Hey now, peeps, calm down!

It's entirely inaccurate to paint yours truly as a Dune hater, even in the slightest.  All you need do is (A) re-read my review where I talked about what the film meant to me as a viewer; or (B) take a good listen to this week's Above The Bar Podcast here where I very clearly communicated what an overwhelming impressive visual accomplishment the film is.  Like most films with heavy ambition, it ain't perfect ... but I stated that it's an epic that deserves being seen if for no other reason that you're going to see very few flicks of its scope in your lifetime.

So let's put that 'hating business' to bed right now.

In any event, those of us who drink heartily from the trough of Science Fiction and Fantasy have cause to celebrate as word has finally reached us with confirmation: Warner Bros. has greenlit Part One's sequel -- likely to be called "Dune: Part Two" -- based on the performance of the Denis Villeneuve feature.  And hopefully by the time it hits screens (more on that in a moment) we'll all learn how to properly pronounce the director's last name.

But ... it's good news and bad news, so far as this genre knucklehead is concerned.

For example, I mentioned on the Above The Bar Podcast that Villeneuve is already on record saying when asked about Part Two how it would be Chani's film.  (FYI: Chani is the love interest of Paul Atreides, and she's played in this version by Zendaya.)  That revelation might have some of us familiar with the material scratching our heads; while Chani is a key character in the Dune saga, she's certainly not the focus of Paul's journey as a character.  How she can become so central as to possibly take the story away from House Atreides makes me cringe just a bit.  Will Dune go 'woke'?  Perish the thought!  But I still think the franchise is in the best hands possible at this point.

Still, this curious approach to the property -- making one film but withholding production on the whole book -- is not going to do any of us any favors.

Because of the set-up, Villeneuve has confirmed that ABSOLUTELY ZERO WORK has been done in preparation for Part Two.  (For those of you insisting that "No, no, no, he's already filmed some of Part Two while doing Part One" I'd encourage you to do some serious reading on Hollywood math: this only happens IF a Part Two has been approved.  You can't spend investor capital on unapproved projects.  While there could be some unused footage still in the can that could be used for flashbacks and the like, that's likely all there is.)  And because he was never given a greenlight during Part One's production, the director is now committed to other projects: the latest word to reach the Information Superhighway is that he won't be able to even think about the sequel until late 2022, which makes Warner Bros.'s insistence of a 2023 release incredibly unlikely.

At this point, I think we'll be lucky to see Part Two in theatres until, maybe 2024 at the soonest, possibly 2025.  Big productions typically fall behind schedule because, well, they're big productions.  An awful lot of moving pieces have to come into place before it all intersects properly, so don't buy your tickets any time soon.

I'll take the win, nonetheless.  It's great to know that we're going back to Arrakis.  I just wish it was sooner instead of later.

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

-- EZ

Truth be told, I wasn't one of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine's biggest fans in its early days.

While I enjoyed the show's effective two-hour premiere episode, I thought the program all-too-quickly found itself mired in so many half-baked stand-alone episodes, and these hours never really presented this new corner of the Trek universe in such a way that compelled me to want to know more.  It's true that newly launched programs have an uphill battle to establish its new characters easily -- especially with a franchise with a fanbase as fervent as Star Trek's can be -- and I just thought most of these adventures missed their respective marks.

One of my biggest complaints were these -- ahem -- pesky Bajoran people.  Go back and look at some of DS9's earliest hours; maybe you'll agree that it was hard to tell whether they were going to be the Federation's ally or enemy.  Sure, we had the big, bad Cardassians to focus on as a main baddie (though that focus shifted as the show evolved), but I found the Bajorans equally troublesome.  They just never seemed happy, always serving more as a thorn in (then) Commander Benjamin Sisko's side while all he and his crew were trying to do was make the galaxy a better place.  Heck, even the station liaison Major Kira vacillated between a collaborator and a 'pain in the ass' in those early days; so I think it's understandably how I saw that world at the time.

Still, there was this Kai Opaka ...

Played by actress Camille Saviola, Opaka was the lone wolf of a Bajoran whose presence I enjoyed.  She only had two appearances in the first season (two more in later seasons after that), but her character had a kind of patience and grace one does find in good spiritual leaders of our day.  Though limited to not a wealth of dialogue, it was clear to see that she was designed more as an anchor for these times of crisis; and I was glad to see her stick around a bit.  As the show's storylines grew and even shifted from short form storytelling to long form, I did 'make peace' with Bajor -- learning more about a people has that effect on me.  I suspect that acceptance may've come earlier if writers had given audiences more Opaka!

Alas, sad news reached me this morning that Ms. Saviola has shaken off her mortal coil and is no longer with us.  It's sad to see anyone go, but I couldn't help but think about her time on the small screen and smile.  Her contribution to Star Trek should always be remembered.

As always, thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends in their time of need.

​-- EZ

Our faithful steward of ‘all things literary’ is back this morning with another installment of Claire Interviews!
 
This week, Claire sat down with German author and resident Anna Klapdor.  A former student of literature and theater science, she has a background in the arts as well as game design.  However, the rigors of those career choices eventually wore on her and, receiving the diagnosis of living her life with a previously undetected autism, forced her to rethink how she was spending her time.
 
