an audience to fully accept the people, the place, and the premise; and, sadly, that doesn’t quite happen effectively here. Granted, the script from Clive Barker and James Caplin strongly suggests some of the necessary details, but without greater specificity I found it a bit too murky for its own good.
Roy Bain (played by Larry Lamb) is a bit of a professional layout or errand boy … well, that’s only so far as I can tell in the film’s set-up. There are some allusions to the fact that he’s supposed to be a private detective – a hard-boiled gumshoe in the vein of Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, or Lew Archer – but, sadly (again), there’s very little evidence of that life on the screen. When the film opens, in fact, the impression given is that Bain is out of the business, smitten with far more personal pursuits like painting or artwork or some other effete hobby. Still, the affection for a pretty face is enough to pull any deadbeat off his couch; and Bain is enticed by criminal heavyweight Motherskille (Steven Berkoff) to go back on the job.
Now, just what transpires from here is where Underworld feels more than a bit undercooked.
Through exposition, we’re educated to the fact that Bain’s former squeeze, Nicole (Nicola Cowper), is tied up in some shady medical dealings tied to Dr. Savary (Denholm Elliott). Apparently, the good/bad doctor has taken it upon himself to get into the drug trade with an elixir that not only addicts its users but also transforms/mutates them into … well … into creatures, each and every one of them disfigured in curiouser and curiouser ways. I’ve read that these genetic changes were supposed to be somehow aligned to their respective fears, wishes, dreams, etc., but I didn’t quite see how this translated into the story as presented. (Suffice it to say, I found little to no logic for this emerging sub-class of the general population, but what do I know? I’m just a critic!) Nicole is apparently immune to the drug’s side effects, and so she becomes the hope for a cure for those who’ve been most heavily afflicted. As she’s apparently also the mistress to Savary, the script makes her both a source and a cure for the drug. How they were going to cure themselves never emerges, but that’s chump change in the world of hard-boiled drama, don’t you know?
Truthfully, there just isn’t enough foundation for the film to stand up under its own ideas. In appearances alone, these drug users and abusers seem to develop outward conditions that tie in with some internal mechanisms, be they fears, desires, or something more. Some grow lumps, sores, and stalks, while others manifest strength, speed, fangs, or even glowing eyes. Yet, the how and why for these differences never quite gets shaped up in a manner wherein the audience can capably follow along. Think of it as a kind of shorthand that was shared with the players and makers but was insufficiently scaled for the viewers to be ‘in the know,’ and I think you’ll agree.
Moreover, director George Pavlou keeps everything in Barker and James Caplin’s script moving – though at a snail’s pace here and there – as if everything makes perfect sense to the participants. He never quite flings open doors on enough of the players and their relationships to bring everyone up to speed, instead hoping that perhaps we won’t notice that their various histories have gaping holes in them. When did they meet before? Why has Bain sequestered himself off from any contact with them? How is it that he and Nicole were lovers in the past when it looks as if she’s barely out of her teenage years now? And what about Bianca’s obvious affections for the man? How might she tie into all of what happened before? There just aren’t nearly enough answers upon which to craft a suitable understanding of this world and its people; and it shows.
In fact, I posit up as an argument that Barker and Caplin (separately or collectively) have a fondness, say, for a certain old Film Noir that needn’t be named. (FYI: this is pure speculation on my part, so just roll with the punches.) Maybe they like this old flick so much that – in a form of paying homage to it – one or the other decided they’d give it a thematic updating along with adding some of the appendages and accoutrements to make it a bit more Fantasy, a bit more fantastical, a bit more imaginative. Well, the grit and grime that go hand-in-hand with Noir may not thrive as easily in the realms of the Fantastic precisely because anything is possible over there … and, in territories so uniquely delineated by the black and white of human behaviors, the fanciful just doesn’t work. This homage, then, feels a bit more like gar-bage … and I think all involved deserved a bit better than that.
Underworld (aka Transmutations) (1985) was produced by Limehouse Productions, Green Man Productions, and Alpine. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to what’s been advertised as an all-new HDR/Dolby Vision Master from a 4K scan of the 35mm original camera negative to be quite good; yes, there are a few sequences of grain here-and-there, but I found nothing to distract from the overall presentation of the story. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts two cuts of the project along with some archival behind-the-scenes footage, some of its produced artwork and designs, along with an audio commentary by director Pavlou and author Stephen Thrower. It’s a good collection for those who like this sort of thing.
Alas, only mildly recommended.
Perhaps diehard fans of Clive Barker (I’ve been told that there are plenty) might find more to love in this neo-noir Underworld. Purists who follow the scribe’s output might see the trimmings of ideas he’s explored to greater effect elsewhere, but as a one-off? As an entirely independent intellectual property? Sigh. There’s just no narrative substance in here that I could easily wrap my head around to the point wherein I knew and trust that what developed made perfect sense. It’s a dark and murky journey … and I’ve absolutely no idea why it had to unfold as it did in the big finish. I felt like there was more to this story, and still – in this packaging – I’ve no desire to know more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray collection of Clive Barker’s Underworld by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
In fact, I posit up as an argument that Barker and Caplin (separately or collectively) have a fondness, say, for a certain old Film Noir that needn’t be named. (FYI: this is pure speculation on my part, so just roll with the punches.) Maybe they like this old flick so much that – in a form of paying homage to it – one or the other decided they’d give it a thematic updating along with adding some of the appendages and accoutrements to make it a bit more Fantasy, a bit more fantastical, a bit more imaginative. Well, the grit and grime that go hand-in-hand with Noir may not thrive as easily in the realms of the Fantastic precisely because anything is possible over there … and, in territories so uniquely delineated by the black and white of human behaviors, the fanciful just doesn’t work. This homage, then, feels a bit more like gar-bage … and I think all involved deserved a bit better than that.
Underworld (aka Transmutations) (1985) was produced by Limehouse Productions, Green Man Productions, and Alpine. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to what’s been advertised as an all-new HDR/Dolby Vision Master from a 4K scan of the 35mm original camera negative to be quite good; yes, there are a few sequences of grain here-and-there, but I found nothing to distract from the overall presentation of the story. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts two cuts of the project along with some archival behind-the-scenes footage, some of its produced artwork and designs, along with an audio commentary by director Pavlou and author Stephen Thrower. It’s a good collection for those who like this sort of thing.
Alas, only mildly recommended.
Perhaps diehard fans of Clive Barker (I’ve been told that there are plenty) might find more to love in this neo-noir Underworld. Purists who follow the scribe’s output might see the trimmings of ideas he’s explored to greater effect elsewhere, but as a one-off? As an entirely independent intellectual property? Sigh. There’s just no narrative substance in here that I could easily wrap my head around to the point wherein I knew and trust that what developed made perfect sense. It’s a dark and murky journey … and I’ve absolutely no idea why it had to unfold as it did in the big finish. I felt like there was more to this story, and still – in this packaging – I’ve no desire to know more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray collection of Clive Barker’s Underworld by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Good afternoon, gentle readers, and welcome to January 2nd! Here's hoping that your 2024 is already shaping up to be a winner ... or, at the very least, something a bit happier and healthier than was 2023! Am I right? I don't know about you folks, but I was certainly ready to leave that year behind!
Well, well, well ... what can I say for today?
In case you missed it, I did watch Rebel Moon on the ol' Netflix. (Review is here.) Since I wrote and reflected plenty on the film over there, I won't trouble any of you with a rehash ... well, except to say that I think it's a project conceived in the wrong format. I think it should've been one of those 8 or 10 episode limited series instead of cut into two theatrical-style films. There just was way, way, way too much ground to cover in the first part (it's a two-parter, for those of you who don't know); and I think Zack and his writers really did the characters a disservice if they weren't going to develop them more in it. Granted, the director isn't exactly revered for his character studies, but I think you follow my argument: I just didn't get to know these individual players enough to care about their journey -- much less their triumphs and struggles -- so it ends up feeling a bit flat. Visually? Well, this is Zack we're talking about, so visually it's very impressive if not a bit muddle at times, but it works 90-95% of the time. It just needed more. (Yes, yes, and yes: I know a longer cut is coming, and hopefully those deficiencies might be corrected in a redux.)
But ... enough of that!
As for the other thing? Well, the wifey and I discovered this great little list on the top TV programs for 2023, so we picked one out that sounded interesting and binged it on the Netflix. So The Fall Of The House Of Usher ... how was it? Erm ... well, it's the kind of program that I don't think anyone hates, as they say. It's technically very, very, very good; and it might be arguably some of the best produced programming for the year. Still, it had some issues, most of which relate to pacing and length (it's far too long for what it is, and it probably could've been a vastly better two or three-part miniseries), but it is what it is. It kept our interest well enough; it just wanders too much of the time with subplots that, ultimately, don't need to be there, and a trimmer version would've been a stronger edition. I'm tinkering with ideas to do a review, but I honestly don't know that I'll bother. If I do, then you'll see it in this space.
