Monday, June 13, 2011

Science fiction explained

My favorite genre of storytelling--be it film, novel, poem, or bathroom stall limerick--is science fiction. I know it's the geek's preferred genre and everything, but I have my own legitimate reasons.

I think part of it is how it sort of blurs and meshes with horror at times. For example, the Alien movies, John Carpenter's The Thing and They Live, either version of The Fly, and several other films qualify as horror films. Scary alien threat or freak lab mutation killing and preying on human beings, for the most part. Otherwise, threatening to replace humanity with alien copies, or some other scenario that spells death to humans. And the root of any horror story is fear of the unknown, because the unknown can be a threat to people in unimaginable ways.

Fantasy gets mixed in a lot, too. And why not? Fantasy is pretty much wild, improbable, and extraordinary adventure with antagonists that are more diabolical and....well, antagonistic...than they are scary and nightmare-inducing. Flash Gordon comes to mind. It takes a scientist to build this rocket that goes to some other part of the universe, or galaxy (it's been a bit since I saw it last), the villain is a despot with armies and a fixation on the hero and his friends, they go to beautiful planets with jungles and air cities, and the hero is capable and sufficiently challenged, but never really scared out of his mind. And the science aspect is only explained far enough to justify our heroes making it somewhere in outer space or for understanding the threat of having your mind erased. The TV show Doctor Who is a great hybrid of science fiction and fantasy, too. Usually, the technobabble is just blurred through so impossible things can be taken for granted. Otherwise, the show is basically an eccentric, brilliant, and charming man, a magic carpet, and his ordinary traveling companion taken from Earth. We live vicariously through the companion because it's fun to imagine The Doctor showing up in our backyard, opening the door to the TARDIS, and inviting us for a journey we wouldn't soon forget. How is that not fantasy? But it certainly isn't any the worse off as a result.

On a side note, the Star Wars franchise is pretty much fantasy. It just gets lumped into sci-fi because it takes place in space and technology beyond our own helps complete the setting. Otherwise, there's almost no technobabble and science is never used as a means for resolving a problem.

Anyways, besides the shared DNA (see what I did there?) with horror and fantasy, what also makes science fiction so great is that it isn't based in practical reality. The appeal of extraordinary and supernatural fiction is key elements of the setting and characters can't exist. So it's a fun playground for a storyteller's imagination. Historical drama? Eh, you're pretty much just adding drama to historical events, sometimes obfuscating actual historic accuracy. Drama in general? Can be interesting, but we get enough drama in our real lives as it is. I remember Bobby Slayton had a routine where he was talking about domestic disputes with his wife and what movies they want to watch and he pretty much said "We have a house! We have a dog! We have a relationship! We DON'T have people living under our stairs eating other people!". I mean, aren't movies and TV shows supposed to be an escape from reality? Why not go the whole nine yards and make the most of the fiction?

But it's really easy to foul up a science fiction story. There's a recent movie--Inception dir. by Christopher Nolan--that is genuinely science fiction. It's not really horror and it's kind of fantasy. But science is needed to explain the fantasy, so it is genuinely science fiction. However, I think too much explanation is needed. When dramatic events were unfolding, I found myself thinking, "Am I supposed to care about this? Isn't this just a dream?" I got no impression that the characters' actual lives were in danger when they were diving into the dreams of other people. I guess I drifted a bit during one of the lectures given to Anna Paquin's character (half of the reason she existed was so we, the audience, could learn with her).

I had the same problem with the Matrix movies. I think I actually preferred the two sequels because all the explanation was done in the first movie. But the first movie? The one everyone prefers? Yeah, I couldn't get into it. I enjoyed it, but when the setting needs that much explanation, I found myself losing interest. It's like I have to be told to care when major events are taking place. Compared to, say, Dark City, I could easily get into that. There's what seems to be ordinary life, and it stops periodically so creepy alien Strangers can tamper with the city. And then there's how the city morphs, and how there's never any sunlight. It borders on horror, but it's a great way to make the most of the unknown.

