- Published on
Fan-made Kenobi Trailer A Sight For Sore Eyes!
I could be wrong, but I believe the idea of an ObiWan Kenobi standalone Star Wars film was first put as a question to Ewan McGregor, simply being whether or not he'd be interested in revisiting the character in some fashion for that galaxy far, far away. And I believe he was definitely interested, probably in large part because the fallen Jedi Master would emotionally be light years away from the warrior depicted in George Lucas's Prequel Trilogy. I certainly believe that the fans would love something to help fill in the gaps of how Kenobi spent his years in isolation ... and -- as you can probably guess -- fandom has answered.
There's a fan-made trailer out there for such a project. (I saw it this morning via The Hollywood Reporter.) While it is culled together from McGregor's appearance in another motion picture, it definitely has its heart in the right place, giving audiences a portrait of Kenobi's potential emotional crisis while discovering that his efforts might very well have been what was needed to save an entire universe from desolation. Check it out for the giggles and warm fuzzies.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
There's a fan-made trailer out there for such a project. (I saw it this morning via The Hollywood Reporter.) While it is culled together from McGregor's appearance in another motion picture, it definitely has its heart in the right place, giving audiences a portrait of Kenobi's potential emotional crisis while discovering that his efforts might very well have been what was needed to save an entire universe from desolation. Check it out for the giggles and warm fuzzies.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
- Published on
Star Trek: Discovery:
This Is So Much 'Not Your Father's Star Trek' That It might Not Even Be Star Trek
In one respect, I’ve always found it very hard to have something fresh to say about Star Trek.
Having launched on television in the mid-1960’s, the Gene Roddenberry creation remains one of Science Fiction’s oldest and most fondly revered franchises. Having gone through several incarnations, the property has told an incredible number of stories – big ones, short ones, complex ones, and even silly ones – and yet it continues trying to have something to say about the human condition after fifty-plus years. One might just wish to address the topic by saying it’s a commodity that’s proven how to ‘live long and prosper,’ but its fans are owed more than just a few simple words, especially ones taken from the show’s greatest catch phrases.
Like so many, I mourned the death of Star Trek: Enterprise, and I say that honestly as one who didn’t watch all of the show’s run. (In fact, I’ve only seen the first two seasons fully along with a smattering of episodes from seasons three and four.) While it certainly wasn’t my favorite (far from it), I suspected – as did so many – that the end of Enterprise would spell the TV death of the Federation: warp engines would be taken offline, life support would failed, and each and every member of the crew would toss their uniforms into mothballs. Fandom would be left waiting – and wanting – for several years, as anyone who knew what the Kobayashi Maru was could tell you Trek would inevitably be back.
It did return – theatrically, anyway – and fandom was split.
Gone were the familiar Kirk, Spock, and company. In their place, Paramount presented an all-new roster. With the help of Hollywood wunderkind JJ Abrams, Star Trek came back younger, fresher, and making vastly much less sense. The morality plays which had cemented so much of the franchise’s foundation were instead replaced with lens flare, non-stop action sequences, and even an unlikely love story. While it didn’t look like Trek, ‘Trek’ was still what the studio called it.
Even some of the property’s oldest supporters called foul. Nicholas Meyer – the writer/director who helped bring elements of Star Trek II, III, IV, and VI to the silver screen – remarked in an interview: “And I think the biggest thing that shocked me about J.J. was Spock beating the shit out of somebody, and thinking, ‘No, that’s changing the shape of the bottle.’ And it may be very entertaining, and it may make a gazillion dollars, but that’s changing the shape of the bottle.” Clearly, what he meant was that Star Trek was no longer stellar, much less ‘Star Trek.’
Perhaps “changing the shape of the bottle” is precisely what Paramount intended all along: the studio has dipped back into Trek’s water for yet another iteration, and that brings us to the premiere of Star Trek: Discovery. Instead of putting this version of television where the very best hours of the property have always unfolded, CBS has opted to lure fans with the airing of Part 1 of a two-part telefilm and then requiring interested persons to subscribe to their internet streaming platform to watch its conclusion and its subsequent episodes. In other words, they’re only giving you half the story – if not only one-thirteenth (it’s a thirteen-episode season) – while asking you to pay for it.
Like so many online have already said, I’m a bit disillusioned with the whole prospect of having to subscribe in order to continue enjoying Star Trek; and I say this with full knowledge that streaming has well been marked and marketed as the entertainment setting of tomorrow. Logistically, you take a property as forward thinking as Trek has often been, and it makes perfect sense to pair that thematically up with a platform promising big things. (Mind you, so far CBS’s AllAccess ponies up a vast array of two, three, and four-decades old sitcoms, but “it is what it is.”) And, yes, I’ve read the “per episode breakdown” as well as the many diatribes written by folks who suggest subscribing then canceling it once the season has ended. Were I all that impressed with Part 1, then I probably would’ve entertained something along those lines … but therein lies the risk.
Traditional television shows rarely hit one “outta the park” with pilot hours. In some cases, networks have been known to ask producers to retool a first episode, occasionally even recasting major players as the chosen ensemble doesn’t seem to be working. Frankly, there’s a lot of ground to be covered in most first hours as storytellers have only so much screen time to introduce the cast, the world, and its related circumstances. Heck, even the original Star Trek endured the unimaginable for its day as NBC gave Roddenberry another shot to get the show right (their words, not mine) by suggesting he try again with a second pilot, one which met with their expectations. To make matters worse, the peacock network’s suits even suggested that Roddenberry drop the Spock character completely, a sentiment he (thankfully) disagreed with and persisted. Were viewers required to decide whether or not a show should last based entirely on a premiere, dare I suggest that a good many of TV’s best shows might not have survived a first season?
In order to perhaps entice the kind of response CBS desired, it’s pretty clear that “The Vulcan Hello” pulled out all of the stops, dishing out the kind of epic, cinematic feel one rarely sees on the small screen. The audience was treated to some solid, expansive cinematography, much of which was obviously enhanced with the latest and greatest CGI (computer-generated imagery) along with a pulse-pounding pace necessary to reel viewers in to the conflict, but – despite all of the posturing – very little of “Hello” made much narrative sense.
Having launched on television in the mid-1960’s, the Gene Roddenberry creation remains one of Science Fiction’s oldest and most fondly revered franchises. Having gone through several incarnations, the property has told an incredible number of stories – big ones, short ones, complex ones, and even silly ones – and yet it continues trying to have something to say about the human condition after fifty-plus years. One might just wish to address the topic by saying it’s a commodity that’s proven how to ‘live long and prosper,’ but its fans are owed more than just a few simple words, especially ones taken from the show’s greatest catch phrases.
Like so many, I mourned the death of Star Trek: Enterprise, and I say that honestly as one who didn’t watch all of the show’s run. (In fact, I’ve only seen the first two seasons fully along with a smattering of episodes from seasons three and four.) While it certainly wasn’t my favorite (far from it), I suspected – as did so many – that the end of Enterprise would spell the TV death of the Federation: warp engines would be taken offline, life support would failed, and each and every member of the crew would toss their uniforms into mothballs. Fandom would be left waiting – and wanting – for several years, as anyone who knew what the Kobayashi Maru was could tell you Trek would inevitably be back.
It did return – theatrically, anyway – and fandom was split.
Gone were the familiar Kirk, Spock, and company. In their place, Paramount presented an all-new roster. With the help of Hollywood wunderkind JJ Abrams, Star Trek came back younger, fresher, and making vastly much less sense. The morality plays which had cemented so much of the franchise’s foundation were instead replaced with lens flare, non-stop action sequences, and even an unlikely love story. While it didn’t look like Trek, ‘Trek’ was still what the studio called it.
Even some of the property’s oldest supporters called foul. Nicholas Meyer – the writer/director who helped bring elements of Star Trek II, III, IV, and VI to the silver screen – remarked in an interview: “And I think the biggest thing that shocked me about J.J. was Spock beating the shit out of somebody, and thinking, ‘No, that’s changing the shape of the bottle.’ And it may be very entertaining, and it may make a gazillion dollars, but that’s changing the shape of the bottle.” Clearly, what he meant was that Star Trek was no longer stellar, much less ‘Star Trek.’
Perhaps “changing the shape of the bottle” is precisely what Paramount intended all along: the studio has dipped back into Trek’s water for yet another iteration, and that brings us to the premiere of Star Trek: Discovery. Instead of putting this version of television where the very best hours of the property have always unfolded, CBS has opted to lure fans with the airing of Part 1 of a two-part telefilm and then requiring interested persons to subscribe to their internet streaming platform to watch its conclusion and its subsequent episodes. In other words, they’re only giving you half the story – if not only one-thirteenth (it’s a thirteen-episode season) – while asking you to pay for it.
Like so many online have already said, I’m a bit disillusioned with the whole prospect of having to subscribe in order to continue enjoying Star Trek; and I say this with full knowledge that streaming has well been marked and marketed as the entertainment setting of tomorrow. Logistically, you take a property as forward thinking as Trek has often been, and it makes perfect sense to pair that thematically up with a platform promising big things. (Mind you, so far CBS’s AllAccess ponies up a vast array of two, three, and four-decades old sitcoms, but “it is what it is.”) And, yes, I’ve read the “per episode breakdown” as well as the many diatribes written by folks who suggest subscribing then canceling it once the season has ended. Were I all that impressed with Part 1, then I probably would’ve entertained something along those lines … but therein lies the risk.
Traditional television shows rarely hit one “outta the park” with pilot hours. In some cases, networks have been known to ask producers to retool a first episode, occasionally even recasting major players as the chosen ensemble doesn’t seem to be working. Frankly, there’s a lot of ground to be covered in most first hours as storytellers have only so much screen time to introduce the cast, the world, and its related circumstances. Heck, even the original Star Trek endured the unimaginable for its day as NBC gave Roddenberry another shot to get the show right (their words, not mine) by suggesting he try again with a second pilot, one which met with their expectations. To make matters worse, the peacock network’s suits even suggested that Roddenberry drop the Spock character completely, a sentiment he (thankfully) disagreed with and persisted. Were viewers required to decide whether or not a show should last based entirely on a premiere, dare I suggest that a good many of TV’s best shows might not have survived a first season?
In order to perhaps entice the kind of response CBS desired, it’s pretty clear that “The Vulcan Hello” pulled out all of the stops, dishing out the kind of epic, cinematic feel one rarely sees on the small screen. The audience was treated to some solid, expansive cinematography, much of which was obviously enhanced with the latest and greatest CGI (computer-generated imagery) along with a pulse-pounding pace necessary to reel viewers in to the conflict, but – despite all of the posturing – very little of “Hello” made much narrative sense.