However, I do have a few other items that I am crafting reviews for as I write this. Nothing Earth-shattering, but I do so love shucking new content for you people. I hope you appreciate the effort.
In the meantime, here's the real reason that all of you are here ...
Well, well, well ... what can I say for today?
In case you missed it, I did watch Rebel Moon on the ol' Netflix. (Review is here.) Since I wrote and reflected plenty on the film over there, I won't trouble any of you with a rehash ... well, except to say that I think it's a project conceived in the wrong format. I think it should've been one of those 8 or 10 episode limited series instead of cut into two theatrical-style films. There just was way, way, way too much ground to cover in the first part (it's a two-parter, for those of you who don't know); and I think Zack and his writers really did the characters a disservice if they weren't going to develop them more in it. Granted, the director isn't exactly revered for his character studies, but I think you follow my argument: I just didn't get to know these individual players enough to care about their journey -- much less their triumphs and struggles -- so it ends up feeling a bit flat. Visually? Well, this is Zack we're talking about, so visually it's very impressive if not a bit muddle at times, but it works 90-95% of the time. It just needed more. (Yes, yes, and yes: I know a longer cut is coming, and hopefully those deficiencies might be corrected in a redux.)
But ... enough of that!
As for the other thing? Well, the wifey and I discovered this great little list on the top TV programs for 2023, so we picked one out that sounded interesting and binged it on the Netflix. So The Fall Of The House Of Usher ... how was it? Erm ... well, it's the kind of program that I don't think anyone hates, as they say. It's technically very, very, very good; and it might be arguably some of the best produced programming for the year. Still, it had some issues, most of which relate to pacing and length (it's far too long for what it is, and it probably could've been a vastly better two or three-part miniseries), but it is what it is. It kept our interest well enough; it just wanders too much of the time with subplots that, ultimately, don't need to be there, and a trimmer version would've been a stronger edition. I'm tinkering with ideas to do a review, but I honestly don't know that I'll bother. If I do, then you'll see it in this space.
However, I do have a few other items that I am crafting reviews for as I write this. Nothing Earth-shattering, but I do so love shucking new content for you people. I hope you appreciate the effort.
In the meantime, here's the real reason that all of you are here ...
There are some good bits to enjoy over there. I don't see any big pictures, to be frank, but that never stops me from including some forgotten gems or those downright stinkers that somehow miraculously get made and see the light of day. But my task is to bring you the facts and figures, and I encourage all of you to enjoy them nonetheless.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Folks, the biggest reader and friend complaint over the years hurled at Yours Truly has – without a doubt – always been this: “You’re overthinking it.”
Unlike so many others, I approach my particular take on film knowing full well that I don’t have all of the answers. Generally speaking, I don’t get into meaty cinematic issues like frame construction, plot mechanics, technical wizardry, and critical subtext. Yes, yes, and yes: I’m well aware that all of those things might be there, and I’m equally aware that they – like any other component to any story – can add-up as factors as to whether or not one big event makes perfect sense, captivates one’s interest, and enjoys the experience. I guess it’s safe to suggest that I’ve always been a bit more of a ‘feeling’ kind of guy – did the feature tickle my fancy, why or why not did or didn’t it tickle my fancy, what did all of the bells and whistles mean and why did or didn’t they work, etc. – along with recognizing just how well its players fulfilled the tasks a script put in front of them. This isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate all of the scholarly underpinnings that go into a flick; rather, I really just don’t want them to get in the way of my having a ‘good time’ with all of it. So sue me: I’m a simple man, and I have simple needs.
Furthermore, I was already on record in a few spots on SciFiHistory.Net as saying that I wasn’t going to even watch Rebel Moon: Part 1 – A Child Of Fire. No, no, and categorically no: that wasn’t any qualitative judgment issued in advance on the wide, wide works of Zack Snyder – a storyteller whose pictures I often admire but may not always enjoy – but it was a confession based on the fact that both he and Netflix have already announced that a longer cut was in the offing. I figured, “Why watch the short version when the long version is likely the intended incarnation of this adventure?” (Sometimes, even I can see a ‘cash grab’ for what it is; and with this being the first film in a new Intellectual Property then why not put it all out there for effect?) But – as Fate would have it – I ended up having an opening on my dance card, as they say, and I gave it a spin.
The short: I’m glad I did.
The longer: Well … you’ll have to continue reading.
Unlike so many others, I approach my particular take on film knowing full well that I don’t have all of the answers. Generally speaking, I don’t get into meaty cinematic issues like frame construction, plot mechanics, technical wizardry, and critical subtext. Yes, yes, and yes: I’m well aware that all of those things might be there, and I’m equally aware that they – like any other component to any story – can add-up as factors as to whether or not one big event makes perfect sense, captivates one’s interest, and enjoys the experience. I guess it’s safe to suggest that I’ve always been a bit more of a ‘feeling’ kind of guy – did the feature tickle my fancy, why or why not did or didn’t it tickle my fancy, what did all of the bells and whistles mean and why did or didn’t they work, etc. – along with recognizing just how well its players fulfilled the tasks a script put in front of them. This isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate all of the scholarly underpinnings that go into a flick; rather, I really just don’t want them to get in the way of my having a ‘good time’ with all of it. So sue me: I’m a simple man, and I have simple needs.
Furthermore, I was already on record in a few spots on SciFiHistory.Net as saying that I wasn’t going to even watch Rebel Moon: Part 1 – A Child Of Fire. No, no, and categorically no: that wasn’t any qualitative judgment issued in advance on the wide, wide works of Zack Snyder – a storyteller whose pictures I often admire but may not always enjoy – but it was a confession based on the fact that both he and Netflix have already announced that a longer cut was in the offing. I figured, “Why watch the short version when the long version is likely the intended incarnation of this adventure?” (Sometimes, even I can see a ‘cash grab’ for what it is; and with this being the first film in a new Intellectual Property then why not put it all out there for effect?) But – as Fate would have it – I ended up having an opening on my dance card, as they say, and I gave it a spin.
The short: I’m glad I did.
The longer: Well … you’ll have to continue reading.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a peaceful settlement on the edge of a distant moon finds itself threatened by the armies of a tyrannical ruling force, a mysterious stranger living among its villagers becomes their best hope for survival.”
We here in the West have long been fascinated with Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954).
This award-winning and much revered Action/Drama has long been a contender for being amongst the greatest cinematic epics ever delivered, and – decades after its launch – it continues to be a source of inspiration for those wanting to get into the film business if not even just the niche of storytelling. Ours is a cultural that loves to traffic in passing down myths from one generation to the next, and Samurai is the kind of vision that resonates no matter who you are … no matter your upbringing or social stature … and no matter what you believe in this life or the next. At its core, it’s little more than a stand against tyranny – villagers hire some fallen heroes to save them from their oppressors only to learn that they’ll have to join in the fight – but such fundamentals never go out of style, no matter how lavish the civilization.
For those who may’ve missed it, the Kurosawa film enjoyed its first Americanized remake in 1960 when director John Sturges adapted it for more Western sensibilities. Like the original, the story proved to be a huge hit with audiences, so much so that the saga enjoyed three sequels – Return Of The Seven (1966), Guns Of The Magnificent Seven (1969), and The Magnificent Seven Ride! (1972) – though none of those entries enjoyed the notoriety or the box office of the predecessor. The property even inspired a short-lived television series along with a 2016 remake (with Denzel Washington and Chris Pratt stepping into key roles), so clearly the popularity of the Japanese original is not in question.
Furthermore, Samurai served as the chief inspiration to screenwriter John Sayles when, in 1980, he joined forces with genre master Roger Corman to deliver Battle Beyond The Stars to theaters. In the age of Star Wars knock-offs – itself a franchise that George Lucas admits to being inspired, in part, by samurai films – why not go back to that catalogue for more? Farmers on the distant planet of Akir (directly named after Akira himself) are being menaced by some evil space lord, so young Shad (played by Richard Thomas) takes to the stars in search of warriors he can bring back to defend his homeworld from persecution. Beat for beat, Battle matches Samurai as if the two pictures were crafted in sync, and yet the SciFi/Fantasy remains a largely forgotten flick in the annals of B-Movie history.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a peaceful settlement on the edge of a distant moon finds itself threatened by the armies of a tyrannical ruling force, a mysterious stranger living among its villagers becomes their best hope for survival.”
We here in the West have long been fascinated with Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954).
