Jared AxelrodWriter of Adventure

There’s been alot of talk recently (and by “recently,” I mean “Back when the film came out in May, and I haven’t had a change to write about it until now”) about STAR TREK’s reboot, the appeal of space opera (also the story implications of the reboot itself, which I’ll get to, probably in another 3 months). The appeal of space opera, essentially, is that it is a workplace drama filled with things we never experience in our own workplace. This is the same appeal of hospital dramas and cop dramas: people doing their jobs in ways we can relate to and at the same time cannot fathom. There’s been a lot made about the loose, handheld camerawork in BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, but it’s really not that different to ER and THE WEST WING.

BSG has much better dramatic lighting than either show, though. Plus robots.

The point is, space opera is compelling for the same reasons ER, THE WEST WING, THE DEADLIEST CATCH and THE WIRE are compelling. We love seeing people do their jobs, especially if those jobs involve a crisis every twenty minutes or so. It’s really too bad that the success of BGS has not lead to more space opera shows. We’ve got DEFYING GRAVITY right now, but that show seems to want to be LOST more than it wants to be ER.  Which is a waste of opportunity, in my opinion, but I’m not a television executive.

But what if I was? What if I could create a whole new workplace drama in space from scratch. Naturally, this has led to a small amount of dream-casting, of who would be in my own tv space opera

Captain: Micheal K. Williams

First Officer: Michelle Rodriguez 

Medic: Gina Torres

Engineer: Wes Studi

Security: Kristen Bell

Helm: Gabrielle Union

Gunner: Rick Yune

Naturally, this sort of cast is about as likely, as well, a workplace drama set in space. But a boy can dream…

I broke my ankle the Saturday before last.  Legend states that that it went down like this:

Who am I to contradict legend?

In any case, I can state that I was at Princeton, as the sharp-eyed might have gleamed from the photo.  I did jump off that wall, and I did land improperly on the ground below. There was the sicking “SNAP” that no one wants to hear when they land, followed by  quieter one when I crumpled to the grass. My ankle had fractured in three places, which mean thatI could feel the bones grinding into each other as I moved my leg.  It was like a handful of gravel was underneath my skin.

If I had to break some bones, I did it in the best way possible. I was with friends, who handled the whole “calling 911″ thing as well as provided cupcakes in the hosptial later. Princeton’s campus MTs arrived straight away, and were quickly followed by paramedics from the just-around-the-corner Princeton Medical Center.  With the exception of  a clearly absentminded general practitioner who splinted my leg in a panifully incorrect manner–the orthopedist removed it with clear disgust–the staff at the hospital was cheerful and helpful. Plus, I had JR there, from  fall to surgery to release.

I was told by many that handled the whole thing well, joking and laughing instead of screaming and crying. Which should come as no surprise, really.  That’s just how I live my life.

Steampunk has become far too shiny. I don’t want to be that guy, the guy who stops liking something once it becomes popular, ’cause that’s not how I feel. I love alternate history, and have written many a technologically advanced 19th century tale. Steampunk, as a pure conceit, is a goldmine of story concepts and characters. My problem is that so few people have been mining it deeply enough. I mean, we’re talking about airships and bionic arms in the time of cholera and slavery, and no one seems to notice.

Jess Nevins—who, as the writer of Fantastic Victoriana is a bit of an expert—recently deconstructed what exactly steampunk came from, and what it has turned into. Here’s what Nevins had to say about steampunk’s origins:

Steampunk. Essentially, as I see it–and I go into more detail in my essay on this, which, again, is in the Vandermeers’ excellent Steampunk as well as the New York Review of Science Fiction–the history of steampunk begins with the Edisonades, which were about boy explorers using steam- and electricity-powered vehicles and weapons to explore, loot, and conquer. First generation steampunk, which goes from the 1970s up to Sterling & Gibson’s Difference Engine (1990), pulls a Levi-Straussian “raw and the cooked” on the elements of the Edisonade, inverting them on a number of levels: dynamic-v-static, rural-v-urban, American-v-British, mastering-v-surviving, optimist-v-pessimist, etc.