See, there’s these Klingons, and they don’t look like Klingons that we know and love … so are they really Klingon? Are they some kind of evil offshoot, an odd question given the fact that Klingons of this era were already established as villainous (to a degree)? And what’s with that Science Officer who keeps wanting to not give a definitive answer? And why is everyone wearing what looks to be Southwest Airlines inflight service uniforms? Wait: you couldn’t beam your First Officer into the meteor field, but you could safely beam her out?!
The risk any storyteller takes in trying to divulge too much too fast is that all of the exposition ends up feeling more than a bit clunky. Granted, the script from Bryan Fuller (an admitted die-hard Trekkie who vacated the project not long after it began) and Alex Kurtzman (an admitted hater of all Things traditionally considered Star Trek) covers a lot of ground with relative ease thanks to David Semel’s direction (which amounted to a lot of quick, flashy dialogue and heavily tilted camera angles); but Discovery feels like something joined “in progress” wherein the onscreen participants clearly know where it’s all heading and they’re trying very hard to keep those reveals secret.
There’s almost an insistency inherent with the roughly sixty minutes that implies, “Just go with it, and you’ll like where we take you,” or maybe it’s more simply stated as “Trust us.” The story – what little there is – keeps spooling whether you understood what just happened or not. “Don’t ask about the Klingons. Don’t ask what we’re doing with their dead.” All the while, the cast and crew are hoping you don’t ask how it was their communicators couldn’t work in that storm blowing in throughout the episode’s opening sequence while expecting you to unquestionably accept that the ship’s navigator was simply watching (from space!) the captain and her first officer walking about a planet’s surface!
“See what we did there? Didn’t it look nice?”
Uh … why did the captain know what she was doing and her first officer didn’t? With that storm bearing down on them, how could she NOT notice they were walking in a circle?
“Don’t look over there, but look over here!”
Well … maybe … but I still didn’t believe it.
See, Discovery had no sense of humanity. In its place, the showrunners have substituted conflict; and I suspect that they’re hoping conflict will serve as a reasonable substitute. It might – it certainly worked for Syfy’s retooling of the classic Battlestar Galactica on their network, but Syfy didn’t ask viewers to pay extra in order to explore theirs. (Yes, you were already paying for cable, but you get my drift.)
All of this said, I could still make an argument that Discovery will likely improve.
As I mentioned above, first episodes have an unforgiving amount of terrain to cover, and many of my qualms might very well have been cleared up in Episode 2 (for all I know). Plus, the show has a terrifically gifted cast, and I suspect they’re working hard behind-the-scenes to keep each other and their writers on their toes. Lastly, I noticed in the credits that Akiva Goldsman is part of the writing and production staff; and there are few creative folks working in the industry today who can do with a show what Goldsman can. (See Fox TV’s Fringe for an indication, if you’re really interested.)
So even though it’s first hour didn’t impress me, I’m thrilled that Star Trek is back. Let’s just hope that the suits at Paramount can finally figure out what it’s supposed to be.
The risk any storyteller takes in trying to divulge too much too fast is that all of the exposition ends up feeling more than a bit clunky. Granted, the script from Bryan Fuller (an admitted die-hard Trekkie who vacated the project not long after it began) and Alex Kurtzman (an admitted hater of all Things traditionally considered Star Trek) covers a lot of ground with relative ease thanks to David Semel’s direction (which amounted to a lot of quick, flashy dialogue and heavily tilted camera angles); but Discovery feels like something joined “in progress” wherein the onscreen participants clearly know where it’s all heading and they’re trying very hard to keep those reveals secret.
There’s almost an insistency inherent with the roughly sixty minutes that implies, “Just go with it, and you’ll like where we take you,” or maybe it’s more simply stated as “Trust us.” The story – what little there is – keeps spooling whether you understood what just happened or not. “Don’t ask about the Klingons. Don’t ask what we’re doing with their dead.” All the while, the cast and crew are hoping you don’t ask how it was their communicators couldn’t work in that storm blowing in throughout the episode’s opening sequence while expecting you to unquestionably accept that the ship’s navigator was simply watching (from space!) the captain and her first officer walking about a planet’s surface!
“See what we did there? Didn’t it look nice?”
Uh … why did the captain know what she was doing and her first officer didn’t? With that storm bearing down on them, how could she NOT notice they were walking in a circle?
“Don’t look over there, but look over here!”
Well … maybe … but I still didn’t believe it.
See, Discovery had no sense of humanity. In its place, the showrunners have substituted conflict; and I suspect that they’re hoping conflict will serve as a reasonable substitute. It might – it certainly worked for Syfy’s retooling of the classic Battlestar Galactica on their network, but Syfy didn’t ask viewers to pay extra in order to explore theirs. (Yes, you were already paying for cable, but you get my drift.)
All of this said, I could still make an argument that Discovery will likely improve.
As I mentioned above, first episodes have an unforgiving amount of terrain to cover, and many of my qualms might very well have been cleared up in Episode 2 (for all I know). Plus, the show has a terrifically gifted cast, and I suspect they’re working hard behind-the-scenes to keep each other and their writers on their toes. Lastly, I noticed in the credits that Akiva Goldsman is part of the writing and production staff; and there are few creative folks working in the industry today who can do with a show what Goldsman can. (See Fox TV’s Fringe for an indication, if you’re really interested.)
So even though it’s first hour didn’t impress me, I’m thrilled that Star Trek is back. Let’s just hope that the suits at Paramount can finally figure out what it’s supposed to be.
- Published on
Cyborg 2087:
Cinema schlock ... Or something more?
It often bears repeating that I – like so many others who choose to talk about films online – was raised in a vastly different era than what viewers enjoy today: namely, when I was a sprite, I didn’t have a billion TV channels to choose from. Home videotaping was still a few years off. If you wanted to watch a certain program, then you had to make time while it was being broadcast! You couldn’t download or stream it after-the-fact, much less go online to uncover what everyone and your mother’s uncle thought about it. Those technologies didn’t exist, and – as a consequence – I had to make do with what was available.
Kids today can’t begin to conceive of television offering a mere half-dozen channels (at worst) or maybe even a dozen (at best). Depending upon what the weather was like, you might be able to get one or two more via antennae, but those smaller markets oft times played silly English-dubbed imports or seemingly insane movies purchased from some comprehensive syndication library. For the record, it’s these flicks exactly that the seminal Mystery Science Theatre 3000 made its mark by lampooning, and I’ve no doubt that Cyborg 2087 is exactly the kind of thing I would’ve been subjected to as a youngling growing up in rural Illinois.
You’ll pardon me for saying that I think I’m a better person because of it.
Kids today can’t begin to conceive of television offering a mere half-dozen channels (at worst) or maybe even a dozen (at best). Depending upon what the weather was like, you might be able to get one or two more via antennae, but those smaller markets oft times played silly English-dubbed imports or seemingly insane movies purchased from some comprehensive syndication library. For the record, it’s these flicks exactly that the seminal Mystery Science Theatre 3000 made its mark by lampooning, and I’ve no doubt that Cyborg 2087 is exactly the kind of thing I would’ve been subjected to as a youngling growing up in rural Illinois.
You’ll pardon me for saying that I think I’m a better person because of it.
(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 my last few paragraphs for my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“In the year 2087, where freedom of thought is illegal and the minds of the world’s population are controlled by governments, a small group of rebels send a cyborg, Garth A7 (Michael Rennie), back to the year 1966 to prevent a scientist from making a breakthrough that will lead to the nightmarish future. The time traveler soon discovers that he’s not alone; the opposition has sent a group of government tracer agents to prevent him from carrying out his mission …”
From the product packaging:
“In the year 2087, where freedom of thought is illegal and the minds of the world’s population are controlled by governments, a small group of rebels send a cyborg, Garth A7 (Michael Rennie), back to the year 1966 to prevent a scientist from making a breakthrough that will lead to the nightmarish future. The time traveler soon discovers that he’s not alone; the opposition has sent a group of government tracer agents to prevent him from carrying out his mission …”
If the plot from Cyborg 2087 sounds remotely familiar, then I’d caution you this: rather than conclude James Cameron lifted it fully and transplanted into his seminal The Terminator (1984), a simple viewing of director Franklin Adreon’s earlier attempt will almost immediately convince you otherwise. There’s only a passing similarity in the concept: what Cameron achieves in substance, Adreon and his cast and crew can’t really begin to so much as shake a stick at. Why not? Well, probably because they couldn’t afford it.
Cyborg is the ultimate in low, low, low budget filmmaking. It’s the kind of thing conceived quickly and – quite probably – shot just as swiftly. What plot there is – Garth has to locate the scientist enlisting the ‘coerced’ cooperation of Dr. Sharon Mason (the lovely Karen Steele) – moves at a snail’s pace, largely owed to the fact that Adreon padded his “action” sequences with far too much of the mundane: Rennie marching across the screen, his adversaries running on foot from location to location, teenagers dancing in the background while cybernetic surgery is taking place in the next room, etc. At about the time the viewer begins to wonder if there is any method to the madness, the director necessarily tightens up the reins with some exposition … but only so much that’ll keep his picture on track.
And – unquestionably – Cyborg is an odd duck of production. While there’s clearly some talent up there on the screen (besides Rennie and Steele, the film features such reliable veterans as Wendell Corey and Forbidden Planet’s Warren Stevens in key roles), Adreon can’t quite seem to keep things moving at an even pace. Arthur C. Pierce’s script takes one science fiction concept after another, and – rather than thoughtfully develop mind control, government oppression, and time travel paradox for the audience – Pierce mashes them up against one another in order to achieve a kind of intelligent ‘posture’ void of any real movement.
But … here’s the dirty little secret: I think someone tried to do just a bit more with the flick than you might think.
Cyborg is the ultimate in low, low, low budget filmmaking. It’s the kind of thing conceived quickly and – quite probably – shot just as swiftly. What plot there is – Garth has to locate the scientist enlisting the ‘coerced’ cooperation of Dr. Sharon Mason (the lovely Karen Steele) – moves at a snail’s pace, largely owed to the fact that Adreon padded his “action” sequences with far too much of the mundane: Rennie marching across the screen, his adversaries running on foot from location to location, teenagers dancing in the background while cybernetic surgery is taking place in the next room, etc. At about the time the viewer begins to wonder if there is any method to the madness, the director necessarily tightens up the reins with some exposition … but only so much that’ll keep his picture on track.
