My last post on the new show FlashForward talked about the show’s use of the number 137, which I noted was prime, and I wondered if the show would follow convention and point it out. But it surprised me and didn’t do so. The 137 seconds of blackout in the show remain unreferenced again, at least directly. What I didn’t say in that last post (it didn’t occur to me until the next day) was that 137 (or, more precisely, 1/137) is a rough shorthand for the Fine Structure Constant.

I figured this was going too far, and that I was just being silly in seeing 137 as a potential reference to the Fine Structure Constant. At least until last Thursday’s episode of FlashForward where those who were left untouched (apparently) by the blackout were wearing rings with the insignia of alpha (α) which is … the symbol for the Fine Structure Constant.

So, what does this mean? Who knows. Alpha is one of the pure numbers, a dimensionless quantity that appears in a number of situations. A ratio, like Pi, which simply crops up when you do equations. It’s often used in quantum electrodynamics. I can only guess that, in the end, the show will offer some sort of quantum mechanical explanation for the blackout (they’ve already hinted at a pure science explanation). It’s interesting that the show is going that deep for an explanation. I’m used to JJ Abrams-style explanations in these shows, and was waiting for the FlashForward equivalent of “Red Matter” to show its face here. That may still happen, but for now the show seems intent on giving a more hard-science explanation. Bully for them, say I.

If you want to learn more about Alpha, go to the website for the Sixty Symbols project, and click on the video for α. Very interesting stuff.

tags: science, science fiction, television
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The New Atlantis takes on a little bit of SF, with an interesting article about Neal Stephenson’s book Anathem. Anathem is one of those great books that I absolutely cannot recommend to most people. It’s not a casual book, and to really appreciate it you need to be willing to spend some time thinking about it. That’s not to say that there aren’t some out there who would enjoy it more casually, just that there aren’t many.

It’s a great book, and deserving of attention for its attempt to explore deeper questions of science, religion, society, and (most importantly) the very idea of ideas. In fact, I find myself thinking about Anathem quite often when my head goes in philosophical directions these days. The New Atlantis article is called “Plato in Space,” which in some ways is (and in other ways is not) helpful for understanding what Anathem is. But then, the book is difficult to characterize in any succinct way.

Interestingly enough, The New Atlantis also takes on Iain M. Banks’ Culture novels. Personally, I like the novels, even though the world they portray strikes me as profoundly cold, empty and devoid of meaning. And terrifically fascistic and devoid of individuality. If Banks truly wants to live in such a world, that’s fine: but leave me out of it.Everyone talks about the Culture as if it’s utopian, but I’ve never seen it that way.

The article is a very good look at the various aspects of the Culture and its internal contradictions. The article raises the question that always sits in the back of my mind when reading the Culture novels: if everyone is so happy and content in this world, why the heck am I reading a novel about them? Life is conflict, and novels are about conflict. But there’s no conflict in the Culture. It’s all boundary issues. These are called the Culture novels, but in reality we see very little of the Culture, and that’s because the Culture isn’t all that interesting.

In any case, the articles are quite interesting, and worth a look if you’ve read either author.

tags: Books, culture, science fiction
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John Scalzi’s got an article over at AMC on the coolness (or lack thereof) of SF. He mentions two movies in particular which achieved the elusive SF goal of coolness: 2001, and The Matrix.

I can agree with his points, but I find it interesting that he picks two movies (both are classics, of course) which, on later viewings, are incredibly dated. It’s understandable that 2001 is dated, given it was released in 1968. It was very much a product of the time, an extension of the jet age into space. But its imagery was, without doubt, very cool at the time.

The Matrix, amazingly, does not stand up well even after just ten years. I think this says more about the nature of American pop culture than the movie itself, which is still amazing, but it’s difficult for me to watch the movie without becoming amused at how bloody seriously it takes itself. The heavy metal goth subculture, the first-year philosophy student “deepness” of the thing. Yes, it was damned cool at the time, but it’s not that time anymore. It will always be cool for the moment it captured, but that moment has long passed as the subcultures it glorified had their moment of fame and then became the subject of intense mockery.

I do love Scalzi’s descriptions of the SF scene, though. SF fans are often quite earnest. They really do want everyone to share in the love of the genre that they do (even if they can be elitist about the depth of there knowledge within the genre). They’re often quite unselfconsious about it as well. It strikes me as very similar to new Evangelicals (don’t get too offended here, please). They love it, they want you to love it, and they have few if any qualms about overt (and sometimes embarrassing) displays of enthusiasm. So, cool is generally out of the question. But I think cool is overrated, as well. SF may very rarely be cool, but that doesn’t matter so much to its acolytes, most of whom are not used to being members of those strata of society considered cool.