This first generation of steampunk, which in all likelihood was not consciously or deliberately written as a rebuke to the Edisonade, was political, self-aware, and angry and rebellious against much of what the Edisonades stood for–hence, the “punk” part of “steampunk.”

He goes on to speak about what steampunk has turned into—more on that further down—but let’s examine what that last sentence means. Edisonades, are essentially stories where technology makes it all better. Technology is used to reinforce the status quo, and better yet, spread the status quo to other, less civilized corners of the world. In a steampunk story, then, technological advancement is something to rebel against. becuase the ones who afford technology are the ones in power, the ones who can afford not to be covered in shit, not to be dying of cholera. Technology, then, is the tool of the Man. Technology is the badguy.

This makes perfect sense as a literary conceit. How many sci-fi stories about the abuse of technology? Cyberpunk, steampunk’s older sister, wallows in this: tech allows the anti-heroes to accomplish marvelous things, but never to make their lives better. One of cyberpunk’s most indelible characters, Molly Millions, has eyes that are covered with mirrored shades. This technology allows her an enhanced vision, among other things, but cuts off her main form of expression. Her tear ducts have been re-routed; she spits out the emotional residue that, is no doubt, distasteful to the character on several levels.

Cyberpunk is just another twist on punk, and carries on the punk themes of aggressive confrontation, anti-authoritarian behavior and the DIY atheistic. Steampunk then, should do no less. Which is, essentially, Nevins’s point. Steampunk originally celebrated the scrappy, angry underclass. Modern steampunkers (what a great term!) are mostly of the upperclass sort. Waistcoats and bustles abound, as do bowler hats, monocles, and complex skirting. Yes, there are mad scientists, but let’s not forget, in the 1800s, science and technology was a gentleman’s hobby.

Of course, there’s no fun in dying of cholera, either, the end result of many a 19th century rabble rouser. So why not embrace the hoi palloi, and ignore the racially and sexually segregated world around you? It is after all a fantasy, right?

Part of this argument is, of course, the difference between a litterary conceit and fashion conceit. Steampunk litterature is basically the same as it always has been; it’s fashion that’s taken a step to the side. I wonder if gothic fiction enthusiasists expressed their displeasure that “Goth” came to mean, in the words of my good friend and goth enthusist Nick, “Looking good while moping to a beat.” But this is not to say that fashion can’t get a more litterary. One of the great things about photographer Libby Bulloff’s steamy subjects is that they look just as punk as steam. Part of Nevins’s complaint–and certainly mine–may be the lack of imagination. The 1800s were a time of social and polical upheveal, and ripe for punks of every stripe. I mean, there’s a reason that Finn Von Claret, the model in the linked photo, wears blue stockings. I’m kind of surprised that she’s the only one I’ve seen wearing them.

Now, I’m as guilty as anyone of fetishizing the upwardly mobile. And while I take pride that my unfinished steampunk novel has the proper amount grit and grime, I’ve written my share of Edisonades as well. So perhaps my annoyance at modern steampunkers is, in whole or in part, directed at myself. I mean, we are talking about a century! There’s plenty to pick and choose from.

I was discussing with J.R. about who were the true punks of the American 19th century (one of my personal issues with modern steampunkers is that everyone seems to believe the 1800s only happened in Europe), and we came to a pretty solid conclusion: Abolistionists. Harreit “Moses” Tubman was hardcore. Why, then, are there no Underground Railroad Steampunks? The Underground Railroad plays a small part in Paul Di Fillippo’s Steampunk Triliogy, but where else? Granted, playing with the era of slavery is a tricky proposition at best, but considering the era already has such powerful iconography, it really shouldn’t be that hard to adapt. Heck, add some aether-powered nightvision lenses, and those goggles finally make sense.

