The Flux Capacitor 1.25.08: Week 18 - A Random Sci-Fi Essay

Posted by Owain J. Brimfield on 01.25.2008

The first installment in an entirely random series of scholarly sci-fi writings, taking a more serious look at the genre than usual. Plus, some more reader thoughts on Superman and all the latest from the world of SF.

Welcome to "The Flux Capacitor", the column that examines the past, present and future of the science fiction genre. I'm your host, Owain J. Brimfield, and this week we're taking a departure from the usual format, because I didn't have a topic down for this week on my column schedule. Instead, we have the first in a series of random scholarly essays on science fiction, a series which will continue intermittently when I don't have a more conventional theme planned. This is an updated version of an essay I wrote some years ago, and is going to be much more of a serious piece than usual, so, you know, bear with it and I'll make some knob jokes afterwards. Later on I'll also discuss some of the latest SF news and see how it impacts on the genre. For now though, let's get the DeLorean on the road - this week I'm asking the following rhetorical question:

What's more compelling, the death of an individual or the extinction of a race?

It's necessary to establish at the outset a concrete definition of both the terms ‘extinction' and ‘death' in order for a more specific analysis to be conducted. Extinction, in its strict paleontological terms, is accomplished when the last representative of a single taxon dies". It can be suggested that we might also distinguish the point when the organism in question is no longer able to reproduce; while scientifically speaking any such subtlety is pointless - not least within the realms of science fiction, where matters of reproduction are not necessarily confined to the conventional design of species - this is a more viable postulate for these purposes, as it will allow for stories of holocaust survivors and ‘last men'. Death, for its own part, is a more uncertain term (especially when religion is brought into the equation, but due to the relative complexity of the matter it shall remain absent for here). Death is commonly seen as "the irreversible ending of life", but the problems with this definition are immediately apparent - the science fiction genre provides countless examples of life ending only to be restored, whether through technological means such as cryogenic freezing at the point of life's end, or via more spiritual methods. The best definition that can be presented for consideration seems to be "the permanent and irreversible loss of cognitive function", as this will allow for variance within the genre as to its treatment, without remaining too indefinite a conception.

Both concepts, however, permit a large degree of extrapolation from the basic definition, allowing science fiction's concerns to be allied with a number of scenarios derived from the event itself, affording an even greater level of interest. With extinction, or at least the threat of it, comes the popular (especially within British science fiction) notion of grand-scale disaster, and the ensuing post-apocalyptic state of the afflicted world, which holds great potential as an evocative setting for sci-fi storyworlds. Death brings with it the more immediate and humanistic concern of its own prevention, and the means by which the individual will seek to elude death in its many forms, whether under threat from a killer or disease, or in the case of Terry Pratchett's Discworld works from Death as a personification in his own right.

The primary point of interest with extinction in science fiction is quite simply the means by which the event is accomplished. The magnitude of catastrophe or conflict required to bring about the annihilation of an entire species is by necessity immense (assuming, of course, that said species is sufficiently numerous), and this epic quality is inherently fascinating. At the one extreme, extinction caused by cataclysmic events such as asteroid impacts or the firing of Death Star super-lasers engenders a sense of spectacle and wonder, appealing to our baser instincts in being party to such carnage. We are essentially being forced back into our seats at such a grandiose turn of narrative. While this category of spectacular extinction events may seem confined to filmic science fiction, this is not necessarily the case. Adam Roberts' The Snow postulates an extinction threat caused by a ceaseless snowfall on Earth, an event that, while more subdued in nature, evokes a spartan atmosphere that leaves the reader in awe as to the unexpected, silent demise of humanity - as one character in the novel puts it, "as quiet as cancer". At the other end of the scale, extinction can be presented in an ambiguous manner. The New Zealand movie The Quiet Earth depicts a human extinction where one man is left alone inhabiting the Earth, accompanied by two personified figments of his imagination. The cause of this mass human disappearance is only hinted at, with allusions to a mysterious "effect" and a subsequent alteration of physical laws perhaps being best read as the survivor himself as the origin of the event. While this type of extinction is relatively unspectacular, it is no less diverting than destruction events, inviting a great deal of speculation as to cause, motive and possible spiritual mechanisms.

