Fall of the Dollhouse of Whedon . . . Or, When Good SciFi Goes Bad

By Steven McLain

"Dollhouse" was a television show created by Joss Whedon that aired between February 2009 until November 2009.  It starred Eliza Dushku as Echo, a woman who had sold her body on a five-year contract; the catch was that she had literally sold only her body.  Her memories, her personality, her soul, were not part of the deal.  To achieve this, a shadowy corporation wiped her mind and imprinted her with new memories, new personalities, whole new identities.  These were the women being sold.  Each week, we're introduced to brand-new characters playing the role of protagonist.  They simply happen to share the same face.

When "Dollhouse" first aired, I was not particularly excited about it.  The premise seemed odd and I wasn't really drawn to the stories.  Since then, it suffered two half-seasons and early cancellation.  Most people, it seems, shared my ambivalence.  Since then, it came on Netflix so I decided I'd give it a shot.  At the very least, it would help distract me from finals.

First episode actually seemed kind of interesting.  Presented with a glimpse of Caroline, the woman who would become Echo, the audience is teased with the prospect that we might actually get to know her backstory and motivation.  Adding to this, is the hint of ominous undercurrents as a new handler for Echo is brought in, and we witness teasing glimpses of carnage in the Dollhouse.  Adding to the suspense is the teasing mention of Alpha, a doll who underwent some sort of compilation event, and is now homicidal and at large.  On top of all that is the plucky FBI agent desperately searching for the Dollhouse even after he's been assured by the higher-ups that it doesn't exist.  All the bits are there for interesting television but it quickly becomes apparent that all that teasing in the beginning was just that.

The storytelling is inept, at best.  Characters change every week as part of the underlying conceit, so viewers are left desperate for some touchstone--something to care about.  The people we're left with are Echo's handler, the FBI agent, the socially awkward geek who programs the dolls every week, and the repressed and repressive woman sitting at the top.  None of these characters are particularly engaging, and none of them are sympathetic.  Shallow at best, venal at worst, we simply don't want to sit through forty minutes watching them try to clean up their messes.

Because, at the end of the day, "Dollhouse" should be about the moral implications of stripping a human being of their memories and replacing them with entirely new ones.  One could argue (and the show does badly) that these people have volunteered to have their minds taken from them and, in effect, are not slaves.  The point is raised often in the show that these "dolls" are little more than slaves, but it misses the key distinction; slaves know that they are enslaved.  The men and women in the Dollhouse do not.  That subtle distinction could have opened whole avenues of storytelling possibility as the moral implications were developed.

Furthermore, by stripping their identities entirely between characters, the writers of the show omitted necessary dramatic conflict.  Imprinting new identities is fine, we've seen something similar in The Matrix, but not giving the audience something to care about is just lazy and ultimately self-defeatist, as the cancellation demonstrated.  Ultimately, these flaws are what killed the show.  The plot itself was shallow to the point of nonexistent.  Except for FBI guy (who eventually comes to work for the Dollhouse) no one challenges the organization; the lack of antagonist is indicative of the underlying flaw in the show and should have alerted producers early on.

There's some interesting movement toward the end of the first season toward addressing many of the underlying moral implications of memory-wiping technology.  Jumping ahead ten years in the season finales of seasons one and two (calling them epitaphs), the show looks at a world reeling from the weaponization of Dollhouse tech; it's a post-Apocalyptic world with the slogan "Ditch the Tech."  It is a world in which anyone can be wiped at anytime via phone, radio, or television.

Hints of this world are built into the first season; in one episode, a recently deceased woman who had rigorously uploaded her memories gets the opportunity to inhabit a new body and experience her own funeral (and discover her murderer).  In an early episode, we saw the unregulated dissemination of Dollhouse tech could drive a college campus to the brink of madness.  So kudos for foreshadowing their own season finale.  Perhaps it was a hint of where the show was ultimately heading.  Once more, however, the writers teased too much; faceless corporations do not make for good villains. 

Ultimately, the writers and producers copped out of good story-telling and presented something stale and boring.  It deserved to be cancelled, and I would not recommend this show to anyone.