“So, I quit my day job, took a break from everything except writing, and writing actually helped me get back on my feet,” Klapdor says.  “I decided that now was as good a time as any to start going about this seriously.”
 
Like many authors, she realized her innate need to not only dream up stories but also to get them out into the world for others.  Her tales touch on her feelings with our messed-up world where the reality of capitalism, fascism, and climate change impacts ordinary life far deeper than perhaps most folks conceive.  Her latest novel, The Hand That Feeds, takes place in the speculative world of tomorrow where her lead character confronts the secrets of a royal dynasty big enough to bring the country down!
 
“The Hand That Feeds originally came from a scene I wrote when I was a teenager,” she explains.  “I translated it more than ten years later, more out of curiosity, and the story took its own course.”
 
Important links:
 
Claire on Twitter
Claire’s website
 
Anna Klapdor on Twitter
Anna’s Amazon.com profile page
 
We here at SciFiHistory.Net are huge supporters of creative voices, and we encourage interested readers to check out both what Claire has to offer as well as the talent she interviews.
 
As always, thanks for reading … and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net know my fondness for older films.
 
At times, I feel like I was born in the wrong era as older films have always tickled my fancy more than modern ones.  A key reason for this is that I have an awful lot of respect for artists and storytellers who “do more with less,” and many of these earlier properties just had to come up with ways to accomplish a certain sequence or effect while continuing their work.  When you’re the first to do something, you have nothing you can rely on except your own creativity and the smarts of those around you; as a result, I just feel greater respect for the tapestry being woven … as opposed to today’s popular sentiment of allowing everything to be ‘fixed’ in post-production.  (For the record, this also explains why I prefer smaller B-Movie releases today over the studio blockbusters.)
 
What this means for me as a reviewer is I have a huge, huge, huge Bucket List of titles to explore.  Each weekend, I’ll spend a few minutes scrolling through the upcoming broadcast schedules for Turner Classic Movies and that Retro Movie Channel (it’s probably known by something else officially, but it shows up on my screen as just ‘Retro’); if I come across a prospect on said list, then I’ll queue it for recording on DVR.  I’ll watch it when time permits.  As you can guess, I have dozens of oldies saved; so long as I never die, I figure I’ll always have something to watch.
 
This past weekend’s entertainment was an old Horror/Fantasy titled White Zombie (1932).  Garnett Weston adapted the William B. Seabrook novel ‘The Magic Island’ for Victor & Edward Halperin Productions (with Victor Halperin directing).  It’s a slimly cast affair but one with a few solid names of the era: Bela Lugosi headlines and shares screen time with Madge Bellamy, Joseph Cawthorn, Robert Frazer, John Harron, and Brandon Hurst in key roles.  Alas, Box Office Mojo has no production or earnings information available for the film, but a trivia entry on IMDB.com indicates that the feature enjoyed success at the box office.  I can only speculate that Lugosi’s popularity – clearly, his was one of the best-known faces of the era – contributed to the returns.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From Google.com: “Murder Legendre is the menacingly named zombie master of Haiti.  So it’s to him that Charles Beaumont goes when he needs help for a twisted plan.  Spurned in marriage by Madeline Short, Beaumont has decided on a simple solution: kill Short and bring her back as a zombie.  Then she can be his forever.  The only problem comes when Legendre keeps the fetching girl for himself – and her new husband comes to Madeline’s rescue.”
 
Truth be told, there’s a bit more world-building that takes place in the picture; as I found it relevant to the greater story, let me expand on the above synopsis.
 
Legendre (played by Bela Lugosi) isn’t just the master of evil who’s uncovered the secrets of ‘zombifying’ regular people.  He’s used his skills to great length to exact revenge against his adversaries – as well as regular folks – and then conscripted these victims into virtual slavery, putting them to work in Haiti’s sugar cane mills.  Always under his control, these soulless workers stare endlessly into the night while toting baskets, churning mills, or any other tasks deemed of merit by their master.  As Beaumont (Robert W. Frazer) is one of the island’s biggest landowners, it’s clear that these two men are likely established allies whose collaboration extends far beyond what’s shown on screen.
 
Short (Madge Bellamy) and her fiancé, Neil Parker (John Harron), are lured to the island by Beaumont, who has not only agreed to host the couple’s wedding but also has promised Neil employment at one of his banks in the United States.  This, in effect, establishes Beaumont as more than a bit duplicitous: he’s enticed the potential newlyweds to his home under false pretenses – he tempts to woo the woman from her beloved – and only after she refuses his advances is the proprietor willing to use the deadly serum to cause her death, a necessary first step on the road to sexual slavery.
 
It’s this seduction of power that gives White Zombie its true strength.
 
For all intents and purposes, we’re led to believe that Legendre – the central antagonist here – is living a grand existence.  Essentially, he’s unlocked the secrets of mind control, and he’s put that magic to beneficial use in subjugating anyone and everyone who poses a threat to him or his personal empire.  In fact, the master brags as much to Beaumont when the desperate man comes to see him at the mill.  In addition to his factory staff, Legendre has surrounded himself with former village leaders and shakers – especially those who formerly caused him grief – a strategy that’s clearly meant a great deal to the man’s self-esteem.  Who wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of turning your enemies into mindless grunts?
 