This award-winning and much revered Action/Drama has long been a contender for being amongst the greatest cinematic epics ever delivered, and – decades after its launch – it continues to be a source of inspiration for those wanting to get into the film business if not even just the niche of storytelling. Ours is a cultural that loves to traffic in passing down myths from one generation to the next, and Samurai is the kind of vision that resonates no matter who you are … no matter your upbringing or social stature … and no matter what you believe in this life or the next. At its core, it’s little more than a stand against tyranny – villagers hire some fallen heroes to save them from their oppressors only to learn that they’ll have to join in the fight – but such fundamentals never go out of style, no matter how lavish the civilization.
For those who may’ve missed it, the Kurosawa film enjoyed its first Americanized remake in 1960 when director John Sturges adapted it for more Western sensibilities. Like the original, the story proved to be a huge hit with audiences, so much so that the saga enjoyed three sequels – Return Of The Seven (1966), Guns Of The Magnificent Seven (1969), and The Magnificent Seven Ride! (1972) – though none of those entries enjoyed the notoriety or the box office of the predecessor. The property even inspired a short-lived television series along with a 2016 remake (with Denzel Washington and Chris Pratt stepping into key roles), so clearly the popularity of the Japanese original is not in question.
Furthermore, Samurai served as the chief inspiration to screenwriter John Sayles when, in 1980, he joined forces with genre master Roger Corman to deliver Battle Beyond The Stars to theaters. In the age of Star Wars knock-offs – itself a franchise that George Lucas admits to being inspired, in part, by samurai films – why not go back to that catalogue for more? Farmers on the distant planet of Akir (directly named after Akira himself) are being menaced by some evil space lord, so young Shad (played by Richard Thomas) takes to the stars in search of warriors he can bring back to defend his homeworld from persecution. Beat for beat, Battle matches Samurai as if the two pictures were crafted in sync, and yet the SciFi/Fantasy remains a largely forgotten flick in the annals of B-Movie history.
So perhaps Zack Snyder saw his Rebel Moon idea as a means to right that ship. Why should Westerns have all of the success? Why can’t ‘space Westerns’ revel in the glory and reap the benefits of copying the original Samurai?
Well …
Right out of the gate, I’m gonna identify Rebel Moon’s greatest weakness – so far as I see things – as I firmly believe it ties together every single technical or performance issue I have with the first film, so much so that I’m anticipating it’ll probably tie in with the same deficiencies that’ll come from the sequel set to stream on the Netflix platform this April, 2024. I’ve had this central complaint with Snyder’s work before, and I think – unless he can find a means with which to corral his creative impulses – it’ll stick with him through thick and thin, highs and lows, and good and bad so long as he’s in the business. In fact, it practically defines everything he’s done since his feature film debut with 2004’s Dawn Of The Dead, a project I think is groundbreaking even to this day.
Here it is: narrative bloat.
I know, I know, I know: “that’s easy,” you say. “I can’t believe you built me up for so simple an argument!”
Well, the problem here is that it’s true.
Rebel Moon – at well over two hours with a promised well over three hours alternate cut coming soon – both covers and doesn’t cover too much ground in its run-time. Like Seven Samurai, the audience is introduced to over a half-dozen central characters; and come the big finish I challenge any in this audience to tell me so much as any one, two, or three character’s names. Each and every one of these heroes (or villains or anti-heroes or what have you) are defined solely by their actions and never by their interactions with one another. The audience doesn’t get to know them in any substantive way other than what they can do with their fists or their preferred weapon of chance; and – as such – we just don’t care about them.
Instead, we care about their circumstances. We care about the battle they’re in – the momentary distraction from living their separate lives the way they have for so long before they’re introduced here. We see who they are but are never inspired to see anything more to them … not even who they might become once they join forces on this mission of mercy. Because we spend no time exploring their individual souls, we can attach no meaning to them; when a few of them fall as necessary in the pursuit of righting wrongs, we don’t mourn them … because we were never given the opportunity to care for them in the first place.
Well …
Right out of the gate, I’m gonna identify Rebel Moon’s greatest weakness – so far as I see things – as I firmly believe it ties together every single technical or performance issue I have with the first film, so much so that I’m anticipating it’ll probably tie in with the same deficiencies that’ll come from the sequel set to stream on the Netflix platform this April, 2024. I’ve had this central complaint with Snyder’s work before, and I think – unless he can find a means with which to corral his creative impulses – it’ll stick with him through thick and thin, highs and lows, and good and bad so long as he’s in the business. In fact, it practically defines everything he’s done since his feature film debut with 2004’s Dawn Of The Dead, a project I think is groundbreaking even to this day.
Here it is: narrative bloat.
I know, I know, I know: “that’s easy,” you say. “I can’t believe you built me up for so simple an argument!”
Well, the problem here is that it’s true.
Rebel Moon – at well over two hours with a promised well over three hours alternate cut coming soon – both covers and doesn’t cover too much ground in its run-time. Like Seven Samurai, the audience is introduced to over a half-dozen central characters; and come the big finish I challenge any in this audience to tell me so much as any one, two, or three character’s names. Each and every one of these heroes (or villains or anti-heroes or what have you) are defined solely by their actions and never by their interactions with one another. The audience doesn’t get to know them in any substantive way other than what they can do with their fists or their preferred weapon of chance; and – as such – we just don’t care about them.
Instead, we care about their circumstances. We care about the battle they’re in – the momentary distraction from living their separate lives the way they have for so long before they’re introduced here. We see who they are but are never inspired to see anything more to them … not even who they might become once they join forces on this mission of mercy. Because we spend no time exploring their individual souls, we can attach no meaning to them; when a few of them fall as necessary in the pursuit of righting wrongs, we don’t mourn them … because we were never given the opportunity to care for them in the first place.
Those of us who follow the trades know that Rebel Moon began life as Snyder’s pitch to Lucasfilm head Kathleen Kennedy; the filmmaker intended to bring his craft to the wider Star Wars universe, and this is where he thought the franchise could, perhaps, reinvigorate itself. It’s almost like I can hear the man suggesting, “Get back into the business of telling samurai stories, and the audiences will return.” While there may be some logic to such a position, I’m not convinced that Rebel Moon – in this packaging – could’ve accomplished that task. Stylistically, it’s rather easy to see how many of the ingredients as packaged here might’ve played out in that galaxy far, far away; and yet there’s still the problem that this feels far too often like it was quite literally plucked from dozens of superior films, blended up in the Hollywood mill, and spat out on the small screen for mass consumption. Better storytellers don’t think about rendering products; what matters – first and foremost – is the story, and I think that’s something Snyder has glossed over in his career.
When you start any project with exhaustive plot details, then at some point it becomes necessary to consider how much is too much. How little is too little? When can you achieve the perfect balance in delivering both characters and action? Snyder – rather famously – spends more screen time on slow-motion sequences; and, far too often, those resonate as though they’re meant to be cinematic while not necessarily advancing any of the script’s central ideas. When the ideas are paper thin – i.e. war = bad, farming = good, etc. – then such lofty vignettes become repetitive very quickly; and they come across as being rather obvious attempts to capture some violent exchange with an eye for beauty. Whereas the director struck the proper balance between nobility and violence in 300 (2006), the story of Spartan soldiers making their last stand for freedom, Snyder’s struggles don’t bear the same fruit here. Instead, his technique serves to remind viewers that they’re watching a film, slowing the pace of an already simple endeavor so much so that you’re not watching paint dry and, instead, decided upon which color dries more slowly.
Alas, when characters don’t quite align with the mythic intentions of the storyteller, the disconnect isn’t easy to bridge; and Rebel Moon suffers mostly from the fact that its various ideas never get into any satisfying concoction. Instead, it’s pretty. It’s pleasant to look at, though curious out-of-focus in a great handful of scenes. It’s mindless cotton candy in lieu of the preferred meat-and-potatoes of Seven Samurai – clearly its inspiration – and that cheapens the whole affair. While it’s occasionally fun, fast, and frenetic, it just never delivers the ‘win at all costs’ sentiments laid out in its rather artistic set-up. Think of Star Wars as done for the ‘The Fast And The Furious’ crowd, and you’d probably not hit that far off the mark.
However …
Sometimes it’s best to think of a film as just a film. Maybe it isn’t really meant to achieve the level of greatness that the source material somehow found, but it can still exist or co-exist in this same reality much like there are two sides to every coin. If I imagine Kurosawa on one side, then is it possible to see Snyder’s Rebel Moon on the opposite? Sure, it has many of the same ingredients, and it periodically hits some of the same chords, so I suppose that’s a legitimate supposition. Both travel the same road, and I’m suspecting both might reach similar destinations.
Where I disagree with a great deal of Rebel’s criticism is that rather than shorten the whole affair what I feel might’ve been the better venue was a limited-series format.
