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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So, I’m watching The Vampire Diaries, and…

Yes. I watch The Vampire Diaries. Wanna make something of it?

So, I’m watching the show, and the protagonist good-guy vamp Stefan has yet another opportunity to kill antagonist bad-guy vamp Damon, and … doesn’t. The first time, Stefan traps Damon in a room full of vamp-bane, and now stabs Damon with a stake … in the stomach.

Damon has killed … gosh, I’ve forgotten how many. Six? Including Stefan’s “uncle” and now one of Stefan’s oldest friends, not to mention turning bad-girl Vicki, getting her killed in the process. And then, despite the fact that Damon is a killer, Stefan lets him go.

This is idiotic. There is no good reason for letting this jerk live. The only reason the writers did it is because … they have to. Killing the bad guy now would mean no more stories. So they come up with lame excuses for the good guy not to do his job and whack the bad guy. Seriously, this is dumb.

I’ll go to my more beloved vampire franchise, Buffy, and note (spoilers ahead for those who have not seen all of Season Two–come on guys, its been a decade! Why haven’t you watched Buffy yet?) that Buffy did the same thing with Angel/Angelus. She could have stopped him and it resulted in the tragic death of someone close to the main gang. Of course, Buffy actually did have a bit of a reason for doing what she did.

Still, this dithering by the good guys pisses me off. I had similar irksome feelings toward The Dark Knight for doing the same thing. Batman has the opportunity to put the bad guy down, but nooooo, the good guy can’t kill the bad guy. Sorry, I don’t see all the torment. Sure, we hate to do the moral calculation, but it’s there: bad guy dead results in one dead body; leaving him alive results in many dead bodies. Of innocent people.

I’ve pointed out this modern foible before. We think the problem is the killing. But its not. Killing is a last-resort kind of thing, but in these fictional cases, there’s almost always no other option. The burden of being the good guy means doing what others won’t do. And that almost always means taking life. Now, the burden is knowing that some day one might be called to account for that killing. If the good guy is confident enough in his or her judgment about what is right or wrong, this is not an issue. If you’re gonna be the good guy, you’ve got to know this.

In which case, failing to kill the bad guy means either: 1) the good guy is not confident that he’s really the good guy, or 2) the good guy is a coward. Coward in the sense that he knows that killing the bad guy is the right thing to do, but is too afraid to bear the burden of judgment. Now, one can certainly argue that no one should be so confident in the idea that they are the good guy that they are able to justify killing. But the results of that position are obvious: more dead innocent people. To believe that, one must believe that it is inherently more moral for many innocent people to die at the hands of an evil person than it is for one evil person to die at the hands of an innocent person.

Honestly, the total body-count approach seems leagues more moral than that. I have very little patience for characters in novels, movies and television shows that arrogate all sorts of moral authority to themselves and then back away from the moments in which they might, just for a moment, actually begin to bear the burden of the power they claim. Being a hero accrues all sorts of fame and glory, but it also means that you’ve got a massive bit of baggage to carry. In the end, that’s why I gave The Dark Knight a pass on Batman’s dithering–because in the end, the movie recognized the burden heroes carry, even if they defined it slightly differently than I would have.

I understand: the modern hero is supposed to be sensitive and not want to kill. Fine. But they’re gonna pay for not killing, and that not killing means more killing, in the end. Not less. The irritating thing is that they never seem to learn this lesson. I’d be content if they’d learn. Instead we’re given conveniently stupid good guys getting people killed because they’re unwilling to make the difficult decisions. They aren’t heroes, they’re cowards.

tags: Books, culture, ethics, movies, television, whatever
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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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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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According to this MediaPost article, Hulu may be the silver bullet that kills network TV:

It’s not the first time Martin has sounded the alarm on the rise of online TV. In a May report she warned that the entire $300 billion market valuation of the television industry is threatened by the shift of programming from TV to the Web. Spearheading the overthrow of TV-as-we-know-it is Hulu, the premium video site backed by NBC Universal, News Corp. and Walt Disney Co. that offers content from 120 partners from the Food Network to Paramount Pictures …. [T]he online video hub will cost TV networks $920 per viewer in advertising if their audiences are cannibalized by Hulu.

Hulu is only one front in this particular war, but it’s worth noting the possible collapse of ad revenue. Here are some of the offered calculations:

The report derives the figure of $920 per viewer lost to Hulu by estimating that Hulu runs four ads each hour at a $50 CPM compared to 32 ads during each hour of programming on TV at a $35 CPM. ($1,120-$200 = $920). Hulu has not disclosed actual ad sales or ad rates. [ed., CPM means “cost per 1000 impressions”)

As I’ve said before, there are ways for networks to get behind the new technology and benefit, but so far they seem unwilling to do so. Networks are addicted to ad revenue, but in the end their addiction will keep them from making necessary changes that could keep them relevant. Of course, I hope they continue down that path. The entire network television structure is antiquated: tied to irrelevant broadcast technology. They are protected from true market competition. If an ad revenue collapse is what is necessary to break them, so be it.

The fact is, opposition to a la carte pricing for television entertainment seems to be waning. iTunes does roaring business in selling television shows individually through its service. People have been pushing for a la carte pricing for networks through their cable providers for years, although that’s failed. A pay-by-show approach seems to be where this is headed. If you watch ten shows per season, why not pay them directly? Instead, we pay $50 or more for cable each month, mostly for shows that we would never watch. Creative control needs to be taken from networks and given back to the people making the show. Advertising should be a supplement to what we pay for entertainment, not the key factor.