But Legendre’s thirst doesn’t end with monetary gain: he’s seen Madeline Short, and she’s a beauty!  He’s as infatuated with her as Beaumont is.  Naturally, this greed will prove his undoing, but not before he concocts a scheme that he believes will clear the playing field of any suitors to Short’s affections, even though there should be none once he’s wrested control over her consciousness.  Love has blinded him to logic, and it’s this seduction that will cause his whole world to eventually unravel.
 
It goes without saying that Lugosi is the main draw to seeing White Zombie.  He stares pensively into the camera like few actors before him (or since), seething the theatrical menace that’s required to make the melodrama work.  Frazer’s work is solid – he conveys the frustration over being spurned by a woman nicely, and he’s pretty superb as well in numbly resisting Legendre’s power even after reduced to zombiehood for daring to cross the man.  Bellamy does good work; naturally, she handles her moments of liveliness with enough zest for audiences to feel the obvious pathos of such a beautiful flower of a woman being turned into a soulless drone.
 
Still, I can’t help but wonder how her lethargy likely impeded her sex appeal ‘in the sheets,’ but this is the 1930’s and that kind of thing just never makes it to the silver screen.
 
Many have written that White Zombie is, unofficially, the first zombie film of its type.  I’ve not done enough reading to know whether or not that’s accurate, but it’s certainly one of the oldest films I’ve seen to breach the subject matter.  And perhaps that’s the best reason to see this one – well, despite appreciating yet one more winning performance by Lugosi.  The film never shirks what it is, and director Halperin creates solid atmosphere both in light and shadows.
 
Highly recommended.

​-- EZ

Good morning, peeps, and Happy Tuesday to you all!  If you've been paying attention, then you know what that means ... it's New Releases Tuesday!  This is that fateful day of the week when all of the studios 'street' their new selections for home video rentals and purchase, and I've been trying to get into the habit of promoting a few of them which fall squarely into the realms of Science Fiction and Fantasy.  Let's get started, shall we?

It turns an incredible 25 years young this year, so what better way to make fans of the Big Blue happy with an all-new Blu-ray release of Superman: The Animated Series?  This award-winning cartoon was filled with great stories from the whole Supes mythology, picking up on some of the superhero's most inspired moments with the Last Son of Krypton being voiced by popular actor Tim Daly.  Promotional materials do state that there's some new content available for fans of the show, so that's just one more reason to pick one up if you're so inclined.

If the heroes of the DC Universe are not exactly your thing, then how about crossing the aisle, going even further back in TV time, and picking up a copy of The Incredible Hulk: The Complete Series?  This release gives the big green giant of Marvel plenty of screen time, and the set promotional materials promise lots of behind-the-scenes content.  For what it's worth, TV's Hulk was a staple of my TV past: though more than a bit formulaic at times, it's an exceedingly well-done superhero drama, boasting solid work by leads Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno.

Audiences have long-embraced the Apocalypse dramas, and there have been some very good ones to come to big and small screens over the years.  I don't remember being 'gaga' over the Patrick Swayze entry Steel Dawn: from what I can muster through the cobwebs of this old brain, I remember it being a bit too predictable, though boasting a solid hunky performance by the ladies' favorite.  Vestron Video has been going deep into the film catalogue with some of these genre hits from yesterday, but (alas) I've seen no review on this release to tell you if there are any brand-new extras.

As is always the case, there are several more -- including a big studio release that should've done better box office -- but I do like to limit my promotion to a few and then encourage readers to seek out and explore the rest.  What can I say?  It keeps me on my toes, and it keeps you on your toes.  I'll give you the link to Blu-ray.Com's corresponding page, and we'll leave it at that.

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

-- EZ

It's true, kids: from time-to-time, even your dear ol' editor gets a question from a faithful reader via email.  Typically, I answer that query directly; but every now and then there's a little something something that comes across the Information Superhighway that I think is worth being shared in this space.  When I do, I'll gladly post a short piece of interest in hoping that it kinda/sorta presents my particular editorial slant as it applies to everyone, and I'll do it under the heading of 'Because You Asked.'

​Who knows?  Maybe I'll even make my own graphic instead of stealing something from the web.

In any event, on with today's question:

"Why are there no lists on SciFiHistory.Net?  I'd like to know the site's top ten favorite Science Fiction films, but I don't see that anywhere?"

Yes, yes, yes: it's a very good question.  Honestly, I've had it before (twice that I can recall).  Since it's come up again, I figured now might be the perfect time to start 'Because You Asked' because ... well ... you asked!  Again!

The reason I typically don't concern myself with lists of any sort is that I -- as a reader -- tend to find them almost always tiresome and useless.  I'm happy to explain myself.

First, if you're as serious a die-hard fan of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and (occasionally) Horror as I am, then I'm willing to guess that you have your very own opinions already of what your personal favorites are.  Many of us do, and I know that many folks I've corresponded with even go so far as to write them down or post them on the wall (the fridge, the web, etc.).  I usually don't do that because I can remember the films I truly like and consider personal favorites.  But as one who writes about film, video, television, books, etc., what I like tends to gravitate into areas other than 'personal favorites.'