When you start any project with exhaustive plot details, then at some point it becomes necessary to consider how much is too much. How little is too little? When can you achieve the perfect balance in delivering both characters and action? Snyder – rather famously – spends more screen time on slow-motion sequences; and, far too often, those resonate as though they’re meant to be cinematic while not necessarily advancing any of the script’s central ideas. When the ideas are paper thin – i.e. war = bad, farming = good, etc. – then such lofty vignettes become repetitive very quickly; and they come across as being rather obvious attempts to capture some violent exchange with an eye for beauty. Whereas the director struck the proper balance between nobility and violence in 300 (2006), the story of Spartan soldiers making their last stand for freedom, Snyder’s struggles don’t bear the same fruit here. Instead, his technique serves to remind viewers that they’re watching a film, slowing the pace of an already simple endeavor so much so that you’re not watching paint dry and, instead, decided upon which color dries more slowly.
Alas, when characters don’t quite align with the mythic intentions of the storyteller, the disconnect isn’t easy to bridge; and Rebel Moon suffers mostly from the fact that its various ideas never get into any satisfying concoction. Instead, it’s pretty. It’s pleasant to look at, though curious out-of-focus in a great handful of scenes. It’s mindless cotton candy in lieu of the preferred meat-and-potatoes of Seven Samurai – clearly its inspiration – and that cheapens the whole affair. While it’s occasionally fun, fast, and frenetic, it just never delivers the ‘win at all costs’ sentiments laid out in its rather artistic set-up. Think of Star Wars as done for the ‘The Fast And The Furious’ crowd, and you’d probably not hit that far off the mark.
However …
Sometimes it’s best to think of a film as just a film. Maybe it isn’t really meant to achieve the level of greatness that the source material somehow found, but it can still exist or co-exist in this same reality much like there are two sides to every coin. If I imagine Kurosawa on one side, then is it possible to see Snyder’s Rebel Moon on the opposite? Sure, it has many of the same ingredients, and it periodically hits some of the same chords, so I suppose that’s a legitimate supposition. Both travel the same road, and I’m suspecting both might reach similar destinations.
Where I disagree with a great deal of Rebel’s criticism is that rather than shorten the whole affair what I feel might’ve been the better venue was a limited-series format.
There are far too many characters here to be mashed into a four, five, or six hour two-film event. I would rather Snyder had tied himself at the hip with some truly great storytellers and delivered maybe a ten-episode run on Netflix, and I feel such a format might’ve been the comfortable middleground. (Yeah, yeah, yeah: I know what I said about narrative bloat, but hear me out.) If this were the case, then these various faces could’ve been given greater opportunity to earn an audience’s trust and admiration; and by making us care about them we could’ve both cheered their efforts at the proper moment as well as cried at their demise (if that’s their fate). As it is here, Snyder’s pacing can’t quite deliver the visuals along with the intellectual stuffing required, so it feels rushed even with the slow-motion … and that’s something I never ever imagined I’d have to think as well as write.
Perhaps it’s best to define it this way: imagine watching the very first Star Wars and not really giving a damn about Luke Skywalker, his circumstances, or the mission he inevitably dedicates himself to? The hero’s mission doesn’t really mean anything unless the audience is encouraged to care about him or her, and that’s the issue I have with the lead Kora (Sofia Boutella). Instead of being drawn into the magic and mystery of her predicament, all we’re expected to do is (A) feel sorry for her, (B) feel anger for her oppressors, and (C) forget all of the obviously bad things she may’ve done whilst working for them. That isn’t exactly easy to reconcile, but we’re encouraged to do as much here so that she can receive the redemption Snyder’s script has her seeking. I don’t know about you folks, but I don’t always just look the other way when I’m told to do it, especially when it comes for one character’s propensity for violence. Kora remains a force to be reckoned with, and I’ve really been given little reason to think she’s truly ‘on our side’ at this point.
As Rebel Moon stands in its current packaging, it’s … well … it’s occasionally good and occasionally bad. It’s horrifically uneven at times, but it still manages to find small moments of balance, wherein character and context are handled quite nicely. No, it doesn’t make perfect sense … but going back to what all of those who complained about my opinions of films? It’s only a movie, after all, so why not just pop some corn and get on with it?
Recommended.
Sometimes a film is just a film, meaning that it’s likely going to have as many issues and blemishes as does the next one; but – for reasons that may not always make perfect sense – we’re existentially hell bent on tearing it apart just because. That said, Rebel Moon functions on the same creative level as does 1980’s vastly more affordable – and occasionally more coherent – Battle Beyond The Stars in its quest to simply retell a classic samurai tale in a Science Fiction and Fantasy package. Those seeking more meaning? Well, as they say, “it’s only a film,” after all, and maybe – much like George Lucas intended with his original Star Wars – it was only meant to entertain? But what do I know? I’m just a Regular Joe.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Rebel Moon: Part One – A Child Of Fire as I viewed this via my very own Netflix subscription.
-- EZ
Perhaps it’s best to define it this way: imagine watching the very first Star Wars and not really giving a damn about Luke Skywalker, his circumstances, or the mission he inevitably dedicates himself to? The hero’s mission doesn’t really mean anything unless the audience is encouraged to care about him or her, and that’s the issue I have with the lead Kora (Sofia Boutella). Instead of being drawn into the magic and mystery of her predicament, all we’re expected to do is (A) feel sorry for her, (B) feel anger for her oppressors, and (C) forget all of the obviously bad things she may’ve done whilst working for them. That isn’t exactly easy to reconcile, but we’re encouraged to do as much here so that she can receive the redemption Snyder’s script has her seeking. I don’t know about you folks, but I don’t always just look the other way when I’m told to do it, especially when it comes for one character’s propensity for violence. Kora remains a force to be reckoned with, and I’ve really been given little reason to think she’s truly ‘on our side’ at this point.
As Rebel Moon stands in its current packaging, it’s … well … it’s occasionally good and occasionally bad. It’s horrifically uneven at times, but it still manages to find small moments of balance, wherein character and context are handled quite nicely. No, it doesn’t make perfect sense … but going back to what all of those who complained about my opinions of films? It’s only a movie, after all, so why not just pop some corn and get on with it?
Recommended.
Sometimes a film is just a film, meaning that it’s likely going to have as many issues and blemishes as does the next one; but – for reasons that may not always make perfect sense – we’re existentially hell bent on tearing it apart just because. That said, Rebel Moon functions on the same creative level as does 1980’s vastly more affordable – and occasionally more coherent – Battle Beyond The Stars in its quest to simply retell a classic samurai tale in a Science Fiction and Fantasy package. Those seeking more meaning? Well, as they say, “it’s only a film,” after all, and maybe – much like George Lucas intended with his original Star Wars – it was only meant to entertain? But what do I know? I’m just a Regular Joe.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Rebel Moon: Part One – A Child Of Fire as I viewed this via my very own Netflix subscription.
-- EZ
- Published on
Folks ...
For those of you who don't know this, there's a vast number of the intellectual elite who insist that our preferred genre -- that being Science Fiction -- began with the publication of Mary Shelley's classic Frankenstein, a tome that turns an incredible 206 years young today. (Google.com indicates it was first published on January 1, 1818.) So if there's any single item of historical significance on this day in Science Fiction History, then it's certainly that. Ultimately, yes, it's safe to think of New Years Day as the original day of Science Fiction, and let's all thank our lucky stars that we're around to see this another year.
Now ...
I'm not one who fully subscribes to that line of thought.
Like many of you, I tend to evaluate History -- especially as it ties into the Realms of the Fantastic -- as being a tad more complicated than that. I'm not discounting that the Shelley novel certainly advanced Science Fiction and Fantasy's causes -- as well as it's place in popular entertainment -- but mankind had been thinking about such things for decades and centuries before. What Shelley accomplished was she shed an incredibly talented amount of light on it, inviting scores of newbies into the fold by way of her popular publication. As such, she deserves to be in the conversation of the intellectual foundation; I'm only positing that the genre's origins involve far more than any single novel. As a matter of fact, there's vastly more to both Science Fiction and Fantasy than is incorporated into any individual book ... but it is what it is.
Still, this anniversary deserves to be highlighted in this space, and that's my only intent in sharing such a birthday with all of you. While I've said before that I'm not one for resolutions, I'm all-in for challenges; so here's my challenge to each of you ... if you haven't already read Shelley's Frankenstein, then add it to your Bucket List of things to accomplish in 2024. It deserves the praise it's earned from the cultural elite, and I think the classics could always use a bit more attention from us Regular Joes. Go out and buy a copy. Purchase one digitally. There's likely even a free one available online. But your task as a fellow fan of genre is to read it from start-to-finish this year. Think of it as just one more thing that unites us at a time when so many little things try to splinter fandom into pieces.
Happy Birthday, Frankenstein! You don't look a day over 200, even though you are.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
For those of you who don't know this, there's a vast number of the intellectual elite who insist that our preferred genre -- that being Science Fiction -- began with the publication of Mary Shelley's classic Frankenstein, a tome that turns an incredible 206 years young today. (Google.com indicates it was first published on January 1, 1818.) So if there's any single item of historical significance on this day in Science Fiction History, then it's certainly that. Ultimately, yes, it's safe to think of New Years Day as the original day of Science Fiction, and let's all thank our lucky stars that we're around to see this another year.