The mistake is believing that ad revenue should be enough to cover the costs of these programs. A better choice is something like the cable network model. People pay for Showtime, and as a result get shows like Dexter, run without ads. Or HBO and Sopranos. I’d suggest something a bit more radical, that we disband networks all together, or at least think of them as something different, and use fewer (and probably more effective) ads.

In any case, if Hulu is going to kill network TV, more power to it. I watch Hulu already, but I encourage you all to do the same.

tags: technology, television
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Here’s an article from the Hollywood Reporter on the new consortium looking to bring the television ratings system into the 21st century. Ignore what they say, though, about this not being a challenge to Nielsen. That’s precisely what it is. If Nielsen were doing its job, this new consortium wouldn’t be needed at all.

Unfortunately, the article gives few new details about the group, save for a list of Hollywood bigwigs who signed on to the group. It’s a fairly broad set of broadcasting companies, advertising firms, etc. They’ll be doing some studies, then probably come up with some alternative system that takes changing viewership into account. That’s precisely what both the media companies and their advertisers want. While traditional broadcasters are continuing their relationship with Nielsen for the time being, I can’t imagine that will continue once a new system is in place that counts nontraditional viewers (who, I suspect, will be the majority of viewers within five to ten years, if they aren’t already).

What I really liked about this was the following comment:

The CIMM intends to look for ways to measure TV ratings data across multiple platforms and make the results publicly available.

Make the results publicly available. Excellent. Of course, we get ratings (a few weeks late) in the current system, but what I’d really like is to see near-real time reporting of ratings. Like a counter on a website, tallying views. I mean, with traditional broadcast you can’t do that, because you don’t know who is watching what at any given moment. But with the current system, you should be able to tally who is watching not only what shows, but what part of each show. Making all that data public would make the whole process more transparent. Not only that, but it might allow for more give-and-take between viewers and broadcasters/advertisers.

So, I have high hopes for this. Let’s hope they come up with a decent system. If done right, this could be a huge boon not only for viewers, but for advertisers and content creators as well.

tags: technology, television
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TVSquad lists the top ten “big bads”–you know, the bad guys the protagonists spend an entire season (or more) trying to kill–from Joss Whedon shows, and I can’t help but toss my opinion into the mix.

Thing is, I don’t like most of the big bads in the show, at least in Buffy. I didn’t like Glory, or the First, or the Master. I did, actually, like the Mayor. And Spike and Drusilla have to be top ranked in some way. In Angel, there was always Wolfram and Hart, which has to be ranked as number one. I mean, really, a demon-run law firm? Gotta love that.

But I object to the idea that the only “big bad” in Firefly was the Alliance. Sure, we see a bit of it. And we see more in the movie, Serenity. But there is an ominous presence throughout the show that, unfortunately, never gets fully developed: the megacorporation Blue Sun. A company that is even more sinister than the means-well-but-is-authoritarian Alliance. Blue Sun seems to run the Alliance itself from what we see in extended Firefly materials.

But I could never really rank them. As bad guys go, Angel’s soul-riven version Angelus must be ranked similarly high. As well as Dark Willow (she breaks the Whedon mold by not, ahem, spiking her enemy, instead choosing to skin him alive, for God’s sake!). But isn’t that strange, that the good guys make the best bad guys? Hell, Angel and company end up running Wolfram and Hart in the end. And double hell, even in Firefly the Alliance isn’t evil. Even Inara was on the other side of that war.

Dare I bring up Dr. Horrible, where Nathan Fillion’s Captain Hammer is a jackass, and Neil Patrick Harris’ Dr. Horrible is actually a nice–if socially awkward–guy?

Whedon loves turning good guys bad (Angel) and bad guys good (Spike). That’s why the First, the Master, Glory, and all the others just can’t hold up.

tags: television
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Nielsen, despite paying massive amounts of money in”modernizing” their operations, has no interest in updating their system to take into account computer and DVR viewers. The networks aren’t happy with this, and have invested in a new consortium to take bids on a new rating service that will in all likelihood do what Nielsen won’t. Why? Because the networks want to be sure that, after investing the money and time and talent in creating a new show, that their decisions to cancel or continue with a given program are reasonable.

This can only be good for viewers. It’s been pointed out endlessly that Nielsen’s methodology has failed to keep up with changes in modern viewing habits. I can only wonder how many good shows were canceled because they drew mostly from pools of tech-savvy, nontraditional viewers (like myself), thus undercutting their Nielsen ratings.

The sooner this changes, the better.

tags: technology, television
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Here’s a fantastic post over at io9 on characters who say what the audience is thinking. Some scenes from Firefly and Buffy make the list, as well as a fantastic scene from Lost (which I haven’t watched since the second season because it was so completely impossible to follow), that almost (almost) makes me want to pick it up again.

And no, I’m not posting this just because the article references one of my favorite Firefly scenes. At least, not just because.

I have to admit, though, that scenes like these always make me love a show. I hate it when characters are faced with absolutely ludicrous situations and take them in stride. I love it when they actually acknowledge that the whole situation is massively screwed up, and deal with it accordingly. Genre shows are particularly guilty of throwing some very weird stuff at you, and it’s hard not to think, “character X would say something smartassed about that.” Occasionally, they do. And I honor them.

tags: television
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