And – unquestionably – Cyborg is an odd duck of production. While there’s clearly some talent up there on the screen (besides Rennie and Steele, the film features such reliable veterans as Wendell Corey and Forbidden Planet’s Warren Stevens in key roles), Adreon can’t quite seem to keep things moving at an even pace. Arthur C. Pierce’s script takes one science fiction concept after another, and – rather than thoughtfully develop mind control, government oppression, and time travel paradox for the audience – Pierce mashes them up against one another in order to achieve a kind of intelligent ‘posture’ void of any real movement.
But … here’s the dirty little secret: I think someone tried to do just a bit more with the flick than you might think.
For example, Cyborg opens with an obvious matte painting of what Garth’s future city looks like: it’s a highly-stylized collection of domes and towers set in a brilliant skyline. What we learn, of course, as the story develops is that these people are not existing in utopia; rather, they’re going about their lives almost robotically due to Dr. Sigmund Marx’s invention from 1966. However, when Garth arrives in the past, he turns up in what appears to be the wild, wild west: an almost gutted-out ghost town awaits the traveler – perhaps a symbolic representation exactly of how this half-robot-half-man perceives the future. Audiences quickly learn (through character discussion) that this town is just that – an old west haunt from about 100 years previous existing outside of the present-day Desert City – but the script keeps taking us back here.
Why would the director and/or screenwriter put up three distinctly different eras – 2087, 1966, and (approximately) 1866 – unless they were trying to say something about the unforgiving passage of time? Were Adreon and Pierce commenting on how one civilization must fall in order for progress to be achieved while Garth is intent on unraveling that future? Were they trying to remind audiences to not be so attached to the present because – as the western town demonstrates – it’ll all fall into decrepitude inevitably anyway? Was this escapist SciFi fare covertly actually trying to remind Tom, Dick, and Harry not to get too interested in this thing called “technology” because it was likely to spell their collective doom?
The truth is that we’ll likely never know what anyone involved with the picture wanted to say (if anything) as filmmaker Chris Alexander on his commentary track reminds us that those folks involved with Cyborg have long since passed into the beyond. Still, what would they tell us if they could about their machinations? Was it all meant to be little more than an interesting side trip in the annals of forgotten cinema … or did they mean for this to be something much, much darker?
Art is what you make of it, and I don’t think there was much artistic intent behind Cyborg 2087. Still, it makes for some interesting debate.
Why would the director and/or screenwriter put up three distinctly different eras – 2087, 1966, and (approximately) 1866 – unless they were trying to say something about the unforgiving passage of time? Were Adreon and Pierce commenting on how one civilization must fall in order for progress to be achieved while Garth is intent on unraveling that future? Were they trying to remind audiences to not be so attached to the present because – as the western town demonstrates – it’ll all fall into decrepitude inevitably anyway? Was this escapist SciFi fare covertly actually trying to remind Tom, Dick, and Harry not to get too interested in this thing called “technology” because it was likely to spell their collective doom?
The truth is that we’ll likely never know what anyone involved with the picture wanted to say (if anything) as filmmaker Chris Alexander on his commentary track reminds us that those folks involved with Cyborg have long since passed into the beyond. Still, what would they tell us if they could about their machinations? Was it all meant to be little more than an interesting side trip in the annals of forgotten cinema … or did they mean for this to be something much, much darker?
Art is what you make of it, and I don’t think there was much artistic intent behind Cyborg 2087. Still, it makes for some interesting debate.
Cyborg 2087 was produced by Harold Goldman Associates and United Pictures. DVD distribution for this release is being handled by the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? The packaging boasts that the film was re-mastered in HD, and it does look and sound very good. (There are a few sequences heavy with grain, but there’s nothing that ultimately distracts from the viewing experience.) As for the special features? As mentioned above, there is a commentary track, and – in some ways – it’s at times almost as befuddling as the film itself: Alexander largely gives his impressions on performances and the genre, carefully sprinkling some trivia here and there for those listening closely. Still, kudos for his effort as Cyborg is definitely an obscure title, making research into its production practically impossible.
(Mildly) Recommended.
Look, no one’s going to claim that the world is a better place for such cinema schlock as Cyborg 2087 being in it. It doesn’t offer any award-winning performances. It certainly doesn’t offer a particularly riveting narrative. And – in all frankness – you’ll quite possibly find yourself laughing more at the film’s attempt to present itself seriously while having little to no budget to speak of. However, what Cyborg 2087 does have is a heart and a soul common to so many lesser pictures of its era: it tries to be something more than the sum of its parts, but the conventions of cheaply made flicks shot for nothing more than product-to-sell will always hold it back. It gives one an interesting portrait of what moviemaking was like for the oft-overlooking 1960’s, and – if you watch closely – you might even see shades of how Science Fiction was making its grand transition from little ideas to the big, meaty ones in Hollywood.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber / Kino Classics provided me with a Blu-ray of Cyborg 2087 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
(Mildly) Recommended.
Look, no one’s going to claim that the world is a better place for such cinema schlock as Cyborg 2087 being in it. It doesn’t offer any award-winning performances. It certainly doesn’t offer a particularly riveting narrative. And – in all frankness – you’ll quite possibly find yourself laughing more at the film’s attempt to present itself seriously while having little to no budget to speak of. However, what Cyborg 2087 does have is a heart and a soul common to so many lesser pictures of its era: it tries to be something more than the sum of its parts, but the conventions of cheaply made flicks shot for nothing more than product-to-sell will always hold it back. It gives one an interesting portrait of what moviemaking was like for the oft-overlooking 1960’s, and – if you watch closely – you might even see shades of how Science Fiction was making its grand transition from little ideas to the big, meaty ones in Hollywood.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber / Kino Classics provided me with a Blu-ray of Cyborg 2087 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
- Published on
Kino Lorber Gives SpaceCamp A Proper Launch
It’s the summer of 1986, and I was a summer camp counselor somewhere in rural Wisconsin. On a day before the kids showed up, I travelled into town looking for something to pass the time. The local twin theatres had SpaceCamp showing opposite Tom Cruise’s Tom Gun. As I had already seen Maverick’s stunning antics, I decided to give the Kate Capshaw feature a go … and I honestly can say I don’t much remember it from thirty years ago. I do recall thinking at the time that all of it was more than a bit juvenile, but I’d never the film a second thought until I noticed it recently coming back into the home video release schedule. I decided to give it another try, and I’m glad I did.
(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 my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
(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 my final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“Kathryn, Tish, Max, Rudy, and Kevin are a group of bright but incorrigible high school students spending their summer at the NASA SpaceCamp. But when a frightening miscommunication occurs during a space shuttle training mission, the teens and their astronaut instructor are accidentally launched into orbit. Can this young team of unlikely heroes work together to survive the outer-space adventure of a lifetime?”
For starters, SPACECAMP is an ensemble piece, and that’s no easy task when you’re trafficking in the realm of Science Fiction much less youth casts.
Essentially, I’ve always found that space fantasies work better at captivating audiences when the tale has a central character arc – not several small arcs as tends to happen with ensemble stories – and Camp’s script from W.W. Wicket and Casey T. Mitchell opens almost with the promise of this being Andie Bergstrom’s journey (played by the stunning Kate Capshaw). Though she’s clearly billed and built as the lead, Camp becomes more of a group project once the real ‘camp’ begins, and this opens the door for a wealth of young talent just emerging on the Hollywood scene: Tate Donovan, Lea Thompson, Kelly Preston, Larry B. Scott, and Leaf (aka Joaquin) Phoenix.
Therein lies the central problem I had with so much of the film: director Harry Winer does what he can to balance out all that unfolds here, doling out scenes with an almost formulaic distribution from one newcomer to the next. Consequently, none of these “people” feel as authentic as might happen if the script had instead focused on one or two principles instead of trying to give everyone equal time: Scott and the vivacious Preston end up having the least narrative definition, but that isn’t saying much as all of the principles featured here end up having little more than a single ‘note’ to the overall composition. In fact, most of the introductions and the time spent on Earth ends up feeling a bit jumbled and even truncated: as pupils, they’re not seen receiving much education (there’s a single montage) before they’re suited up and accidentally blown into orbit, definitely highlighting that this is all fantasy and very, very little reality.
“Kathryn, Tish, Max, Rudy, and Kevin are a group of bright but incorrigible high school students spending their summer at the NASA SpaceCamp. But when a frightening miscommunication occurs during a space shuttle training mission, the teens and their astronaut instructor are accidentally launched into orbit. Can this young team of unlikely heroes work together to survive the outer-space adventure of a lifetime?”
For starters, SPACECAMP is an ensemble piece, and that’s no easy task when you’re trafficking in the realm of Science Fiction much less youth casts.
Essentially, I’ve always found that space fantasies work better at captivating audiences when the tale has a central character arc – not several small arcs as tends to happen with ensemble stories – and Camp’s script from W.W. Wicket and Casey T. Mitchell opens almost with the promise of this being Andie Bergstrom’s journey (played by the stunning Kate Capshaw). Though she’s clearly billed and built as the lead, Camp becomes more of a group project once the real ‘camp’ begins, and this opens the door for a wealth of young talent just emerging on the Hollywood scene: Tate Donovan, Lea Thompson, Kelly Preston, Larry B. Scott, and Leaf (aka Joaquin) Phoenix.
Therein lies the central problem I had with so much of the film: director Harry Winer does what he can to balance out all that unfolds here, doling out scenes with an almost formulaic distribution from one newcomer to the next. Consequently, none of these “people” feel as authentic as might happen if the script had instead focused on one or two principles instead of trying to give everyone equal time: Scott and the vivacious Preston end up having the least narrative definition, but that isn’t saying much as all of the principles featured here end up having little more than a single ‘note’ to the overall composition. In fact, most of the introductions and the time spent on Earth ends up feeling a bit jumbled and even truncated: as pupils, they’re not seen receiving much education (there’s a single montage) before they’re suited up and accidentally blown into orbit, definitely highlighting that this is all fantasy and very, very little reality.
Still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit that Camp truly lifts off once its ensemble is in the heavens (a metaphor this fanboy welcomes using giving the trifecta of such lovelies as Capshaw, Thompson and Preston). Once in orbit, this Winer project finds its pulse while putting these space sailors through their real-world schooling. Much like the crew of original USS Enterprise, each of them has a purpose along with a lesson to learn, and success is inevitably predicated on their putting aside differences and coming together to achieve something bigger as a group than they ever could on their own. With their figurative baggage left behind on Earth, conflicts still come to a head in space, where Capshaw and her crew shine the way all stars do.
