Which side of the fence are you on? When making a film about a civil war, it’s a good question to ask.
So, when a director attempts to craft a harrowing and immersive experience set in a dystopian near-future America, deploying evocative cinematography, art-house editing and eclectic use of music, against a screenplay so bereft of logic and meaning, the result is some of the dumbest shit committed to film. This is quite an achievement considering how bad cinema has devolved since 2016.
It’s not that formidable a task, and yet here we are.
Quentin Tarantino is undeniably one of the most distinctive and influential filmmakers of our time. With his unique blend of genre-bending storytelling, razor-sharp dialogue, and unapologetic style, Tarantino has carved out a niche for himself in the world of cinema that is entirely his own. However, perhaps equally as intriguing as his films themselves is his decision to limit his directorial career to just ten movies.
Tarantino has been vocal about his intention to retire from filmmaking after completing his tenth feature film. This decision has sparked curiosity and speculation among fans and critics alike. Why would a filmmaker at the peak of his career choose to impose such a strict limit on his output?
Fred Saberhagen boasts not only an exceptionally cool authorial moniker but also stands as a luminary in science fiction, chiefly owing to his creation of one of the genre’s most mysterious, notorious, and impactful adversaries—The Berserkers.
A prolific American science fiction and fantasy writer, Fred Saberhagen (1930-2007) left an indelible mark on the genre. His notable contributions include the renowned “Berserker” series, featuring self-replicating robotic warships with a singular mission to annihilate all life in the cosmos. Additionally, Saberhagen reimagined the classic vampire archetype in a contemporary context with his “Dracula” series, introducing the iconic character of Dracula. Renowned for his imaginative storytelling and inventive approaches to traditional science fiction and fantasy themes, Saberhagen’s legacy endures.
Cinema, as a medium, has undergone a remarkable evolution since its inception, with various genres adapting and transforming over time to capture the ever-changing tastes and sensibilities of audiences. One of the most dynamic and enduring is the action genre, having matured into a multifaceted cinematic realm that explores complex themes, character development, and innovative storytelling techniques. As visual entertainment, the action genre has continuously evolved, reflecting the shifting cultural, and societal dynamics involving thrills and violence on the screen. Within this evolution, certain individuals have left an indelible mark on specific genres, forever altering the trajectory of filmmaking. One such luminary is the iconic Jean-Paul Belmondo, whose charismatic presence and groundbreaking performances have left an enduring influence on the action genre, including stunt work, car chases, and martial arts in cinema.
Historiography (or Historiology) is a term that refers to the study of historical writing and its methods of interpretation. In science fiction, historiography plays a significant role in exploring the complexities of the past, present and future of a story.
There are many benefits to writing short stories. Writers do it to practice and develop their style of storytelling, and it also allows them to explore singular ideas, concepts and themes. The narratives are easy to control, the outcomes have less room for error, and you can get your story out quickly.
Of all the tropes, the ‘Last of a Kind’ concept is one of that rare theme, plot and character devices that has evolved into a mythical existence with one perfect master stroke. Richard Matheson’s classic vampire novel towers over them all. ‘I Am Legend (1954)’ is an ingenious hybrid of two previous classics, such as Mary Shelley’s ‘The Last Man (1826)’ and Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula (1897)’. Vampirism and plague, a combination that captures the definitive pretext for a last man alive narrative, grounding the myth of the supernatural with the reality of pathogens.
Matheson also deploys another trope in the finale of the story, one that is more devastating in its social commentary. The vampires, the pandemic, and the last man on Earth are just the setup for the novella’s central message, and it’s the one element shunned by all the film adaptations to date.
Works of art are no longer produced to quench a bored populace, who thirst for the type of content that frees them from their mundane lives, enhancing their outlook on life with fascinating stories, old and new, inspiring them to understand their lives and the world they live in.
Post-2016, works of art have degenerated into force-fed garbage that nobody wants, needs or trusts anymore. Deranged by political agenda or succumbing to incompetence, producers still want your money but aren’t willing or capable of delivering what the consumer wants.