For example, I was asked the other day who is a favorite actor of mine, and -- knowing how many films I watch -- the person who asked me was surprised when I said that I really don't have a favorite.  I explained that when it comes to acting talent there are plenty of folks (men, women, other) I find extraordinarily gifted ... but I rarely like them in each and every film.  In fact, I'd be hard pressed to find an actor I think has been truly great in more than, say, three pictures in a career.  That's because I don't see the actor in the role -- I look at the character.

​If the character doesn't work for me, then it hampers my enjoyment of the motion picture.  To go a step even further, I may even up loving the film but hating the actor.  (Blade Runner 2049 is an incredible flick, but I didn't care for Harrison Ford in it.  He wasn't playing Rick Deckard, to me.  I saw him playing Harrison Ford playing Rick Deckard, and that ruined his work in the film for me.  Otherwise, he was brilliant in the original, no?  It's hard to explain beyond that, but the Deckard of the two films just seemed too different to be the same character.)

Second, what is truly learned by reading, say, a top five Science Fiction films ever made list?  I realize that there are hundreds if not thousands of them out there on the World Wide Web, but what do you -- the reader -- learn from reading them?  Typically, these lists have repeats -- meaning a film like Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey appears on maybe 90-95% of them -- so what does that teach us?  You could conclude, "Well, that tells me it's a universally revered film."  In contrast, I could argue, "Well, it tells me that these folks haven't seen enough Science Fiction to realize that there are other choices than the obvious ones."

This isn't to suggest that I found no value in lists because that's not true.  I believe they have a time and place in one's thinking, and learning -- as a writer -- how to effectively discriminate between the good, the bad, and the ugly takes time and experience.  As one lives longer and sees more films, wouldn't that quite possibly suggest that these lists might change over time?  I would believe that's true, but I don't see much diversity of titles when I've investigated lists, so I tend to ignore them myself.  The kind of lists I do like, though, are those like 'Five Science Fiction Films You May Have Missed.'  I find plenty of value in those, and I have some ideas in my toolbox for my own additions in this space when time permits.

So there you go.  It's probably a longer answer than was needed or expected, but I wanted everyone to know that I don't share my 'favorites' because I don't have them or I don't want you to know me a bit more personally.  Rather, it's that I don't think there's all that much value, as an editor, in broadcasting something to just take up space or to likely promote films you and I already know.  How can we 'push the envelope' by doing what's already been done when SciFi wants us to go boldly where no one has gone before?

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

​-- EZ

​Ahhhhh, Dune (2021).
 
Where do I begin?
 
Ugh.
 
I’ve often argued that Frank Herbert’s Dune is one of those elusive properties that just doesn’t lend itself to cinematic adaptations.
 
Now, haters, calm down: I’m not saying that the work can’t be adapted to the big or small screens because that’s already happened to my count twice – David Lynch’s version in 1984 as well as the Syfy-produced miniseries in from 2000.  Both took somewhat differing approaches to the source material.  Both have been acknowledged for their worth with a measure of accolades, nominations, and trophies.  And both have managed against the odds to build respective cult audiences by having translated Herbert’s big ideas about spice and those who would control it into convincing spectacle in a manner that interpreted the material (“interpreted” being the key word here).
 
Still, ideas that work cerebrally – in the brain of readers – don’t always have the same kind of power visually.
 
George Lucas was one time rather famously asked about why he started telling his Star Wars space opera with the 1977 film, an installment mankind soon found out was actually ‘Part 4’ in a longer saga.  (I’ll dispense with the whole “did he plan 6 films or 9 films?” debate because it really doesn’t matter here.)  His answer was – and I’m paraphrasing – that all of the really fun stuff happens in the Original Trilogy.  Expanding on it, he explained that the first three parts would be focused more on political skullduggery and galactic machinations; and he felt that audiences might not be ready for those ideas when he could instead deliver a much more traditional space Western for mass consumption.  So he started there, built an audience, and then went back to tell the rest of the story.
 
As that’s the established chronology for releasing his films the way he did, Lucas clearly understood – as a storyteller – that there was something irreplaceable about characters being thrown into visible, understandable conflict as opposed to the vast information dump that takes place in Denis Villeneuve’s 2021 adaptation of Dune.  There are only tinkerings with establishing the vastness of Herbert’s world, and yet because there’s so much volume to it the introduced lead characters – namely Paul Atreides (played by Timothée Chalamet) and Lady Jessica Atreides (Rebecca Ferguson) – end up feeling more like props to the wide, wide universe instead of people an audience are supposed to be interested in for the next 180 minutes.
 
In other words, imagine that George Lucas wanted the audience to know an extensive summary of what took place in Star Wars episodes I, II, and III at the start of A New Hope.  How could he possibly accomplish this while also tugging at your heartstrings over Luke Skywalker’s anguish of being told to “wait another year” to go off and join the Imperial Academy?  Is it more important that you identify with the Empire and the Rebellion’s shared history, or did he want you to join our intrepid youth on an adventure far, far away?  I don’t have to think long and hard about that question at all, but Villeneuve’s construct here tried to have the best of both worlds, biting off far more than he could chew than was (perhaps) narratively possible with Dune as this cut presents.
 