I’m not sure I could put my finger on what I, for instance, think is great about SF. I can say that I enjoy it, and that I think it’s important. Being cool, though, is not a part of it.

Scalzi asks if there are any other movies people can think of that capture that moment of coolness. I’ll say that Lord of the Rings captured a series of cool moments for fantasy fans in a way that will never, ever be repeated. All those years of reading LOTR and committing vast amounts of brain cells to it paid off. For a few years. SF, though? Movies? No. SF movies have, in general, been my least favorite media for the genre. I prefer novels and TV. And TV SF has never been cool, sorry to say.

tags: movies, science fiction, television
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I wanted to wait until I saw a real episode of Stargate Universe before I commented further, and yesterday I watched the most recent episode. The first two-hour episode and the one-hour episode that followed were of a single piece, and I knew I couldn’t make too many judgments about the show from that episode. But this latest is a full episode in itself. So now I feel more comfortable making a judgment about the show.

The show is fantastic.

My earlier concerns about the show slipping into a wash-rinse-repeat cycle have not born out. At least not yet. The show seems to be taking a lot of hints from the early Battlestar Galactica episodes which were strung together rather tightly, though focusing on individual problems. The show ends with a lead up to what the next challenge will be, and I find myself eagerly awaiting the next episode. I’m very happy with the show thus far.

One of my other concerns was that the crew was too large, and I wasn’t getting a good enough sense of who the characters were. They were a blur. I recognized faces, but could not remember their names or their particular role, save for the four or five primary characters. This episode remedied that a bit by introducing us to the characters again via a video diary narrative device. Short, sweet, and effective. And not distracting from the already tense situation on the ship.

So far, I’m giving it a thumbs up. It’s certainly not like the previous Stargate shows (thank God), and manages to build a real environment around the distinctive technology of the first two seasons. Stargate Universe is turning into everything I wanted Altantis to be, but wasn’t. It helps that the show is filmed more casually, more artfully, and that the production values seem a bit higher. Overall, I recommend people give the show a shot, despite the Stargate branding. It’s early BSG without all the political posturing. Very good stuff.

tags: science fiction, television
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No, not Optimus Primes, but numerical primes. You know, numbers divisible only by themselves and one. There is an unwritten rule among SF writers (particularly for TV) that any time a very specific number is mentioned, it should be prime. Why? Prime-ness is the mathematician’s way of imparting mystery and transcendence without referencing the big guy upstairs. Usually the prime-ness is not stated outright. They leave it to the watchers or readers out there to figure out the occult information on their own.

So, for instance, when I watched the first episode of FlashFoward, I noted that the time of the “blackout” was very specific: two minutes, seventeen seconds. Or 137 seconds. One-hundred and thirty-seven? Prime. Of course, the question was never whether or not the number was prime, but when in the show they’d acknowledge it. I haven’t seen yesterday’s epi yet, but I note that the name of the episode mentions the number of seconds. Is primeness mentioned? We’ll see tonight when I get around to watching the show.

Exception that proves the rule: Douglas N. Adams did not choose a prime number for his answer to life, the universe and everything. No, he chose 42, whose factors include 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 14, 21, and of course, 42. Modification to the exception that proves the rule: Star Trek: The Next Generation (and all shows since) uses 47 instead of 42. Why not use 42? TNG’s creators said that 42 was the answer to life, the universe and everything adjusted for inflation. Heh. So funny. Forty-seven? Prime, you idiots. Just shows that they didn’t quite fully understand the nature of Adams’s satirical genius.

Good ol’ DNA was smart enough to know that anyone reading his book would know to check the number for primeness, so he deliberately chose 42. A common, run-of-the-mill number. He’d know that the SF snots out there would be thinking, “Damn, he should have picked a prime number!” And he snickered at the lot of ‘em.

tags: science fiction, whatever
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I watched the two-hour premier of Stargate: Universe this afternoon, and all I can say is that while it doesn’t suck, it’s not quite … original.

A random assortment of humans, scientists, military officers etc., get trapped on the other side of a distant stargate, unable to return to Earth. The technology in their environment doesn’t work correctly, and threatens them with either imminent death or miraculous new possibilities. Wait. Am I talking about Stargate: Atlantis or Stargate: Universe?

That’s the problem.

Except, in this case the stargate is on an Ancient ship traveling faster-than-light through the universe, rather than at an Ancient city in another galaxy. *sigh* Basically, it’s an excuse to do exactly the same thing they did in Atlantis with a different set of actors.

