Star Wars Going Commercial? Oh, Right, Normal… (Or, Look, It’s Boba Fett and Han Solo!)
If you haven’t already heard from io9, Entertainment Weekly, and Geeks of Doom, Lucasfilm is considering the possibility of two standalone Star Wars films — one involving an origin story for Han Solo, set between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope (III and IV), and the other involving Boba Fett either between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back (IV and V) or Empire and The Return of the Jedi (VI). That is, of course, if you accept the rumors (including this weird one about a Yoda movie). Frankly, we don’t have much reason to believe Disney won’t make as many Star Wars movies as they possible can, especially when you consider just how lucrative the universe has been for Lucas and his various companies. Any new movie would equal a new video game, new books, new merchandise, and on and on and on and on. Basically, unless a Star Wars movie ends up flopping at the box office — unlikely — Disney will probably pump out as many movies as is reasonable. Expect one of these years to become “the year of Star Wars,” with t hree different movies/series releasing all at the same time… (that’s my rumor — you can quote me). What do I think about all this? First, I’m not actually all that bothered by the prospect of a whole bunch of new Star Wars movies. Honestly, I expect Disney to handle the franchise well enough; they might even do a better job of it than Lucas has in the last decade-ish. I’m likely to see most of the movies, regardless of their setting, characters, and so on, if only because I have been a Star Wars nut since I was a kid (my mother gave me the VHS tapes of the Leonard Maltin editions, and I still have them — in fact, I have two sets, because I wanted one that I could play without worrying about damaging the tapes…I was a weird teenager). I see pride! I see power! I see a bad-ass mother who don’t take no crap off of nobody! My concern is that Disney will produce Star Wars films it shouldn’t just because it can. While an origin story for Han Solo or an expansion of Boba Fett’s sparse plot in the originals might be interesting, it does make me wonder whether there aren’t new and more interesting ways to inject freshness into a franchise that has, if we’re being honest, been pretty stale (with some exceptions to a few of the extended universe products — books and games in particular). I love Star Wars and always will, but I’m also a bit bored of seeing the same old characters being trotted out over and over. Now that we’ve followed through the origin of Darth Vader, I’d really like to see more new stuff. New characters. New stories. And not just origins for characters living during the major events of the prequel and original trilogies. I want to see stories set beyond the current film franchises. I’m like a snake. I lure you into a false sense of security, andthen I shot your ass under a table, melting your green skinlike a mutated cake from a galaxy far, far away… Fool… Think about it. For those that follow the extended universe (I have some familiarity), imagine all the ways Disney could reinvigorate the franchise with new and exciting plots. Take, for example, the post-Empire narratives, from the final death knell of the Empire to the various new invasions and terrors that befell the New Republic. Even more fascinating might be to take us all the way outside of the immediate aftermath (an easier feat when you consider that most of the original cast is too damn old to reprise their roles) and film the Young Jedi stuff (the solo kids would make a great new set of heroes for new Star Wars fans) or even the incredible Yuuzhan Vong War, which would allow the original cast to return as secondary characters (or even as primaries, if one wanted to go that route — I’m not sold either way) and allow us to see the New Republican and the New Jedi Order engage in one of the most important, violent conflicts of its new life. The dreams of a Republic scattered like so much biology… Basically, I’m saying that there is too much to show us in this world to let it go to waste re-hashing stuff we’ve already seen. Sure, Han Solo is a great character, but he’s an old character. We more or less know his story; a prequel won’t change that. We even know Boba Fett, to some extent, and so imagining his pre-ROTJ past doesn’t really add anything to the film franchise. The only new material we’re getting is in whatever film J. J. Abrams ends up making, but I’m not sure where he’s going to set that story (or, rather, what Disney will let him and his writer do with the universe). I can dream for a Mara Jade narrative, but I also have this absurd notion that Mark Hamill must reprise his role as Luke Skywalker at some point. He can’t do that in the Mara Jade plot because he’s just too old (sorry, Mark), and I’m not sure I like the idea of casting a young blond guy to play the role… I guess my biggest concern is that Disney will try so hard to keep the money coming in that they’ll piss on the only opportunity I see that could make Star Wars more than just “that series we loved as kids, and which gave us enough merchandise to destroy a planet.” I want to go back into that movie theater and have the experience of a lifetime — my first, actual Star Wars experience (the one older folks talk about all the time when they wax nostalgic about 1977). But I don’t expect that to happen…
Rethinking Superhero Ethics and Myke Cole’s Shadow Ops Series