In contrast, what did I learn about Paul Atreides, this universe’s young hero?
​

I learned he’s a student of cultures or – in the very least – he’s been fascinated with his readings on Arrakis.  (Has bookish charm really ever served any male well in filmdom?  Maybe Harry Potter, but I digress.)  I learned that he’s a bit of a mama’s boy (no disrespect intended) as the rigors of ruling a world have kept dear old dad away for much of his youth.  (The absence of a father has prompted him to seek out relationships with men who’ve served his father, warriors like Jason Momoa’s ‘Duncan Idaho.’)  And I learned that he’s inherited the ways of the Jedi like his mother before … scratch that … he’s inherited the mystical powers of the Bene Gesserit, apparently meaning he can see into the future.  (There’s a bit more analysis I’m sure a Dune scholar could do, but I’ll leave it there as I’m really only interested with Paul’s intro.)
 
For all intents and purposes, I thought Paul came across largely as a moody yet good-hearted kid; but because there’s so very much more going on in his lineage it’s hard to dismiss the fact that he’s also presented as Christ-like very early in the film.  Even the Fremen – Arrakis’ native people – see the boy as a spiritual figure.  Villeneuve’s script quickly discounts this, insisting that they’d likely attributed such status on the villainous Harkonnens – but there’s no mistaking that Paul is not some everyman’s farmboy who would undertake the hero’s quest to become the galaxy’s last, best hope.  From the outset, he’s not just different but he’s way different – special, gifted, royal, genetically superior – and therein might lie Dune’s biggest problem: audiences just can’t relate to him.
 
As others have observed, Dune is an intellectual property difficult to talk about except for people who are already familiar with it.  I think this is not only true but also I believe it can be used to justify why audiences have never widely embraced the previous two iterations: Paul is a God figure – that’s certainly how he evolves in that universe – and we’re just ordinary Jacks and Jills.  We don’t identify with gods, so we’re already separated from them emotionally.  This doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy their stories; after all, the Bible is one of mankind’s biggest and longest running bestsellers … but we flock to it for reasons that are immeasurably different than why we vicariously experience narrative fiction.
 
Paul means little to me.  Luke?  I get Luke.  I want to be Luke.  I’ll fly the Death Star trench with him, and I’ll gladly join him on Dagobah for secret Jedi training, or I’d even stand shoulder-to-shoulder in a blazing lightsaber battle with Emperor Palpatine if Luke asked me to.
 
But … Paul?
 
He’s Christlike … so what does he need me for?
 
Now, categorically, none of this lessens the strengths of what director Villeneuve accomplishes visually.  Clearly, he’s immersed himself in these worlds, and he’s spared no investor’s expense to bring them to life on the screen.  He’s taken the wide, open, endless desert seas of Arrakis and made them visual poetry – certainly real enough for fans of this franchise to enjoy again and again, much like Marvel fans flock to their superhero yarns for endless repeats.  He’s given breath to the political machinations of a galaxy that really only existed before in Herbert’s series of books in such a way that I’m sure folks will be reminded of Peter Jackson’s The Lord Of The Rings and HBO’s Game Of Thrones adaptations.  These ships and vehicles are unlike anything many have ever seen before, and I’m convinced these production designs will become influential in the years and decades ahead for other filmmakers who want to tackle similar challenges with the kind of scale employed here.
 
But for all those strengths, I still found this Dune a bit hollow.
 
There are moments that work, and they’re unsurprisingly the times when our cast of characters are finally thrown into some jeopardy.  Once Hell breaks out?  That’s when Dune rises.  Since that doesn’t happen until the last third of a nearly three-hour picture, I’m expected to absorb two hours of set-up for a relatively small return on investment.  Momoa shines here, though his contribution is pretty slim; and Ferguson gives a performance that tried to ground audiences into the relationship she shares with her destined child.  For what it’s worth, Oscar Issac as ‘Duke Leto Atreides’ never quite worked for me, seeming a bit too young for such an esteemed position in the galaxy; but I did appreciate the effort.  Still, lacking any real emotional connection to these characters, it all ended up being small moments in some very good CGI.
 
Alas, the picture ends with a perfunctory cliffhanger, though a not entirely successful one.  Knowing where this story was heading, I was aghast that it ended just when it was all getting good.  Given that neither Warner Bros. nor Legendary Pictures have greenlit a sequel, this may end up being the most unsatisfying cinematic relationship for genre fans since director Ralph Bakshi left audiences on the precipice of all-out war with his 1978 unfinished adaptation of The Lord Of Rings … and I still haven’t forgiven United Artists for that.

-- EZ

The name of Peter Scolari isn't a big one, certainly not within the genre circle.

Essentially, Scolari's biggest public portrait was of his comic work paired up alongside critical darling Tom Hanks in the fondly remembered cross-dressing comedy Bosom Buddies from the 1980's.  His career took off from there, and an incredible assortment of television work followed.

