Showing posts with label future worlds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label future worlds. Show all posts

Wednesday, 11 September 2024

Blade Runner

Blade Runner

Director ~ Ridley Scott

Writers ~ Hampton Fancher, David Webb Peoples, Philip K. Dick

1982, US-UK

Stars ~Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean Young

 

[This refers to The Director’s Cut.]

 

A classic, of course, but also surely an influence on all sci-fi that came after, ‘Metropolis’, ‘2001: a space odyssey’ or ‘Star Wars’. And of course, Scott’s own ‘Alien’. Just the opening cityscape – dark, fiery, neon – swooning to Vangelis’ transcendent-ageless 80s synth crescendos and diminuendos is iconic. The retro-futurism neon, cyberpunk, the crammed together population, claustrophobic urbanism – Deckard’s place seems part apartment, part airduct, just one neighbourhood away from Gilliam’s ‘Brazil’ – the seemingly eternal nocturnalism, smog and rain… it’s a timeless mash-up feel of the antiquated and the futuristic. Zeppelins populate the sky along with flying cars – and chortle at the old brand names being advertised in the backdrops, although Coca Cola seems a constant. It feels lived in and plausible: part dazzle, part slum. Douglas Turnbull’s effects are both stunning and immersive. The highest of tech exists alongside entropy, the population distracted by the promise of living off-world. 

 


There’s so much detail to get lost in (a headline about mining on the moon; Deckard climbing over a sofa to cross his over-stuffed apartment) filtered through such a dreamy atmosphere that it takes and rewards multiple viewings to digest. It's marred by the moment where Deckard comes over all let’s teach the lady what she really wants where noirish romance involves a little rough foreplay. It’s an attitude that hasn’t aged well, even when all else still feels timeless; a misstep that glares because so much else is balanced so immaculately. Otherwise, the existential drama hinges on the What Does It Mean To Be Human? that Philip K. Dick’s original specialised in (whilst also cribbing the term “blade runner” from William S. Burroughs). If the question is why would they manufacture android-slaves to be so human-like, even giving them false memories, then surely we can look no further than our tendency to anthropomorphism as much as to Other, or indeed our desire to make AI and CGI as life-like as possible. The question of Deckard’s humanity looms large, but the Why? and What does it mean if he isn’t? gets smothered in the teeming mess and bric-a-brac of this society.

 

Harrison Ford has that look of a bad boy fearful of being discovered to be decent, an engaging vulnerability. Despite his apparent reputation, it has to be noted that Deckard doesn’t seem a convincing hunter of replicants: he only lives because his prey decides to do something else rather than immediately kill him (except when he shoots from behind). There’s an uncanniness to all the performances, a certain oddness that makes everyone memorable. Of course, it is Rutger Hauer that steals the show, chewing the scenery just with the crawl of his smile and delivering an improvised quintessential monologue… “I’ve seen things…” 

 


 

Saturday, 27 November 2021

Dune - notes on Frank Herbert's novel and Denis Villeneuve's adaptation

 


Dune

Frank Herbert, 1965

 

Fortuitously, Villeneuve’s first part of adapting Frank Herbert’s ‘Dune’ finishes just at the point I had read up to in the book at that time (halfway). The novel has sat in my “to read” pile since I was a teenager smitten with science-fiction, and I have no idea why it has taken a lifetime to get around to reading it. Perhaps I was intimidated by its reputation as “difficult” and/or “dense”? Well, it is dense and uncompromising and the world-building is exemplary, the kind I already knew from Jack Vance; although Vance feels pulpier and Herbert more serious in intent. World building is the genre’s chief pleasure and super-power. It’s enthralling and its place as One Of The Best and Highly Influential is obvious and well earned. It is full to bursting with detail, characters, culture and political intrigue and themes without losing focus or reader.

            

Its themes are the grandest: the intersecting of politics and religion and economics, cultures and war and guilds and totalitarianisms, of mesiahs and their followers, etc. It is full of snippets of wisdom dispensed in fake memoirs and political and religions tomes. It is full of the mechanics of politics and schemes that often feel like the Machievelli’s ‘The Prince’, or Sun Tzu’s ‘The Art of War’. For example: How you pay for military might? Make prison planets. And peppered with existential wisdom such as, “How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him.” Or, “the real universe is always one step beyond logic.” But the observations are full of intelligence rather than the platitudes that beset religious enlightenments.

 

‘Dune’ is heavily steeped in Middle Eastern culture – the precious spice = oil, for example – and has much commentary on colonialism and exploitation of resources. Yet whilst sympathetic and respectful of the Fremen natives, it’s a royal outsider that rallies and guides them. The gender politics are slippery too: women are concubines and witches, but they also seem to hold formidable behind-the-curtain power and connivance – they are certainly equal matches for the men, even in combat. The Bene Gesserit, for example, are a formidable sisterhood of female plotting and power committed to a breeding programme meant to result in the Kwisatz Haderach, a calculated Chosen One. Indeed, that they are apparently  "influenced by the tales of Maria Sabina and the sacred mushroom cults of Mexico" (says Wiki) shows the rich variety of inspiration that Herbert used. ‘Dune’ touches on too many bases, surely, to be accused of just one. It’s jammed packed full of weighty ideas and observations.


