science fiction

The Passage

admin — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Trying to explain The Passage is like explaining Lost or the Harry Potter series to an outsider. You end up having to sum it up in the simplest terms: Lost is about people stuck on a really weird island, Harry Potter is about a boy defeating evil wizards, and The Passage is about a little girl trying to save the world. Since this is a review, I’ll go a bit deeper than that, but it might sound ridiculous, so bear with me.

The Passage starts with a military experiment gone wrong. This experiment created beings that resemble vampires (don’t go out during the day, don’t age, feed on humans, etc.), and they have escaped. There’s a little girl, Amy, who was also a subject in the experiment, but who fared better than the others because she retained some of her humanity. The creatures are killing most of the U.S. population, and a man helps Amy escape. We jump forward a hundred years to a small settlement of survivors still trying to protect themselves against these creatures. It’s up to them and Amy to save what’s left of the country, perhaps the world.

No pat description can really do this book justice. The first part could have been a novel all on its own, and it probably would have been one of my favorites if it ended there. But as I kept reading, the storyline, character development, suspense, and surprises made the book unforgettable. Beyond that, there was the strength of the female characters, the significance of race—or lack thereof—in a society that believes they’re the last humans left, and the contemplation of how we pass down our history and what it means to future generations. All of this took me away from any traditional idea of sci-fi, fantasy, or trendy vampire lit to a look at what our culture is and what it could be.

I’ve read through negative reviews of this book, and while I can understand where others are coming from, I don’t agree. The biggest complaint I’ve read is that the book ends abruptly. That’s because this is the first book of three, and there’s more of this story to tell. Even then, The Passage easily stands alone because the first journey is complete by the end.

Another complaint is that while the first part of the book is beautifully written, it stumbles a bit after that. I agree that the first part is written much better than the rest, but it’s something I didn’t worry about as I let myself get into the story rather than focusing on the writing. After a hundred pages or so (a drop in the bucket for a book over 700 pages long), the story and the suspense carried me through to the end.

The best way I can sell this book is to admit that I could not put it down. Even when the story started to slow, even when I found myself awake at three o'clock in the morning with my fiancé groaning that I wasn’t asleep, even when I should have been eating food rather than words during my lunch break, I kept reading. It was hard to leave that world, even for a few hours. I finished all 700+ pages of The Passage in a week, and my only regret is not savoring it more.

I hope you aren’t intimidated by the page count, and I hope you’re not put off by the negative reviews, because this may end up being one of the best books you’ve read in a long time.

Written by: frau sally benz, August 14th 2010

Florida Supercon (6/18 – 6/20/2010)

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 04:01:00 +0000

Doubletree Miami Airport Hotel and Convention Center

Miami, Florida

Since I live in Miami, a city of fashionable sameness, it can be difficult to find alternatives to the mainstream culture. So I was convention curious. Yet all I knew about anime was what I’d seen on Adult Swim or the Syfy channel: doe-eyed, borderline pornographic girls in their miniskirts and ponytails. I can never get past the not-so-subtle little girl fetish. Change the channel, thanks.

Of course, there is the stereotype of the person who regularly watches Adult Swim—a pasty-faced, bespectacled, often bearded man-boy who lives in his mother’s living room—and hey, if we’re going the route of stereotypes, why not throw in Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons. That was my starting point for the Supercon.

Supercon is diverse compared to other conventions. I went with a friend, a veteran con goer. She spoke about how comic cons bring out collectors as well as kids, while anime cons appeal to the pink-haired teenagers. Florida Supercon had all of these audiences. It also had fans of yesteryear TV shows and films with actors like Dawn Wells (Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island), Tia Carrere (Wayne’s World), and Guest of Honor Richard Roundtree (Shaft). And if you wanted an autograph from a wrestler or former Playboy playmate, they were there too.

The convention schedule on Saturday offered a few women-related panels, where I hoped to observe how women and girls are represented at a con. First was the "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" with the female hosts of the Anime Addicts Anonymous podcast. This panel was my introduction, and I felt both out of place and at home. Out of place because the three women were decked out in wigs and costumes, and spoke another language with Dragon Ball Z, cosplay, and other con references:: “I need a new d20.” (Did con speak require a dictionary? Write it down, ask questions later.) I felt at home because these women also spoke a language in which I am fluent: feminism. I don’t know if that’s how they would define themselves, but they certainly had ideas that many feminists would support.

The women counseled the audience on not giving out too much information to people at conventions and creating a limited Facebook profile for con friends. At first, this seemed very Dateline NBC (read: obvious advice); then I noticed the young girls in the audience. Some were twelve or thirteen years old, maybe younger. Some of them were sitting alone. The three women on the panel looked like they were in their early twenties, and they acted as role models and mentors. How should you respond to a creepy con guy who wants to take your picture? Say no: “If that voice in your head says this is weird, listen to it.” I hadn’t expected this kind of talk at a comic book convention.