On the recent Skiffy and Fanty Show podcast, my friend Jen and I interviewed author Myke Cole about Shadow Ops: Fortress Frontier, the sequel to his 2012 hit, Shadow Ops: Control Point (which we interviewed him about here). During the discussion, we (Jen and I) sidetracked from asking Myke direct questions to actually considering the world he had actually created — specifically, the ethics of that world and how it might actually happen in the real world. I’d like to continue some of that discussion here (on top of this post by Myke on a similar subject). For those that are unfamiliar with Myke’s work, you’ll need to know that Shadow Ops takes place in an alternate present where “magic powers” (a.k.a. superhero powers) are monitored and “controlled” by the various world governments. In the case of the U.S., they have sought to control these powers and the people who have them by banning their use in the general populace and forcing people who discover that they are “latent” to join the military (or some related agency, depending on the need). Much of the “forcing” isn’t publicly acknowledged, which becomes apparent in this brilliant book trailer for Fortress Frontier: One of the questions I’ve always asked myself when looking at any superhero universe (whether it’s Myke’s or the X-Men universe or whatever) is “What would we actually do?” Myke’s universe is not that different from popular comics like X-Men. In a way, the narrative of government control, often using violent force, is a staple of superhero narratives. And rightly so. It’s possibly the most important issue in any superhero world still populated by “normies.” Magneto recognized this when he waged a personal war against humanity, assuming that mutants would become the dominant lifeforms on the planet (the evolutionary model is more important to X-Men than Shadow Ops); thus, what seems like a fit of genocidal thinking turns into a vendetta that is both biologically and personally-oriented (Magneto’s heritage is crucial to his motivations, however problematic). Of course, his actions also fueled the very things he had hoped to prevent. No idea how he has an 8-pack…not likehe actually lifts anything. In Myke’s world, however, the the only rational answer the officials can come up with is “CONTROL” (hence the name Control Point for his first book — one of many meanings). Not surprisingly, this is a painfully repetitive human response. For example, the current debate over gun control is largely an emotional response to something we don’t quite understand — mass shootings (this is not intended as a 1-to-1 analogy). When bad things happen, the human response is often to control that thing, because to control “evil” is to secure the “good” (or something like that). We jump on “mental health” and “fewer guns or stricter laws” because they are the simple answers to problems which, on the surface, appear simple, but, underneath, are complicated. The same thing has happened throughout history, with some noticeable spurts of reasoned progress.* The Shadow Ops series is a great example of this knee-jerk response at work, but based on an actionable threat. If random people gain extraordinary powers, wouldn’t it make sense to launch at campaign to control those powers? Certainly. In the face of a presumed evil (I use this word lightly — the “other” might be a more appropriate term), we can only conceive the arrival, the moment when we know something new and terrifying has arrived, and we must take whatever action we can to prevent that change from overwhelming civilization itself. Some superhero universes use mutant registration, incarceration, extermination, indentured servitude (such as military service in Shadow Ops), or some other method of control that inevitably punishes the “mutant” for having abilities they didn’t ask for. George Clooney, Howard E. Rollins, Jr., and Aamir Khan walk into a bar… Mutant punishments, then, are easy analogues for the real world. People like to make grand comparisons between gay rights, race, and so on and so forth when talking about superheroes. They are fair comparisons when you treat the issue simplistically. I, however, don’t see the validity in such comparisons, in part because there is something tangibly different about a superhero. Arguments against the inclusion of LGBT people in contemporary society are, in my honest opinion, based not on rational determinations of “social damage,” but rather on unfounded accusations that such damage occurs and that it is exclusively the fault of LGBT people. I have seen a few studies which suggest that children raised by gay parents may suffer as a result, but these studies are always a reflection of how social conditions influence children and marginalized groups. In other words, if you raise kids in a homophobic culture, it shouldn’t surprise us that kids of LGBT parents develop social relationships that appear “damaged” in comparison to kids of heterosexual parents; there’s no way to know what effect LGBT parents have on their children without having those results tainted by the culture around us (woe be to sociology!). Similar arguments were made about people of color and so on and so forth — the wheel keeps turning. The older I get, the harder it is for these arguments to remain palatable for me… And then they made it into a movie… But some of those same arguments are actually valid when it comes to superheroes. For example, there are tangible social and physical impacts on the nation when unusual and seemingly supernatural powers are involved. If you think school shootings are terrible, imagine a world with superheroes. Someone who can control the earth around us could easily smash thousands of houses beneath a landslide. A person with fire on his fingertips could burn cities to the ground. Someone with a variation on teleportation (a la Jumper; porting in Myke’s universe) could steal untold amounts from banks or infiltrate secure areas (and, therefore, threaten national security — see the second X-Men movie). Whether we like it or not, superheroes are a potential threat to social stability, since their
Death Star Economics and Ethics? (Or, What Would You Do With a Death Star?)