 

The guiding point is the apparent “Chosen One” status of Paul Atreides, the fifteen-year-old heir to the House of Atreides, trained in arcane ways by his mother and given to visions and reactions from others that he is Muab D’ib, a religious coming. ‘Dune’ certainly wasn’t the first, but one can see its popularity and influence as a seminal Chosen One narrative, even if others overlook its questioning intent. Paul himself is initially reluctant and disbelieving, although events soon bring out seemingly preternatural abilities. The Chosen One status drives him directly in conflict with his mother: he resents her for her part in putting him in that position, the Bene Gesseret breeding programme. By the finale of the novel in which Paul is given the chance to face down and outwit all his enemies and rivals, he is giddy with his omnipotence, even if the last melee is a close call highlighting his mortality. Yet this is tinged with Paul’s cynicism and self-awareness of his status as myth generator that defines his character. And as the fulcrum to several Chosen One legends, this self-awareness and cynicism culminates with his alternating whichever he needs to best his rivals (Paul Atreides, Muad’Dib, Kwisatz Haderach). Herbert may have been influenced by Arthurian mythology, but ‘Dune’ is not fascinated with Romantic Heroism of infallible protagonists. For Herbert, "Dune was aimed at this whole idea of the infallible leader because my view of history says that mistakes made by a leader (or made in a leader's name) are amplified by the numbers who follow without question.”*

 

It's a grand achievement, the mixture of hard and soft science-fiction, of convincing ecological and political realities mixed with futuristic fantasy consistently compelling and intelligent.



 

 

Dune

Director - Denis Villeneuve

Writers - Jon Spaihts (screenplay by), Denis Villeneuve (screenplay by), Eric Roth (screenplay by)

Stars - Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Zendaya

 

And a serious tone, somewhat humourless, is what Villeneuve brings, which seems to me thoroughly in keeping with the novel. This is in inevitable comparison with David Lynch’s madcap adaptation. As Mark Kermode notes, in Lynch’s version there is always a distraction, so you are never bored even as it is unravelling before your very consideration. It’s somewhat a highly enjoyable, compelling misfire where the art design and costumes and effects amaze even as the narrative flounders in seeking purchase. There’s a lot of amusement to watch it gleefully pummel onwards, almost-but-not so-bad-it’s- good. Arguably, the few notes of humour tried for in Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ stick out like a sore thumb, but they are fleeting moments – and seemingly all deceptively crammed in the trailer, which is edited like a Marvel Universe teaser (Action! Quips!).

 

What I found satisfying in Villenueve’s‘Blade Runner 2049’ was the subversion of the “I’m The Chosen One” trope. That’s the very foundation of ‘Dune’,** a primary text for this trope indeed, but I heard a criticism on the Kermode & Mayo film show where someone found all the foreboding and premonitions tiresome, but that is at the crux of the narrative, for it’s all about Paul Atreides being foretold as M’uad Dib. But he is reluctant, not happy at being manipulated into this prophecy; he’s conscientious and he is angry at his mother’s apparent manipulations at making him The Chosen One.

 

One other major criticism is that he is a White Saviour, but the character of Paul is a little more complex than that, and certainly Herbert’s vision is more informed. ‘Dune’ is about colonialism, all the political power play and wrongful disregard of the natives for the sake of plundering the resources. Khaldoun Khelil*** is enlightening on the problems of representation in Villenueve’s adaptation, and certainly in a post-MCU casting world, the casting could/should have been cannier – and surely Iannucci’s ‘The Life and Times of David Copperfield’ showed up the shallowness and inadequacies of the mentality of general casting. Indeed, changing the character Dr Liet Kynes to a black woman (Sharon Duncan-Brewster) hints at greater diversity already being an option.

 

In terms of language, it eloquent in the manner we may associate with canonical classics, but unlike Lynch’s ‘Dune’ it’s not near-impenetrable. There’s long exposition narration to begin with, the kind that always raises puts me dubious, but luckily that is just a stumbling block to the story proper. The secret sign language between Jessica and Paul is a good visual innovation to convey the Bene Gesserit training that they share, which is all embodied in the novel’s prose. Similarly, it does away with voiceovers to replicate the novel’s articulation of thoughts, the kind of voiceover that Lynch used (which I actually liked, in retrospect).

 


Any fan of B I G spaceships will be in Heaven here as they rise from lakes, block out most of the screen as characters disembark, or even the ‘thopters resembling dragonflies. It’s a film with scope and scale with plenty of faultless CGI. There is of course wonderful set design, from the greenery of Caladan (a sequence more expansive than in the novel) to the spacious chambers, endless sand banks and tunnels of Arrakis. It’s perhaps not as shocking/suprising as that of Lynch’s version, but it perhaps feels more organic, more realistic. Surely many will feel like Jonathan Romney: 

 

 “Nowhere near as enjoyable as Villeneuve’s inspired Blade Runner 2049, Dune is an achievement for sure, but watching it is rather like having huge marble monoliths dropped on you for two and a half hours, to the resounding clang of a Hans Zimmer score.”