One of this panel’s best topics was how to create affordable and practical costumes. (Some context for the uninitiated: what you wear is a major part of conventions. Sometimes people dress as characters of their own gender, but attendees are just as likely to cross-dress.)The "Girl’s Guide to Con Going" was all about comfort in costuming; if you went wearing flats, that would be one less thing to worry about. Pack a change of clothes and double-sided tape. Practice poses in front of a mirror before the convention. “You may think something looks cool, but it doesn’t, and then you’re on YouTube,” said one panelist.

The panel also encouraged the audience not to live up to unrealistic portrayals of women when working on their costumes. Sexy girls are part of anime, like the female anime character featured on the back of the Florida Supercon program: Yoko from Gurren Lagann. She has red hair in sweeping ponytails, a skimpy maid costume, big boobs, a flat stomach, and a come-hither wink. The panelists offered the female audience validation: “That body type doesn’t fit into the real world! Anime is drawn; they aren’t based on real people. So, tailor your costume to whatever fits you.”

As far as their own costumes, the panelists were dressed as characters from Baccano! Nice Holystone wore an eye patch; Miria was a blonde in a red dress and opera gloves; and red-haired Ennis was dressed in a suit. Silly me. I had thought Ennis was Dana Scully from The X-Files.

The next women-related panel, "Meet The Roller Derby Girls," presented the South Florida skaters from the Gold Coast Derby Grrls. Roller derby is inclusive of both genders, in some respects; men can participate as referees, but only women can compete. Skaters recreate themselves into personas with names like Souljourner, Dela Ruthless, and Heinous Grace. One of the women, Caffeine Crash, explained the connection between roller derby and a comic book convention: “When you skate, it’s like an alter ego—like you’re putting on a character. But at the same time, that’s when you’re most yourself, with the war-paint and being kick-ass.”

While this is reminiscent of cosplay, that’s probably where the similarity ends. Roller derby is a fast-paced game where skaters often get injured—sprained shoulders and bruises are standard—so skaters learn to “fall small” and spend money on a good set of knee pads. The sport is one of the few outlets where women can be full-on aggressive. But what’s remarkable is how roller derby has become an international network of women who support each other and contribute to charitable causes. (The Derby Grrls have organized relief efforts for Haiti and collected supplies for people affected by the oil spill crisis in the Gulf.) The Gold Coast Derby Grrls have traveled nationwide for matches in Philadelphia and Oklahoma. Despite the competitive nature of the sport, other leagues will often show hospitality by giving their competitors a place to stay.

The last panel was on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and featured Georges Jeanty, the artist who worked on the season eight comic book. Jeanty’s previous work includes strong female characters like Wonder Woman and Razor. He considered what makes Buffy different: “Most female characters in comics are men drawn in female form. Buffy is independent and powerful, but still very much a girl.”

But what does it mean to be a girl? The first two panels had presented more than one definition. You could have comfort in your cosplay or you could be bruised up from roller derby. There are many ways to be an independent and powerful girl.

However, Jeanty’s point about the male influence on comic books was made evident by browsing the Florida Supercon's vendor and artist tables. Plenty of the female characters in comics and anime could have been featured in Playboy or Hustler. There was even a Typhoid Mary action figure with mechanical straitjacket and spread-eagle legs. What’s the message here—keep your women locked up and prone?

There were also empowering images to be found. The front cover of Derrick Fish’s The Wellkeeper made my friend stop at his table: “Look, she has a belly!” Zoe is the main character, a young girl with curves. The cover shows Zoe ascending into the sky out of the green earth, surrounded by a radiant light. A synopsis of the story suggests that Zoe is connected to a planetary life force, so there are definite mother-earth overtones. Her belly makes sense in that context, but she also represents a body type we don’t often see as heroic, and that acts as an alternative to depictions like Typhoid Mary.

Artist Juan Fontanez said he appreciated the presence and influence of female artists and collectors at Florida Supercon. This sentiment was also shared by Banky (V. Farano), who has sometimes been mistaken for a “convention girlfriend” instead of an artist. Yet Danielle Soloud, creator of the webcomic Life With Death, voiced the need for even more women in the industry. She said, “We should be able to get in there… boys and girls [can] make comics together!”

Younger fans have found interesting ways to deal with gender disparities. I asked a group of teens—one boy and three girls, aged twelve to eighteen—about what it’s like for a girl at these conventions. One girl responded, “It’s harder because of the costumes… sometimes it’s easier [for a girl] to be a guy.” She went into detail about how it costs less money and results in more fun if you're seen as a boy. The only difficulty was in binding down her chest, but the compliments made it seem worth it.

Another girl, who was dressed as Allen Walker from D.Gray-man, said some people didn’t recognize her as a girl in costume; instead, they just said she was a really good Allen. The boy was dressed as his own gender, with orange hair and a brown robe. He insisted that when a guy dresses as a girl, it was “just for laughs.”