Sugar Rush of Cute . . . Or, Wreck It Ralph Review

By Steven Mclain

I remember when Disney and Pixar were the closest of friends.  They'd make fun animated movies together that were heart-warming, delightful and just plain fun to watch.  Then the divorce happened, and Pixar got heart-warming and fun-to-watch in the settlement.  Disney was left with something shallow and it showed.  Then along came Dreamworks, and it seemed like they and Pixar would dominate computer-generated movies--heck, it seemed like they would dominate the fun-to-watch and well-made movie niches.  Wreck It Ralph seems to have put that notion to bed.  It's fun, heart-warming, and compelling.  It is tightly plotted and understands the genre.  It's been favorably compared to Toy Story and the comparison is relatively apt. 

The movie is about video game characters who come alive at night.  Like Toy Story, the mechanism for this change is never fully explained, we're simply dropped into a world in which video game characters in an arcade go home at night, have social lives, and grouse about their condition.  Which is the essential premise: Ralph is a bad guy, and he's tired of being ostracized by the other characters in his game.  Dared to win a medal by one of the pint-sized townspeople in his game, Ralph leaves his game for the chance to win one.  Things get messy quick here, and in the course of his adventure he lands in the middle of a candy and confection themed racing game called Sugar Rush.

Daring to help the underdog beat off bullies, Ralph injects himself into the politics of the game world, with disastrous results.  With a name like Wreck It, you know nothing good can come of it.  Yet, despite his bumbling attempts to be good, his dogged pursuit of the prize at the expense of the people around him, and the heart-breaking betrayal of the one person who trusts him, Ralph learns that to become a hero, one must make the hard decisions.  Often, in the tradition of the greatest myths, the hero must sacrifice himself. 

But this is a game, and every game has a reset button.  Even for Ralph. 

I was impressed with this movie on several levels.  I went into it expecting a lot of pop culture references from my childhood, and I wasn't disappointed.  I worried, however, that most viewers would understand them, and that they would detract from the movie.  Disney managed to pop culture coup in that regard.  None of the references are vital to the story, yet they improved my viewing experience and revealed a much deeper subtext.  Way to go, Disney.

All in all, this movie might be the most fun I've had in the theater this year, and I highly recommend this movie. 

Friday Update!

By Steven McLain

First, I hope everyone had a safe and enjoyable Thanksgiving.  Most of my week has revolved around Thanksgiving in one way or another; I was either driving home for Thanksgiving, eating Thanksgiving, or recovering from Thanksgiving.  Good times all around.

Speaking of good times, I saw Wreck It Ralph this last Wednesday.  Expect a review on Monday but suffice it to say that it was very enjoyable, very tightly plotted and the pop-culture references were far less important than I expected.  On something of a related note, I saw in the previews that Disney is re-releasing Monsters, Inc. in 3D.  I'm kind of excited to see this movie in theaters again; I remember the first time being particularly fun.  That all being said, go see Wreck It Ralph.  It was delightful.

Even though I finished Christopher Buehlman's Between Two Fires over a week ago, I still have yet to start The Twelve by Justin Cronin.  I've been deeply involved in Lovecraft, particularly in Lovecraft tribute stories, which you can read about in a previous entry.  But while I'm loving rediscovering Lovecraft, I haven't been able to invest adequate time in newer, possibly just as worthy books.

In publishing new, the Amazon Kindle turned 5 this last week; to help mark this special occasion, Amazon released a list of the Top 5 Bestselling Kindle books ever, as well as the bestselling Kindle books by year.  It's really no surprise that Fifty Shades of Grey, and The Hunger Games trilogies dominate the bestsellers list.  Somewhat more surprising is that Fifty Shades did all that in a single year, placing itself firmly in the Top 5 in 2012.  Prior years included, The Help, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, The Lost Symbol, and The Complete User’s Guide To the Amazing Amazon Kindle in 2008.  I think the take-away from this is that eBooks are here to stay, and will only become more viable as a publishing platform, replacing standard physical sales.

Interestingly, the number one spot on Publishers Weekly Top 10 list this week is held by Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Third Wheel, by Jeff Kinney.  It's not surprising to see YA and Middle Readers books taking a place on the bestseller list, especially as Christmas draws nigh; I'd expect to see more in the coming weeks.