Sadly, Camp is a film that’s almost been forgotten in film history through no fault of its own.
Only a few months before its theatrical release, America’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) endured one of its greatest tragedies when the space shuttle Challenger exploded only seconds after liftoff on January 28, 1986. Camp opened in that May, and I suspect audiences had grown more than a bit cynical of the entire space shuttle program, having watched their heroes killed and their deaths analyzed ad nauseum on the evening news for weeks. Gone from our collective history were the sentiments of success and achievement that had fueled so much of space exploration; and yet here – in its place – a studio was distributing a film about how a ‘simple mistake’ gave non-astronauts a chance to have the adventure of a lifetime. The Challenger disaster reminded a generation of how the business of outer space was dangerous.
Camp’s box office returns were understandably poor, none of it owed to anyone involved with the feature much less the studio. Instead of giving the film a chance, folks stayed away from the picture.
In the interviews with Ms. Thompson and Mr. Winer featured on this disc, both figures touch on how they’ve been approached by fans in the years since; and both recount how – also much like the original Star Trek – the vision of NASA portrayed in the film inspired them to pursue careers in science that would ultimately lead to employment with the agency or its various manufacturers. In my estimation, there’s no greater compliment paid to art than seeing it stir others into exploring their own personal horizons; and I’d argue that this disc is worth the spin for no other reason than that. While its story is predictable, its message of how a team rises to the occasion against all obstacles remains one that is truly timeless.
Sadly, Camp is a film that’s almost been forgotten in film history through no fault of its own.
Only a few months before its theatrical release, America’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) endured one of its greatest tragedies when the space shuttle Challenger exploded only seconds after liftoff on January 28, 1986. Camp opened in that May, and I suspect audiences had grown more than a bit cynical of the entire space shuttle program, having watched their heroes killed and their deaths analyzed ad nauseum on the evening news for weeks. Gone from our collective history were the sentiments of success and achievement that had fueled so much of space exploration; and yet here – in its place – a studio was distributing a film about how a ‘simple mistake’ gave non-astronauts a chance to have the adventure of a lifetime. The Challenger disaster reminded a generation of how the business of outer space was dangerous.
Camp’s box office returns were understandably poor, none of it owed to anyone involved with the feature much less the studio. Instead of giving the film a chance, folks stayed away from the picture.
In the interviews with Ms. Thompson and Mr. Winer featured on this disc, both figures touch on how they’ve been approached by fans in the years since; and both recount how – also much like the original Star Trek – the vision of NASA portrayed in the film inspired them to pursue careers in science that would ultimately lead to employment with the agency or its various manufacturers. In my estimation, there’s no greater compliment paid to art than seeing it stir others into exploring their own personal horizons; and I’d argue that this disc is worth the spin for no other reason than that. While its story is predictable, its message of how a team rises to the occasion against all obstacles remains one that is truly timeless.
SPACECAMP (1986) was produced by ABC Motion Pictures. DVD distribution for this release is being handled by the reliable Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Unless I miss my guess (I’ve been wrong before), this particular release hasn’t been fully remastered (perhaps it’s been cleaned up a bit) as I thought the first thirty minutes or so had an inordinate amount of grain to it; sound quality is very good. As for the special features? Kino Lorber has ponied up the original theatrical trailer along with two interviews: Lea Thompson (10 min.) and director Harry Winer (18 min.). For what it’s worth, the Thompson interview is nice – she recalls a few interesting tidbits about the filming process and special effects challenges but otherwise it’s a lot of “fluff” – but Winer does a much better job, putting the film and its relative history up for some creative examination. It’s a good package, especially considering the fact that the feature is one of those that came and went from theatres pretty fast.
RECOMMENDED.
So long as you can make it through the film’s first forty-five minutes or so, SpaceCamp actually isn’t half bad. It’s pure escapism, but its second half is handled much better than the first: character introductions are a bit saccharin, giving the story the feel more of a telefilm than a big budget silver screen production. It doesn’t help the ensemble that all of its characters are fairly thinly drawn, but – come the big finish – the flick is a forgivable 107 minutes with as good looking a bunch of budding astronauts as you’re ever liable to find. (Need I remind you: Capshaw, Thompson, and Preston! They’re heavenly bodies, each and every one!)
RECOMMENDED.
So long as you can make it through the film’s first forty-five minutes or so, SpaceCamp actually isn’t half bad. It’s pure escapism, but its second half is handled much better than the first: character introductions are a bit saccharin, giving the story the feel more of a telefilm than a big budget silver screen production. It doesn’t help the ensemble that all of its characters are fairly thinly drawn, but – come the big finish – the flick is a forgivable 107 minutes with as good looking a bunch of budding astronauts as you’re ever liable to find. (Need I remind you: Capshaw, Thompson, and Preston! They’re heavenly bodies, each and every one!)
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber / Kino Classics provided me with a Blu-ray of SPACECAMP by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
- Published on
Harry O. Hoyt's The Lost World Is Found Anew
Like so many viewers of my generation, I’ve always struggled with enjoying silent films.
This isn’t because I can’t find silent films of merit: I can, but it’s just that having grown up (and old) with the vastly improved delivery of sound makes going back to a markedly different format occasionally difficult. For example, the narrative pacing of silent pictures tends to almost begrudgingly allow for the slowest readers on Earth to take in every possible nuance from card inserts (those clips of written speech), and I find myself wishing from time to time for all of it to speed up. While the visuals and performances are enough to maintain my interest, I almost wish there were a way to dub in a vocal track for those of us with ‘challenged’ attention spans (blasphemous, I know), but – as they say – it is what it is.
However, I do a fair amount of research in the realm of Science Fiction and Fantasy, and when a specific title keeps popping up in my reading I almost always add that feature to my ‘must see’ list; and 1925’s THE LOST WORLD has been near the top of said list for some time. It’s a motion picture that has often been linked with the 1933 version of KING KONG for its dynamic use of stop motion animation in storytelling, demonstrating what was visually possible in cinema’s earlier days. The chief reason I’d held off in exploring any available version of the film was that – from what I’d read – there were just no good ‘cuts’ out there: all known prints were destroyed only a few short years after its release, and THE LOST WORLD in its original form was essentially lost to history.
Lo and behold, Flicker Alley – with a host of other contributors – have achieved what was once unimaginable: they scoured collections around the world, and – having located bits and pieces of footage remaining – they’ve assembled as close as we’re likely ever to see a Blu-ray edition of WORLD for today’s discriminating home video audiences. Furthermore, they’ve given their version a 2K restoration along with an entirely new score, making the disc a ‘must’ for both aficionados of silent pictures and vintage special effects.
So does THE LOST WORLD measure up to its reputation?
For those unaware, WORLD is based on the novel by famed Sherlock Holmes literary creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and tells the story of Professor Challenger’s quest to prove his claim that dinosaurs still walk the Earth on a secret plateau in South America. Scorned by London’s science foundations, Challenger (played by Wallace Beery) gathers a crew of interested explorers – including struggling journalist Ed Malone (Lloyd Hughes) – and sails around the world in search of proof. Eventually, they reach their famed destination, only to find themselves caught up in a race against time as a volcanic eruption threatens the survival of man and beast!
This isn’t because I can’t find silent films of merit: I can, but it’s just that having grown up (and old) with the vastly improved delivery of sound makes going back to a markedly different format occasionally difficult. For example, the narrative pacing of silent pictures tends to almost begrudgingly allow for the slowest readers on Earth to take in every possible nuance from card inserts (those clips of written speech), and I find myself wishing from time to time for all of it to speed up. While the visuals and performances are enough to maintain my interest, I almost wish there were a way to dub in a vocal track for those of us with ‘challenged’ attention spans (blasphemous, I know), but – as they say – it is what it is.
However, I do a fair amount of research in the realm of Science Fiction and Fantasy, and when a specific title keeps popping up in my reading I almost always add that feature to my ‘must see’ list; and 1925’s THE LOST WORLD has been near the top of said list for some time. It’s a motion picture that has often been linked with the 1933 version of KING KONG for its dynamic use of stop motion animation in storytelling, demonstrating what was visually possible in cinema’s earlier days. The chief reason I’d held off in exploring any available version of the film was that – from what I’d read – there were just no good ‘cuts’ out there: all known prints were destroyed only a few short years after its release, and THE LOST WORLD in its original form was essentially lost to history.
Lo and behold, Flicker Alley – with a host of other contributors – have achieved what was once unimaginable: they scoured collections around the world, and – having located bits and pieces of footage remaining – they’ve assembled as close as we’re likely ever to see a Blu-ray edition of WORLD for today’s discriminating home video audiences. Furthermore, they’ve given their version a 2K restoration along with an entirely new score, making the disc a ‘must’ for both aficionados of silent pictures and vintage special effects.
So does THE LOST WORLD measure up to its reputation?
For those unaware, WORLD is based on the novel by famed Sherlock Holmes literary creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and tells the story of Professor Challenger’s quest to prove his claim that dinosaurs still walk the Earth on a secret plateau in South America. Scorned by London’s science foundations, Challenger (played by Wallace Beery) gathers a crew of interested explorers – including struggling journalist Ed Malone (Lloyd Hughes) – and sails around the world in search of proof. Eventually, they reach their famed destination, only to find themselves caught up in a race against time as a volcanic eruption threatens the survival of man and beast!
Essentially, the Marion Fairfax script predates today’s big tent-pole blockbusters by nearly a century as the populist tale incorporates everything you’d want in a summer spectacular: herculean special effects, bold adventurers, and even a love triangle all mix together vividly thanks to Harry O. Hoyt’s direction. This isn’t to say that all of the characters are well drawn and their motivations spelled out perfectly – in fact, the love triangle practically comes out of nowhere, and the thinness of the involved characters might produce one or two unintended laughs – but it’s clear to see how WORLD employed a solid formula to achieve a balanced, easy-to-swallow concoction. In fact, it’s a recipe audiences saw a few short years later in the aforementioned KONG as well as Steven Spielberg’s JURASSIC PARK and (more so) THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK.
All of that said, I could still make an argument for this particular WORLD being more of an acquired taste. The pacing of the first half is a bit slow (there’s an understandable amount of backstory involved in establishing the handful of characters, some of which ends up being a bit superfluous in retrospect), and not every artistic decision Hoyt employs is clear. WORLD's various segments are kinda/sorta set apart via tinting, and – despite my watching closely – I’m not entirely certain what if anything the director was trying to say about a particular sequence by “coloring” it with a certain color; while some viewers may find that interesting, I honestly thought it was more distracting than it needed to be, and at one point I wished everything had simply been left in black’n’white.