Sure, Florida Supercon had women in tight-costumes, all boobs and high heels, and more than a few pasty-faced man-boys (even a few who could double as Comic Book Guy), but that stereotype is a very limited truth. Women artists and fans are claiming their place in the realm of comic books, anime, video games, and sci-fi while cosplay is expanding the continuum of gender expression. There is definitely the potential for empowerment at conventions like Florida Supercon; however, women and men should continue to voice the need for broader representations. For every Yoko, there should be a Zoe. Until then, women should keep attending these conventions and establishing a presence within this pop culture niche—so every girl can be her own superhero.

Photo credit: Debbie Chamberlin

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, July 30th 2010

Xenogensesis II: Intergalactic Beings (4/30/2010)

admin — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 00:02:00 +0000

Museum of Contemporary Art

Chicago, Illinois

I purchased a copy of Octavia Butler’s Bloodchild at a secondhand bookstore and let it rest on my shelf for years as next-to-read. Fortunately, it was in my bag when I was shuttled from the ER to a hospital for a week-long stay: I possessed a means of transport away from a battered attempt at sterility and the monotony of crisis to an intense, sparse yet beautifully rendered world. I was reading Octavia Butler. Therefore, when Nicole Mitchell’s jazz composition Xenogenesis II: Intergalactic Beings, a tribute to Octavia Butler, appeared on the program notice for Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Art, I jumped at the chance to see it.

Mitchell and the Black Earth Ensemble presented this nine-part composition, the second part of a three-part contemplation of the unexpected result of nuclear conflagration, on a barren stage without sets or elaborate effects. As Mitchell is a noted visionary, it is not surprising that she chose to produce work inspired by the speculative author, nor is it surprising that the aural reverberations transported me just as much as Butler’s description of altered societies and beings. What did make me pause was the complete engagement that evolved between an almost full theater and the extremely innovative and almost alien sounds alternately squeaking, screaming, swelling, and rolling from the stage.

The composer and musicians came on to the stage half-draped in sheets of papery, crumpled chiffon over black clothing. White robes are conventionally associated with angels, but the intergalactic beings of the title have a more ominous mission: they seek to save the human species through abducting subjects for seduction and interbreeding. The themes of conquest and exploitation clearly mirror aspects of American history. However, these topics are presented as evocative echoes, not didactic hammer falls. The nine-movement piece is subtly wrought and ultimately powerful, starting with the stealing of our species and ending with inescapable metamorphosis. Xenogenesis manifests a haunting reminder of Octavia Butler’s verse: “All that you touch/You Change./ All that you Change/Changes you./ The only lasting truth/ is Change./ God/is Change.”

Written by: Erika Mikkalo, June 21st 2010

Unfastened: Globality and Asian North American Narratives

admin — Tue, 18 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Eleanor Ty

University Of Minnesota Press

In a similar vein as Caroline Rody’s The Interethnic Imagination and Rocío Davis' Begin Here, the monograph Unfastened has been a treat to read for the simple fact that author Eleanor Ty forefronts a wide range of readings that demonstrate the continued evidence of the heterogeneity that embodies the field of Asian North American literature. Ty’s book is called unfastened, precisely because it is a descriptive that designates the continuing complexity that has been emerging with the textual terrains around concepts of mobility, displacement, and diaspora that make fastening Asian North American literature to any one place practically impossible.

In the primary texts that Ty so elegantly analyzes, multiple nations, multiple local spaces, and multiple subjectivities are always imagined, such that her readings flow contextually, specific to particular aesthetic forms and contexts, but always linked by the notion of “globality.” Ty is careful about her terminology. She purposefully does not use the term Asian American precisely because she carves out a specific place for Asian Canadian cultural production in her work, which has had a long history of being too reductively classified within Asian American more broadly.

She also distinguishes globality from the globalization, rendering globality the more salient feature of her critical reading practice precisely because it is more connected to issues of economic differentials and power inequities that arise as bodies, cultures, ideas, technologies, etc. migrate to new locations and establish new spatial configurations. As Ty clarifies, “Issues of globality include concern for earth and our environment, health and the spread of disease across national borders, the globalization of markets, and the production of goods.”

The wide range of primary text readings are truly astonishing and we see what a fan of Asian North American narrative Ty is as she meticulously crafts her analyses to continually point to the ways that Asian North American writers are thinking about globality and routing that issue directly within their textual terrains. Taken together, Ty concentrates on Brian Roley’s American Son, Han Ong’s Fixer Chao, Larissa Lai’s Salt Fish Girl, Hiromi Goto’s The Kappa Child, Ruth Ozeki’s All Over Creation, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s The Mistress of Spices, Sunil Kuruvilla’s Rice Boy, and Lydia Kwa’s This Place Called Absence, among others. Many of these authors are ones that have received very little critical attention, even though their works present such rich terrains upon which to consider the complexities of globalization.

While all the chapters provide sprightly interpretative readings in which texts cannot be fastened within one context or sociocultural moment, some standouts include chapter two’s “Recuperating Wretched Lives: Asian Sex Workers and the Underside of Nation Building” and chapter five’s “Shape-shifters and Disciplined Bodies: Feminist Tactics, Science Fiction, and Fantasy.” Given the astonishing range of writings being produced, Ty’s conclusion offers a corrective to the concept of Asian American literature, offering that the rubric of “global novelist and global writing are more accurate for terms and for works,” especially with respect to the increasingly non-domestic contexts of many narratives.