Now ...
I'm not one who fully subscribes to that line of thought.
Like many of you, I tend to evaluate History -- especially as it ties into the Realms of the Fantastic -- as being a tad more complicated than that. I'm not discounting that the Shelley novel certainly advanced Science Fiction and Fantasy's causes -- as well as it's place in popular entertainment -- but mankind had been thinking about such things for decades and centuries before. What Shelley accomplished was she shed an incredibly talented amount of light on it, inviting scores of newbies into the fold by way of her popular publication. As such, she deserves to be in the conversation of the intellectual foundation; I'm only positing that the genre's origins involve far more than any single novel. As a matter of fact, there's vastly more to both Science Fiction and Fantasy than is incorporated into any individual book ... but it is what it is.
Still, this anniversary deserves to be highlighted in this space, and that's my only intent in sharing such a birthday with all of you. While I've said before that I'm not one for resolutions, I'm all-in for challenges; so here's my challenge to each of you ... if you haven't already read Shelley's Frankenstein, then add it to your Bucket List of things to accomplish in 2024. It deserves the praise it's earned from the cultural elite, and I think the classics could always use a bit more attention from us Regular Joes. Go out and buy a copy. Purchase one digitally. There's likely even a free one available online. But your task as a fellow fan of genre is to read it from start-to-finish this year. Think of it as just one more thing that unites us at a time when so many little things try to splinter fandom into pieces.
Happy Birthday, Frankenstein! You don't look a day over 200, even though you are.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Holy mother of dragons! Why, it looks like somebody has done his homework this morning?
Did you see that?
DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!
80 different genre trivia citations? And it's only January 1st?
Wow.
Yes, folks. Some days it's best to toot my own horn, and on days like today that's what I'm apt to do. There's nothing wrong with a bit of pride, so long as it never gets in the way of one's efforts to try even harder tomorrow; and that's how I like to think of myself when I put on my SciFiHistorian hat. Keep searching for more ... but never forget to shout a bit of praise from time-to-time.
Now -- in fairness -- there are a few inclusions for the day that aren't 100% authentic, and let me explain. In the pursuit of facts, some references are unfortunately lost to history. Culturally, we haven't always done a good job of preserving the details, and that's the case with a few of the highlighted film releases on this day: I'm unable to locate the measure of specificity needed, so I go with the closest configuration that's humanly possible. I do this because I don't want to pass up the chance to celebrate a film because I can't find the exact date in January it was released on -- when I do, I'll naturally update the site -- but, in the meantime, the only way I can still draw attention to some of these quieter releases is to just give 'em a date ... and the first of each month works about as well as any. So a few of the motion pictures were released in this month in history but perhaps not this particular day.
Deal with it. I have. And I've a better person for including them as opposed to others who'd ignore them.
Still, there's more -- at 80 citations there's a lot more -- and I encourage you to head on over to the page and check it out:
Did you see that?
DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!
80 different genre trivia citations? And it's only January 1st?
Wow.
Yes, folks. Some days it's best to toot my own horn, and on days like today that's what I'm apt to do. There's nothing wrong with a bit of pride, so long as it never gets in the way of one's efforts to try even harder tomorrow; and that's how I like to think of myself when I put on my SciFiHistorian hat. Keep searching for more ... but never forget to shout a bit of praise from time-to-time.
Now -- in fairness -- there are a few inclusions for the day that aren't 100% authentic, and let me explain. In the pursuit of facts, some references are unfortunately lost to history. Culturally, we haven't always done a good job of preserving the details, and that's the case with a few of the highlighted film releases on this day: I'm unable to locate the measure of specificity needed, so I go with the closest configuration that's humanly possible. I do this because I don't want to pass up the chance to celebrate a film because I can't find the exact date in January it was released on -- when I do, I'll naturally update the site -- but, in the meantime, the only way I can still draw attention to some of these quieter releases is to just give 'em a date ... and the first of each month works about as well as any. So a few of the motion pictures were released in this month in history but perhaps not this particular day.
Deal with it. I have. And I've a better person for including them as opposed to others who'd ignore them.
Still, there's more -- at 80 citations there's a lot more -- and I encourage you to head on over to the page and check it out:
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks even more for sharing ... thanks even more for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Well, well, well ... welcome to another year around the sun, peeps! Here's hoping that you survived 2023 with all of your faculties intact -- as they say -- and are ready to ring in the new year with as much excitement and energy as is humanly possible!
Now, I'm not one of those who gets deeply sentimental about 'out with the old and in with the new.' I typically don't do resolutions -- when it comes to effective change, you should be doing that each and every day in order to be a truly growth-inspired person -- and I'm not one for living with regrets, either. Ultimately, this journey is only as good as you make of it; and I encourage all of the readership to pursue whatever it is that makes them healthy and happy. As I've often remarked, I don't know what awaits any of on this plane of existence or any other; and because this might be the only true adventure we get to share it must be attacked at every opportunity ... live each day to the fullest, and -- when you can't -- make vigorous plans to do even more tomorrow.
As for my desk?
Well, for all intents and purposes, this is SciFiHistory.Net's tenth year in existence; and -- wow -- what a decade. Granted, the site isn't everything that it could be, but even after ten years of diligent work I'm still finding things to add to the space, to dress it up, to give it the kind of spit and polish I think any site dedicated to the very best celebration of the Realms of the Fantastic. When I started, I didn't honestly know how long I'd be doing it -- I've never thought that far ahead in a lot of things I do -- but I'm not all that surprised that I'm still here. Sure, I wish it could be bigger -- if I win the lottery, there will be signs -- but for know it certainly looks like I've carried the torch as capably as I can and will continue to do so as long as I'm able.
Inevitably, it all comes down to affordability. I have the time, and I'm willing to put in the effort. If I could find a way to make this place pay for itself, then I'd be even happier. But until such a time as that opportunity presents itself, I'll keep it as humbly designed as I can in order to keep the costs low.
As I've always said, there's more than unites fandom than divides us, no matter how the haters try. I'll continue putting focus on the good, the bad, and the ugly; and together let's bring about a new era of fan appreciation that the masses-at-large have never seen.
So ... with all of this I say, "Happy New Year" to each and every reader these few words find this morning.
Thanks for being a reader!
Thanks for being a fan!
And live long and prosper!
-- EZ
Now, I'm not one of those who gets deeply sentimental about 'out with the old and in with the new.' I typically don't do resolutions -- when it comes to effective change, you should be doing that each and every day in order to be a truly growth-inspired person -- and I'm not one for living with regrets, either. Ultimately, this journey is only as good as you make of it; and I encourage all of the readership to pursue whatever it is that makes them healthy and happy. As I've often remarked, I don't know what awaits any of on this plane of existence or any other; and because this might be the only true adventure we get to share it must be attacked at every opportunity ... live each day to the fullest, and -- when you can't -- make vigorous plans to do even more tomorrow.
As for my desk?
Well, for all intents and purposes, this is SciFiHistory.Net's tenth year in existence; and -- wow -- what a decade. Granted, the site isn't everything that it could be, but even after ten years of diligent work I'm still finding things to add to the space, to dress it up, to give it the kind of spit and polish I think any site dedicated to the very best celebration of the Realms of the Fantastic. When I started, I didn't honestly know how long I'd be doing it -- I've never thought that far ahead in a lot of things I do -- but I'm not all that surprised that I'm still here. Sure, I wish it could be bigger -- if I win the lottery, there will be signs -- but for know it certainly looks like I've carried the torch as capably as I can and will continue to do so as long as I'm able.
Inevitably, it all comes down to affordability. I have the time, and I'm willing to put in the effort. If I could find a way to make this place pay for itself, then I'd be even happier. But until such a time as that opportunity presents itself, I'll keep it as humbly designed as I can in order to keep the costs low.
As I've always said, there's more than unites fandom than divides us, no matter how the haters try. I'll continue putting focus on the good, the bad, and the ugly; and together let's bring about a new era of fan appreciation that the masses-at-large have never seen.
So ... with all of this I say, "Happy New Year" to each and every reader these few words find this morning.
Thanks for being a reader!
Thanks for being a fan!
And live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Wow.
Just ... wow.
Occasionally when I'm doing a bit of reading for the creative folks who've left us, I'm reminded of careers that truly transcend the ordinary perhaps without even a lot of us watching. What I mean is that I don't watch a lot of conventional shows -- dramas, historical pieces, etc. -- of which I'm pretty certain the vast majority of Tom Wilkinson's career was preoccupied with. (Not that there's anything wrong with such properties ... I just gravitate elsewhere, I suppose.) Over his lifetime, the man built an incredible 25 award wins -- including two Oscars -- attached to an astonishing 75 different nominations.