Death can undoubtedly hold its own and maintain interest on a similar, purely visceral level. Science fiction affords the potential for killings to occur in a huge array of circumstances, stemming usually from advanced technology. For instance, the sci-fi / action film Predator, wherein an alien hunter tracks down a party of commandos in a South American jungle, illustrates a series of grisly human deaths at the hands of the alien's superior weaponry. Much of the story's entertainment is derived from our amazement at the methods of slaughter employed, and the bloody consequences rarely disappoint. However, as with extinction events, it is not necessarily violent spectacle that is of interest. A scene in Iain M. Banks' Consider Phlebas concerns the main character's intrusion into a tribal island community on a distant planet, his fate for such set to be his being slowly eaten alive by the group's cannibal leader, who exhibits an arsenal of specialized metal dentures. Thankfully the hero escapes with the loss of no more than a finger; here, as with the case of ambiguous extinction events, it is the conjecture as to what could have transpired that occupies us.

Taking the next logical step, the second level of interest when concerned with extinction arises from humanity's fight for survival. This is best evidenced when the event in question is an aggressive extinction, such as alien conquest, a scenario that has a vast heritage within science fiction (in particular, noted sci-fi historian Brian Aldiss has described the Martian invasion in H.G. Wells' The War Of The Worlds as "a classic ground plan for an SF novel"). Such a perspective enables us to invest ourselves empathetically in the story, as we will naturally tend to root for humanity's triumph over extinction events. A primary, albeit somewhat propagandized, example is the Hollywood sci-fi of Independence Day, essentially a celebration of human virtue in its struggle against, and eventual triumph over, a potential aggressive extinction at the hands of aliens. This human element is more prevalent where death is concerned, as the emotion of the moment is generally more tangible and easier to comprehend. Whereas it may be difficult to understand, and thus empathize with, the concept of humanity, the individual is emotionally available to almost everyone. The love story presented in Korean sci-fi film Natural City, even in the face of mediocre characterization and science fiction concepts (the two protagonists being a rebellious, unlikable soldier and a recalcitrant, terminally ill android), shines through and stimulates our emotions, demonstrating that a level of humanistic concern is necessary to engage us in science fiction.

(The discussion at this point should raise, briefly, the question of whether it is only the extinction / death of humans that interests us. If we extend this to incorporate creatures and robots of comparable intelligence, for the purposes of the genre, the answer should be unashamedly ‘yes' - Jurassic Park, for example, hardly fills us with sympathy for the extinction of the dinosaurs.)

The final major element that comprises our interest in extinction is the consequences such an event would generate. Olaf Stapledon's Last And First Men in particular is fertile ground for the science fiction imagination in this regard, detailing a series of extinctions of human and human-like species across a future history that offer philosophical talking points by virtue of the environmental and societal trends they engender. Equally noteworthy is the oft-used science fiction device of surviving a near-extinction event, and the consequent subsistence in a post-apocalyptic world - the considerations as to how humans might operate in such a situation open up a whole realm of intellectual debate, not least in considering how we ourselves might cope in similar circumstances. On a related note, there is also the possibility of humanity being to blame for its own extinction - author Kim Stanley Robinson refers to "the mass extinction event we are causing" as "the greatest overall [mistake] made during our time". Such a prospect enthralls and appalls us in equal measure, the chance of humanity orchestrating its own demise being morbidly captivating.

Death in science fiction, too, has many philosophical ramifications. The genre allows for a multitude of issues worthy of debate, from the abstract spiritual questions raised - witness the little-seen film Final Approach, whose plot concerns a man in the afterlife in conversation with a psychiatrist, forced to come to terms with his mortal state and in doing so, indirectly giving voice to the questions we ourselves raise in eavesdropping on the meeting - to more conventional musings such as the cognitive state of computers. Kubrick's 2001 provides a famous example of such a case in the death (at least by our earlier stipulated definition of the term) of HAL, which raises weighty intellectual concerns regarding the nature of consciousness and intelligence. The interest here lies, presumably, in the potential for stimulating discussion, rather than immediate enjoyment of the story. The issue of immortality can further be raised with reference to the idea of death, but science fiction's take on this theme tends to be cautionary .

In a direct comparison of the twin ideas of extinction and death within science fiction, it is clear that the two exhibit similar characteristics pertaining to the interest they stimulate. Arguably, extinction provides a greater sense of awe and intuitive appreciation (at least when played for spectacle), whereas the lesser-scale notion of death is a more intellectually satisfying one. A fitting final example may be the television series Red Dwarf, which combines the two ideas - the last human of the species is marooned in deep space, accompanied by the holographic representation of his deceased room-mate. While the story is admittedly played for humorous value, it is worth noting that although both concepts factor into the storyline to varying degrees across episodes, they consistently play second fiddle to the interaction between the characters themselves. Perhaps the conclusion that should be drawn is that each concept will be of subjective interest to the viewer, as determined by the preconceptions the viewer himself brings to the medium - and if this is the case, I must contend that death is the more intriguing and satisfactory of the two within the realm of science fiction, both philosophically and (to what extent it is able) viscerally.