Ty leaves us then with the concept of the “Asian global,” conceptualized in part because such narratives “arise out of and are contingent upon globalization—the movement of people, capital, and production across the north and south—and because they are no longer located just in North America or Britain.” In ending this brief review, it would seem the possibility that Ty is pushing for a potentially new field rubric in which Asian global texts written in English appear front and center. In this way, the move to diasporic and transnational critiques which typically and traditionally have not shifted beyond a two-country paradigm can be supplanted with this Asian global literary studies model that pushes scholars to contextualize texts from multi-focal spatial axes.

Cross-posted at Asian American Literature Fans

Written by: Stephen Hong Sohn, May 17th 2010

How to Train Your Dragon

admin — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Dean DeBlois, Chris Sanders

DreamWorks

As a feminist mother of a young daughter, I am always on the lookout for movies with a positive message. As a mom who is a geek, I'm always looking for sci-fi and fantasy movies that are kid-appropriate. As an intelligent woman, I'm always looking for entertainment that has good storytelling. Luckily for everyone like me, How to Train Your Dragon fits all three categories.

First of all, the movie is great storytelling, with fantastic visuals (especially in 3-D) that will keep everyone from a three-year-old to an adult interested and engaged throughout the whole film. The pacing is excellent, without any dragging moments or exposition that will bore young kids, and with enough depth that parents won't get bored either.

But much more importantly, the story gives a great message for kids of any age. For those who don't want to have the movie spoiled for them, here's the basic rundown: strong female characters (women & girls), great attitudes towards disability, support for flexible gender roles, good messages about accepting people as they are, underlying message about understanding, and peaceful solutions as opposed to conflict. Now, on to the details...

The story revolves around a teenager, Hiccup, who lives in a Nordic village that is defined primarily by its ongoing battle against hordes of raiding dragons. Both women and men fight, and teens help as well, but Hiccup is awkward and physically weak, and is not allowed to help. The teenager who is best at dragon fighting is a girl named Astrid, whom Hiccup likes. Hiccup's father is chief of the village, and does not value Hiccup's other talents. Hiccup creates a machine to help him capture a dragon, so that he can prove his worth to the village.

The machine works, Hiccup attempts to kill the captured dragon, but cannot bring himself to do so; instead he sets it free. The dragon, injured by the machine, cannot fly anymore. Over time, Hiccup befriends it, names it Toothless, and creates a prosthetic device that will help the dragon fly again, but only with the help of a human rider. Meanwhile, Hiccup is learning about dragon behavior, and uses that information to become the best teenaged dragon fighter, all without killing a single dragon. Hiccup's success frustrates Astrid, because she has been training all her life to be a dragon fighter, and was the best until Hiccup's changed behavior. Astrid discovers Hiccup and Toothless, but has her mind changed after spending time with them. Hiccup and Astrid discover the dragons' nest, and realize that the dragons raid the village in order to feed a giant dragon who will eat them otherwise.

When Hiccup is chosen as the best dragon fighter, he must kill a dragon in front of the village, but he refuses. His father agitates the dragon into attacking, and Toothless arrives to save Hiccup, but is captured and imprisoned. The villagers use Toothless to lead them to the dragons' nest, but the giant dragon attacks them and the teenagers, all on dragons, rescue the adults, each using her or his own abilities and skills in a group effort. Hiccup and Toothless defeat the giant dragon, but Hiccup loses a leg as a result. The village accepts the dragons and lives in harmony with them from then on.

Do I think this movie was helped by the fact that a) it's based on a book written by a woman and b) three of the five producers are female? Yes, I do. And this is exactly why we need more women in Hollywood. I love having a movie that I can show my daughter over and over again, and not worry about the underlying messages she might be getting from it. Instead, I can show her How to Train Your Dragon as much as she wants, knowing that she's getting a message of inclusion and acceptance.

Cross-posted from California NOW

Written by: Elena Perez, April 22nd 2010

The Box

admin — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 11:55:00 +0000

Directed by Richard Kelly

Darko Entertainment

Norma (Cameron Diaz) and Arthur (James Marsden) receive a small box with a red button on top delivered by a mysterious man (Frank Langella) with half the left side of his face missing (gruesome, courtesy of CGI). It’s a Faustian deal. Press button and receive a million bucks. The catch: Someone unknown to you dies.

Here’s a good thing about The Box: The special effects water and its climax are très cool. Would that the rest of the flick were as compelling.

The melodramatic plot of nosebleeds, the afterlife, lightning, zomboids, Mars hokum, and the CIA borders on incoherent. Certain plot points in The Box are so problematic, silly, or contrived that you are lurched outside the tale. You will laugh, or else scratch your head and think, “Huh, what?" You will also wonder why you should empathize with the principal characters—who have good jobs and a nice home—when they would bump off a stranger in order to bridge a rough financial patch and be even more comfy in the future than they already are. Richard Kelly, the director and screenwriter, seems to have forgotten that—unless you’re Brecht and consciously demolishing the fourth wall—such maladroit lurchings shatter the willing suspension of disbelief.