And apparently, Tolkien fans don't gamble.  At least, not according to the $80 million suit brought against Warner Bros, New Line and Middle-Earth Enterprises.  The family is alleging that the original 1969 rights included only physical properties, and not gambling or digital rights.  The sticking point seems to be the creation of Middle Earth themed online slots.  You can read the whole thing here. 

In somewhat related movie news, I'm planning on reading The Hobbit for the first time ever in anticipation of the forthcoming movie.  Some of you are astonished to hear this startling revelation--I mean, a Lord of the Rings fan who hasn't read The Hobbit?  But I'll soon rectify that and have gobs of fun belaboring the most bestest parts from the book that Peter Jackson omitted from the movie.

Now that Twilight no longer tortures our movie screens, Twihards are in search of the Next Interesting Thing and the best bet seems to be Mortal Instruments: City of Bones.  Adapted as a movie from Cassandra Clare urban fantasy series Mortal Instruments.  Take a look at the trailer below and let me know what you think.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Me, Myself and H.P. Lovecraft . . . Or, The Eldrtich World of Lovecraft Tributes

H.P. Lovecraft might be the most influential American author of the twentieth century that you've never heard of.  Chances are you know people he's influenced, from Stephen King to Mike Mignola.  But chances are equally great that if pressed, you might not really know Lovecraft from either of those two.  Lovecraft is a strange case of fame come too late.  In this case, his fame is almost entirely posthumous and due in large part to the efforts of friends after his early death to preserve his writing.

The most obvious reason you've never heard of Lovecraft--or if you have heard of him, never read him--is the dense, archaic prose in which he embeds his horrifying tales of the strange and eldritch.  Indeed, that prose is difficult for the uninitiated to fathom, and the threshold accordingly high.  Yet those who do plumb the depths of Lovecraft come away better for it; or at the very least, with a new perspective of humanity's role in the universe.

Because Lovecraft is the first author of the twentieth century.  What I mean by that is the H.P. Lovecraft was the first author to fully understand the anomie of the twentieth century as science removed humanity from its lofty position in the heavens.  The culture dissonance that would occur after the First and Second World Wars was preluded by H.P. Lovecraft.  His fiction divorces human beings of universal importance; to Lovecraft the universe is cold, and inhabited by beings so vast and powerful that their actions cannot even be described as malicious or aggressive.  They simply are, and to confront them is to beard madness.

For all of these reasons (and probably more) Lovecraft has made something of a comeback in the last few decades.  He's always enjoyed cult status, but the fall of the Soviet Union made him much more salient.  The rise of international terrorism and the absurd turn we've made in light of 9/11 makes him all the more relevant.  The mortgage crisis of 2008.  The Occupy Movement.  All are Lovecraftian.  Because he's all about forces beyond our understanding, and he knows that to confront them is to fall victim to madness.

Writers have paid tribute to Lovecraft for decades, but much of the earlier work focused on expanding the mythos Lovecraft had created.  August Derleth, who did the most to rescue Lovecraft from obscurity, also traded on the name and expanded the world that Lovecraft created, embedding his own moral and theological beliefs into a universe that Lovecraft understood to be largely amoral. 

Recently, I have had the pleasure to read two different takes on Lovecraft, and the idea of an uncaring, hostile universe.  The first was given to me as a gift, and features Lovecraft in historical settings.  Historical Lovecraft, published by Innsmouth Free Press, features 26 tales divided into roughly three historical epochs: Ancient history, the Middle Ages, and Modern Times.  Very much in the vein of stories initiated by Derleth, each story varies in how closely it hews to Lovecraft.  Some are deeply disturbing, and remind us that the universe is cold and dark; others feel like modern horror.  While you could make the argument that the modern zombie fascination is very Lovecraftian, the menace and the malevolence are simply lacking.  Nevertheless, disentangling Lovecraft from the early twentieth century New England in which he wrote allows us to see the broader implications of his mythos. 

The second collection of short stories is a collection of Lovecraftian science fiction.  The transition from Lovecraftian horror to science fiction is an easy one to make.  Alien seems so much like it came from Lovecraft's own imagination that one has to wonder if HR Giger and the writers (Dan O'Bannon and Ronald Shusett) weren't channeling his spirit.  Initially considered a horror movie, Alien has come to be regarded as seminal in a new style of science fiction in the universe is--you guessed it--cold and amoral; daring to look it in the eye may reduce to you a gibbering mass.