The actor did build a resume light on Science Fiction and Fantasy credentials, and there are a few roadstops he took along the way worthy of mentioning.  He enjoyed a role in an episode of the late 80's incarnation of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone.  In 1993, he turned up working in the Horror/SciFi release Ticks for Republic Pictures.  1994 saw him as a guest star aboard an episode of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman.  In 1995, he turned his voice in for good work aboard the popular animated property of its day, Gargoyles.  But it wasn't until 1997 when TV put the actor back to good use as a lead aboard the small screen incarnation of Honey, I Shrunk The Kids (1997-2000).  The problem likely brought the star increased attention from a younger group of viewers, and I'd imagine he was thankful for the opportunity to play inventor 'Wayne Szalinski' for Walt Disney Television.

Alas, an end awaits every one of us, and word reached the Information Superhighway that he passed after a two-year struggle with cancer.  We'll always have his work to remember him by.  Prayers go out to Scolari's friends and family.

As always, thanks for reading.

​-- EZ

​​I’ve often agreed with folks who’ve suggested that the beauty of truly appreciating art is that each of us gets to ‘take’ whatever message we want from it.  Largely, this happens because none of us sees the world from the same set of filters or point-of-view.  We each have different pasts, and these pasts are filled with events that showed us something.  Each of us has an upbringing, an education, and a moral code that we’ve accumulated along the way; and these resulting filters cause us to interpret things differently.  Because we see in a different way, we typically find different messages in art.
 
This was best demonstrated to me all the way back in grade school.  One morning – while our class was preparing for what we were told was a ‘pop quiz’ – we were all focused on getting out our notebooks (as instructed) when the teacher from a neighboring class marched into our room, shouted out a sentence or two about something in the cafeteria (honestly, it escaped me), held up a toy clicker and clicked it three times, and then exited.  Next, our teacher instructed us to write down exactly what happened.  Everything we saw and heard.  Lo and behold, this event WAS the pop quiz!
 
A bit confused, I sat there for a moment, getting my bearings, and then I started to write.  I jotted down how I was doing as instructed when I was surprised by a guest who clicked something three times and then left.  We were given five minutes, and I probably took only one or two.  I even tried running the memory over in my head (quickly) to try to figure out what she said, but I couldn’t decipher any word other than ‘cafeteria.’  All that truly stuck with me was that it was a teacher, she had a clicker, and I counted three clicks.
 
Where am I going with this?
 
Well, you’d be surprised at how many of my peers couldn’t remember what was said exactly, either.  Some of the students spent a paragraph talking about what the intruder was wearing; such a thought never even occurred to me.  And I was surprised by the number of classmates who thought they heard five clicks instead of three!  That couldn’t be!  I was sure there were only three!
 
Obviously, some of this is based on perception: how well did I hear the event, how close was I to it when it took place, how well could I see it, and so on and so forth.  As it turned out, folks closer to the door were better with visual details, and those of us further back were better recalling the specifics of sound.  But the point behind the entire lesson – so far as the Illinois educational system was concerned – was that not every person who watches something necessarily sees the same thing.  Thus, our teacher proved in a rather simple fashion that there is value in the opinions of others: not everything taught will mean the same thing, and not everything viewed will have the same impact.
 
The point I make here is that a film like The Incredible Shrinking Man is – in short – gob-smackingly brilliant in delivering one man’s story … but I’ll bet there are dozens of different lessons that can be gleaned from a single viewing.
​

​(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging: “Six months after being exposed to a mysterious radiation cloud, suburban everyman Scott Carey finds himself becoming smaller … and smaller … and smaller – until he’s left to fend for himself in a world in which ordinary cats, mousetraps, and spiders pose a mortal threat, all while grappling with a diminishing sense of himself.”
 
With only a running time of 81 minutes, one might think a film like The Incredible Shrinking Man had little depth … but he’d be categorically wrong.  In fact, I could make a good case for the film being one of the most thought-provoking Science Fiction films ever.  Much of this is owed to the fact it’s an entirely relatable experience – what would you do if you were trapped in the same set of circumstances?  But where other flicks build a reputation on their visuals, Shrinking Man pairs its scenes with ideas.  It’s chocked full of symbolism, and all of it is focused to convey not only a good story but also an expanse of grand storytelling.  Don’t get me wrong: the visuals are outstanding – clearly some of the best of its era – but they all serve to reinforce the classic struggle of man versus … well … himself.
 
Yes, our everyman Carey (played convincingly by the underrated Grant Williams) puts his faith in science to find a treatment for what ails him; but isn’t it science that put him in this very predicament in the first place?  Over the years, many talking about the film have touched on that dastardly radioactive cloud from the film’s set-up as being the cause of his condition; yet if you’re watching closely you know that Carey lived six months without suffering any ill effects from the said exposure.  That’s because screenwriters Richard Matheson and Richard Alan Simmons cleverly inserted another possible catalyst (an incident involving noxious insecticides) that very well may have been the triggering event.  Why was this a smart decision?  Well, how many regular folks run the risk of exposure to radiation?  I suspect the numbers are small.  But what if the cause of this unprecedented condition was owed to an unknown combination of chemicals?  This is exactly the kind of plot development that gets a person thinking not only about Carey’s life but his own as well.
 