These two symptoms have become a kind of cultural disease that seems to have blossomed in the last decade. It has infected everything, killing lots of film franchises along the way and making the movie-going experience a sour, unappealing, cynical enterprise. Who wants to consume something they haven’t ordered? Who wants to be insulted? Or attacked? Who chooses to be ripped off?
Nobody.
The screen adaptation of Niel Gaiman’s ‘American Gods’ is one of those stories that’s come out at the wrong time and has suffered as a consequence. It had everything going for it. The source material had it all; an interesting premise, exploring the old gods, traditions and myths, wondering about the backwaters of America warring against the new, contemporary deities. The book celebrated the diverse cultural heritage of migrants and natives. It poked fun at the soulless modern world. It questioned faith and religion without demeaning them. Its characters were interesting, its backstories rich, and the plot meandering yet riveting, how can these elements not be transferred to the screen?
Having finished watching three seasons, I can say they did succeed. The casting can’t be faulted. The visuals and cinematography match the book as if the book was a novelisation of the series. The soundtrack faired even better. Even the title credits are still watchable after twenty episodes in.
What hamstrings this is the constant shoehorning of hamfisted and on-the-nose political and corporate propaganda, the type of garbage that the plot and consumers can do without.
The God of Propaganda
Media and entertainment have always been skewered by propaganda, especially in times of war. How many twentieth-century war movies were pumped out since World War 1 when politicians and generals learned how to weaponize the medium? From My Four Years in Germany (1918) to Battleship Potemkin (1926) to John Wayne’s The Green Berets (1968), propaganda films were geared to persuade an audience into supporting a war against a foreign ‘enemy’ nation. Even anti-war propaganda movies were made, such as Civilization (1916).
To go to war or not.
To fight a cause or not.
To be decent human beings or not to be.
To make a propaganda film or write a propaganda novel, or not to.
There is nothing bad or wrong with creating material that invokes a certain reaction from a consumer. Bad-intentioned players do it, and so do well-intentioned players. The consumer is left making the decision on how to interpret the emotional and fictionised factual information presented in the work. Audiences and readers want to be challenged morally and intellectually, but not always. Sometimes, they just want to be entertained. A skilled creative, or a skilled propagandist, would know how to strike this balance between propaganda and storytelling.
The keyword here is skilled.
The golden rule any skilled propagandist knows is not to attack or insult your audience because doing so divides and antagonises your audience against each other. Propaganda is a weapon first and foremost. It is effective in uniting a group of people against another group of people. Pointed in the wrong direction, it splits a group of people into factions. Vilification is the master tool, the mechanism that drives, points and fires this weapon. Amateurs and morons should not play with such things, and yet for the past decade, they insist that they do.
The God of Stereotypes, Bigotry and Intolerance.
Interpreting the novel to the screen wasn’t enough for the producers, instead, they endeavoured, with Niel Gaiman’s blessing mind you, to make sure that the viewer’s morality and prejudices were given a health check. So they decided to fight stereotypes, bigotry and intolerance with more stereotypes, bigotry and intolerance.
Season 1 plodded along fine, our protagonist set out on an adventure, just like in the novel. Its two characters, Shadow Moon and Mr Wedensday grow on you thanks to the sublime performances of Ricky Whittle and Ian McShane. Then, halfway through, the showrunners decide to attack conservative Christians, depicting them as mass murderers mowing down illegal immigrants at the Rio Grande, even gunning down Mexican Jesus in the process. There is a message in there somewhere, I suppose.
Guns are bad. Religious folk are bad.
The Texans are bad.
Then to tie in with the anti-gun theme, the episode concludes with Shadow and Wednesday taking a detour from the novel to go and see Vulcan, who runs a factory making guns, in a town populated by Nazis. In the novel, Gaiman refrained from using Greek and Roman mythology as characters, so watching the show culturally appropriating Vulcan/Hephaestus and turning him into a fascist god was cringe upon cringe.
The success of the novel and the film adaptation hinges on the fact that it depicts these gods living in the real world. Nazi midwestern towns and a murderous Texan posse are not reality. But the producers seem to not care, politics supersedes art, or they don’t know how to get the same message across without being so hamfisted about it.