To their credit, Flicker Alley and its partners have loaded this release with a wealth of special features. The packaging includes a written essay exploring the film’s restoration challenges; and the disc itself includes a few related short films, image galleries, and an audio commentary by film historian Nicolas Ciccione: it’s a good track, though I found it a bit light on trivia specific to WORLD as Ciccione spends an inordinate amount of time comparing the picture to the original novel as well as exploring ideas unfilmed from the shooting script, but he does draw useful attention to some gaps still existing in the narrative due the film’s disappearance and reemergence practically a century later. All-in-all, it’s an impressive package, one I’ve spent several hours with already and will probably explore a bit more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Flicker Alley provided me with a Blu-ray of THE LOST WORLD by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
All of that said, I could still make an argument for this particular WORLD being more of an acquired taste. The pacing of the first half is a bit slow (there’s an understandable amount of backstory involved in establishing the handful of characters, some of which ends up being a bit superfluous in retrospect), and not every artistic decision Hoyt employs is clear. WORLD's various segments are kinda/sorta set apart via tinting, and – despite my watching closely – I’m not entirely certain what if anything the director was trying to say about a particular sequence by “coloring” it with a certain color; while some viewers may find that interesting, I honestly thought it was more distracting than it needed to be, and at one point I wished everything had simply been left in black’n’white.
To their credit, Flicker Alley and its partners have loaded this release with a wealth of special features. The packaging includes a written essay exploring the film’s restoration challenges; and the disc itself includes a few related short films, image galleries, and an audio commentary by film historian Nicolas Ciccione: it’s a good track, though I found it a bit light on trivia specific to WORLD as Ciccione spends an inordinate amount of time comparing the picture to the original novel as well as exploring ideas unfilmed from the shooting script, but he does draw useful attention to some gaps still existing in the narrative due the film’s disappearance and reemergence practically a century later. All-in-all, it’s an impressive package, one I’ve spent several hours with already and will probably explore a bit more.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Flicker Alley provided me with a Blu-ray of THE LOST WORLD by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
- Published on
Alien: Covenant Is A Little Too Much 'Been There, Done That'
I have no trouble admitting that I’m not a big fan of “the sequel.”
Generally speaking, sequels tend to dilute the power of the original. In an almost parasitic way, they “leech” off the strength of what came before in hopes of increasing a new chapter’s unproven , untested potential. Instead of boldly going where no one has gone before, these follow-ups tend to take what’s already been established and plunk that down in a new setting with new effects; and studio executives hope that audiences will continue to feed from the trough without noticing very little new flavor has been added to the gruel.
Now, I’ll also admit that this isn’t always the case. The Marvel films, in particular, have demonstrated a modern talent to add something to the mythology with successive installments, widening its comic book universe with memorable additions worth their own screen time. Superman II did the same back in the 1980’s, giving Big Blue himself villains of equal strength with unmatched ruthlessness, requiring him to use his brain instead of his solar-powered brawn to defeat them in the end. And – dare I miss? – The Empire Strikes Back launched Luke and his friends on their own near-spiritual journey to find love, loss, and the Light Side of the Force in that galaxy far, far away.
In contrast, the Alien franchise has had less-than-stellar results. While Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986) are a terrific one-two punch ably demonstrating how to successfully broaden the world-building cinema and expand the fan base, Alien 3 is often maligned as a disappointing miscalculation that killed much of the property’s cinematic appeal by burying it under layers of gloom. Alien: Resurrection has been called the franchise’s “bad joke” largely owed to Joss Whedon’s surprisingly uninventive script and Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s equally uninteresting direction. I won’t even trouble with examining AvP: Aliens Vs. Predator (2004) or Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem (2007) not because they don’t deserve it but rather because it’s pretty clear that the films were popcorn films and weren’t perhaps clearly thought out as chapters in the overall arch of the Alien franchise.
Thus we arrive at the current destination involving Prometheus (2012) and – more recently – Alien: Covenant.
Generally speaking, sequels tend to dilute the power of the original. In an almost parasitic way, they “leech” off the strength of what came before in hopes of increasing a new chapter’s unproven , untested potential. Instead of boldly going where no one has gone before, these follow-ups tend to take what’s already been established and plunk that down in a new setting with new effects; and studio executives hope that audiences will continue to feed from the trough without noticing very little new flavor has been added to the gruel.
Now, I’ll also admit that this isn’t always the case. The Marvel films, in particular, have demonstrated a modern talent to add something to the mythology with successive installments, widening its comic book universe with memorable additions worth their own screen time. Superman II did the same back in the 1980’s, giving Big Blue himself villains of equal strength with unmatched ruthlessness, requiring him to use his brain instead of his solar-powered brawn to defeat them in the end. And – dare I miss? – The Empire Strikes Back launched Luke and his friends on their own near-spiritual journey to find love, loss, and the Light Side of the Force in that galaxy far, far away.
In contrast, the Alien franchise has had less-than-stellar results. While Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986) are a terrific one-two punch ably demonstrating how to successfully broaden the world-building cinema and expand the fan base, Alien 3 is often maligned as a disappointing miscalculation that killed much of the property’s cinematic appeal by burying it under layers of gloom. Alien: Resurrection has been called the franchise’s “bad joke” largely owed to Joss Whedon’s surprisingly uninventive script and Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s equally uninteresting direction. I won’t even trouble with examining AvP: Aliens Vs. Predator (2004) or Aliens Vs. Predator: Requiem (2007) not because they don’t deserve it but rather because it’s pretty clear that the films were popcorn films and weren’t perhaps clearly thought out as chapters in the overall arch of the Alien franchise.
Thus we arrive at the current destination involving Prometheus (2012) and – more recently – Alien: Covenant.
For the record, Prometheus both was and wasn’t embraced as a film expanding upon the totality of the Xenomorph saga. For a time, even Ridley Scott insisted in press interviews that it's unfair to examine it as the next chapter but instead a kinda/sorta cosmic detour within the same universe. (Mind you, there was a time when everyone involved with Prometheus insisted it wasn’t even an Alien film!) I’ve always felt that the resulting confusion didn’t quite serve the film all that well – how do you market much less discuss a story that both does and doesn’t “exist” within the established mythology – but the feature still managed to erect its own narrative foundation: viewers gathered trivial tidbit after trivial tidbit about what the galaxy looked like before Scott’s seminal Alien. It may not have been all that interesting; it may not have been all the revelatory; but it managed to “fit” like an awkward puzzle piece into a hole audiences hadn’t seen.
Alien: Covenant (2017) takes place ten years after Prometheus's events, and – as even the title proves – the director, the screenwriters, and all players were (finally) aware of whether or not their chapter was part and parcel of the space saga. To its credit – and maybe its detriment – Covenant expands upon most of the themes explored in its prequel, namely some ideas involving divinity, creation, and faith.
From the film’s IMDB.com profile:
“The crew of a colony ship, bound for a remote planet, discover an uncharted paradise with a threat beyond their imagination, and must attempt a harrowing escape.”
If some of what I wrote above is unclear, then let me state this emphatically: time itself has helped Prometheus inevitably ‘find’ an audience, and I suspect the same will be said of Covenant.
Alien: Covenant (2017) takes place ten years after Prometheus's events, and – as even the title proves – the director, the screenwriters, and all players were (finally) aware of whether or not their chapter was part and parcel of the space saga. To its credit – and maybe its detriment – Covenant expands upon most of the themes explored in its prequel, namely some ideas involving divinity, creation, and faith.
From the film’s IMDB.com profile:
“The crew of a colony ship, bound for a remote planet, discover an uncharted paradise with a threat beyond their imagination, and must attempt a harrowing escape.”
If some of what I wrote above is unclear, then let me state this emphatically: time itself has helped Prometheus inevitably ‘find’ an audience, and I suspect the same will be said of Covenant.
For a film with ‘alien’ in the title, the latest from Ridley Scott has very little of it (or them) in there. In fact, nearly the first half of the two-hour flick is void of any; and – once they do show up – they’re not really the Xenomorph we’ve come to know and love. Instead, viewers are treated to what is best called an earlier, alternative version of them. The script clarifies why that is – basically, the short skinny is that they’re a bio-engineer pathogen – but never quite explains why they were built except apparently to serve as a civilization-ending weapon. As has sadly become the case in so much of cinema these days, the aliens are not practical effects but CGI constructions; call me ‘outdated’ but there’s still something to be said for in-camera scares versus computer trickery.
What is learned as the story develops into the second half is that these hungry critters are the manufacture of the last film’s synthetic David (as played by Michael Fassbender). Not only did he loose them on this unsuspecting world but also he’s spent the better part of the last ten years tinkering with their genetics, dramatically expanding upon the whole “son becomes the father” theme of Prometheus (where David was paired up with Peter Weyland – his maker – as played by Guy Pearce). For reasons never quite made clear, David has turned all psycho and is hell-bent on wiping out mankind, seeing it as an inferior species the way Science Fiction has painted artificial intelligence over the past few decades.
However, complicating David’s quest to fulfill our extinction is Walter, Covenant’s synthetic (also played by Fassbender). Walter is the improved David, one who has the added benefit of evolution, that fateful process science says takes place after life itself is created. Only a dullard would fail to see that Covenant exists largely for these two of mankind’s children to textually bump heads; and the tail end of the script ends up being a somewhat hackneyed, big screen version of 1960's Star Trek where Good Kirk and Bad Kirk share screen time to duke it out mano a mano.
Unfortunately, everyone else in Covenant feels very much like a character we’ve seen before, perhaps even in the same franchise. Katherine Waterson’s Daniels – another of the film’s protagonists – is a smaller version of Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley but with vastly kinder eyes; she’s inflicted with a tragedy at the film’s outset that largely sets her character’s arc in motion. Billy Crudup’s Oram assumes the captaincy after said tragedy, but as he’s a Faith-based character it’s pretty clear right up front that not only will all of his decisions be flawed but also he’s destined for the graveyard once the wheel turns. (Think of Charles S. Dutton’s scripture-quoting preacher from Alien 3 but lose all of the theatrical bravado.) Danny McBride’s Tennessee evokes the joint aura of Alien’s Brett and Parker (played by Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Kotto, respectively), serving as little more than a foul-mouthed Blue Collar addition to a largely White Collar crew.
