18503--Fake News

We're only a few months away from a long anticipated sequel to "Blade Runner".  As much as I enjoyed the novel from which it was adapted (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? for those not in the know) and the film, which covers about a third of the book, I have not been eager to see a sequel.  There's a lot of material in the book and it can be hard to get all of a novel into a single movie.  We all know that.  I accept that.  I don't fault the film for that.  Even with its flaws, it's still a delight.  My problem with it and a sequel predicated on it can be placed squarely at the feet of its director, Ridley Scott.


The decision by Ridley Scott to have Rick Deckerd, our hero of the Blade Runner division, be a replicant is one I've always dismissed as absurd.  Scott's clung to it for over thirty years now, but the idea doesn't fit with Dick's book and it certainly doesn't fit with reality.  The amount of scrutiny one would have to undergo, which Dick's novel does confirm happens, to become a cop is specifically designed to prevent unsuitable candidates from being hired.  Sure, we get unfit hires in all levels of government in the military and law enforcement and their support services, but they're at least human.  Remember that "permanent record" they used to threaten you with when you got in trouble at school?  Well, it's going to be checked.  To cast Deckerd in the role of a replicant is to suggest that the Blade Runner unit is incapable in the most extreme degree of fulfilling its primary functions: detecting and retiring replicants on Earth (as it was made illegal for the synthetic humans to be functioning outside of their manufacturer's facility since a bunch of them went rogue).  


Anything more than a superficial examination is enough to out a replicant.  Scott's decision to foist that mantle onto Deckard's shoulders never felt like anything more to me than the director's attempt to seem clever, like changing "Watchmen" but creating a weaker resolution in doing so.  It certainly doesn't show someone who's read and respected the source material.  It certainly doesn't scream of cleverness.

As always, though, I'm willing to field counter-points.

18467--Dinosaurs Are Not the Problem

P: Now...

J: Uh-oh.

P: ...if you're Dr. Ian Malcolm...

J: From...?  Oh, Jurassic Park.

P: ...then the last place you want to be is...

J: Jurassic Park.

P: Anyplace with freakin' dinosaurs!

J: Well, duh.

P: Yet, somehow, they've managed to sign Jeff Goldblum for Jurassic World 2.

J: This I knew.  They're making a fifth movie.

P: His third.  Somehow, they're going to have to come up with a plausible way to get him back among the dinosaurs.

J: Like the other guy, the doctor from the first and the third ones.

P: Sam Neill.

J: Get me off this damned island.

P: Oh, it's OK, this is a different island.  Of course, there are still dinosaurs on it, so...

J: Damn it!

P: We have to have an expert scientist to ignore who also wasn't dumb enough to make the dinosaurs trying to kill everyone.

J: So all Malcolm has to offer is telling everyone not to go be part of the damn buffet?

P: Well, there's the running and screaming.  And we have to assume all the chaos is a big draw for him.

J: Why am I on the island of dinosaurs and not wearing a tank to cover all my delicious meat?

P: No, that's not the perfect weapon.  You know what the perfect weapon is.  Same as for zombie hordes.

J: A baseball bat?

P: AC-130.

J: The Hercules thing?  With the 50-cal?

P: 105mm Howitzer!  40mm cannon!  25mm machine gun, front-mounted!  Most importantly, you are not down there with them.

J: Is that going to work?  Something always goes wrong.  It's like they've got somebody on the inside making things go wrong.  In the first movie, it was...the computer guy...

P: Wayne Knight.  Neuman.

J: Yeah, him.

P: He wasn't actually trying to sabotage the place, just shut down security long enough to cover his escape.  Either through bad programming or just mechanical inefficiency, things didn't switch back on like they were supposed to.

J: Either way, time to get the damn shotguns!  And that didn't even help.

P: They were way understaffed.  The place wasn't open yet.

J: Right, running a skeleton crew.

P: At least, they would be after the feeding frenzy.

J: Jurassic World was fully staffed and open for business.  What's the point of putting all those people around apex predators designed to kill us?

P: Well, they're not really, not the natural ones anyway.

J: They're not natural anymore.

P: Certainly not.  And in the last one, well, people really were trying to sabotage the place.  We had our head scientist from the first movie poking his head back up from the lab..."Hi, I've been trying to weaponize the critters for the last few years."  Because humans try to weaponize everything.

J: And working with the government.  They put raptor DNA in it.

P: And chameleon.

J: It tore out its own tracking device and went hunting for fun.  They can't control that.  Your plane might not be able to shoot it either.

P: It has infra-red tracking gear.

J: That might not be enough with that thing.

P: In which case, I'm still in a plane.  OK, so maybe they just let it loose someplace unfriendly and leave it to hunt.  Admittedly, it's about as responsible as planting minefields and leaving them behind to see who they kill.  If it doesn't get a taste for ISIS, set off the brain bomb buried deep, deep in its head.

J: Unless it digs that out, too.

P: It's buried really deep.