I find it amusing when smart people take science fiction concepts seriously enough to question their validity in the real world. From rocket packs to hover cars to laser guns, the smart ones have destroyed our childhoods, one reality-based argument at a time. The Death Star is no different (and I’m going to add to the hurt). Earlier this year, Paul Shawcross, acting on behalf of the White House, released a statement on We the People in response to a petition requesting the U.S. government to build a real-life Death Star by 2016.* Because petitions that receive 25,000 signatures require a response from the White House, there wasn’t any way to avoid this humorous situation. Thankfully, they took the issue with a heavy dose of humor and succinctly reminded us that such a project is pretty much impossible — it would cost $850,000,000,000,000,000 (or, as we poor people like to say, “a friggin ton of money”). io9 recently explored this number in some depth, using a Centives.net article as support; they concluded that the $850 quintillion figure is more tongue-and-cheek than an accurate measurement (this is one of many conclusions, of course), but it fulfills the purpose of keeping the genocidal geek community at bay. Disney will probably turn this into a musical in a few years… Setting aside arguments about how much the Death Star would cost in exact terms, the real question is two fold: how would a country or a world economy come up with that kind of money, and how would they justify the expense? First, the size of the loan necessary to build a Death Star would exceed the GDP of the entire world by a factor of approximately 12,100 (based on figures acquired here). Assuming, then, that the world agreed to sacrifice its entire GDP to pay off said monumental loan, it would still take 12,100 years to pay that loan off, assuming no growth in GDP and no interest.** And let’s face it, there’s no way we can assume there won’t be inflation, interest, and so on for the next 12,100 years. I’m no economist, but it seems to me that taking on a project at this point in time, without any easier means for manufacturing the materials and the Death Star itself, would lead to worldwide financial disaster. Besides, what exactly would a budget debate about the Death Star look like? Imagine, if you will, the Death Star is 50% behind schedule due to 800 straight years of economic shortfalls, politicians are bickering back and forth, some running around like chickens with their heads cut off in a pathetic attempt to balance the world budget. Meanwhile, poverty rates increase exponentially, because too many resources have been pegged for the Death Star Fund; healthcare, scientific progress, and so on and so forth have likewise crumbled beneath the pressure. Perhaps stress-related baldness will become the new “epidemic” of the future… I’m the Death Star on a budget deficit. Any questions? All of this assumes that we take seriously the financial viability of a 12,100-year construction project. Considering that we can’t even resolve the relatively simplistic budget problems in the United States without all of Washington D.C. losing its mind, the idea is just three shades shy of batshit. Even if the money and resources existed to make constructing the Death Star possible in 100 years (a big if), the political environment surrounding such an international effort would make the project practically impossible. The United Nations, bless its heart, tries to get everyone to work together towards common goals, but after 71 years in operation, it still struggles to address the most obvious of human rights issues (among other problems). It’s like watching a puppy who tries to jump onto the couch, but its legs are too short, so it keeps falling off — only this puppy may or may not grow up, may or may not develop more efficient motor skills, and may or may not stare at you with its puppy eyes, vainly hoping that you’ll lift it up to your lap. But the even bigger question is this: Why would we bother doing this, and what would we do with a Death Star? Let’s imagine the scenarios:*** 1) Some large, planetary body is on a collision course with the Earth. It must be destroyed. Han: And that, kids, is what we call a Solo Seduction Device.Chewie: Ra-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-gh! Fail: If we need something with the firepower of the Death Star to destroy a planetary body, there’s no valid reason for constructing the whole thing. After all, this scenario does not require the laser system to form part of a much larger military function. You can’t exactly threaten the Earth with its own destruction, can you?**** Even so, we could probably put the laser on the Earth without decreasing its firepower significantly (I’m guessing) or use our mountains of nuclear weapons to pound the living hell out of said planetary body. The latter seems a cheaper option, though certainly less cool than a giant green laser. 2) An alien species attacks us with firepower that far surprises our current military might. They must be stopped. It’s okay. There aren’t any real people there. Fail: Setting aside the fact that such an alien species would have some method of faster space travel than currently available on Earth AND the technological means to subjugate us anyway — not to mention the fact that building the Death Star would take far too long to make it useful to us — there is the disturbing question of whether it is right to commit genocide as a last resort. Are there no other ways? If not, should we commit genocide for our own survival? I realize that The Doctor does it all the time, but we are not Time Lords. We’re supposed to have a moral framework. Then again, “right” is sometimes not an important factor in our decisions as species, since we’ve committed acts of genocide against
The Hugos: Testing the Waters — What will win?