What is learned as the story develops into the second half is that these hungry critters are the manufacture of the last film’s synthetic David (as played by Michael Fassbender). Not only did he loose them on this unsuspecting world but also he’s spent the better part of the last ten years tinkering with their genetics, dramatically expanding upon the whole “son becomes the father” theme of Prometheus (where David was paired up with Peter Weyland – his maker – as played by Guy Pearce). For reasons never quite made clear, David has turned all psycho and is hell-bent on wiping out mankind, seeing it as an inferior species the way Science Fiction has painted artificial intelligence over the past few decades.
However, complicating David’s quest to fulfill our extinction is Walter, Covenant’s synthetic (also played by Fassbender). Walter is the improved David, one who has the added benefit of evolution, that fateful process science says takes place after life itself is created. Only a dullard would fail to see that Covenant exists largely for these two of mankind’s children to textually bump heads; and the tail end of the script ends up being a somewhat hackneyed, big screen version of 1960's Star Trek where Good Kirk and Bad Kirk share screen time to duke it out mano a mano.
Unfortunately, everyone else in Covenant feels very much like a character we’ve seen before, perhaps even in the same franchise. Katherine Waterson’s Daniels – another of the film’s protagonists – is a smaller version of Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley but with vastly kinder eyes; she’s inflicted with a tragedy at the film’s outset that largely sets her character’s arc in motion. Billy Crudup’s Oram assumes the captaincy after said tragedy, but as he’s a Faith-based character it’s pretty clear right up front that not only will all of his decisions be flawed but also he’s destined for the graveyard once the wheel turns. (Think of Charles S. Dutton’s scripture-quoting preacher from Alien 3 but lose all of the theatrical bravado.) Danny McBride’s Tennessee evokes the joint aura of Alien’s Brett and Parker (played by Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Kotto, respectively), serving as little more than a foul-mouthed Blue Collar addition to a largely White Collar crew.
In case you’re missing it, let me be succinct: my chief complaint with Covenant is that, yes, we’ve been here before. Maybe not literally but certainly thematically. When crafting a sequel to a long-standing commodity, I ‘get’ that maybe you don’t have to be entirely original but in the very least one would hope we’d be treated to something fresh or inspired. For truth in advertising, it probably would’ve been more accurate to advertise this as “Prometheus 2” as there’s very little in here that could stand on its own without having seen that motion picture. That isn’t a bad thing … unless you were hoping to avoid similar box office receipts.
If you’re a major studio and you’re looking to capitalize on the success of Alien, then why not put “Alien” in the title of all of your releases, even those that have nothing to do with that universe? Next summer, check out “Alien: The Simpsons.” And after that “Alien: Facehuggers For The Planet Of The Apes”? Coming this holiday season: “Alien: Home Alone 3”!
When all is said and done, I suppose the least that a franchise fan can hope for is that all subsequent chapters add something of substance to the legacy -- however small -- and I’m honestly at a loss as to what might stem from Alien: Covenant. As I all too often have to say, it isn’t a bad film … it’s just flawed. And utterly devoid of hope, a sentiment also present in every previous installment thus far.
What is more singularly human than "hope"?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at 20th Century Fox provided me with the digital access to view Alien: Covenant for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their kind contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
If you’re a major studio and you’re looking to capitalize on the success of Alien, then why not put “Alien” in the title of all of your releases, even those that have nothing to do with that universe? Next summer, check out “Alien: The Simpsons.” And after that “Alien: Facehuggers For The Planet Of The Apes”? Coming this holiday season: “Alien: Home Alone 3”!
When all is said and done, I suppose the least that a franchise fan can hope for is that all subsequent chapters add something of substance to the legacy -- however small -- and I’m honestly at a loss as to what might stem from Alien: Covenant. As I all too often have to say, it isn’t a bad film … it’s just flawed. And utterly devoid of hope, a sentiment also present in every previous installment thus far.
What is more singularly human than "hope"?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at 20th Century Fox provided me with the digital access to view Alien: Covenant for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their kind contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
- Published on
Rogue Warrior Goes Rogue In Its Storytelling
I’ve honestly always had a love for independent films.
As I’ve often opined, the traditional indie feature manages to tell a story without the typical studio influence – fewer chefs in the kitchen to muddle up the stew, less product placement to pull viewers out of the experience – and ends up generally delivering rawer content. Granted, it may be argued that no indie flick is perfect, but I’ve found giving a storyteller greater creative freedom to weave a suitable tapestry is rarely a bad thing. If nothing else, the picture will sink or swim on its own merits, and there’s nothing wrong with the artistic gamble from time to time.
Science fiction – on the other hand – is often a very hard sell on the indie circuit. Largely, this is because SciFi and/or Fantasy features more often than not require a healthy dose of special effects, and these efforts can add significant economic weight to any fledgling, small(ish) project before everything else is “in the can.” Practical effects rarely work as well as computer-generated ones, and audiences tend to shy away from any SciFi spectacle which looks less than spectacular.
Furthermore, the stuff of SciFi – things like artificial intelligence, augmented reality, or alien civilizations – have rarely fit within the standard indie mold. The truest SciFi relies on world-building, and indie flicks are thematically more geared toward tearing down world views, often aligned with heavy emotional consequence. Now, don’t get me wrong: some of the best Science Fiction products of, say, the last two generations have easily tinkered with the kind of existential angst one finds in grittier, more realistic films, but today’s mainstream audiences tend to respond better to these tropes being visually represented on the silver screen with more flash and sizzle needed to fuel a trilogy than any single artsy film. I couldn’t say why, but – for this reviewer – it’s refreshing to see so many heavily-laden CG projects collapse under the weight of their own pixels (i.e. 2015’s Jupiter Ascending comes to mind, along with the much more recent failure of 2017’s Valerian And The City Of A Thousand Planets, a film with words to spare in its title). Look no further than AMC’s Humans (or even the Swedish original Real Humans) to see that good SciFi can exist without all of those phasers, transporters, and warp core technobabble, much less their visual requirements.
And perhaps that’s why I found Neil Johnson’s ROGUE WARRIOR: ROBOT FIGHTER so confounding.
Succinctly, this is an indie picture than never quite looks like an indie picture. At times it does, but its graphics occasional hint at a major box office release. Visually, it’s astonishingly uneven, almost as if the story morphed from something it once was into something everyone discovered in-transit it could instead be. At times gritty and dystopian, I feel like ‘Rogue’ went rogue, its finished product falling right smack in that middle ground – the kind of place which used to be heavily populated with the traditional B-movie. But it both does and doesn’t look like a B-movie … does it?
As I’ve often opined, the traditional indie feature manages to tell a story without the typical studio influence – fewer chefs in the kitchen to muddle up the stew, less product placement to pull viewers out of the experience – and ends up generally delivering rawer content. Granted, it may be argued that no indie flick is perfect, but I’ve found giving a storyteller greater creative freedom to weave a suitable tapestry is rarely a bad thing. If nothing else, the picture will sink or swim on its own merits, and there’s nothing wrong with the artistic gamble from time to time.
Science fiction – on the other hand – is often a very hard sell on the indie circuit. Largely, this is because SciFi and/or Fantasy features more often than not require a healthy dose of special effects, and these efforts can add significant economic weight to any fledgling, small(ish) project before everything else is “in the can.” Practical effects rarely work as well as computer-generated ones, and audiences tend to shy away from any SciFi spectacle which looks less than spectacular.
Furthermore, the stuff of SciFi – things like artificial intelligence, augmented reality, or alien civilizations – have rarely fit within the standard indie mold. The truest SciFi relies on world-building, and indie flicks are thematically more geared toward tearing down world views, often aligned with heavy emotional consequence. Now, don’t get me wrong: some of the best Science Fiction products of, say, the last two generations have easily tinkered with the kind of existential angst one finds in grittier, more realistic films, but today’s mainstream audiences tend to respond better to these tropes being visually represented on the silver screen with more flash and sizzle needed to fuel a trilogy than any single artsy film. I couldn’t say why, but – for this reviewer – it’s refreshing to see so many heavily-laden CG projects collapse under the weight of their own pixels (i.e. 2015’s Jupiter Ascending comes to mind, along with the much more recent failure of 2017’s Valerian And The City Of A Thousand Planets, a film with words to spare in its title). Look no further than AMC’s Humans (or even the Swedish original Real Humans) to see that good SciFi can exist without all of those phasers, transporters, and warp core technobabble, much less their visual requirements.
And perhaps that’s why I found Neil Johnson’s ROGUE WARRIOR: ROBOT FIGHTER so confounding.
Succinctly, this is an indie picture than never quite looks like an indie picture. At times it does, but its graphics occasional hint at a major box office release. Visually, it’s astonishingly uneven, almost as if the story morphed from something it once was into something everyone discovered in-transit it could instead be. At times gritty and dystopian, I feel like ‘Rogue’ went rogue, its finished product falling right smack in that middle ground – the kind of place which used to be heavily populated with the traditional B-movie. But it both does and doesn’t look like a B-movie … does it?
From the product packaging:
“Sienna, a Rogue Warrior fighting a hyper-weaponized robot army, flees to the center of the galaxy in search of a mythical weapon that can neutralize any form of A.I. Pursued by giant machines, Sienna loses everything she cares about in an effort to save the last vestiges of humanity in an A.I. controlled universe."
Science fiction fans have a lot of respect for their motion pictures. They’ll happily swallow a bit of bilge from time to time so long as the payoff is worth the ride. They can be incredibly forgiving if they’re given something reasonable in exchange for the silence, be it some splashy action sequences, a fantastic lead performance, or a swelling symphonic score. More than perhaps any other genre, SciFi’s fanatics have fueled the success of such ongoing enterprises as Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Star Trek; and they’re always on the lookout for another.
Though it pushes a lot of the right stuff (pun intended), Rogue Warrior will likely not be that property. Writer/Director Neil Johnson stuffed his film with many of the usual ingredients – war-gutted worlds of tomorrow, gun-blazing robots, spaceships and starfields aplenty – but not all of this added up to a satisfying conclusion, even leaving the film open for more, a dreaded misnomer for the typical indie fare. The lovely Tracey Birdsall suitably headlines the space adventure, grounding it with a performance possibly as uneven as the narrative but still managing to command enough moxie to get an audience rooting for her along the way. I wanted to root for her more, and a stronger, more cohesive story might’ve accomplished that.
Perhaps the failure here is best attributed to a story that feels as derivative as it does diluted. Plenty of films have already explored mankind’s blighted future to great effect, and still more have peeled back the destructive layers of what happens once the machines we invent turn against us. Rogue is packed to the gills with ideas – Earth’s resistance, genetic manipulation, vengeance by proxy, etc. – and thinning the narrative herd here may’ve given Sienna a cause – one single, solitary cause – that better served the story from start to finish. But Johnson’s script meanders through an awful lot of smaller moments – a prison break, a secret origin, comically bumpy characters, and awkward sex (!!!) – and I found it hard to wrap my arms around what this heroine truly stood for much less what she needed (not ‘wanted’) to accomplish.