Space Eldritch, published as an ebook (with a print version on the way) by Cold Fusion Media, takes a somewhat different approach.  Narrower in scope than Historical Lovecraft, the stories themselves are more intimate and less disturbing.  Science fiction owes a debt of gratitude to Lovecraft, and it shows in the writing of these pieces.  Often paying tribute to pulp sensibilities as much as to Lovecraft, except for a few touchstone Lovecraftian images, few of the pieces seem to disentangle themselves from the science fiction tropes we've become familiar with.  Both Mission to Mars (the godawful travesty featuring Gary Sinise and Tim Robbins) and Paul Verhoeven's Total Recall make appearances when we encounter something menacing lurking beneath the Martian soil (to be fair, however, Philip K. Dick's influence is just as ubiquitous in science fiction as Lovecraft is in horror.) 

Ultimately, this collection of stories simply lacks the menace of Lovecraft.  Maybe that's a product of our times.  We've become used to the idea that science has all the answers.  Or at the very least, that answers exist.  Lovecraft was less interested in that than in examining a universe beyond human ken.  And I think the authors of Space Eldritch have failed that test.  They're fully a part of the modern zeitgeist.  Maybe we can't go back, but I like to think that Lovecraft is still viable and an important perspective in these uncertain times.

Between Two Fires Review

By Steven McLain

War, once more, has erupted in Heaven.  Not content with their place in Hell, the fallen angels have once more made war against Heaven.  But in their struggle, they have not yet been able to pierce the walls of Heaven and instead have turned their eyes on the Creation of the Lord.  Caught between Heaven and Hell, the sons of Adam, and daughters of Eve, are left undefended as the angels struggle to defend their realm.  Because in Christopher Buehlman's sophomore novel Between Two Fires, the Lord does not avail Himself to defend either His realm, or His creation. 

Battle of Crécy

In an attempt to usurp the Lord's place, the fallen have turned their attention to the earth, and have seemingly unleashed the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Famine, Pestilence and War.  But Buehlman does something unique with this oft-turned trope: Instead of setting his novel in the present and drawing analogy to wars and rumors of them, Between Two Fires is set in the fourteenth century France.  During the height of the Hundred Years War, he dares suggest that the horrors of Crécy and the pestilence of the Plague that nearly destroyed Europe in 1348 were the work of nefarious agents, as many suspected, and in fact believed.

The story follows a knight errant, a waif, and a priest whose entire village has been emptied by the plague.  Buehlman doesn't suffer modern sensibilities.  The coarseness of the fourteenth century abounds.  Feudal, paternalistic, harsh, we're treated to an intimate portrait of a world we should be glad has left us behind.  Beginning with the near rape of our fourteen year-old hero, Delphine, we're immediately greeted to the sight of a village decimated by bubonic plague.  Defending Delphine from the depredations of his wandering brigands, our knight Thomas grudgingly takes her under his wing, or she takes him under hers, as she can see angels. 

Joan of Arc, 1485

This is not the first time we've heard of French girls heeding the advice of angels and saints.  Joan of Arc would lead her people to victory against the English a few years later and galvanize French nationalism.  But against charges of heresy, Joan fared worse than Delphine, who in Buehlman's novel, has been inspired to correct much of what the fallen have undone.  That journey, part Canterbury Tales and a great deal of Barbara Tuchman's A Distant Mirror (to which he pays homage in the acknowledgements), leads through Paris, many smaller towns and villages, and eventually ends in Avignon.  Along the way, Thomas battles aberrations, demons and monstrosities of various sorts, both mortal and immortal.  We see the inhumanity of antisemitism, the prejudice and superstition of an age before Enlightenment, and the horrors of a world in which government is as often predator as it is protector of the people. 

Palais des Papes, Avignon

Unfortunately, the novel disintegrates roughly three-fourths through, as Delphine and Thomas arrive at the gates of Avignon.  The threat posed by the demons is clarified, but the menace is lacking.  Somehow, imagining demons as the ultimate source of our own worst excesses seems shallow, and though we'd expect deus ex machina in a story that features angels, demons, and the Lord as characters, somehow the climax lacks the divine grandeur one would expect.  The denouement, however, is poignant, and underscores the redemptive theology of Catholicism at that time, the same theological thread which would wind through many facets of Protestantism in later centuries. 