 

Timothée Chalamet is, of course, too old to match the fifteen-year-old Paul Atreides of the book, but there is a precociousness he exudes, a boyish maturity if you will that suits the character. Rebecca Ferguson as Lady Jessica is surely more weepy than in the book, but like the rest of the star-studded cast, she knows how to play this kind of high theatre. Only Zendaya comes across as an ill-fit, coming too obviously from the American school of feisty female acting (but this may be unfair in the long-run).  

 

Lynch’s version is more fun, but Villeneuve wants to get close to the novel’s sombre tone, and this he does. And perhaps those who enjoy Lynch’s camp appeal may not enjoy Villeneuve’s sincerity and vice versa. And of course it’s twice the reward if you go for both, and there are plenty of us. Villeneuve’s style is of a restrained, underplayed tendency, not typical of the blockbuster style, more an approach associated with indie. So, whereas there is all the spectacle you could want, the dramatic conveyance will leave many cold (certainly, many didn’t engage with ‘Blade Runner 2049’s layers, thinking it lacked for story). And anyway, ‘Dune’ is not a warm story, but a tale of calculation and survival in an objective and manipulated design. There’s something battered about these characters rather than adventure action archetypes.

 

I came away from Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ with a sensation that I had been wowed, and like his ‘Blade Runner’, that it would be on a second watch that I would truly and fully engage. And of course, this is only half the story.


 

·       *  Herbert, Frank (1985). "Introduction". Eye. ISBN 0-425-08398-5.

·     ** So to speak. One comment came about ‘Dune’ was that it was his response to Isaac Asimov’s ‘Foundation’ series.

· *** I owe thanks for this link to Derek Anthony Williams https://www.facebook.com/theneofuturist

Thursday, 13 August 2020

Westworld

writer & director - Michael Crichton

1973, USA

 

Undeniably a tentpole Seventies sci-fi. The glorious high concept pulp and smarts is straight from the covers of sci-fi magazines. There’s a theme park called Delos for rich folks where the imaged archetypes of bygones eras are recreated with life-like robots. There’s Medievalworld, Romanworld and Westernworld, and you can more-or-less do or be whatever you want. It’s all arranged to pander to your ego. But, as always happens with these things, there seems to be a glitch…

If you were going to pick holes, you could wonder why the robot snake biting a guest is such a safety issue when there’s no apparent concern with a no-holds-barred barroom brawl where no one knows if the other is a robot or not (and wouldn’t robot punches be an issue?). But it seems no bones are broken and there’s no bruising: it’s just like a fracas from an old TV show – and that’s the point. The ugly-free violence of the era’s entertainment – minimal blood; very little bruising; a sore head to make you groan, etc – is very enjoyable and all, all this jovial violence, but how would you like it if it was real? A barroom scuffle is fun! Right? But then the gunslinger character is hunting you down and it’s no longer enetertainment. Indeed, Delos wouldn’t work because there’s too many variables, as JP Roscoe says, , but the metaphor holds. As a satire on an audience living variously through the archetypes and narratives of TV and movies, it certainly has not dated. Man will pay for his thoughtless, narcissistic and irresponsible hedonism.

Of course, there will be datedness and the Western motifs certainly made more sense in 1973 – it’s easy to take the cornball cowboy stuff at face value, to smirk, but that’s in keeping with the fantasy being bought. Michael Crichton directs solidly, if unremarkably, so that there’s never a distraction from the central concept. However he captures many memorable and vivid visuals: Brynner’s eyes reflecting silver; a Roman statue in a stream; the parks being turned on; a robot prostitute staring blankly over the shoulder of her client; the first “robot behind the humanface”  etc. But when it changes gear, the film clips away the diversions and drives ahead. No beleaguered death scene – “I’ve been shot…” – just a face in the dirt and we’re off.

Gunslinger Yul Brynner has very few lines, but he doesn’t need them. Just his glare and that particular walk is iconic. The original Terminator: that machine that won’t stop hunting you down. Josh Brolin is all Seventies TV-maco-cocky, and Richard Benjamin is agreeable as his newby sidekick, learning the ropes in this brave new world of entertainment. But it is Yul Brynner that defines it, commenting on his ‘The Magnificent Seven’ role, stripping away its humanity. The acting being a cut above sells the archetypes.

If there’s any major shortcoming, it is that there’s nothing here for women, not even a damsel in distress. Robot fun tied to a sketchy morality tale, so enjoyably straightforward and swift that you won’t notice or care about any limitations in the sets or characterisation. Or asking awkward questions like, “Wait… a dungeon…??”

Seventies sci-fi pulp doesn’t come more seminal than this.

And then, of course, Crichton thought: What if there was a Dinoworld…?

r