In the interest of filling my blog with all your lovely voices, I want to know your answer(s) to the following question: Which novels, novellas, short stories, films, fanzines/writers, fancasts, and so on do you think will win the Hugo Award this year? I have a secret agenda for asking this question, which I will now reveal (thus stealing its secrecy) — I am curious what I might have missed this year, for one reason or another, what others think were Hugo-worthy (which may reflect a particular taste), and so on. In other words, you’re going to give me a taste of a world I’ve never experienced (though I am attending Worldcon this year). So have at it!
Say What? J. J. Abrams and the Star Wars Shuffle
It’s official. J. J. Abrams is going to direct the new Star Wars movie. The good news? He’s not writing it. Nope. That would be Michael Arndt, who is best known for Little Miss Sunshine and Toy Story 3. That’s good news indeed. When I set out to write this post, I imagined it would begin and end with a long diatribe about how many times I have been burned by J. J. Abrams since the travesty that was Cloverfield. As a writer, Abrams is, in my opinion, no better than whoever Michael Bay pays to write his bloated scripts of plot-ological stupidity (Transformers 2, anyone?). But he’s not a terrible director, given a good script, and he’s worked with amazing folks like Steven Spielberg. This post, then, will take a far different approach to whether Abrams is a good pick for the Star Wars universe (i.e., a randomly numbered string of equally random thoughts — sort of): 1) Considering what the Star Wars franchise has become, and the unlikelihood that Disney will make significant changes to the model, I can’t say that Abrams is necessarily a bad choice, given his work on Star Trek. Star Trek, after all, wasn’t necessarily a bad movie in terms of its presentation. It had a lot of the things that the franchise had been missing all lined up in near-perfect order; all of those elements are crucial to Star Wars movies anyway, minus glaring plot holes. On this front, I agree with John Scalzi. 2) Whatever will happen to the Star Wars universe under Abrams, I can’t imagine it can end up any worse than Attack of the Clones. The new movie won’t be another prequel, and is likely to take us away from the stock characters (not that I don’t like Skywalker and Solo or anything). Even if the second half of that sentence isn’t true, at least we’ll have new stories to think about, with different writers and directors behind the helm. At worst, Abrams can only offer a different look at a commercial franchise. At best, he might actually make something that we’ll fondly remember. 3) I care more about the continuation and improvement of the Star Wars franchise in film form than I do about my well-documented dislike of J. J. Abrams. In other words, I will see the new movie whether Abrams is a part of it or not. That Arndt is writing the screenplay leads me to believe I’m not irrational to expect a decent movie. None of this means that I’m not apprehensive about the selection of Abrams. I’d rather have a different director behind the helm, if I’m honest. But the more I think about the selection, the less inclined I am to think, as I stupidly said on Twitter the other day, that Abrams will have a negative impact on the franchise. Lucas kicked it when it was down well enough on his own… What do you all think?