Ultimately, Between Two Fires is a book that demands a reasonable knowledge of Medieval history, and particularly the vagaries of the Hundred Years War.  For instance, one must know that schism in the Church had induced the Pope to relocate to Avignon; that Crécy was the first instance of the domination of the English longbow on French battlefields, and not the storied fields of Agincourt; and, especially, the sometimes strange feudal relationship between villein and seigneur.  These details definitely reveal much of what Buehlman cannot take the time to say, and I wonder how someone without that knowledge would read this book. 

While I would definitely recommend this book, I would not recommend it universally.  Those with an interest in the Middle Ages, or have some background knowledge, will find it thoroughly enjoyable.  I cannot speak to the pleasure others will garner.  So, mixed recommendation.

Slavery, Sir; It's Done . . . Or, Lincoln Movie Review

By Steven McLain

"Slavery, sir; it's done."

With these words, Daniel Day-Lewis's Lincoln has shattered Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens's dreams of a settled peace with the Union.  Or, at the least, a return to the Union without emancipation.  Cleverly realizing the shaky legal ground of the Emancipation Proclamation, Spielberg's Lincoln is desperate for a Constitutional amendment that will solidify its legality.  Slavery is at the heart of this movie, and Spielberg doesn't shy away from the moral minefield of the Civil War.  Impatient with anything other than the central issue of slavery as the driving force behind the Civil War, Lincoln narrates the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, a document which eliminates slavery in any form from the Union.

Based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, Daniel Day-Lewis's Lincoln embodies the spirit of the sixteenth president, a man haunted by the specter of war, by the memory of his dead son, and by the driving impetus of history.  He understands the unique place he's been granted, and ponders the decisions that have placed him in that moment.  But he is a ruthless, dictatorial man, bent on accomplishing a mission that might just split the country anew.  Though that mission is the complete abolition of slavery in the United States, we still see the burning passion of a man willing to push the Constitution beyond the breaking point to see it passed.

At his heart though, this Lincoln is a storyteller and a questioner.  Wandering the halls of the War Department in the wee hours of the morning, he sits with soldiers and listens to their complaints and answers their questions.  His parables explore deeper questions, hoping to unearth answers, yet comfortable with ambiguity and uncertainty.  Despite that comfort however, he remains deeply troubled by them.

These characteristics make Stephen Spielberg's Lincoln both human and humane, and we're treated to the intricacies of White House domestic life, as well as the personal politics played between husband and wife.  Sally Fields is indomitable as Mary Todd Lincoln, who was as much a rock upon which the real Lincoln stood as the weight that bore him down.  We see, too, the anguish of a father mourning for his son while embedded in a war that has riven a nation; we see the terror and heartbreak of a father desperate to keep another son from joining that war.

This isn't the whole Lincoln, of course.  Glaringly absent is the Lincoln who may not have believed in racial equality, or the Lincoln who crafted policy based on his experience with Frederick Douglass.  Furthermore, this is a movie that emphasizes the top-down nature of emancipation; slavery is abolished by white men; it is accomplished by the president.  And though Spielberg gets issues of manhood right, he glosses over gender issues as political factors.

Ultimately, however, this is a biopic of a single man's experience with a great and terrible thing: The Civil War.  That it happens to be Abraham Lincoln's experiences is almost immaterial.  It is the story of a man striving to do something great with his life, believing he has been thrust into circumstances beyond his ability and understanding.  It reminds me of Frodo Baggins lamenting his responsibility; he wishes none of this had come to him and Gandalf replies, "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

The movie, as such, is beautiful.  It is intimately shot, and depicts the grit and grime of the period; John William's score is reminiscent of all his martial scores since Saving Private Ryan.  With  Janusz Kamiński as Director of Photography, a long-time associate of Spielberg's, the movie has the same quiet verisimilitude of most Spielberg movies.  Ultimately, this is a stark, personal drama about the final days of President Lincoln, and his crusade to abolish slavery.

I would highly recommend this movie.