The God of Racism
An interesting debacle that showcases the hypocrisy of identity politics is the firing of Orlando Jones, who played the mesmerising Mr Nancy/Anansi, an angry African god who lashes out against the enslavement of his worshippers. Based on West African folklore, this trickster spider deity gave blistering speeches condemning the fate of black slaves, but the vitriol and anger make sense in context to the character. This is one pissed-off deity and it made for interesting viewing. Yet, the producers of the show decided to sideline the character, going as far as firing Jones for not toning down the spider god. They didn’t even pay the man for the writing work he did on his character plus several other characters.
Get it, the producers go out of their way to virtue signal about inclusiveness, shoehorn black actors in minor roles, they even have extras talking about how their grandmother became the first district attorney, but it comes to exploiting black talent, they exploit them and then dump them. This hypocrisy bleeds into the series and hinders every aspect of the artistry.
The God of Cultural Appropriation
Yes, have a pre-Islamic deity in the show. Throw in a devout Muslim into the mix. Sure, make them gay. But focusing the entire story arc on the relationship between the Jinn and the gay cab driver shows that the producers don’t give the slightest fuck about insulting the world’s 1.9 billion mostly conservative Muslims.
What makes this even more indigestible, is the fact that this story arc goes absolutely nowhere. The Salim character does nothing in the series and contributes nothing to the story. Learns nothing. He simply hooks up with a Jinn, pines over him through three seasons, and then gets dumped by the Jinn.
The leprechaun, Mad Sweeney can get a strong and powerful backstory, so why can’t the Jinn get one? There’s enough lore around these supernatural beings to tell a thousand and one tales, so tell a story and get the whiny, dweeby cab driver involved in an interesting adventure somehow, give his life meaning, instead of giving a meaningless journey that ends in an orgy and him returning to pray to Allah.
The God of Sexual Diversity
Ta Yeh is a Chinese deity who manages love and sex between homosexual people, giving shelter to those persecuted. Known as The Rabbit God, this deity gets a mention towards the end of the series, for about 21 seconds. Instead, the writers delve into every clique their ignorance could muster. There’s no tale about family, kindness, or loyalty, it’s just glamourized sex and debauchery that seeks to rival parties thrown by Freddy Mercury, just to shoehorn in a plot device to provide Salim with his pointless orgy.
It is what it is.
When pushing agendas for the sake of pushing them, creatives tend to expose their incompetence and their own bigotries. Shows like this, which are based on good source material, are watchable and entertaining if you can ignore the tactless grandstanding. The elements of story, casting, cinematography and music are there.
There are timeless ways of pushing propaganda that work. The crux of the story must be the agenda, whatever it is. Weave the plot around it, bond the characters naturally to the issues or points of view the creatives want to take and get the message forward. What you don’t do is get an existing property that has nothing to do with the political objective and inject it with it. It’s obvious, super cringe and counterproductive to whatever cause is at stake.
The point of propaganda is to get everyone on the same page, not split them up into warring factions. So this is actually not propaganda at all. Wokeness is a strategically placed social cancer designed to tear culture apart, escalate the hate and loathing instead of easing it, and indulge the prejudices lingering in all humans to the point of mindless, irrational frenzy.
The good news is, the market will eventually correct this, as it always does.
Biology is a fascinating and diverse field of science that explores the living world and its interactions. Science fiction is a genre that uses biological concepts, themes, or elements to create imaginative stories, worlds, and creatures. Some aspects of biology that are commonly found in science fiction include evolution, disease, genetics, physiology, parasitism, and symbiosis.
Disease: This is the phenomenon of organisms being affected by harmful agents or conditions, such as viruses, bacteria, parasites, toxins, or environmental factors. A pandemic can be used as a plot device, a metaphor, a challenge, or a threat in science fiction stories. Some works that feature disease are Jack London’s The Scarlet Plague, Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain, and Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake.
Genetics: This is the branch of biology that studies the inheritance and variation of traits in organisms, such as genes, chromosomes, DNA, and mutations. Genetics can be used to explore themes such as identity, diversity, ethics, and power in science fiction stories. Some works that feature genetics are Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, Frank Herbert’s Dune, and Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game.
This field of science is a given.