Wow. Just ... wow.
What a legacy.
Granted, we didn't see him truly stretch his legs to any massive degree in the realms of the Fantastic, and -- again -- there's nothing wrong with that. Not all creative stewards are drawn to such scripts, and they find comfort and solace sticking to the mainstream. I'm just glad that we had him for what entries we did, including stops along the way in flicks like Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (2004), Batman Begins (2005), and The Titan (2018).
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Tom Wilkinson.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
Just ... wow.
Occasionally when I'm doing a bit of reading for the creative folks who've left us, I'm reminded of careers that truly transcend the ordinary perhaps without even a lot of us watching. What I mean is that I don't watch a lot of conventional shows -- dramas, historical pieces, etc. -- of which I'm pretty certain the vast majority of Tom Wilkinson's career was preoccupied with. (Not that there's anything wrong with such properties ... I just gravitate elsewhere, I suppose.) Over his lifetime, the man built an incredible 25 award wins -- including two Oscars -- attached to an astonishing 75 different nominations.
Wow. Just ... wow.
What a legacy.
Granted, we didn't see him truly stretch his legs to any massive degree in the realms of the Fantastic, and -- again -- there's nothing wrong with that. Not all creative stewards are drawn to such scripts, and they find comfort and solace sticking to the mainstream. I'm just glad that we had him for what entries we did, including stops along the way in flicks like Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (2004), Batman Begins (2005), and The Titan (2018).
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Tom Wilkinson.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
Trust me when I say that there are many, many, many good stories about Star Trek, one of Science Fiction and Fantasy’s oldest and most trusted franchises. But the one that truly endures – at least, in my humble estimation – directly involves both why and how SciFi is a hard sell thematically. And it directly involves Trek’s greatest asset: its creator, Gene Roddenberry.
As the story goes, Roddenberry conceived and shot his pilot episode for Star Trek, a property he described as a “wagon train to the stars.” The telefilm – titled “The Cage” – cast actor Jeffrey Hunter in the role of Captain Christopher Pike, captain to the Federation starship Enterprise on its mission to explore space. The particulars of the installment explored Pike’s run-in with the Talosians, a species of alien using their mental powers to essentially manipulate captives to do their bidding. When all was said and done, network executives ultimately rejected the pilot, deeming the story “too cerebral” and/or “too intellectual” for television audiences; but they liked enough of what Roddenberry and his team produced to ask for a second attempt, an astonishing rarity in the world of entertainment. Inevitably, Star Trek emerged, this time with William Shatner at the helm as Captain James T. Kirk, and most readers know the rest of the story.
What stays with me – as a ponderer about Science Fiction and Fantasy properties in general – is that castigation of ideas being “too cerebral.” I think that studio executives have long considered their viewership as people who don’t like to think too deeply about anything once they get home from work and plunk themselves in front of the television. They seek out programming that is light, inoffensive, and escapist. They don’t want to be mentally taxed. They don’t want to be academically challenged. Sure, such a perception is more than a bit insulting, but – only so much as it applies to the wider output of Roddenberry – the corporate administrator may’ve been on to something.
Not long after Star Trek’s cancellation from NBC’s lineup, Gene was hungry to get back into the game of weaving SciFi stories for the audience his show had justly earned. In the few short years since Kirk and his crew ended their exploration of the stars, the storyteller assembled Genesis II (1973), Planet Earth (1974), and The Questor Tapes (1974). These were three noble attempts to once again go where no one had gone before, and yet – for reasons not all that much different than what Gene had heard before – each failed to receive a green light to go into series production.
It seemed that – for the time being – “too cerebral” was a sign hanging around the man’s neck.
How interesting was it, then, that the last (and best) creation of these three – The Questor Tapes – centered precisely on perhaps “too cerebral” android searching for nothing more than its place in the world.
As the story goes, Roddenberry conceived and shot his pilot episode for Star Trek, a property he described as a “wagon train to the stars.” The telefilm – titled “The Cage” – cast actor Jeffrey Hunter in the role of Captain Christopher Pike, captain to the Federation starship Enterprise on its mission to explore space. The particulars of the installment explored Pike’s run-in with the Talosians, a species of alien using their mental powers to essentially manipulate captives to do their bidding. When all was said and done, network executives ultimately rejected the pilot, deeming the story “too cerebral” and/or “too intellectual” for television audiences; but they liked enough of what Roddenberry and his team produced to ask for a second attempt, an astonishing rarity in the world of entertainment. Inevitably, Star Trek emerged, this time with William Shatner at the helm as Captain James T. Kirk, and most readers know the rest of the story.
What stays with me – as a ponderer about Science Fiction and Fantasy properties in general – is that castigation of ideas being “too cerebral.” I think that studio executives have long considered their viewership as people who don’t like to think too deeply about anything once they get home from work and plunk themselves in front of the television. They seek out programming that is light, inoffensive, and escapist. They don’t want to be mentally taxed. They don’t want to be academically challenged. Sure, such a perception is more than a bit insulting, but – only so much as it applies to the wider output of Roddenberry – the corporate administrator may’ve been on to something.
Not long after Star Trek’s cancellation from NBC’s lineup, Gene was hungry to get back into the game of weaving SciFi stories for the audience his show had justly earned. In the few short years since Kirk and his crew ended their exploration of the stars, the storyteller assembled Genesis II (1973), Planet Earth (1974), and The Questor Tapes (1974). These were three noble attempts to once again go where no one had gone before, and yet – for reasons not all that much different than what Gene had heard before – each failed to receive a green light to go into series production.
It seemed that – for the time being – “too cerebral” was a sign hanging around the man’s neck.
How interesting was it, then, that the last (and best) creation of these three – The Questor Tapes – centered precisely on perhaps “too cerebral” android searching for nothing more than its place in the world.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Project Questor is the brainchild of the genius Dr. Vaslovik, who developed plans to build an android super-human. Although he disappeared and half of the programming tape was erased in the attempt to decode it, his former colleagues continue the project and finally succeed in creating Questor. However, Vaslovik seems to have installed a secret program in Questor’s brain. He flees and starts to search for Vaslovik. Since half of his knowledge is missing, he needs the help of Jerry Robinson, who is now suspected of having stolen the android.”
For some folks, ambition knows no bounds.
In the case of Gene Roddenberry, ambition was just part of the day’s work. Maybe even a walk in the park, for that matter.
In 1965, he gave mankind’s ambition to explore strange new worlds a weekly procedural, and the award-winning franchise Star Trek was born. Yes, like any program forced to work within the boundaries of television production, it had its narrative highs and lows, and yet – in three seasons – it showed mankind one possible future if we could put our petty struggles behind us. In doing so, we’d break the bonds holding us to this world to venture out there … wherein our descendants would come face-to-face with other species still struggling with their own petty struggles, and we’d show them a new way forward.
Who would’ve known that one of Gene’s later attempts was to plumb the depths of the human soul?
The Questor Tapes was reportedly the next truly big thing for the creator after Trek. Rumor has it that this one was received favorably by network suits, so much so that it came very close to realizing life as a regular show. I’ve read that, ultimately, it was Roddenberry himself who turned down the chance to see it added to the broadcast dial because those same executives wanted to institute so many changes to the foundation that it wouldn’t resemble his preferred inspiration. (IMDB.com reports that twelve scripts were prepared for a possible first season.) What those changes were exactly we might never know, but perhaps the greater crime here is that Questor could very well have been as compelling and as groundbreaking as Trek was before it.
Questor (played by Robert Foxworth) awakens on a laboratory table not long after his builders were given signs of his catastrophic systems failure. It would seem that event was meant as a distraction which would ultimately the android to escape. As his programming was left a bit incomplete, Questor recruits the scientist most involved in his assembly – Dr. Jerry Robinson (Mike Farrell) – and, together, they set off in a race against time to defuse the bomb in the robot’s chest and to find his missing designer, Dr. Vaslovik (Lew Ayres), thus unlocking the secret behind the automaton’s origins.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Project Questor is the brainchild of the genius Dr. Vaslovik, who developed plans to build an android super-human. Although he disappeared and half of the programming tape was erased in the attempt to decode it, his former colleagues continue the project and finally succeed in creating Questor. However, Vaslovik seems to have installed a secret program in Questor’s brain. He flees and starts to search for Vaslovik. Since half of his knowledge is missing, he needs the help of Jerry Robinson, who is now suspected of having stolen the android.”
For some folks, ambition knows no bounds.
In the case of Gene Roddenberry, ambition was just part of the day’s work. Maybe even a walk in the park, for that matter.