“Sienna, a Rogue Warrior fighting a hyper-weaponized robot army, flees to the center of the galaxy in search of a mythical weapon that can neutralize any form of A.I. Pursued by giant machines, Sienna loses everything she cares about in an effort to save the last vestiges of humanity in an A.I. controlled universe."
Science fiction fans have a lot of respect for their motion pictures. They’ll happily swallow a bit of bilge from time to time so long as the payoff is worth the ride. They can be incredibly forgiving if they’re given something reasonable in exchange for the silence, be it some splashy action sequences, a fantastic lead performance, or a swelling symphonic score. More than perhaps any other genre, SciFi’s fanatics have fueled the success of such ongoing enterprises as Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Star Trek; and they’re always on the lookout for another.
Though it pushes a lot of the right stuff (pun intended), Rogue Warrior will likely not be that property. Writer/Director Neil Johnson stuffed his film with many of the usual ingredients – war-gutted worlds of tomorrow, gun-blazing robots, spaceships and starfields aplenty – but not all of this added up to a satisfying conclusion, even leaving the film open for more, a dreaded misnomer for the typical indie fare. The lovely Tracey Birdsall suitably headlines the space adventure, grounding it with a performance possibly as uneven as the narrative but still managing to command enough moxie to get an audience rooting for her along the way. I wanted to root for her more, and a stronger, more cohesive story might’ve accomplished that.
Perhaps the failure here is best attributed to a story that feels as derivative as it does diluted. Plenty of films have already explored mankind’s blighted future to great effect, and still more have peeled back the destructive layers of what happens once the machines we invent turn against us. Rogue is packed to the gills with ideas – Earth’s resistance, genetic manipulation, vengeance by proxy, etc. – and thinning the narrative herd here may’ve given Sienna a cause – one single, solitary cause – that better served the story from start to finish. But Johnson’s script meanders through an awful lot of smaller moments – a prison break, a secret origin, comically bumpy characters, and awkward sex (!!!) – and I found it hard to wrap my arms around what this heroine truly stood for much less what she needed (not ‘wanted’) to accomplish.
Birdsall’s acting is sporadically rough, and I kept wondering if this was owed to the needs of the dramatic circumstance or loose direction. Her action sequences were stronger than the quieter moments, and I think (again) a script that exploited those talents would’ve improved the end result. The always watchable Daz Crawford chews scenery when required, and the affable Tim McGrath clearly delivers a grounded performance as one of tomorrow’s nerdy techs doing what he can to survive against the odds. There’s a floating A.I. named Hoagland – a possible allusion to scientist/conspiracist Richard Hoagland, I assume – who musters a few laughs, many of which frankly the feature could’ve done without.
All of this said, Rogue Warrior isn’t a bad film, and – in truth – it’s far from it. (For the record, I’ve seen far, far worse film releases from far, far more reputable production companies and auteurs – here’s looking at you, Michael Bay.) As a story, it’s a bit jumbled with far too much exposition required to sell the premise, and the thinly drawn characters don’t serve the narrative the way they possibly could were the ideas and concepts here anchored more firmly. Sadly, a few scenes do come off a bit absurd as they’re clearly shot in a contemporary residence (and its backyard) while all other locations are understandably bombed out beyond oblivion.
I could make a strong argument that while the flick embraces a few tenets of the traditional B-movie it could be seen by hardcore SciFi fans and maybe even a fair share of the independent film circuit if for no better reason than to demonstrate what’s entirely possible these days with a modest budget. At times, the feature’s cinematography looks far too impressive for its own good, though some of the interiors end up getting washed out by way, way, way too much artistic lens flare.
Lastly, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that Rogue has been the recipient of several awards on the festival circuit. While perhaps not garnering the critical praise all involved wanted, there’s something to be said for folks ‘in the know’ recognizing efforts worthy of distinction. I don’t always agree with those organizations, but – as I said – I’d give this one a thumb’s up for the effort: it definitely tried hard to be something special. My quibbles tend to revolve around the totality of the effort not delivering on its promise, but Johnson and Birdsall remain “ones to watch” in the territory of SciFi and Fantasy.
All of this said, Rogue Warrior isn’t a bad film, and – in truth – it’s far from it. (For the record, I’ve seen far, far worse film releases from far, far more reputable production companies and auteurs – here’s looking at you, Michael Bay.) As a story, it’s a bit jumbled with far too much exposition required to sell the premise, and the thinly drawn characters don’t serve the narrative the way they possibly could were the ideas and concepts here anchored more firmly. Sadly, a few scenes do come off a bit absurd as they’re clearly shot in a contemporary residence (and its backyard) while all other locations are understandably bombed out beyond oblivion.
I could make a strong argument that while the flick embraces a few tenets of the traditional B-movie it could be seen by hardcore SciFi fans and maybe even a fair share of the independent film circuit if for no better reason than to demonstrate what’s entirely possible these days with a modest budget. At times, the feature’s cinematography looks far too impressive for its own good, though some of the interiors end up getting washed out by way, way, way too much artistic lens flare.
Lastly, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that Rogue has been the recipient of several awards on the festival circuit. While perhaps not garnering the critical praise all involved wanted, there’s something to be said for folks ‘in the know’ recognizing efforts worthy of distinction. I don’t always agree with those organizations, but – as I said – I’d give this one a thumb’s up for the effort: it definitely tried hard to be something special. My quibbles tend to revolve around the totality of the effort not delivering on its promise, but Johnson and Birdsall remain “ones to watch” in the territory of SciFi and Fantasy.
Rogue Warrior: Robot Fighter (2017) is produced by Empire Motion Pictures and Pacific Coast Entertainment. DVD distribution is being handled via eOne (aka Entertainment One). As for the technical specifications? The overall production is fairly smartly assembled, though I’ll admit I encountered some difficulty understanding all of the over-modulated A.I. audio tracks, and I had to back up the scene a few ticks to listen to it twice in order to be entirely certain what was said. (Never a good thing.) Lastly, if special features are your thing, there’s a director’s commentary along with some making-of materials and a handful of cast interviews to consume: it’s definitely a nice assortment.
RECOMMENDED. While the story has a fair share of “been there, done that” moments, ROGUE WARRIOR: ROBOT FIGHTER manages to look fairly solid. Truth be told, I honestly believe a tighter cut could’ve vastly improved the pacing, especially given the script’s reliance on “telling” what happened versus “showing” (much of it the backstory). While imperfect, the film still boggles the mind over what’s possible with indie features in the modern age.
RECOMMENDED. While the story has a fair share of “been there, done that” moments, ROGUE WARRIOR: ROBOT FIGHTER manages to look fairly solid. Truth be told, I honestly believe a tighter cut could’ve vastly improved the pacing, especially given the script’s reliance on “telling” what happened versus “showing” (much of it the backstory). While imperfect, the film still boggles the mind over what’s possible with indie features in the modern age.
- Published on
2017's Rogue Warrior Is Now Screencapped!
Happy Eclipse Monday to all of SciFiHistory.Net's readers! I hope no one was unnecessarily blinded by today's celestial event and that everyone took the proper precautions to take in a gander at one of the hottest things in the Sol System ... namely our sun.
But speaking of "hot things" ...
The lovely Tracey Birdsall has made a foray into the realm of SciFi/Indie pics with her latest video release of Rogue Warrior: Robot Fighter. I'm in the process of penning a review for the site, and -- in the meantime -- I wanted to share that I've put up a collection of screencaps from the DVD. (The short skinny is that it's an impressively photographed motion picture, and I tried to put up only the best snaps from my collection.) If you're interested, then you can check them out right here.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
But speaking of "hot things" ...
The lovely Tracey Birdsall has made a foray into the realm of SciFi/Indie pics with her latest video release of Rogue Warrior: Robot Fighter. I'm in the process of penning a review for the site, and -- in the meantime -- I wanted to share that I've put up a collection of screencaps from the DVD. (The short skinny is that it's an impressively photographed motion picture, and I tried to put up only the best snaps from my collection.) If you're interested, then you can check them out right here.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
- Published on
Screenwriter David Carren Remembers His Time Aboard NBC's Buck Rogers ... And Beyond
When David Carren made the jump from his failed start as a West Texas journalist to Hollywood screenwriting, he acknowledges that it was truly an education by way of the ‘School of Hard Knocks.’ “In the 1970’s, there really were no books about TV writing,” he cautions, “and there were no classes in screenwriting. Most of the shows (of that era) weren’t very good because they were knockoffs of old movies, and they’d just look at an older idea and try to invent it with something new.”
In that respect, he admits there were many lessons he had to learn by way of unintentional mistakes. “I was totally inexperienced: you don’t want to put rain, water, or animals in a scene. You don’t want to spray glass (i.e. window breaking) because that’s a one-take operation, and it’s very expensive to produce.”
Carren even confesses his script for “Return Of The Fighting 69th” – a first season adventure for NBC’s Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, his first full-fledged screen effort – taught him a valuable warning involving warfare.
“I had this idea of using a machine gun that no one of Buck’s era knew what it was, and squibs were an elaborate and expensive gag,” he laughs. “Well, the machine gun kept jamming! The M1’s were perfect, but anything else jammed. If you look carefully at the show, right as Buck’s about to back out of the door and he’s shooting it up at the air, it stops shooting and Gerard has this brief look of frustration on his face as the door closes. That damn thing jammed every take! I can’t believe we won the war with those things!”
Still, what Carren did have was an inexhaustible love of film as well as a desire to tell his own stories, even if that meant borrowing the voices of characters already created to get his start. So he took a bus ride in 1974 from Texas to California, and the rest – as they say – is history. The man’s IMDB.com profile today boasts a resume of over two hundred different credits in writing and/or production; and he’s made contributions to such television properties as Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek: The Next Generation, Gerry Anderson’s Space Precinct, William Shatner’s TekWar, and Syfy’s long-running Stargate:SG-1.
“The thing about writing for television is that the show has its own world and its own characters,” Carren explains, “and those characters have their own voices. With any TV show you work for, you have to have your character’s voice patterned or similar or recognizable as the voices of the characters that have been established. Most writers understandably get into writing to do their own stuff. It’s actually a relatively small number of writers who can develop a career of any length or position in TV because they have to be chameleons mimicking the voices of their work with voices that have been established … and that’s often very difficult for a lot of people to do.”