Reactions and interactions

So last week I discussed the thoughts of a reader who held a passionate hatred of Superman Returns, for reasons I didn't entirely agree with, but I conceded that maybe my lack of Superman fandom meant I had necessarily opposing views. Entering the discussion this week comes my good friend and film expert A.J.D. Hauser:

"I am a big Superman fan. I wrote my dissertation on him. A large chunk of that dissertation was on Superman Returns and why it's a good modern day interpretation of the character, in spite of its allusions to the Donner film (indeed, some of it worked because of those allusions). The said dissertation won an award.

I also mentioned why I think the film wasn't successful as it could have been. It comes down to one thing. 'Not enough explosions'."

Quite frankly, I think that hits the nail on the head perfectly. In a stunning twist of irony, my girlfriend bought me some Superman PJs the other day. How I giggled! If anyone has further thoughts to add on the subject, this could become quite an interesting ongoing discussion.

He also mentions in regard to my friend Mantonia's comment last week:

"Without getting into the inherent issues of homophobia surrounding your friend's comment, surely in order to 'ruin a series' it would have to be good in the first place? The first series of Torchwood was one of the worst series on television I've seen in a long time."

Fair point, I guess, I wasn't a big fan either. Let's give the second season a fair chance though.

Also leaving her thoughts last week:

Posted by: Cheryl

"I think amime employs the steampunk elements far better than film...just look at SteamBoy and many of Miyazaki's works. It works best in books though I have to admit. I think Philip Reeves Hungry City Chronicles or China Mevilles Bas Lag novels would make great steampunk films. It's great to see Sci Fi getting some attention. How about a BattleStar Galactica special?"

It certainly does seem that way, probably because production design is a hell of a lot easier in the animated medium. I'm not sure how well Mieville's novels would succeed on the big screen myself, but it would be nice to see the steampunk genre brought to some sort of prominence. Probably the only live-action film of any note in the genre is Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, and that didn't get too many rave reviews (except for Roger Ebert, but that guy went insane a long time ago). Battlestar will get a proper discussion once I'm properly caught up with the show - onto season two as we speak!


The Infosphere

Of course, the major news this week is the death of Heath Ledger. Hopefully the upcoming The Dark Knight will be a fitting swansong to an actor who was only really beginning to spread his wings and show us what he was capable of. Let's also take a moment to think of Brad Renfro, who died last week in similar circumstances but whose death has been almost completely overlooked. The guy was great in Bully and Ghost World, so check them out.

Chris Carter has spoken out for the first time on the upcoming X-Files sequel, confirming that the movie will have a standalone plot separate from the long-running "mythology" plotline.

You know, to me that doesn't seem like great news. Although I can understand that Mulder and Scully are going to have to be introduced to a new generation of SF fans who probably won't know much about the show's ongoing mythology, I'm hoping they're not just going to abandon the overriding themes altogether.

Paramount seems ready to go with a sequel to the current #1 movie in the country, Cloverfield. Director Matt Reeves recently talked about a potential sequel.

This actually seems like a good idea to me - the movie asked as many questions about events as it answered, and if the sequel, as is rumored, looks at the same attack from a different angle it could well prove a decent companion piece.

The monster in Cloverfield will be getting its own action figure soon. The 14-inch figurine will boast "authentic sound", two interchangeable heads (to represent its "calm" and "agitated" moods) and a separate Statue of Liberty head. Hasbro will make the figure but has not put up any pictures of what it will look like. It will retail for just under $100.

Hahahahahahahahaha!

Carol Barbee, executive producer of CBS' post-apocalyptic drama Jericho, told SCI FI Wire that she should know pretty early on whether the show will live beyond the seven-episode second season, which kicks off next month.

This puts the show in a bit of a weird situation - initially cancelled, only to be brought back just in time for the writers' strike. While I'm always glad to see shows like this get a second chance - and Jericho undoubtedly has a decent fanbase - it does look as though this will now be the final season of the show, regardless of ratings. At least they'll have the ability to tie up all the storylines.

And finally, here's a look at the teaser for the new Star Trek movie:



I was a bit disappointed personally, but hey, different strokes and all that. I'll reserve judgment for now.


And finally…

As always, reader feedback and suggestions are welcome, I respond to everything so just drop me a line or leave a comment. You can also check out my column "The Wonder Years" over at 411 Games. Next week in "The Flux Capacitor" - a return to the conventional format as we delve into the seedy underbelly of low-budget B-movies. Until then - keep watching the skies.