Now, I intend to play with this concept, both in fiction and otherwise, but I don’t lay claim to it. In fact, I hope more people take it. Take it, use it, and then take more. There’s one hundred years of history full of punk concepts, cholera riots, gold rushes, sufferage, wars abroad and at home, and the fight for the right of entire subsets of humanity to be treated as people. The status quo was challenged often in the 19th century, often violently, and those challenges gave us the world we live in today.

By all means, let us add the airships and mechas to the 1800s. Let’s add the rayguns and the medical experiments and the mad scientists. Let’s steam the 19th century.

But let’s quit cleaning it.

With superhero comics becoming more and more impenetrable due to their insistence on fetishizing decades of continuity, it comes as little surprise that one of the best superhero narratives in the past year was a film, THE DARK KNIGHT. In thinking about what made DK so compelling, I found myself struck with the similarities to ULTRAMAN MOEBIUS & ULTRAMAN BROTHERS. UM&UB exists in a very different world than DK, and yet they hit the exact same story beats. DK may have more meat on it, but UM&UB’s simple structure lays bare the elements that make both superhero stories great.

Naturally, one might think that if these elements work so well with these two stories with their radically different concepts and intended audience then should be universal. In fact, when compiling this list, I was struck how every single one of these points are echoed in the best superhero story of the past few years, Grant Morrison and Frank Quietly’s continuity-free ALL-STAR SUPERMAN.

1) Start the story by showing how horrible the badguy is. This is almost counter-intuitive; surely the hero should show up first? Not really. We know who the hero is, that’s his name on the title, so we know who it is we came to see. What we don’t know is who he’s going to face. So let’s take some time to show what the threat level is. And if possible, show that threat on the moon.

2) If you must have a damsel in distress, go out of your way to show how smart and capable she is. Make her a young genius who would have led a happy and perfectly fulfilling existence had evil not show up to turn her into a trophy the hero must achieve. Scientists, reporters and lawyers are good for this.

3) Mentors are important, and full of wisdom. It’s always good to have a few people older and wiser than the hero. These guys can despense advice and encouragement, and, when necessary, act disappointed. Tangentially related to this is the “mustached adult” character, who is not a mentor per-se, but a partner who provides unconventional assistance. These guys are the uncles who go along with your plan to get illegal alcohol after the father-figures have already said no.

4) When out of costume, your hero should have a leather jacket.  This should be self explanatory. 

5) Don’t explain how things work. Honestly, the audience doesn’t care. Show it working, and leave it at that. The Ultraman Brothers can create a cage that lasts 20 years by firing their Ultrabeams at each other? Sure. Batman can get a fingerprint from a shattered bullet in a brick wall. Fine. A formula to grant superpowers? Why not? We believe it because we watch it happen, not because someone explains the details.

6) Have some other people dressed similar to the hero. Again, this appears counter-intuitive. Surely the hero should be one of a kind, right? Well, yes and no. We want to show how unimportant the costume is, and what better way to show lesser versions of the hero in lesser versions of the costume? Ski-masks are optional, but they make the point eloquently.

7) Super-violence affects us all. Be we a small boy who watched his dog destroyed by a monster, or regular people on a ferry sitting on a bomb. This is where you pin your emotional peak, on these people. The heroes and villains have enough to worry about.

8 ) Evil looks evil. We should never for a moment doubt who the bad guys are. Their outsides should look just as twisted as what lies within.

9) Sacrifice is necessary in order to triumph. To have a quality ending, you have to raise the stakes to the point that hero cannot win unscathed. The climax must be hard-won, or it has no business being at the end of the story.

10) The story is over, but the legend continues. Even though the villain is defeated, there’s other dangers out there, and the sunset must be ridden out toward. The is not so much setting up for the sequel as it is showing the war against evil never ends. And our heroes are ready to face it.

You know what else follows these rules to the letter? IRON MAN. In fact, one can use how well that film follows these rule to how satisfying (on not, in the case of the climax) it was as a whole. One of the best superhero comics of the past year, Jaime Hernandez’s brilliant riff on female superheroes in Love & Rockets: New Stories #1, follows most of them–we’ll see if he hits all of them later this year when Hernandez publishes the climax.