Maybe that’s a good thing. After the first season of Atlantis, I got bored. Seriously bored. The show was covering the same ground the original show did, and only rarely offered anything new. I suspect that’s why Atlantis didn’t last as long as the original show: it was perfectly serviceable for fans who didn’t care that the same thing was happening every week (and there are a lot of those types of fans), but it bored the living hell out of me.

I’m fearing that this show will do the same thing. But here’s the trouble: Stargate: Universe didn’t suck.

There, I said it. It was actually pretty damned cool (up until the last two minutes, and I’ll tell you why shortly). The effects were cool. The characters a little more fresh. The presentation substantially less stiff and formal. The characters still fell into the standard Stargate categories (socially awkward prodigy, good-hearted military man thrust into leadership position he doesn’t want, scientist with huge ego, etc.) but mixed it up with a larger sub-ensemble of more interesting characters to add flavor to the meat. The show was peppered with some moments of brevity, but simultaneously managed to retain its serious streak. I sensed some influence of the first Battlestar Galactica episode, “33,” though not quite as intense.

The acting was at least an order of magnitude better than Atlantis (which, to be honest, isn’t saying a whole lot), but the double-length episode managed to weave itself together very nicely, avoiding the wash-rinse-repeat predictability of the first two shows…

Oh, shit. Then you’d better not watch the last two minutes of the show, where they step-by-step demonstrate the new pattern for weekly episodes. Dial the gate. Drop out of FTL. Go to new planet. Escape by skin of teeth. Repeat next week.

I hope I’m wrong about this, but I suspect I’m not. And if this show falls into the same predictable pattern of the last show, I can’t imagine I’m going to stick around very long. Now, I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps visiting planets will happen less often, or follow a less discernable pattern. But I very much anticipate the “looking for objects or information to fix the ship” will simply be the new “find new objects or information of scientific or military value.” That, I’m not terribly interested in.

But I’ll stick around. For a bit. But I’m thoroughly expecting to be disappointed.

tags: science fiction, television
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Over at Sci-Fi Scanner, John Scalzi chats about “director’s cuts” of sci-fi movies. He asks the question, what is the definitive version? The theatrical release or the director’s cut? Honestly, I’m not sure it matters. There’s always this obsession among sci-fi fans about “definitiveness” and “canon,” especially in franchises. So, did Han shoot first in the cantina, as he did in the theatrical release of Star Wars? Or, did he not shoot first, as in the special edition?

Pointless, really. Pick whichever you like. Honestly, I can’t stand the special editions of the Star Wars movies, and not just because Lucas screwed around with some of the details and added ridiculous scenes just because he could.  (I’ll never forgive him for that horrible scene where Han is stepping over Jabba’s tail. I could do better special effects with crayons and a rubber band.) The colors were off (everything is pink!) and the sound seems … wrong, somehow.

I tend to prefer director’s cuts over theatrical releases. I don’t mind a slower pace with extra, extraneous scenes. Still, they’re often indulgent (say, Ridley Scott’s multiple takes on Blade Runner). But often they actually help the film. Scalzi is right to point out how James Cameron’s director’s cut of The Abyss actually has the movie make sense (the theatrical cut’s ending is abrupt and nonsensical). On the other hand, I don’t think any amount of tinkering could help Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. Blame the movie’s failure on studio heavy-handedness and the “happy ending” they added, but even with the new ending, I still hate the movie. (I’m probably in the minority on this one among SF fans, I know.)

As for Aliens 3, the same rule applies as Brazil. I’ve seen “okay” movies become better through director’s cuts, but I’ve never seen a bad movie become good. Star Trek the Motion Picture (doesn’t that sound old fashioned?) goes from okay to decent. Superman II goes from okay to decent. The Abyss went from great to greater.

So, if I’m going to buy one of these on DVD (heh, right, I can’t remember the last time I bought a DVD), I’d buy the special edition. More people may have seen the movie in the theater, but over the years, the non-theatrical versions will be the ones everyone sees. Eventually, those will replace the memories of the theatrical release in viewer’s minds.

[Edit: Yes, I know, you'd think someone whose blog name is a Monty Python reference would love a Terry Gilliam movie. But I don't. I haven't enjoyed any of his work outside Monty Python, save maybe for Time Bandits.]

tags: movies, science fiction
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Maybe I do this subconsciously, but I just realized that quite often I choose books to read based on sub-genre. So, I read mostly science fiction anyway, but I’ll read three or four military SF books, then a few hard SF. Now, I find I’m reading two first-contact books (Eifelheim and Blindsight) back to back. Now, they’re very different books, but still about aliens.