J: They've got to have all kinds of good nanotech in that lab.  They should have some way to control them.

P: Sure, control the nervous system, the endocrine system, or even just clog up the bloodstream with graphene clots.

J: Well, that might work.  It has to get hungry some time and actually hunt for food.

P: Better still, go beyond the lysine option and just program in a termination date.  Figure out their maximum travel range and turn them loose.  As long as they don't learn to drive or hop a boat, they're under limited control.

J: Of course, the government's still going to want controllable soldiers.  How long till they're putting together human hybrid dino-soldiers?

P: And how long till the hybrids decide to find a way to increase their numbers and take over?

J: They always turn on you.

P: Of course, intelligent dino-soldier slaves isn't the real problem.  The problem is all the clowns who want to keep making dinosaurs in the first place.

J: Step one, don't make dinosaurs.

P: There you go.  That nanotech bio-lab could probably come up with some nifty superpowers.  Failing that, there's always omelettes.

J: I want cookies.

P: Fine, omelettes and cookies.

17141--What Would You Do With One Million Dollars

You probably have what seems like a very clever idea.

You probably wouldn't do something as silly as blow it on making a movie.  Well, not unless you had a really amazing idea, right?

Sharknado was made on a one million dollar budget and has a 3.5/10 rating on IMDB, reviewers citing bad special effects, acting, script and general concept.  No surprises there.

Over on Rotten Tomatoes, LA Times' reviewer says gaping plot problems are the point of movies like this, inspire fabulous in-home commentary and great consumption of alcohol.  With only 7.5/10 from averaging 11 reviews, Rotten Tomatoes gives it a 91% score.

Syfy ran it 3 times in its premiere month, with viewership increasing each time.  A National Weather Service rep joked, "As with any waterspout or tornado, the best advice is to be in an interior part of the lowest floor of a sturdy building and not outside, whether sharks are raining down or not."

It has trended on Twitter thanks to celebrity involvement in discussions, including Wil Wheaton and Olivia Wilde.  Syfy has held a Twitter contest for, yup, a title for the sequel.  Will it be Shark Night Rises?  No, Sharknado 2: The Second One is scheduled to premiere in July 2014.

Wow.  Probably the most amazing million dollars Syfy ever spent.

Who greenlights these things?

16797--Sowing the Seeds of Chaos

Every now and again, you may feel that your personal life, the world around you or one of your writing projects has fallen into a rut of stagnation.  How can you fix it?  Change your normal routine.  Yes, big scary change.  Embrace the change.  It can be good.  It can stimulate new ideas and ways of doing things.

Static systems tend to produce static results.  That's often just fine.  Predictable results are frequently what we seek.  Sometimes, though, you're going to be searching for something new, even if you don't know what it is.  I would also suggest that when you go shaking things up, have some fun doing it.  Give your imagination a little challenge, though, and you might come up with some more creative ways of shuffling your deck. 

In the spirit of my recent writing about tricksters, I'll share a couple of my own past shake ups.

Once upon a time, I worked as a radio DJ.  It's a job that can be fun, but it has its own particular thorns, too.  Hey, that's why it's work and you get paid to do it.  Anyway, one particular afternoon, I decided to play Queen's "We Will Rock You".  Most of you familiar with it know that it is normally followed by "We Are the Champions".  This makes sense because it's the very next track on the album and the gap between them is so small that the first flows into the second very well.  People have become accustomed, almost programmed, to hear them together.  Well, that particular afternoon, I made note that the two separate tracks are just that: two separate tracks.  When "We Will Rock You" finished, I spun something else.  It was a nice smooth transition into another bit of rock and roll that I don't even recall at this writing.  What I do recall, though, is that we got a pretty fair idea of just how many people were listening to my show that day because the phone lines rang like I was giving away money.  Not playing "We Are the Champions" was apparently enough to incite an emotional riot because that was suddenly the most important thing in their world.  I even got to talk to some some station executives who usually didn't care about talking with me.  Who knew they had such an interest in what I played?

Another fun upon a time came way back in 1993.  That's right, the twentieth century.  Some friends of mine had gotten terribly excited about the opening night of "Jurassic Park" and called a couple of dozen of us together to go watch it.  It was a real event.  The box office lines were long, spotlights were sweeping the sky and news crews had come out to do their little feature pieces.  One of my friends who had called us all together had arrived about the same time as I had.  As we were getting our group organized in the very long lines, we chatted to pass the time.  To make the wait more interesting, he said we should "Sow the seeds of Chaos."  What could I do but accept such a lofty challenge?  I put on my 3D glasses. 