However, getting a start in the 1970’s did offer Carren a unique advantage over those attempting to break-in to today’s competitive marketplace, that being even inexperienced yet talented writers could get an agent who could open doors to the ‘story pitching’ process.
In that respect, he admits there were many lessons he had to learn by way of unintentional mistakes. “I was totally inexperienced: you don’t want to put rain, water, or animals in a scene. You don’t want to spray glass (i.e. window breaking) because that’s a one-take operation, and it’s very expensive to produce.”
Carren even confesses his script for “Return Of The Fighting 69th” – a first season adventure for NBC’s Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, his first full-fledged screen effort – taught him a valuable warning involving warfare.
“I had this idea of using a machine gun that no one of Buck’s era knew what it was, and squibs were an elaborate and expensive gag,” he laughs. “Well, the machine gun kept jamming! The M1’s were perfect, but anything else jammed. If you look carefully at the show, right as Buck’s about to back out of the door and he’s shooting it up at the air, it stops shooting and Gerard has this brief look of frustration on his face as the door closes. That damn thing jammed every take! I can’t believe we won the war with those things!”
Still, what Carren did have was an inexhaustible love of film as well as a desire to tell his own stories, even if that meant borrowing the voices of characters already created to get his start. So he took a bus ride in 1974 from Texas to California, and the rest – as they say – is history. The man’s IMDB.com profile today boasts a resume of over two hundred different credits in writing and/or production; and he’s made contributions to such television properties as Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek: The Next Generation, Gerry Anderson’s Space Precinct, William Shatner’s TekWar, and Syfy’s long-running Stargate:SG-1.
“The thing about writing for television is that the show has its own world and its own characters,” Carren explains, “and those characters have their own voices. With any TV show you work for, you have to have your character’s voice patterned or similar or recognizable as the voices of the characters that have been established. Most writers understandably get into writing to do their own stuff. It’s actually a relatively small number of writers who can develop a career of any length or position in TV because they have to be chameleons mimicking the voices of their work with voices that have been established … and that’s often very difficult for a lot of people to do.”
However, getting a start in the 1970’s did offer Carren a unique advantage over those attempting to break-in to today’s competitive marketplace, that being even inexperienced yet talented writers could get an agent who could open doors to the ‘story pitching’ process.
“Back in those days, there was almost only one producer and one story editor for each show,” he explains. “At most, there might have been three people in the room.” Today’s typical television program might by comparison have many, many more if production companies were still in the business of taking story pitches, a process he says disappeared in the 1990’s.
“And there’s almost no point in pitching unless someone in the room has the power to buy. For Buck Rogers, I pitched the ‘The Over-The-Hill Gang’ meets ‘Star Wars’ to Bruce Lansbury, the show’s producer.”
Perhaps because “Return Of The Fighting 69th” was his first filmed script, Carren vividly remembers his time on the set. “It was an 8-day shoot, which was very generous as most episodes were shot in 6 days. I hung out on the set every day. I was in the dailies. I hung out with the actors, which was a dream come true for any film buff.”
Indeed, Carren’s ‘Fighting 69th’ were a team of aging combat pilots forced into retirement precisely because they were considered too old to defend Earth, a sentiment the screenwriter has seen mirrored in his own life. “In Hollywood, you hit your fifties and you’re done,” he cautions in remembering the project. For that reason, many aging actors and actresses tend to transition from screen work to smaller television projects precisely because they are available and in need of work, a reality that presented Carren with what he considered the opportunity of a lifetime: to spend time on-the-set with some screen legends.
“We cast Peter Graves (Mission Impossible),” he says, “who was in between projects and available at the time. We worked with Eddie Firestone (The Great Locomotive Chase; The Law And Jake Wade) and K.T. Stevens (Port Of New York; Alfred Hitchcock Presents) who was making films in the 1940’s. We cast Robert Quarry (Perry Mason; Dr. Phibes Rises Again). And we got Woody Strode (Sergeant Rutledge; The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance)! He was making films with John Ford. See, older actors don’t work as much, and there are a lot of really good older actors. As we developed the story, we got more and more interested in these other characters.”
As to the task of writing Science Fiction – a genre which unlike many others in network television requires a significant level of world creation – Carren takes it all with a smile. “I love the challenge, but you’re always tearing your hair out. I was well read in Science Fiction. I knew the material. I knew the source material. You have to be ‘lettered’ in any genre like this. Your ideas can come from all sorts of strange places and end up in all sorts of strange places.”
His experiences in crafting stories for Buck Rogers and Star Trek: TNG programs as well as scripts for Beyond Westworld, The Powers of Matthew Star, and the 1980’s version of The Twilight Zone has led him to creating a few rules to avoid the pitfalls of SciFi screenwriting.
“And there’s almost no point in pitching unless someone in the room has the power to buy. For Buck Rogers, I pitched the ‘The Over-The-Hill Gang’ meets ‘Star Wars’ to Bruce Lansbury, the show’s producer.”
Perhaps because “Return Of The Fighting 69th” was his first filmed script, Carren vividly remembers his time on the set. “It was an 8-day shoot, which was very generous as most episodes were shot in 6 days. I hung out on the set every day. I was in the dailies. I hung out with the actors, which was a dream come true for any film buff.”
Indeed, Carren’s ‘Fighting 69th’ were a team of aging combat pilots forced into retirement precisely because they were considered too old to defend Earth, a sentiment the screenwriter has seen mirrored in his own life. “In Hollywood, you hit your fifties and you’re done,” he cautions in remembering the project. For that reason, many aging actors and actresses tend to transition from screen work to smaller television projects precisely because they are available and in need of work, a reality that presented Carren with what he considered the opportunity of a lifetime: to spend time on-the-set with some screen legends.
“We cast Peter Graves (Mission Impossible),” he says, “who was in between projects and available at the time. We worked with Eddie Firestone (The Great Locomotive Chase; The Law And Jake Wade) and K.T. Stevens (Port Of New York; Alfred Hitchcock Presents) who was making films in the 1940’s. We cast Robert Quarry (Perry Mason; Dr. Phibes Rises Again). And we got Woody Strode (Sergeant Rutledge; The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance)! He was making films with John Ford. See, older actors don’t work as much, and there are a lot of really good older actors. As we developed the story, we got more and more interested in these other characters.”
As to the task of writing Science Fiction – a genre which unlike many others in network television requires a significant level of world creation – Carren takes it all with a smile. “I love the challenge, but you’re always tearing your hair out. I was well read in Science Fiction. I knew the material. I knew the source material. You have to be ‘lettered’ in any genre like this. Your ideas can come from all sorts of strange places and end up in all sorts of strange places.”
His experiences in crafting stories for Buck Rogers and Star Trek: TNG programs as well as scripts for Beyond Westworld, The Powers of Matthew Star, and the 1980’s version of The Twilight Zone has led him to creating a few rules to avoid the pitfalls of SciFi screenwriting.
“First, whatever the franchise might be, bear in mind that Science Fiction is almost always more expensive to produce because there are almost always special effects or world-building involved or creative elements that are not off-the-shelf. Sets, props, everything has to be new every week. You could not go out and buy some clothes from Walmart or whatever and tailor them for the actors and then go to town.
“Second, you still want to create some colorful and science fictional aspect that brings out some side of that world, so the challenge is that you have to come up with an idea that fits that world, opens up some new parameter, makes things exciting, and yet you can still shoot it.”
For this reason, he cites his episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation – the popular fourth season outing “Future Imperfect” – as being one of his personal favorite creations.
“Everything used was a redress of standing sets because it was set on an alternate Enterprise,” he explains, showing how he used his rules to his professional advantage.
These days, Carren still has various projects under consideration, but more often than not he’s exploring his love of teaching the craft of screenwriting: he presently serves as an Associate Professor and Interim Chair for the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley’s Theatre, TV and Film Department, a unified program where the different artforms work together. He speaks highly of the curriculum in an environment where the various artists aren’t at odds with one another but instead collaborate, a union that vastly expands the resources available to the students. He’s even taken a page out of the history of his own professional experience and adapted it for class, taking the attendees through his process of creating a graphic novel and then adapting it for television, giving them an up-close-and-personal look at how entertainment works on varying levels.
“If there’s any advice I can give to a writer it is that you find your own voice and then be willing to speak in other people’s voices so that you can have a career,” he advises. “Take whatever you can learn, then forget it. Forget it when you get into that professional situation because it’ll be completely different. And then – when it comes in handy – remember it.”
“Second, you still want to create some colorful and science fictional aspect that brings out some side of that world, so the challenge is that you have to come up with an idea that fits that world, opens up some new parameter, makes things exciting, and yet you can still shoot it.”
For this reason, he cites his episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation – the popular fourth season outing “Future Imperfect” – as being one of his personal favorite creations.
“Everything used was a redress of standing sets because it was set on an alternate Enterprise,” he explains, showing how he used his rules to his professional advantage.
These days, Carren still has various projects under consideration, but more often than not he’s exploring his love of teaching the craft of screenwriting: he presently serves as an Associate Professor and Interim Chair for the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley’s Theatre, TV and Film Department, a unified program where the different artforms work together. He speaks highly of the curriculum in an environment where the various artists aren’t at odds with one another but instead collaborate, a union that vastly expands the resources available to the students. He’s even taken a page out of the history of his own professional experience and adapted it for class, taking the attendees through his process of creating a graphic novel and then adapting it for television, giving them an up-close-and-personal look at how entertainment works on varying levels.
“If there’s any advice I can give to a writer it is that you find your own voice and then be willing to speak in other people’s voices so that you can have a career,” he advises. “Take whatever you can learn, then forget it. Forget it when you get into that professional situation because it’ll be completely different. And then – when it comes in handy – remember it.”
- Published on
Doctor Who Holiday Special Trailer Drops
At San Diego Comic-Con
As has become the norm, there's a wealth of new material which was released to the general public after appearing at San Diego's 2017 Comic-Con events, and I'm spending some time this morning going through a few of the posts I've stumbled upon for posterity's sake. Naturally, I'll try to get up a few of the 'larger' info dumps in order to keep readers of SciFiHistory.Net 'in the know.'
The first that caught my eye was a kinda/sorta teaser-trailer for the upcoming finale of Peter Capaldi's run on Doctor Who. I'll post the YouTube.com video below, and I encourage all interested folks to check it out.
The first that caught my eye was a kinda/sorta teaser-trailer for the upcoming finale of Peter Capaldi's run on Doctor Who. I'll post the YouTube.com video below, and I encourage all interested folks to check it out.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!