Then there's the pacing—mostly glacial—and not interestingly glacial as in an Andrei Tarkovsky or Terrence Malick film, just leaden. Then there’s the dialogue. Every neophyte drama student knows that exposition creates backstory. The trick with exposition is to bury it in dialogue so astutely crafted that an audience is not aware that it's absorbing past facts crucial to an understanding of the present story. Exposition in The Box is often obvious and crudely dispensed (and there’s lots of it in an attempt to make the opaque plot transparent).

The film’s faults might be forgiven if it lived up to the raison d'être of its genre. The Box is supposed to be a supernatural/sci-fi thriller wrapped around a morality tale. Thrillers must have thrills. I don’t know about you, but my indispensable criterion for thriller thrills is whether the suspense is so fraught that my skin crawls and I’m perched on my seat’s edge. Attendant to this crawling and perching, I want to flee the theatre because I can’t stand one more second of apprehension. Yet I can’t leave. I am riveted to my cushion. The Box riveted me to my cushion twice. The several times I wanted to leave the theatre were occasioned by boredom.

Of many wasted efforts in The Box, Cameron Diaz is the most misused. Diaz is a game comedienne; she can also deglamourize and disappear in a part not seemingly meant for her—as she proved, respectively, in The Mask and Being John Malkovich. One automatically thinks of her as beautiful in the tall, blond manner. In The Box, sometimes she does appear lovely, but sometimes her face betrays her typecasting and seems close to ugly. Such a complex look is fruitful for an actress because she can use it to embody all the hope, love, joy, disappointment, sadness, and tragedy life brings. Her face sets Diaz apart from, say, Jennifer Aniston, who is merely pretty and—so far—only middling good at her craft.

Furthermore, Diaz has aged beyond being even a youngish romantic comedy lead. In The Box, she’s the mother of a pre-pubescent son. This aging is her and our blessing. It would be a marvel to see her on stage as Nora in Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. She deserves, at least, a complex film role that struts her stuff as an actor capable of the most profound incarnations of multiple truths that drama can provide. The Box, however, is so vacuous that she has nothing worth playing with or for, though now and again you can see in her performance what might await. Let us hope she gets a great part soon, so she can triumphantly mark her development for all of us to witness. Meanwhile, spend your money elsewhere (see Bright Star again!) and hope that Mystery Science Theatre 3000 will be revived so The Box can receive the lampooning it deserves.

Written by: Neil Flowers, November 19th 2009

Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms

admin — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:15:00 +0000

By Suzy McKee Charnas

Tachyon Publications

Recently, during a discussion on the flaws of Twilight, an acquaintance of mine made a rather insightful statement. “The vampire is supposed to die. Period.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love a sexy paranormal as much as the next chick, but lately I’ve noticed that a lot of vampires have, for lack of a better pun, lost their bite. The recent trend with all things horror and fantasy has been to either neuter or glamorize what were once considered spine-chilling denizens of darkness. Soul-less vampires and bloodthirsty werewolves have been replaced by pretty boys wearing leather who have brooding puppy dogs. Sexy? Yes. Blood curdling? Not so much. It is for this reason I say, thank God for Suzy McKee Charnas.

Winner of such prestigious science fiction/fantasy awards as the Hugo, Nebula, and Tiptree, Charnas reminds us why we are afraid of the dark. In her works, creatures of the night are sinister, vicious, and yes, even downright scary. Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms is a collection of Charnas’s previously published dark fantasy short-stories, plus two new autobiographical essays. The first essay, “The Stagestruck Vampire,” is about Charnas’s exasperating experiences trying to turn one of her works into a play. In the other, “They’re Right, Art is Long,” Charnas explores how her own personal feminism has shaped her works and career. Both are charming, informative pieces that give the reader a nice insight into the author’s mind.

The best in the bunch is “Beauty and the Opera,” an alternate ending to the classic Phantom of the Opera story. In this version, Christine agrees to live with the Phantom for five years as his wife in exchange for Raoul’s life. Told from Christine’s point of view, the story is equal parts horror and romance. The Phantom featured here is the disturbed, disfigured killer from the novel, not the tragically romantic character that usually dominates the movies and stage. Charnas’s writing is dark, seductive and engaging, drawing the reader into a tale of macabre beauty.

My other favorite story was “Boobs,” a tale of a teenage werewolf who gets revenge on a boy who has been teasing her about her chest size. Probably the most unusual coming-of-age story you’ll read this year, it was satisfying in an A Rose for Emily kind of way. The other stories in the collection are a showcase of horrific oddity. Edgar Allen Poe meets The Twilight Zone.

This is real horror, not the gruesome blood fests that have come to dominate the genre in recent years. The stories are a creepy good time, and while you won’t lose sleep after reading them, you’ll probably want to check under your bed. Just in case.