I didn’t do it consciously. In fact, the Eifelheim and Blindsight choices mainly had to do with me going back over past Hugo nominees and picking up the ones I hadn’t had an opportunity to read. But while I was in the middle of my military SF mood, I found myself also gravitating back toward similar books that I’ve already read, just for a peek, despite the fact that I’ve got half a dozen other books waiting to be read. Strange that I never noticed this before.

For this reason, I’ve also found it difficult to go back and continue reading Gaiman’s Sandman series. I’ve had volume 4, “Season of Mists” sitting there for almost a month, now, and just couldn’t get into it. It’s not that I don’t like it (I’m ten pages in at the moment, and it is fantastic), but my head has been somewhere else. Now I worry that I’ll get halfway through Blindsight and lose my head in something else.

I used to be able to read four or five books at a time, but I’m finding that I can’t quite do that anymore. Or, at least, I don’t like to do that anymore. Very odd. I’m in a strange position now. Having read Eifelheim, with all its medieval scholastic philosophy, I’m dreadfully tempted to go dig out some of my grad school texts.

But no. I will not go there. O, that way madness lies! No more of that.

tags: Books, science fiction, whatever
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One of my favorite bloggers interviews one of my favorite authors. They spend a great deal of time talking about the technological singularity, and I’m happy to see that Scalzi and Reynolds seem to think the same thing about the singularity as I do, particularly regarding how remarkably adaptable people are when it comes to new tech. Definitely worth a viewing (it’s about twenty minutes).

tags: Books, culture, science, science fiction, technology
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So, I saw here that Darren Aronofsky has plans for a remake of Robocop. Am I the only one thinking that this is sort of a mistake?

Robocop is a lousy movie. It doesn’t hold up well at all, and it’s popularity at the time says more about 80s action movies than anything else. It was over-the-top violent, thinly plotted, and didn’t even try to delve very deeply into any philosophical questions about humans and machines. Looking back, it’s pretty much an attempt to piggyback on the success of Terminator.

But the real problem with the idea is that it seems so dated. I mean, the Robocop was slow. He talked like a robot. It’s very much rooted in 1970s and 1980s ideas of high tech. Heck, robots are still cool, but human-looking robots have been done to death lately (Battlestar Galactica and the recent Terminator TV show and movies come to mind). So, what can reviving Robocop add to the discussion?

For the idea to work, it would have to be rooted more firmly in biotech and nanotech advances of the last decade and a half, and at least acknowledge that SF has moved on from human-machine hybrids in the style of Robocop. And even the Terminator. What made the Terminator TV show interesting wasn’t the fact that Cameron was a robot, but that she was so human. It was all about the software, not the hardware. Where SF seems to be treading most heavily these days is in the nature of consciousness and sentience. Robocop didn’t quite do that. It was just a man inside a robot suit, essentially. But I’d rather see the opposite: the robot in the man’s mind. Rather than a robot cop, why not a suped-up human body run by a human-created, sentient AI?

Anyway, there are also cultural problems dragging Robocop forward two decades. Urban crime isn’t quite the problem it was back then. People could sympathize in some fashion with brutal cops bringing justice to the streets. Not so much now, I think. Just look at our superheroes recently: drenched in self-doubt about their methods of facing evil, they are tortured by moral grayness and forced into a kind of false moral equivalency between the violence they bring to stop crime. They are dark, brooding wimps for the most part. The only recent example to the contrary that I’ve seen is Ironman. Even Ironman drew criticism for its depiction of the hero killing brown people (even though they were clearly very bad people, and he was defending other brown people). I’ve become very impatient with all this, of course, but I can imagine a Robocop movie being too unwilling to break PC conventions, resulting in a movie that refuses to deal with evil as it actually exists, and instead focus primarily killing only those who can be killed according to those conventions: rich white businessmen.

Oh, wait, that’s exactly what ended up happening in the original Robocop. Heh. Some things haven’t changed, I guess. There’s a central conflict between Hollywood’s desire to make big, cathartic, violent movies where bad guys get what’s coming to them (that’s what people want to see) and with the politically correct conventions they’ve tied themselves to. Which is why all Hollywood action movies are so damned predictable. It’s always the rich white businessman who’s guilty. I can’t imagine Aronofsky being gutsy enough to break the convention and actually have the Robocop facing real violent American crime, which is primarily urban, ethnic and very un-PC.

How much you want to bet that he’s got Vin Diesel lined up for the role? Heh, that’d be amusing. He wouldn’t even have to act!

tags: movies, science fiction
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