Guest Post: Sassy Gay to Super Gay — Marvel’s Re-Definition of the Supporting Gay Character by Benjamin Kissell
I remember being 9 years old and buying my first issue of Uncanny X-Men; my Mum had worked in a bookstore when I was little and had brought home rare gems, well-worn back-issues and cover-less comics [she couldn’t stand the sight of any book, comic or otherwise, being tossed into the garbage] so the sight of them on a newsstand was nothing new to me, however, this was the first issue I had bought of my own volition with my own money. And it? Was glorious. Newsprint paper supported an array of colors most reminiscent of the Kirby-era, bold primes leapt off the page, and the cast of characters? Larger than life. A vibrant team of misfits and underdogs – each imbued with fantastic powers which set them apart from the everyday, yet personalities which connected them to people I knew, even in my suburban Virginia daily life in elementary school and daycare. Their leader Cyclops, in bold blue and red; the mischievous Nightcrawler in India Ink wash and swashbuckling indigo; the stalwart Colossus in naked-comic page-white, yellow and red; the cantankerous Can-nucklehead himself, Wolverine, in his distinctive yellow/blue costume and, of course, Storm commanded the page in her diaphanous black and yellow ensemble, her cascading white hair billowing in the Cockrum-inked wind. I couldn’t put it down, the introduction of Alpha Flight, a super-hero group from that far-off cousin of ours, Canada [What, I was 9? The furthest I had been at that point was to the various Smithsonian Museums in DC and the Baltimore Aquarium – Canada was foreign AND mysterious. Plus? It was the end of the ‘80s, who didn’t think Canada was cool back then?]. I instantly had to get my hands on more comics show-casing these unique team members. True, Snowbird’s costume and diadem were like a white-chick knock-off of Storm, but, who didn’t wanna emulate Storm? I mean, she’s STORM! And Vindicator was a prick, but … Northstar’s douche-y ‘tude, Sasquatch’s cool-as-all-get-out look and Snowbird’s awesome powers made this team something to read and watch in-action. After devouring the issue and reading it three times through, I snuck into Mum’s Sewing Room where she kept her stash of comics. Found, bought, rescued – her collection may not have put the fear of foreclosure in the hearts of comic book stores, but to my eyes it was a Solomon’s Gold Mine. A veritable treasure-trove of new reads [I’ve always been a voracious reader, books, comic books and mini-comics that came with He-Man or She-Ra toys] with art that leapt off the pages and pulled me into the worlds Marvel and DC built for me. Mum found me, several hours later, splayed amidst a sea of open, half-read and varying titles and chuckled at the sight. Issues of Amazing Spider-Man [Cool art from Charles Vess], Uncanny X-Men [Classic X-Men re-prings as well as the Silvestri-era in the Australian Outback! Which of course I’d long-since read … repeatedly], ElfQuest, The Dark Knight, House of Mystery, Detective Comics, Rom: Space Knight and others ringed me. But what held my attention most? Two comic titles sat in my lap: The New Defenders and Alpha Flight. These two ended up holding my attention, not merely because of interesting stories and art, thank you John Byrne, but because of the rich (and confusing) development of two separate characters in their respective titles [tho’ Alpha Flight writers, what were you thinking with Marrina? Seriously, I’ve never understood that, even 20 years later]: Moondragon and Northstar. Moondragon was a Persis Khambatta-esque beauty [if you don’t know who that is, Google Star Trek Ilia]; powerful, intense, brave, with a touch [*cough*] of smug and a whole lot of re-writes. In the 20-ish issues Mum’s collection allowed me access to she bounced from angry-scorn-filled martial artist to floating-dragon-thingy to bisexual female all on top of fighting off bad guys like Thanos and dealing with young adult angst while the team tried to lived together. This soap opera was not to be missed. If I’d been of the mind [read: not so lazy], I’d have grabbed some popcorn and just sat back to watch/read it unfold. Marvel’s writers weren’t afraid to see where this character development would take her – and they ran with it. True, she did fit the cliché as a mildly butch non-heterosexual woman skilled in martial arts and mildly man-hating (she really just didn’t like much of anyone, to be fair), however she ran around in what can affectionately be called a costume consisting of cape, gloves, mid-calf high-heeled boots and a open-bodice one-piece thong [ouch] much like her completely off-the-rack heterosexual counterparts. The writers allowed her character to explore a range of highs and lows in those few issues – including her mind-violation whose effects were tempered by the love of a fellow Defender, Cloud [who had her/his own sexual identity issues – Oy vey]. I sat there confused, yet felt an odd kinship for this angry, lashing-out-at-the-world and oft-times lonely character. From the pages of that classic Uncanny X-Men battle, the French-Canadian Northstar caught my eyes (for his complete and total unlikability). In the first few issues I read I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath how much of a freaking asshole he was, but, those Marvel scripters are crafty bastards – it wasn’t long before I was rooting for the jerk [despite his first appearance having him deck Storm – my admiration/mild comic geek obsession with her should be discussed elsewhere] and when, to my surprise, the Olympic-medal-holding skier came out of the closet? Well, I was already 7 random issues in. And I was well-and-truly reader-hooked. The writers had created yet another well-layered character whose sexuality was not the issue, yet set him apart. He did not fit the cookie-cutter gay-best-friend-full-of-lonely-angst-and-fueled-by-catty-remarks-who-dresses-better-than-you-ever-could so lauded in literature and movies at the time, he was an athlete held in esteem and admiration for his feats of national heroism. Yes, the writers had him quipping bitchy and caustic remarks, but let’s just