Very soon, the loss of a regular wardrobe becomes the least of our protagonist’s worries.  He’s suddenly plunged into a world of self-doubt wherein he questions every facet of his life – his health, his sanity, his role as a provider, and even his abilities as a faithful partner to his loving wife Louise (Randy Stuart).  Once he’s reduced to half his normal size, he likely can’t please her sexually; and this added stress only forces him into the arms of Clarice (April Kent), the short person who’s made a career in circus sideshows.  Truth be told, the film never shows that their relationship is consummated, but it’s strongly implied.  (Curse you, 1950’s film censors!)  But his world comes crashing down again when he shrinks even further, eventually taking up residence inside a dollhouse for comfort and safety.  The man of the world of our opening – the vacationer who had the world at his fingertips – has been reduced to little more than the size of a child’s plaything.
 
What’s the point of all these diminishing returns?
 
The beauty of art is that the power of interpretation is left up to those who view it.
​

​Screenwriter Matheson underwent his own crisis at the time of penning the novel upon which his screenplay was based.  He struggled privately with producing a body of work that would make raising a family possible, and there isn’t any doubt that the questions of his own self-worth are peppered throughout the script.  Others might suggest that Shrinking Man is little more of a cinematic fear response to the public’s rising concerns over the growth of atomic and nuclear power; as that was a common influence on other Science Fiction films of the 1950’s and 1960’s (many of them involving gigantic radioactive bugs), that reality likely ran through the minds of all involved in its production.  Still, academics have waxed on about how Shrinking Man’s central message – even that wrapped up in its title – is about how mankind’s role in the universal was progressively being marginalized.  By then, it was household knowledge that the universe was expanding (astronomer Edwin Hubble said as much in 1929); as the universe grew, the amount of space mankind filled in it kept declining.  This, too, is a legitimate lesson from a film too rich for a single meaning.
 
Any and all morals are acceptable, and that’s because veteran director Jack Arnold knew more than a thing or two about constructing SciFi with a message.  His 1953 It Came From Outer Space – based on a story by the legendary author Ray Bradbury, no less – kind of broke the established Hollywood mold as it applied to Science Fiction.  Lesser (or more routine) films pitted aliens against Earthlings in a race for survival, and they almost always had regular men and women coming out triumphant.  What purpose did Arnold’s aliens serve?  Were they invaders?  Were they expansionists?  Were they occupiers?  No.  Honestly, they just crashed here, found us uninteresting, and wanted to go home.  Imagine that?  We and our big blue ball weren’t really interesting enough to warrant their attention.  They saw that, they said so, and they just wanted to go home.  Talk about your shrinking self-esteem!
 
Still not buying it?
 
Well, his This Island Earth (1956) resembled conventional Science Fiction a bit more.  In this adventure, an alien species comes to our world with the specific mission of enlisting our support in their winning a losing war.  Instead of coming here to wipe us out – as tends to so often be the case in far too many genre releases – these aliens needed us to help them avoid their extinction.  (I suspect this film probably did more for our morale than It Came From Outer Space.)  Again, for clarity’s sake, the Metalunans of the picture only wanted our help.  The fight for survival was theirs, and they were only looking for an ally.  Why, this just didn’t happen in Science Fiction!  SciFi was about blasters and spaceships and aliens who melt our brains!  How can this happen?  Granted, the picture takes a turn in its second half, perhaps succumbing to the more traditional recipe, but it’s still a film refreshing for audiences because they’re delivered something other than the run-of-the-mill extraterrestrial exploitation that makes up so many space sagas.  (For the record, Arnold’s work on the picture is uncredited, but scholars have confirmed the director’s stewardship of it.)
 
While these are notable contributions from a man known largely as a studio workhorse, Arnold’s legacy in Science Fiction doesn’t end there.  He brought both Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954) and Return Of The Creature (1955) to the silver screen.  In 1955, he also delivered Tarantula – one of the better giant radioactive bug movies mentioned above – to crawling life.  In 1955 and 1956, he brought four episodes of the innovative Science Fiction Theater to television.  1958’s The Space Children and Monster On The Campus were a bit more routine as studio genre entries, and he closed out his 1950’s with a pair of episodes of the short-lived World Of Giants … a television show that took him back into the realm of shrunken man.
 
There are more entries in his career in Science Fiction and Fantasy, but I think I’ve made my point: Arnold was a pioneer when it came to developing and delivering stories about far more than just monsters, science gone bad, and spaceships.  His body of work ably demonstrates that SciFi is the realm of ideas … and Shrinking Man was always bigger than Carey’s ultimate Fate would allow.ling life.  In 1955 and 1956, he brought four episodes of the innovative Science Fiction Theater to television.  1958’s The Space Children and Monster On The Campus were a bit more routine as studio genre entries, and he closed out his 1950’s with a pair of episodes of the short-lived World Of Giants … a television show that took him back into the realm of shrunken man.
 
There are more entries in his career in Science Fiction and Fantasy, but I think I’ve made my point: Arnold was a pioneer when it came to developing and delivering stories about far more than just monsters, science gone bad, and spaceships.  His body of work ably demonstrates that SciFi is the realm of ideas … and Shrinking Man was always bigger than Carey’s ultimate Fate would allow.
​

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) is produced by Universal International.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being handled through the Criterion Collection.  As for the technical specifications?  This Blu-ray release boasts an all-new 4K digital restoration, and the film looks surprisingly good despite its age.  It’s not uncommon for a bit of grain from time-to-time if for no other reason than the fact that this was shot on film, but I thought this was a very clear picture from start-to-finish.