Even if the story doesn’t involve alien ecosystems, a near or far-future world is an undiscovered country of new manifestations of living things, human or otherwise. What have we so far found living on this planet? Plants, animals, fungi, bacteria, slime moulds, archaea. From synthetic to quantum biology, the list of organisms that can be conjured up is endless.
Brian Aldiss
Aldiss demonstrated a keen interest in the natural sciences, particularly biology, and skillfully merged it with imaginative storytelling. His works often feature richly detailed biological worlds, where exotic and alien life forms interact with human characters. Aldiss seamlessly integrates biological concepts and principles, crafting intricate ecosystems, evolutionary processes, and symbiotic relationships that add depth and authenticity to his narratives.
Whether exploring genetic engineering, ecological systems, or the implications of human evolution, Aldiss’s use of biology in fiction goes beyond mere backdrop and becomes an integral part of the story. His adept portrayal of biological themes serves to emphasize the interconnectivity of life, the fragility of ecosystems, and the profound impact of scientific advancements on humanity. Aldiss’s ability to blend biology with speculative fiction showcases his skill in bridging the realms of science and imagination, leaving an indelible mark on the genre.
“Hothouse,” is set in a distant future where the Earth’s flora has evolved dramatically, and numerous unique and fascinating creatures inhabit the lush and perilous world.
Traversers: These are large, intelligent plants capable of moving and communicating with humans. They play a crucial role in the novel as characters interact and form alliances with them.
Symbiants: These creatures are a hybrid of animals and plants, combining the characteristics of both. They have the ability to photosynthesize and use their leaf-like appendages for camouflage and defense.
Bats: Bats have evolved into massive creatures, resembling pterodactyls, with a voracious appetite for the smaller creatures of the forest.
Mucoids: These slimy, amorphous beings inhabit the humid and murky depths of the forest. They possess a rudimentary intelligence and prey on smaller creatures that venture into their territory.
Sunflowers: Enormous sunflowers have evolved into towering, mobile entities. They possess rudimentary intelligence and serve as sentinels and protectors of the forest.
Fungi: Various types of fungi populate the forest, some of which are dangerous and deadly to humans. Others play a crucial role in the ecosystem, acting as decomposers and nutrient recyclers.
Carnivorous plants: There are numerous carnivorous plants throughout the forest, ranging from stationary varieties that lure in unsuspecting prey to mobile, aggressive ones capable of pursuing their targets.
Tummy-bellies: Small, slug-like creatures that serve as a primary food source for many of the larger creatures in the forest.
In Brian Aldiss’s “Helliconia” series, which consists of three novels set on a planet named Helliconia, there is a rich array of creatures that inhabit the planet’s diverse ecosystems.
Wutra Worm
The Wutra’s Worm is a colossal creature in the world of Helliconia, whose lifespan aligns with the vast cycle known as the Great Year. It is akin to a legendary dragon of Helliconia. During the summer season, the young worms take to the skies, gracefully soaring through the air. As the winter descends, the mature worms shed their wings, becoming wingless and finding refuge in an intricate labyrinth of tunnels that sprawl beneath the surface of Helliconia. These tunnels form an extensive network where the wise and weathered worms reside, braving the cold and harsh conditions of the winter season.
Phagors
The Phagors, also known as ancipitals due to their double-edged horns, are humanoid beings covered in white fur, reminiscent of mythical minotaurs. While roughly the same size as humans, they possess distinct characteristics. Their civilization, though intelligent and with its own language and culture, has never progressed beyond a hunter-gatherer stage. Originating during Helliconia’s earlier cold period, the Phagors differ from humans in several aspects. Their blood is golden instead of red, their internal organs are arranged differently, with their guts situated above their lungs, and their intellect and psychology are utterly alien. They exhibit hardiness and longevity, yet they struggle with warm conditions and water. As a Phagor ages, it gradually shrinks and undergoes keratinization, resembling a lifeless totem devoid of outward signs of life.
Bone Fever and Fat Death
Bone Fever is a viral affliction that affects Helliconia’s humans, marked by an extreme manifestation of anorexia. It spreads rapidly across the globe during the early stages of the Great Spring. Conversely, Fat Death is another disease characterized by an extreme form of binge eating, which becomes an epidemic during the late stages of the Great Autumn.