Nerd that I am, I’ve always got some sort of superhero story in the back of my head.  It’s good to know how to put ‘em together.

Robert Downey Jr, as weapons manufacturer Tony Stark, poses that question in the visceral opening to IRON MAN. Stark goes on to say that you can have both, and indeed, that’s been the American Way since we dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. This summer’s other cinematic offering from Marvel Comics, THE INCREDIBLE HULK, tackles the atom bomb through an angry, green metaphor, but IRON MAN goes at it direct.

It’s not an unusual premise to hoist a superhero movie on—it was one of the many themes playing out in the over-stuffed SPIDER-MAN 3, for example—but Mark Fergus and Hawk Ostby, the writing team that also gave us last year’s CHILDREN OF MEN, having something more bleak in mind. In trying to have both, Tony Stark ends up having neither. His weapons are used by the very people he made them to destroy, and his aura of invincibility is easily shattered when he is taken prisoner.

Whether we should be at war with Iraq or not—the point of motives is kind of moot, at this point—the fact remains that it’s our fault there’s a reason to be there at all. Forget the current administration and its culture of fear: the seeds of the Middle East anger were planted decades ago, back when we had to defeat the Communists at all costs. Which meant selling weapons to their enemies. And now, here we are, slowly being torn apart by war we’re responsible for, with an enemy who despises us for the culture excess that has become our trademark. Is it too much to ask for both? Some people who have neither option might say yes. And so it is with Tony Stark, kept alive by dirty, oily car battery and some wires sticking out of his chest, someone else pointing his own guns at his head.

Hulk may be the personification of the atom bomb, but Stark, the innovator who gets damaged by the very chaos he created and finds his life of excess no comfort, gets be America, broken heart and all.

So if IRON MAN, the film, fails in any way, it is that its resolution doesn’t follow through with the beautiful metaphor it creates in the first half. Stark response to his awakening is to take personal responsibility for his action, by defending those in a war zone his weapons created. There’s also an implication that the future of Stark Industries isn’t weaponry, but alternative energy sources. But neither of these are followed through within the timeline of the film. Iron Man saves one village in Afghanistan, but the violence rages on. “Arc Reactors,” the device that keeps the red and gold suit of armor in the air, may be the future, but apparently only Stark can build them. The options are there, but it’s hard to see them through when we’ve only got 2 hours and boss battle to contend with.

I will say, however, that the villain of this film is perfectly chosen, being a dark mirror of Stark himself, i.e. the America that doesn’t care about what happens to the rest of the world, as long as his oversized vehicle has plenty of fuel.

I’m not sure how a film could address these issues in a reasonable way by the end of the last reel. It’s a superhero story, and those stories work less as allegories for big ideas than about explorations of human failing made huge and brightly colored. Even Superman is just trying to live up to the expectations of his old man (either of ‘em). Thematically, it’s enough for Tony Stark to realize that his actions do have consequences, and to face them, he’s going to need some help.

It’s not much, but it’s nice to see the hero succeeding by accepting that he neither has be respected or feared. Just do the right thing.

At the first sci-fi convention I was a guest at, I spoke at length about how the new generation of sci-fi authors were more realistic then their processors. A lot of this had to do with cumulative knowledge, sure, but also from a post-modern sensibility of taking basic sci-fi tropes and turning them inside out. I was pressed for examples of this “new realism,” and the first thing that came to mind was a BATTLESTAR GALACTICA episode, “Water,” where our space operatic heroes’ water supply is sabotaged in the emptiness of space.

This was laughed at. To my fellow panelists, science fiction meant books. TV was a wasteland of matinee idols and silly special effects. The idea of a Serious Adult Science Fiction Drama on TV was unheard of.

Serious Adult Science Fiction Drama on television is an elusive beast. It’s not easy to do right, and has become almost anthemia to sci-fi television in general. BATTLESTAR GALACTICA—which I believe has now almost eclipsed it’s original 70’s source material; I haven’t heard referred to as the “New BSG” in quite some time—comes very close, even if it routinely fails the ”One of two things” test. However, I will fault no series that gives Michelle Forbes work.