 

Now, let me explain at this point that earlier that very day I had come upon a stash of 3D glasses.  These weren't the slick Men-in-Black-looking 3D glasses we enjoy in the twenty-first century.  No, these were their primitive forebears, made of colorful cardboard and sporting one red and one blue lens.  I had found a box of them at work that no one else wanted.  I was told I could have them and shoved them into my backpack.  Between the time of that find and the movie showtime, I found that those 3D glasses didn't just enhance 3D films.  They also made the world a brighter place as well as the covers of comic books.  So I was already having a fun Friday afternoon.  Since we were going to see this great new film with groundbreaking computer effects, I had to give it a try with my new glasses.  And I had enough for everybody.  As more of our friends arrived, I gave everyone their own 3D glasses.

With the challenge aired and accepted, I encouraged the rest of the group to begin putting on their 3D glasses.  Then, I waited.  At first, there were a few curious finger pointings and giggles, but I held my ground and acted "normally".  Soon, the questions started.  "Why do you have 3D glasses?  Is this a 3D movie?  Do you have any more?"  "Well," I said, reluctantly reaching into my bag of tricks, "I have a few extras..." and began handing out 3D glasses to grateful strangers.  As that spread, more inquiries came, people asking "Where'd you get those?  Is this a 3D movie?  Where can I get a pair?"  "I really need to hang on to some for my friends," I told them, "but you could ask at the box office."  Grateful for the guidance, they'd trot off to bother theater management.  As I recall, we even made it onto the news as the curious reporters began to wonder why no one had told them "Jurassic Park" was being shown in 3D.  The movie theater personnel were too busy to respond to the inquiry, but I was happy to give out some of my extra pairs of glasses to the local media.

As we drew near to getting our tickets, my friend conceded his challenge when he asked, "What the Hell are you doing?"  I reminded him, "You said, 'sow the seeds of Chaos'."  "Well, yeah," he said nervously, "but I didn't think you'd be so good at it." 

It was all in good fun.  No lies were told and there were no casualties that I heard about.  Plus, we all enjoyed the show.  It seemed like those dinosaurs were ready to leap off the screen.

How do you shake things up and turn the mundane into something fresh?

16762--Reality From A Certain POV

I'm pretty sure I'm not looking at things like the majority of people, what you might be inclined to call a "normal" person.

I remember it used to be limited to things I was writing.  That was fine.  I would analyze my writing as I constructed it.  That seemed to be quite practical, allowing me to assess whether or not I was moving things in a proper direction.  If it wasn't making me happy, I could change it.  "Oh, I'm building a cliched story, or at least something I've seen done before.  Looks like I need to do something else."

Now--and though I say now, it's something I've seen building over several years--I can't just sit and watch a movie or a TV show or enjoy reading a story.  As I take them in for processing, my mind is analyzing them.  This isn't to say that I can no longer be entertained, but I've got a whole other nerd processor running simultaneously.  I guess that means they're not doing enough to engage my brain.  Yeah, I was that kid in school, with mom exchanging pages of notes with teachers about giving me extra work in class.

When it's entertainment time, I'm trying not to be spoiler guy for anyone else in the room.  Fortunately, working out the mystery set-up of TV shows or movies ten minutes in doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good story and entertaining characters with well-written dialogue.  In fact, it makes me look harder for them.  It also makes me look for more news and read more non-fiction to give the Nerd a rest, but that's OK, too.  I like learning.  The Nerd loves Jeopardy!



With fiction, though, I'm looking for something that's not wasting my time.  I want something that's well-written, whether comedy or adventure or drama, because while I'm immersing myself in the alternate reality the Nerd is at work.  "Ah, here's the conflict character," he says.  "Here comes the climax," he tells me.  "This would've been better if--" or "Oh, they still need to do ______ because they still need the plot element of this character to ______ in order to justify the others doing ________."  "Remember how all this started?" he asks.  "Look at these changes _______ has gone through."  "Oh, this is going to work out to be ________."  "Needs more cowbell."

The Nerd isn't so much a critic as a clinician, breaking written works down into analytical elements.  I suppose that means it lives in the left brain, being all logical in there.  I know it's tied into the writing part because, as mentioned earlier, it does it to me, too--analyzing my writing as I'm writing, figuring out story formulas, story needs and such.  Sometimes, it's almost like having a co-writer, I imagine, but with smoother communication.  "Look, irony!  Call Alanis Morrisette."

"What're you doing?" she asked as I backed up the movie for the fourth time to replay a single line of dialogue.  "Is something wrong?"
"No, I just love the way he says that line," I explained.  "It's this perfect inflection where you can tell he's in pain after being tortured, but sounding surprised that it hurt.  It's just enough to make it sad and funny."
"You're such a nerd."
"It's a great delivery," I said, pushing PLAY.  "Sorry."  Sometimes it gets out in the open.

Eyes aren't just the windows to the soul, they feed your brain a tremendous amount of information you're not even fully aware is there.  So what's that brain of yours doing with it?  How is it affecting the way you interact with what, in effect, is your particular world?  Something tells me that other writers must go through this sort of internal interaction much as I do, watching people as character studies and absorbing entertainments as analytical examples as well.  You tell me, though.  How does the world look from your POV and does your reality have enough cowbell?