Written by: Victoria Kroeger, September 2nd 2009

District 9

admin — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Neill Blomkamp

WingNut Films

In 1982 an alien spacecraft descends into the Earth’s stratosphere and hovers for months over Johannesburg, South Africa. Humans, alternately fearing that the aliens are hostile and hoping that they are harbingers of technological advances, board the ship. They are disappointed to discover that the aliens are neither, being nothing more than incredibly ill and malnourished refugees from a distant planet. Human governments around the world provide aid for the aliens while they bicker over what to do with them. Eventually tensions between humans and the aliens (derisively known as “prawns”) spill over and the aliens are herded into District 9, a trash strewn shanty town. The aliens are then restricted from entering certain parts of South Africa.

After nearly thirty years, the world’s governments turn over control to Multi-National United (MNU), a private contractor much more interested in the advanced weaponry of the aliens than their well-being. A bumbling field agent for MNU, Wikus van der Merwe (Sharlto Copley) is put in charge of relocating more than a million aliens further away from Johannesburg in a new camp. After being sprayed by an unknown substance during a raid, Wikus begins a frightening metamorphosis into an alien. Realizing that Wikus can operate the weaponry due to the fact that his DNA has begun to change (the aliens’ guns cannot operate without alien DNA), MNU plans to experiment on Wikus. Wikus, rightfully fearing for his life, escapes from custody and hides out in District 9 where he seeks help from an alien known as Christopher Johnson. Christopher, who is earlier seen disputing the legality of an eviction notice, has plans of his own.

Inspired by the forced removal of sixty-thousand residents from District 6 in Cape Town, District 9 functions as a metaphor for apartheid-era racial policies. The “prawns” are definitely meant to symbolize members of racial minority groups as they are bipedal, employ verbal communication that is easily understood by humans, and even engage in inter-species sexual relations. The (mostly white) humans put in charge of policing them unthinkingly utilize colonialist arguments to justify their oppressive tactics; “prawns” are stereotyped as uncivilized, aggressive, lacking in initiative, none too bright, and lacking the same concept of land ownership that humans have. And Wikus’ transformation from human to alien mirrors the fates of scores of South African whites who lost their legal standing as whites once the government discovered their “non-white” ancestry.

Despite its interesting premise and inventive storytelling, this movie is eventually undone by its flaws. First, there are a lot of plot holes. For instance, MNU’s decision to kill Wikus and harvest his organs doesn’t make much sense. Isn’t he much more useful to them alive than dead?

Second, racial stereotypes of Africans abound. While always unacceptable, racial stereotypes definitely don’t belong in a movie with an anti-xenophobia message. However, that did not deter the filmmakers from presenting extremely negative images of sub-Saharan Africans. Every black person in District 9 was either: 1) an unthinking toady of white authority figures (Mandla Gaduka), 2) a violent criminal, 3) a believer in witchcraft and superstition, or 4) some combination of 1-3.

I found it very telling that the Nigerian warlords don’t live much better than the “prawns” they regularly exploit. (Even though quite a few Nigerians do live in South Africa, the filmmakers should not have assumed that an international audience would know that, which is yet another flaw in this movie.) I also thought it was odd that none of the South African blacks featured in the film seemed to see any parallels between the aliens’ predicament and their own recent history.

Finally, the third act quickly disintegrates into a standard Hollywood shoot-em-up, and District 9 relies too heavily on gore. Once the audience became aware that the aliens’ military hardware can literally blow its targets to bits, the filmmakers should have kept much of the violence off-screen. I covered my eyes numerous times, and I am not exactly squeamish.

Despite its imperfections, the mockumentary District 9 does make you think while managing to be entertaining, a feat few of the movies released this year have managed to pull off. In fact, District 9 is likely to find a wide audience and make more than a few “Best of 2009” lists.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, August 15th 2009

Terminator Salvation

admin — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 19:13:00 +0000

Directed by McG

Warner Bros. Pictures

The story behind Christian Bale’s casting in the latest installment of the Terminator franchise is as follows. Director McG approached Bale to play the role of Marcus (the role that eventually went to up-and-coming Aussie actor Sam Worthington). Instead, Bale asked to play John Connor and insisted that the storyline be so airtight that it would hold up without special effects.

In that regard, Terminator Salvation succeeds. I couldn’t find any plot holes in this two-hour installment. However, Salvation takes itself a little too seriously, lacking much of the fun of the previous installments.

The film, which serves as both a sequel and a prequel, is set in 2018, fourteen years after the events of Terminator: Rise of The Machines. We are introduced to a thirty-three year old John Connor. A mid-ranking officer in the human resistance, Connor is viewed as the fulfillment of a messianic prophecy by some, and a delusional fake by others. He spends much of his time reaching out to far-flung members of the resistance via radio.

Meanwhile, a mysterious stranger, Marcus, wanders around in the wasteland that used to be Southern California. He encounters two lone members of the Los Angeles based resistance, a teenaged Kyle Reese (an absolutely adorable Anton Yelchin) and a mute Star (an even cuter Jadagrace). While they make their way to John Connor’s camp, Kyle and Star are captured by Skynet, which is holding large numbers of humans as hostages.