Ever since she gave Majel Barret the stink-eye way back when, I’ve been a fan of our Ms. Forbes.

But that can’t be it, can it? One show? Surely, there are more Serious Adult Science Fiction Dramas out there, that can be held up against the best TV dramas out there, right? I mean, it has been eight years since DEEP SPACE NINE ended. Something should fill that void.

I feel like sci-fi is little more than a genre, and as such, deserves the deluxe treatment cowboys, cops, and spies have gotten. One of the greatest television shows known to man is THE SANDBAGGERS. It’s a spy thriller that cuts at the meat of what spy thrillers should be about; namely, the people who do horrible things in unfriendly lands, and the people who send them there to do them. It’s not James Bond, something Roy Marsden’s Director of Operations makes abundantly clear in the first episode. It’s a genre story that stands above the genre’s normal trappings, and looks all the better for it.

TORCHWOOD was supposed to that, as well. That was the hype, leastways. A serious, adult look at the weird and wonderful world of DOCTOR WHO was supposed to be a contender for BSG’s crown, but ends up looking more like BUFFY’s castoffs. I suppose in the attempt to prove itseld as “adult,” with its barely-bloody violence and its nippleless sex and its oh-so-naughty language, TORCHWOOD forgot that what makes a story adult is consequences. Childhood fantasy doesn’t bother itself with consequences; they have a tendency to ruin the fun. And quite frankly, that seemed to be where TORCHWOOD wanted to go. But it’s hard to fit consequences in a 40 minute episode when you also have to expound about alien races and secret technology and have a sex scene or three in there too. Only two of the episodes–“Ghost Machine” and “Out Of Time”—seem to have integrated the concepts of consequences into the story proper, while others –“Cyberwoman,” I’m looking at you—just latch them on at the end. Not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with having a woman in bionic-bikini-briefs battle a pterodactyl, but let’s not pretend its anything more than that. With it’s gloomy setting and constantly arguing characters, TORCHWOOD is in fact the perfect adolescent fair for the kid who thought Buffy was too touchy-feely. But it isn’t Serious Adult Science-Fiction Drama any more than FARSCAPE or STARGATE are.

This is not knocking either of those shows, or even TORCHWOOD. They are what the are, and what they are is perfectly enjoyable. But they are not up to SANDBAGGERS, or even LAW & ORDER levels of adult drama. But they are fun. As I’ve said in the past, you can’t knock a tv show that gives us bondage outfits and muppets.

The Patrick Stewart vehicle 11TH HOUR tries harder to get its S.A.S-F.D. on, and for the first two episodes actually makes good. 11TH HOUR is hard sci-fi—or, at least, as close as we’ve gotten on TV yet—and its first episodes about cloning and a viral outbreak do what TORCHWOOD can’t, complete with sex scenes and dirty words. Unfortunately, the second half of this 4-episode series can’t measure up to the standard set up by the first half. Stewart does his best, but even he can’t turn stories about global warming and a cancer-curing spring into exciting television.

The producers seem marginally aware of that, and Roy Marsden of THE SANDBAGGERS shows up to add some weight and menace to the final episode. Doesn’t change the script any, but he is fun to watch as a foil for Stewart.

Obviously, the first thing we can take away from this is Serious Adult Genre Drama requires Roy Marsden in one shape or form.

I feel like sci-fi needs more than one Serious Adult Drama, especially with BSG bowing out after next season. My fellow panelist on at that convention years ago scoffed at the idea, but the fact remains that television is where our culture still forms its ideas about genres. The internet is too unregulated, and movies are too specific. But television is just broad enough to hit the sweet spot of the public consciousness. For good or for ill, STAR TREK has become a far stronger culture touchstone than LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS. There’s really no reason that another show, one that isn’t based on a program from the 70s or a spin-off of a popular family show, can’t have that impact today.

Also, I’d really, really, really like to watch it.