As far as TV shows go, I would MUCH rather watch something like Farscape or Doctor Who over any incarnation of Star Trek because there's adventure, life-and-death situations, and contending with unknown threats (yep, that word again) and the triumph felt when the good guys overcome the odds and come out on top. I used to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, and after the show ended and I thought about it....it was a really boring show! If people are really that saccharine and dry in the future with so little personality, then I'd rather watch a historical drama. And there are so many episodes where the problem is two governments not getting along, but oh! Picard and maybe a friend he agreed to chauffer to some meeting place save the day with....diplomacy! Oh, how exciting! They have a starship that can travel the stars and explore unknown planets, solar systems, and maybe even galaxies....and they do diplomacy and dwell on technobabble so ubiquitous that you have to wonder if the script was just Mad Libs. "Oh no! [insert problem here]! It's [doing something to the ship]!" And at the 50 minute mark: "Wait, if I just [technoverb] the [technonoun that's part of the ship], then MAYBE......YES! IT'S WORKING!" Oh, yeah, didn't see that coming. Does anyone know what a phase inducer is, or what it means to modulate shield frequency? It's like we think it matters because it seems to in the show with the help of the background music and the apparent relief of the protagonists. I think I get more excited and anxious when the plumber comes over to unclog our pipes. I at least know what he's doing.

It's not just something that can be applied to science fiction, though. ANY story where made-up science has to be explained to understand its threat and more unexplained science is used to clear it up isn't really all that interesting. I'm sure most teens don't fully know how they get acne or how acne creams and cleansing systems work. They just know they both exist and one resolves the other. Same can be said of a lot of science fiction.

Or fantasy, for that matter. Actually, there's a trend in pretty much every Disney movie after the mid-or-late '90s (and other family friendly films) that really bothers me. It's taking something extraordinary, fantastic, and sometimes supernatural, and making it practical, commonplace, and mundane. I couldn't abide the movie The Incredibles--not so much because it's a satire on superhero stories, but because they made an entire nuclear family into superheroes. Family is mundane. Family is commonplace. Hearing a mother tell her kids to clean their rooms during a firefight, or hearing siblings talk about homework while fleeing an enemy threat, just completely takes away the fun that makes superhero movies what they are. And the Men in Black movies with Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones left me cold, too. The idea of a movie about the Men in Black is appealing, but when we see the offices and behind-the-scenes of a completely fictional agency that's both cute and cuddly, and then it's all addressed like someone starting a job at a newspaper office or detective agency...it's like we're being told to be bored. I don't feel excited when something paranormal or supernatural becomes as domestic as my cat. I feel excited when something paranormal is shown to be real, but just as misunderstood as actual paranormal phenomena in real life (so to speak).

A better example of a superhero movie--to contrast The Incredibles--would be Spider-Man, dir. by Sam Raimi and starring Tobey MacGuire and Kirsten Dunst. Here's a hero who ISN'T wealthy or stable in his regular life. In fact, he's pretty miserable in it and the people in his life and New York in general constantly take a dump on him on a daily basis. What's more, only Peter Parker has the radioactive spider DNA in him. It's not passed through the genes from his parents or present in all Parkers. Only he has it, and he has to make sense of it. And Raimi did a great job of compounding the frustrations of adolescence with his spider-augmentation changes. It's like Peter didn't have the luxury to go on sabbatical (well, he did a little, I admit) to figure out exactly what he could our couldn't do. He made sense of it as he went along. And he deliberately kept his identity a secret from his friends, family, and everyone else. There was actual risk involved in his identity being known. And finally, because he couldn't balance his super-power life with his domestic life, his uncle--one of the last members of his small, poor family--gets gunned down by a criminal Peter deliberately allows to go free. Isn't that more interesting than sibling rivalry in the middle of a good vs. evil fight?

So, in conclusion, good science fiction preserves the wonder and intrigue of what is unknown and doesn't over-complicate things with science that's not possible (yet). That'd probably sound better with a tertiary point, but that's pretty much it. The audience has to explore and experience the story as it unfolds. The audience can't be pandered to, can't hope to be impressed by spoiling the wondrous, and can't enjoy the story if it has to take notes and figure out the "science" that explains the new reality. The science in science fiction itself is foreign enough. When too many variables have to be explained, then it becomes too convoluted. And when too much of the unknown becomes so well-known that it's as exciting as how staplers work, then it feels like an endurance test.

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