While Marcus makes his way to the Resistance, he crosses paths with Blair (Moon Bloodgood), a resistance fighter who gets shot down during a dogfight with Skynet. They hike for two days in order to reach camp. I can’t give any more plot details without revealing the ending, but let’s just say that there is a lot more to Marcus than originally meets the eye.

I wanted to like—no, love—this movie. After all, I am a huge fan of the Terminator series, and I have nursed a crush on Christian Bale since I first saw him in the satirical, but incredibly controversial, American Psycho. And I did like the fact that the movie dealt with heavy existential questions on what it truly means to be human.

However, the film never thrilled me. Salvation is too flawed for that. In fact, I found myself fidgeting in my seat despite the lean 130-minute runtime. The opening sequence gave away too much information about Marcus, which allowed me to make a fairly accurate guess at what his role in the story was. If McG had dealt with Marcus’s back story in flashbacks, the plot twist that occurs near the end would have packed much more of a dramatic punch. The cinematography is downright boring—you can only sit through so many shots of a barren sun-scorched landscape. The movie is often overpowered by Danny Elfman’s blaringly dramatic score. The dialogue is leaden in numerous spots with Bale using his creepy Batman Begins voice one time too many; several actors (Bryce Dallas Howard, Common, and Jane Alexander amongst others) are wasted. The CGI cameo of the Governator himself inspired yawns, not gasps of surprise. And, in my not-so-humble opinion, not allowing John Connor to die at the end of the movie was a cop-out.

That said, only check out this film if you are a fan of the series and are eager to see which loose ends do and don’t get tied up. Otherwise, skip it.

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, June 1st 2009

Sophie’s World: A Novel about the History of Philosophy

admin — Mon, 07 May 2007 11:40:00 +0000

By Jostein Gaarder, Paulette Moller

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

An international bestseller when it was first published over a decade ago, Jostein Gaarder’s Sophie’s World has recently been re-released with a new appendix consisting of a short set of thematic and plot-related questions. Gaarder’s novel, brilliant in its philosophical scope and concision, narrates the intellectual maturation of its protagonist, Sophie Amundsen, a fourteen-year-old girl living in Norway. The novel is comprised of brief synopses of major philosophical theories and figures, from classical myth to twentieth century existentialism, from Socrates to Beauvoir. The synopses are interspersed between narrative segments that follow Sophie’s quest to discover the mysterious identities of Hilde Møller Knag, Hilde’s father Albert Knag, and their connection to her philosophy teacher Alberto Knox. In a quite frightening narrative twist constructed as a type of surreal mise en abyme, which culminates in the delightful philosophical garden party, Sophie and Alberto discover that they are fictional characters in Albert Knag’s novel (coincidentally entitled Sophie’s World) that he has written to Hilde for her fifteenth birthday.

In his review in the New York Times of the novel upon its first publication in English in 1994, John Vernon aptly refers to the Sophie’s World as a kind of modernized “old-fashioned conduct book of the sort written by a father for his daughter’s education.” While this description bespeaks the novel’s unfortunate bland style—which Vernon calls as “plain as a box,” with “tissue thin” characters—it also is indicative of the novel’s practical value as an elementary guide to the history of philosophy; if a reader, for example, wanted a brief summary of Sartre’s version of existentialism, she can easily flip to the novel’s index for quick reference. It is a wonderful resource for a basic introduction to philosophy, especially for younger generations of readers who have already devoured J.K. Rowling’s and Philip Pullman’s books and who are looking for something else to satiate their desire for intellectual intrigue, mystery and adventure.

Written by: Marcie Bianco, May 7th 2007

A Loop in Time

admin — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 18:39:00 +0000

By Rowena Wright

Finial Publishing

Rowena Wright compiles myth, science and fantasy in her newest novel, A Loop in Time, which details a year in the life of Ericca Ludwig and her friends in post-9/11 New York City. Ericca, the only child of Sophia Ludwig, spends much of her time at home discussing time and space with Albert Einstein and Leonardo Fibonacci, whose personas are manifested in Spike, Ericca’s magical blanket. Eventually, Ericca learns that she is a descendent of a magical race known as Ringolds, as are Matt and Elle, her two closest friends outside of Albert and Leonardo. As Ericca is gradually introduced to this new and mysterious lifestyle, she learns that a Ringold’s spirit is immortal, and she embarks on a mission to bring her dead father, Branch Archer, back to life.

A Loop in Time is more than a science fiction novel meant to entertain young adults with its complicated yet intriguing storyline. Underneath the science, the myth and the magic is a simple assessment of the relationship between men and women. Elle and Matt, for example, are strikingly dissimilar in that Elle is intelligent, a student of mythology and enjoys fashion shows, while Matt preoccupies himself with technology, violence and creating the world’s greatest video game; the two get along better than most other siblings might.