In 1965, he gave mankind’s ambition to explore strange new worlds a weekly procedural, and the award-winning franchise Star Trek was born. Yes, like any program forced to work within the boundaries of television production, it had its narrative highs and lows, and yet – in three seasons – it showed mankind one possible future if we could put our petty struggles behind us. In doing so, we’d break the bonds holding us to this world to venture out there … wherein our descendants would come face-to-face with other species still struggling with their own petty struggles, and we’d show them a new way forward.
Who would’ve known that one of Gene’s later attempts was to plumb the depths of the human soul?
The Questor Tapes was reportedly the next truly big thing for the creator after Trek. Rumor has it that this one was received favorably by network suits, so much so that it came very close to realizing life as a regular show. I’ve read that, ultimately, it was Roddenberry himself who turned down the chance to see it added to the broadcast dial because those same executives wanted to institute so many changes to the foundation that it wouldn’t resemble his preferred inspiration. (IMDB.com reports that twelve scripts were prepared for a possible first season.) What those changes were exactly we might never know, but perhaps the greater crime here is that Questor could very well have been as compelling and as groundbreaking as Trek was before it.
Questor (played by Robert Foxworth) awakens on a laboratory table not long after his builders were given signs of his catastrophic systems failure. It would seem that event was meant as a distraction which would ultimately the android to escape. As his programming was left a bit incomplete, Questor recruits the scientist most involved in his assembly – Dr. Jerry Robinson (Mike Farrell) – and, together, they set off in a race against time to defuse the bomb in the robot’s chest and to find his missing designer, Dr. Vaslovik (Lew Ayres), thus unlocking the secret behind the automaton’s origins.
Now, textually, it isn’t as if this was necessarily fresh and original territory so far as Roddenberry is concerned. Fans watching closely might even have recognized some thematic similarities between the emotionless Questor and Star Trek’s half-Vulcan-half-human Mr. Spock (Leonard Nimoy). As an archetype, both were constrained to think logically. Both were limited to a reasonably passionless existence. Both were kinda/sorta struggling to both find respective purposes for being at the same time fighting to ascertain just how they could ‘fit in’ with the vastly larger world around them. Still, viewers would be hard pressed to identify similarities of performance as Nimoy’s hybrid certainly took greater liberties to flesh out his character’s distinctiveness over 79 episodes – for better or for worse. With Questor, Foxworth had 100 minutes alone, and that was shared with other castmates all juggling for their own respective screentime.
In the end, Foxworth employed a tactic not all that dissimilar to what actor Brent Spiner did roughly over a decade later when Roddenberry crafted his android Lieutenant Commander Data for Trek’s return to the broadcast airwaves with Star Trek: The Next Generation. Both Foxworth and Spiner crafted an undercurrent of what I’ll call pure ‘roboticism’ – a coolly mechanical approach to movement and expression which gave the appearance of a manufactured being mimicking that which his builders achieved through programming. Occasionally artificial if not downright stiff, both actors moved and spoke with a practiced cadence, varying movements and inflections as their respective roles allowed for a little bit of human nuance. A smile might be forced, but its intentions were clearly authentic; and I’d argue that Spiner and Foxworth should be recognized as industry pioneers for having accomplished so much with so little.
As a counterpart and traveling companion, Farrell was more than a bit dull, so much so that I failed to feel at any time that he was committed to the whole affair. Some of this reception could be owed to the fact that, debatably, his character feels all too often like a bit of an afterthought in the script – so much of the action necessarily revolves around Questor, his mission, and his behaviors, etc. – and this ends up with having the actor play ‘the straight man’ a bit too often. When you’re playing second fiddle to an actual fiddle and the fiddle is inevitably more interesting, it can be hard to leave a lasting impression even on small scenes; and – had this show gone to series – it would’ve been fascinating to see what more could’ve been done with the ‘scientist on the run’ theme. Given that scientists historically gravitate toward an ordered existence, Robinson might’ve emerged as much the ‘fish out of water’ as was Questor … but, alas, we’ll never know.
Also along for the first and only ride was screen veteran John Vernon. In the guise of Questor project head Geoffrey Darro, he’s cast as an administrator who’s hell bent to see the android brought to life, even if that means throwing proper protocols out the window despite the possible emerging threat to mankind. With as little as a glance, Vernon made mincemeat out of anyone subservient to his wishes and desires in plenty of other films; so his casting in this role made perfect sense (perhaps too much so), but Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon’s script gives him an epiphany (and redemption) in the last act that felt a bit too orchestrated for my tastes. Again, he’s good, but – ahem – he wasn’t that good to sacrifice himself for the greater good.
In the end, Foxworth employed a tactic not all that dissimilar to what actor Brent Spiner did roughly over a decade later when Roddenberry crafted his android Lieutenant Commander Data for Trek’s return to the broadcast airwaves with Star Trek: The Next Generation. Both Foxworth and Spiner crafted an undercurrent of what I’ll call pure ‘roboticism’ – a coolly mechanical approach to movement and expression which gave the appearance of a manufactured being mimicking that which his builders achieved through programming. Occasionally artificial if not downright stiff, both actors moved and spoke with a practiced cadence, varying movements and inflections as their respective roles allowed for a little bit of human nuance. A smile might be forced, but its intentions were clearly authentic; and I’d argue that Spiner and Foxworth should be recognized as industry pioneers for having accomplished so much with so little.
As a counterpart and traveling companion, Farrell was more than a bit dull, so much so that I failed to feel at any time that he was committed to the whole affair. Some of this reception could be owed to the fact that, debatably, his character feels all too often like a bit of an afterthought in the script – so much of the action necessarily revolves around Questor, his mission, and his behaviors, etc. – and this ends up with having the actor play ‘the straight man’ a bit too often. When you’re playing second fiddle to an actual fiddle and the fiddle is inevitably more interesting, it can be hard to leave a lasting impression even on small scenes; and – had this show gone to series – it would’ve been fascinating to see what more could’ve been done with the ‘scientist on the run’ theme. Given that scientists historically gravitate toward an ordered existence, Robinson might’ve emerged as much the ‘fish out of water’ as was Questor … but, alas, we’ll never know.
Also along for the first and only ride was screen veteran John Vernon. In the guise of Questor project head Geoffrey Darro, he’s cast as an administrator who’s hell bent to see the android brought to life, even if that means throwing proper protocols out the window despite the possible emerging threat to mankind. With as little as a glance, Vernon made mincemeat out of anyone subservient to his wishes and desires in plenty of other films; so his casting in this role made perfect sense (perhaps too much so), but Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon’s script gives him an epiphany (and redemption) in the last act that felt a bit too orchestrated for my tastes. Again, he’s good, but – ahem – he wasn’t that good to sacrifice himself for the greater good.
For those wondering … yes, even Majel Barrett Roddenberry makes an appearance in Questor. Much like the trigger in a drinking game, she shows up in a scene here and there (drink up!) and delivers her lines with the aplomb she’s known throughout her career. Those watching closely will even recognize the face and figure of a young Walter Koenig squeezing himself into a curious scene as a scientist on his way home from the Questor Project. (I laughed, did a double take, rewound the tape, and laughed again just to make sure it was him.)
Frankly, Questor isn’t all that grand, but like Roddenberry had been warned before it’s all a bit “too cerebral” at times … and that’s why I would’ve loved to see this one realized as a series. While it understandably would’ve been softened a bit here and there to fit that weekly broadcast mold as well as conform to network executives’ expectations, it could’ve been dynamic to experience a slowly realized discovery of what it meant to be human at Gene and Robert Foxworth’s hands. I’ve always been a sucker for anthropomorphized robots, and this one – with its central figure uncovering a secret legacy alone that could’ve made for some fabulous yarns – felt humble and relevant in all the right ways. I have read some online suggestions that it remains an intellectual property kicked around from time-to-time with an attempted reboot. What with the still emerging discussion on the threats and opportunities facing mankind’s ongoing fascination with Artificial Intelligence, here’s one viewer hoping that nothing’s too cerebral to keep a do-over from happening.
The Questor Tapes (1974) was produced by Jeffrey Hayes Productions and Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to this brand-new HD Master (reported from a 2K scan of the 35mm interpositive) to be quite good. There’s a bit of grain in the last reel involving some footage shot in the wide open outdoors, but a massive influx of light can highlight the fact that this was all shot on film, after all. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a textless trailer and promo, along with an audio commentary from film historian Gary Gerani. It’s a decent collection, especially given the fact that Questor remains a largely forgotten project.
Recommended.