​As for the special features?  As is very common with Criterion releases, this one is very good: worthy of note is the examination of the film’s pioneering special effects (which hold up quite good considering all of this is decades before CGI was even a dream).  There’s also a very informative chat with screenwriter Richard Matheson’s son (also Richard) who gives a fabulous ‘time and place’ recounting of his father’s life and experiences that influenced his work; in short, it’s quite possibly one of the best of its kind I’ve had the privilege to see.  There’s an interesting conversation between director Joe Dante and Dana Gould; they don’t bring much new to light (especially if you’ve watched the other shorts), but it’s clear both are fans of director Arnold and screenwriter Matheson.  There’s an archival interview with Arnold that’s a fantastic find as he specifically addresses the work of bringing the film to the silver screen despite some studio reservations.  And I’d be a fool if I didn’t mention the commentary track: film historian Tom Weaver and horror-music expert David Schecter sound off on a lot of ‘little things’ (snicker snicker), but – being entirely honest – I want to give it another listen as my first impression was that they focused on some trivial aspects – the hardcore nuts and bolts of a feature production – that ends up a bit dry for me personally.  I would also want to add that my 4K UltraHD had an issue with the soundtracks for two of special features: I had to go into my player’s control menu and change the sound settings from “automatic” to the more general playback in order to hear the folks speaking.  This happens from time-to-time with these 4K disks, but it’s a minor inconvenience.
 
Highest recommendation possible.

​Without a doubt, The Incredible Shrinking Man stands as one of the greatest Science Fiction films of the 1950’s, and it deservedly should stand side-by-side with such heavyweights as The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951), The Thing From Another World (1951), Them! (1954), Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956), and Forbidden Planet (1956) in any library.  Though its story is clearly grounded in the anti-Atomic sensibilities of its era, there’s still a timelessness to the central idea of a man being overwhelmed and surpassed by a world he, in part, helped create.  Its ending might seem a bit too philosophical, too spiritual, or too existential for most viewers, but I’d argue it still homes in on an age-old SciFi conceit wherein man confronts his place in the universe and is humbled as a consequence of the resulting epiphany.  A work of genius.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Criterion provided me with a Blu-ray of The Incredible Shrinking Man by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, of form influenced my opinion of it.

Many, many, many moons ago -- back in the days when yours truly was in college -- I served as a disc jockey aboard a college radio station.

For four frivolous years, I spun some tunes out over the miserably low-wattage air waves and largely made fun of the whole collegiate experience.  I wrote and taped my own commercials.  Occasionally, I did some live skits to entertain the listeners, of which even a few of the institution's professors were very complimentary.  It was something I had an awful lot of fun doing, so much so that I've occasionally toyed with the idea of setting up my own series of SciFi shorts on Youtube.com, Rumble.com, or any other platform.  Mind you: I don't think I was particularly good at it; however, it was just a lot of fun for me personally.

A few months ago, I registered my profile on a platform where podcasters and guests can come together to kinda/sorta market themselves to one another.

Honestly, I didn't figure anything would much stem from it.  The registration was something a fellow blogger had encouraged me to do as I think his hopes were that it might be another avenue to increase SciFiHistory.Net's presence on the World Wide Web.  I've promoted a few programs with SciFi ShoutOuts, and those notices have drawn some attention to the site; and after looking into doing my own kind of lowbrow programming I realized I probably don't -- at present -- have the time and resources to do one.  It takes a lot of work and a helluva lot of commitment, and if you want to do it right it takes money.  That's something the household is always 'measuring,' so I opted instead to focus on the blog and my daily citations.

Lo and behold, I have had an offer to come on a program and talk about Science Fiction and Fantasy, so I'm thrilled to announce that at 8 pm EST on October 27th I'll be appearing with host Shawn Murphy on his Above The Bar podcast.  (I've had a few offers in the past to come on shows, but circumstances have never aligned to make it possible -- for any number of reasons.)  As I'm a podcasting virgin (ahahahaha), I'm expecting that I'll flub up a bit, though I'm quite certain Shawn can wean me through the process.

I'm going to throw some links in here below for those of you who might be interested in tuning in to make a fool of myself live (ahahahaha); otherwise, it looks like these various channels do allow Shawn to post them as recordings for review at a later date.  Interested parties are obviously encouraged to check out not only my visit but also everything else Shawn's posted up there.  It looks like he's an eclectic host who's open to chatting with folks big and small all across a spectrum of interesting and timely topics.

Above The Bar's Twitch Channel
Above The Bar's YouTube.com Channel
Apple Podcast (Live) Link
The Above The Bar Podcast Facebook Page

Warning: I'll probably repost this blurb a time or two more before my appearance in order to help out with promoting both SciFiHistory.Net and Shawn's program.  Any complaints?  Meh.  I've no time for those.  Keep 'em to yourself!

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

-- EZ