The divergence between men and women is more evident in chapter eight, Quintana Castle, when a group a vampires, depicted by their “feline grace” and “enchanting sweetness,” captures Matt. Following his escape, Matt is assailed by a group of ungainly, clumsy umpires, who offer him “plates of pie, spaghetti, and roast beef.” Though the exchange between the two hoards isn’t pertinent to the story, it does imply that the graceful, seductive and feminine vampires realize success methodically, while the bumbling, rumbling umpires can only attempt to kidnap Matt through persuasion and bribery; their attempts at flattery are far less appealing than are the attempts of the vampires.

A Loop in Time comprises many other situations that highlight the discrepancies between the masculine and feminine, however, Rowena Wright seems to suggest, by the end of the novel, that men and women, working jointly, can fashion something beautiful, such as the birth of a child, like Ericca, or the recovery of a lost soul, like Branch Archer.

Written by: Jeremy Stafford, April 15th 2007

Fledgling

admin — Sun, 01 Apr 2007 17:08:00 +0000

By Octavia E. Butler

Warner

She awakens feeling inside middle age, but looking preadolescent. Even more confusing is that she suffers from amnesia and doesn’t know why she is in this cave, badly bruised and injured. Finally she is starving, but instinctively knows she must dine on human blood, preferably without killing the host.

Wright drives by, sees this young battered girl alone, stops and offers her a ride, which she accepts along with feeding from him. He stays at her side feeling compelled to do so as Shori meets other Ina almost like her and learns that humans like Wright are symbionts providing their nourishment. However, she also finds out how unique she is even amongst the vampiric Ina, as she is the result of a genetic experiment using African American human DNA that enables her to withstand sunlight, why her family was murdered and that a predator seeks to finish the job by killing her and her new symbiont. Survival is her only objective.

Fledgling is a reprint of a terrific vampire tale that provides a deep look at family, race relationships and sexuality, yet is loaded with action. Shori holds the tale together as she learns who she is and why someone wants her dead. Though some readers might have issue with a fifty-three years old female who looks like she is ten or eleven years old (Ina age slower and live longer) having adult relationships, Octavia E. Butler writes a thought provoking character driven relationship allegory.

Written by: Harriet Klausner, April 1st 2007

The End of Mr. Y

admin — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 03:01:00 +0000

By Scarlett Thomas

Harcourt

The End of Mr. Y is a science fiction fantasy story. Ariel Manto is a doctoral student writing about a mysterious author, T.E. Lumas. His final book, The End of Mr. Y has never been read by anyone alive because whoever reads the book disappears. After spending the last of her money on the book, Ariel uses it to fall into a trance and enter the Troposphere – an alternate dimension where she can travel through time and space.

This book is long – clocking it at about 400 pages. While it did pique my interest, it was not a thrilling page turner. I set it down for a few days and was perfectly happy to leave it there, with no urge to continue reading just to know what happens next. The End of Mr. Y references a lot of science and philosophy from the late 1800s that some might not be familiar with. Without such familiarity it would be hard to keep up with references to Charles Darwin and a large cast of thinkers. The book, however, is an interesting read once you get past all the references; it turns into a great adventure story.

Written by: Katie Peoples, March 13th 2007

Children of Men

admin — Mon, 26 Feb 2007 12:49:00 +0000

Directed by Alfonso Cuaron

Universal Studios

P.D. James’ The Children of Men is a story about the English countryside, devoid of the English. It is the near future, and men have become infertile. Half-deranged, aging women coo over porcelain dolls, pushing their prams through empty streets. An increasingly lonely and oppressed population struggles to maintain normalcy in Britain while chaos rules the rest of this world without hope. And from this infertile world comes new life, in the form of a Christian woman and her child. Our hero, historian and academic Theo, finds redemption in helping the mother in her quest to have her birth on her own terms, rather than turning her and her unborn child over to the authorities. In the end though, we’re left with a questionable victory: Power moves from the hands of one man to another through violence, and through the Coronation Ring, the wedding ring of England.

Alfonso Cuaron’s film adaptation, Children of Men, is radically different, set in a grittier, more action-packed dystopian London. As might be expected with a book-to-film adaptation, gripping curbside discussions have been replaced with even more gripping coffee shop bombings, and distant tales of trouble on the Isle of Man penal colony have been swapped out in favor of a kidnapping and chase in what’s become an active war zone. Interestingly, these action-oriented changes actually serve to make the film more realistic than the book – this future world looks uncannily like the present, complete with visual echoes of Iraq and Guantanamo.

The book’s vaguely Christian Madonna is abandoned in favor of strong female activists, and its messages run broader as well: Every child is precious. Violence never works, only pushing away the peace you strive for. Personal loss can be overcome by love for the collective. The future is worth dying for.

What both the film and the book have at their hearts though, is a reverence for motherhood. Children of Men shows us a future where the one constant is the power of mothers, midwives, and childbirth. In a world where women are taught that childbirth is something they need drugs, scalpels and doctors to get through, these portrayals of the strength of women and the beauty and transformative power of birth are a welcome source of hope. Maybe the future can be a fertile one after all.

Written by: Ari Moore, February 26th 2007