Though the actors might appear a bit clunky in their delivery, the ideas and concepts at play across The Questor Tapes remain relevant even to this day: not only will some scientist achieve constructing a lifelike android, but society inevitably will have to decide what to do with it for the purpose of peaceful coexistence. While Roddenberry wasn’t perhaps the first in entertainment to posit these concepts, he clearly had the know-how and ability to craft scripts and stories that made the viewer think about them. It’s a shame Questor didn’t make that leap from prospect to ongoing series as it arguably would’ve proven once more that Gene was the go-to source for bold and innovative yarns pushing society to see what magic and mystery the future could hold.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Questor Tapes (1974) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Frankly, Questor isn’t all that grand, but like Roddenberry had been warned before it’s all a bit “too cerebral” at times … and that’s why I would’ve loved to see this one realized as a series. While it understandably would’ve been softened a bit here and there to fit that weekly broadcast mold as well as conform to network executives’ expectations, it could’ve been dynamic to experience a slowly realized discovery of what it meant to be human at Gene and Robert Foxworth’s hands. I’ve always been a sucker for anthropomorphized robots, and this one – with its central figure uncovering a secret legacy alone that could’ve made for some fabulous yarns – felt humble and relevant in all the right ways. I have read some online suggestions that it remains an intellectual property kicked around from time-to-time with an attempted reboot. What with the still emerging discussion on the threats and opportunities facing mankind’s ongoing fascination with Artificial Intelligence, here’s one viewer hoping that nothing’s too cerebral to keep a do-over from happening.
The Questor Tapes (1974) was produced by Jeffrey Hayes Productions and Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to this brand-new HD Master (reported from a 2K scan of the 35mm interpositive) to be quite good. There’s a bit of grain in the last reel involving some footage shot in the wide open outdoors, but a massive influx of light can highlight the fact that this was all shot on film, after all. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a textless trailer and promo, along with an audio commentary from film historian Gary Gerani. It’s a decent collection, especially given the fact that Questor remains a largely forgotten project.
Recommended.
Though the actors might appear a bit clunky in their delivery, the ideas and concepts at play across The Questor Tapes remain relevant even to this day: not only will some scientist achieve constructing a lifelike android, but society inevitably will have to decide what to do with it for the purpose of peaceful coexistence. While Roddenberry wasn’t perhaps the first in entertainment to posit these concepts, he clearly had the know-how and ability to craft scripts and stories that made the viewer think about them. It’s a shame Questor didn’t make that leap from prospect to ongoing series as it arguably would’ve proven once more that Gene was the go-to source for bold and innovative yarns pushing society to see what magic and mystery the future could hold.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Questor Tapes (1974) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Good morning and welcome to December 28th, gentle readers! How is your week progressing? Mine is pretty interesting, that's for sure, and I'm still thrilled that we found ourselves at this special place together!
As can happen with some arrivals, I don't have a great deal to respond to directly today. I've been ruminating on a column or two regarding the current State of the Union as it applies to the realms of the Fantastic today -- what with Star Wars continuing to fail, Marvel continuing its slump, and Doctor Who falling completely into the crapper, it would seem -- but ... well, you folks know me. I'm really not one who likes to court controversy, you know? I don't always feel competent much less qualified to sound off on such matters as it gets into click-bait territory fairly quickly, and that's not what we're about at SciFiHistory.Net. I do try -- TRY -- to celebrate the good, the bad, and the ugly as many of you know; and such a position requires a reasonable amount of independence. That doesn't mean I don't have opinions on such topics because I do; it's just that I try to approach almost each and every topic as impartially as I can ... but, yeah, even I have limits.
So ... you may see a column or two in the days ahead. It honestly just depends upon whether I decide what I have to say is worthy of your attention. Like I said, I'm not one to shout from the rooftops unless I feel I have something deserving your ears, so we'll see what develops. It certainly couldn't be worse than the alternative, am I right?
Sigh.
Well, let's dispense with those pleasantries and get down to business, shall we?
To the person who asked about whether or not SciFiHistory.Net has a podcast?
Again: I'd love to do one.
It's a matter of time, effort, and resources.
I've always said if I had more resources, then I'd definitely do something. It probably wouldn't be the kind of thing that's done so well already on the YouTube.com, that being sounding off on the topics of the day as it pertains to the big franchises and the like. There are far too many great voices out there already doing that, and I just don't feel I'd have much to add to that mix. Sure, my opinion could be interesting -- thank you very much -- and, still, I've always tried to listen more than I've tried to speak. As a listener, I think I draw more information in, and this gives me the unique advantage to collecting facts, figures, and impressions that, ultimately, maybe I'd like to present in its own format. So ... we'll see.
The bottom line there is that if I'm going to do one then I'd want it to be something both worthy of your time and mine. What that could be? Well, I'm not sure I know just as of yet, but I continue to ponder the possibilities, as would any pundit.
So ... thanks for asking once again.
In the meantime, how about your daily dose of trivia?
As can happen with some arrivals, I don't have a great deal to respond to directly today. I've been ruminating on a column or two regarding the current State of the Union as it applies to the realms of the Fantastic today -- what with Star Wars continuing to fail, Marvel continuing its slump, and Doctor Who falling completely into the crapper, it would seem -- but ... well, you folks know me. I'm really not one who likes to court controversy, you know? I don't always feel competent much less qualified to sound off on such matters as it gets into click-bait territory fairly quickly, and that's not what we're about at SciFiHistory.Net. I do try -- TRY -- to celebrate the good, the bad, and the ugly as many of you know; and such a position requires a reasonable amount of independence. That doesn't mean I don't have opinions on such topics because I do; it's just that I try to approach almost each and every topic as impartially as I can ... but, yeah, even I have limits.
So ... you may see a column or two in the days ahead. It honestly just depends upon whether I decide what I have to say is worthy of your attention. Like I said, I'm not one to shout from the rooftops unless I feel I have something deserving your ears, so we'll see what develops. It certainly couldn't be worse than the alternative, am I right?
Sigh.
Well, let's dispense with those pleasantries and get down to business, shall we?
To the person who asked about whether or not SciFiHistory.Net has a podcast?
Again: I'd love to do one.
It's a matter of time, effort, and resources.
I've always said if I had more resources, then I'd definitely do something. It probably wouldn't be the kind of thing that's done so well already on the YouTube.com, that being sounding off on the topics of the day as it pertains to the big franchises and the like. There are far too many great voices out there already doing that, and I just don't feel I'd have much to add to that mix. Sure, my opinion could be interesting -- thank you very much -- and, still, I've always tried to listen more than I've tried to speak. As a listener, I think I draw more information in, and this gives me the unique advantage to collecting facts, figures, and impressions that, ultimately, maybe I'd like to present in its own format. So ... we'll see.
The bottom line there is that if I'm going to do one then I'd want it to be something both worthy of your time and mine. What that could be? Well, I'm not sure I know just as of yet, but I continue to ponder the possibilities, as would any pundit.
So ... thanks for asking once again.
In the meantime, how about your daily dose of trivia?
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
As someone who enjoys a whole lot of Science Fiction and Fantasy, I still always think it's pretty grand when a player gets to play in not one but two of the genre's biggest franchises. While his career on the screen was reasonably limited, that can still be said of the late Richard Franklin.
Wearing the uniform on behalf of His Majesty, the Queen, Franklin starred in the role of 'Captain Mike Yates,' and his tour of duty within the wide, wide world of Doctor Who lasted an incredible 42 episodes.
But ... that's not all, as they say ...
... for, in 2016, the man enjoyed a role -- albeit a vastly smaller one -- in the guise of one of the doomed engineers that helped usher in the age of true Imperial oppression by completing the Death Star on behalf of the Galactic Empire. His character -- along with several others -- met a grisly end on the planet of Eadu as depicted in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.
Sad. Yet, characters come and go.
However, a quick glance at Franklin's resume indicates that these weren't his only forays into the realms of the Fantastic. He also enjoyed some work aboard such other entries as Blake's 7, The Tomorrow People (podcast), Sapphire & Steel (podcast), and Chemical Wedding (2008). With only thirty screen credits to his name, it's nonetheless grand to see so many in projects we here at SciFiHistory.Net find so compelling.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Richard Franklin.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
Wearing the uniform on behalf of His Majesty, the Queen, Franklin starred in the role of 'Captain Mike Yates,' and his tour of duty within the wide, wide world of Doctor Who lasted an incredible 42 episodes.
But ... that's not all, as they say ...
... for, in 2016, the man enjoyed a role -- albeit a vastly smaller one -- in the guise of one of the doomed engineers that helped usher in the age of true Imperial oppression by completing the Death Star on behalf of the Galactic Empire. His character -- along with several others -- met a grisly end on the planet of Eadu as depicted in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.
Sad. Yet, characters come and go.
However, a quick glance at Franklin's resume indicates that these weren't his only forays into the realms of the Fantastic. He also enjoyed some work aboard such other entries as Blake's 7, The Tomorrow People (podcast), Sapphire & Steel (podcast), and Chemical Wedding (2008). With only thirty screen credits to his name, it's nonetheless grand to see so many in projects we here at SciFiHistory.Net find so compelling.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Richard Franklin.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