Both illnesses inflict significant suffering and have alarmingly high mortality rates. However, those who survive are left with bodies drastically altered in composition. Individuals afflicted by Bone Fever become considerably thinner, while those affected by Fat Death experience excessive weight gain and metabolic changes. Consequently, these survivors become better adapted to the forthcoming conditions of either summer or winter, respectively.
Curiously, both diseases stem from the same virus, which is carried by ticks and activated by seasonal environmental shifts. Humans unknowingly share a symbiotic relationship with the virus and, in turn, with the Phagors who harbour the ticks responsible for transmitting the virus.
Certain individuals in remote areas possess a rare immunity to the virus, rendering them outcasts in society due to their stark deviation from the prevailing physical standards—either grotesquely emaciated or morbidly obese.
The presence of Bone Fever and Fat Death in the world of Helliconia highlights the intricate interplay between humans, the virus, and the Phagors. These afflictions shape the physical and social dynamics of the population, introducing a complex web of adaptation, prejudice, and survival.
Throughout the series, Silverberg introduces readers to various fascinating creatures that inhabit this fictional realm. Here are some notable lifeforms from the Majipoor Cycle:
Vroons
A smallish, somewhat octopus-like race. Many are wizards, and they are known for the direction-finding and healing arts. Some can see the future in a limited way.HjortsA squat, bipedal race with bulging eyes and grey lumpy skin. While unattractive in appearance, they provide the bulk of the bureaucracy that keeps the vast and complex society of Majipoor operating. Some engage in mercantile activities, as well.
Skandars
A four-armed, shaggy, tall and very strong race. They can be found as cargo-handlers, teamsters and sailing ship crew. A few Skandars take up juggling, and with four arms they are unparalleled at this art. Skandars are known to be obstinate and hot-headed.
Liimen
Liimen are a three-eyed species characterized by their relatively lower level of intelligence. They primarily engage in menial tasks such as fishing, selling grilled meats, and carrying out janitorial duties within the society of Majipoor.
Su-Suheris
A mysterious tall folk with two small heads on a single neck. Through an unknown mechanism, both heads share a single consciousness. A few are great sorcerers or advisers to men of power in the government. Some Su-Suheris have psychic powers and are capable of seeing the future. They tend to be fairly aloof, and perhaps consider themselves better than the other races.
Ghayrogs
The Ghayrogs, a bipedal species with reptilian attributes such as forked tongues and serpentine black hair, are prominent inhabitants of Majipoor. The majority of their population resides in the crystalline city of Dulorn, but Ghayrogs can be encountered in various regions across the planet, with some even holding significant roles within the government. They tend to exhibit minimal emotional expression and require little to no sleep for the majority of the year.
Despite their scaly skin, the Ghayrogs are mammalian beings, distinguished by their intriguing reproductive process of laying eggs. This intriguing blend of reptilian and mammalian characteristics makes the Ghayrogs a unique species within the diverse tapestry of Majipoor.
Piurivar (also called Metamorphs or Shapeshifters)
The original inhabitants of Majipoor were the Shapeshifters, a race that initially resented the arrival of humans and engaged in a long-standing guerrilla conflict. This smouldering war persisted for centuries until Coronal Lord Stiamot took action, gathering and expelling the Metamorphs from Alhanroel, and confining them to a designated reservation on Zimroel. The Shapeshifters, characterized by bipedal forms, flat faces, and green/grey skin, possess a remarkable ability to mimic nearly any bipedal race, rendering themselves virtually indistinguishable from their chosen guise. This shape-shifting prowess greatly aided them in their struggles against early human colonists during Majipoor’s early history
One of the central creatures in the novel is the Wyrm, a powerful and enigmatic being that can shape-shift and possesses psychic abilities. The Wyrms play a crucial role in the story as they interact with human characters and navigate complex political and social dynamics. Additionally, the novel explores other fantastical elements such as telepathic communication and genetic manipulation.
Ribofunk envisions a future where genetic information becomes a currency, and human DNA is both a commodity and a source of power. In these stories, Di Filippo examines the societal and cultural shifts that occur when genetic manipulation and biotechnology reshape humanity.
