GameCulture Journal Issue # 3

Hey everybody, the third issue of this new academic journal covering the history and milieu of the video game has just been published. GameCulture Journal # 3 is now available for download at this link, and it's terrific.

Included in Issue # 3, which deals explicitly with the science of the video game, are a number of fascinating pieces. Co-editor Kevin Flanagan has written "Scared of Science: Mad Rationality in the Video Game," and co-editor Bobby Schweizer gives us "Better Games Through Science? How a Fluff Piece in Nintendo Power Magazine is Detrimental to the Game Culture and Nintendo's Wii Ad Campaign."

Finally, two chaps named "Muir" have pieces included here. Christopher Muir (no relation...) offers "Representations of Soft Science in SimCity and SimAnt," and hey, I've got an article here too! Mine concerns the social response to the Atari VCS in the early 1980s, and is called "Culture Wars Episode One: The Atari Menace."

Check it out!

Reader Pop Art # 4

Now here's something truly special! It's either pop art or commercial camp, but either way, it arrives here courtesy of my favorite tin-can collector (!), The House Between's Arlo, Jim Blanton. Jim - a movie buff and scholar (he gave me a copy of Michael Mann's The Keep while I was writing Horror FIlms of the 1980s...not to mention Street Trash and Hell of the Living Dead) - has penned for us today a wonderful treatise about the glories of the movie poster for...Megaforce (1982). Deeds, not words...

Jim writes:

Perhaps a controversial choice, but Megaforce remains one of the most prominently remembered posters of my misspent movie going youth in the 80’s. For anyone who didn’t come of age in that decade Megaforce is probably a tad puzzling, but if you were an adolescent boy in 1982 you were bombarded with this image on the back of every comic book/genre magazine you read that glorious summer. Yes, the good folks at 20th Century Fox wanted to be sure that all of us pre-teen boys would sign on for the first of Ace Hunter’s sure-to-be-many adventures. Consequently, no expense was spared in convincing us we had never come across a hero like this fellow . . . boy were they right!

Whoever had the bright idea to cast Barry Bostwick as the tough-as-nails leader of a clandestine military strike force must have been seriously impaired during the audition process. One look at Bostwick in his far-too-tight spandex uniform, not to mention his ever-present baby blue headband, and it was game, set, and match for Monsieur Hunter. He may have been a suitable Brad in Rocky Horror, but he certainly didn’t fit the bill of a Rambo-esque superhero.

And then there’s the sultry image of Persis Khambatta. There’s no mystery as to why she appears this way on the poster, but not in the film. Someone at marketing got a look at Bostwick and knew right away they had to assure moviegoers that Ace Hunter was 100% a ladies’ man. No better way than to have the lovely Khambatta on his arm in saucy evening wear.

Okay, we’re clear on who the leads are in the picture (for better or worse), but what else is going on? Well, you have random explosions and a host of interesting vehicles leaping off the page, with an arching banner that proclaims “deeds not words!” If this doesn’t scream pure cheese, I don’t know what does. Deeds not words? Deeds not words?!? Pretty bold talk for a movie that features defiantly wooden performances from practically everyone involved.

And speaking of those involved, moving on down the poster we find quite a roster of ne’er do wells. It’s a veritable who’s who of Z-grade 80’s action stars. Beyond the aforementioned Bostwick you have Michael Beck (putting the final nails in the coffin lid following Xanadu), Edward Mulhare (aka Devin from Knight Rider), and the coup de grace . . . “Henry Silva as Guerera.” And as an added bonus (not listed on the poster) you even get Evan Kim from The Kentucky Fried Movie to drive home the point that Megaforce accepts members from all nations (although the ranks look to be mostly from the Midwestern United States).

As we near the bottom, we get a few final pieces of crucial, technical information. Firstly, the film was helmed by Hal Needham. Unfortunately this was Stroker Ace era Needham, rather than Smokey and the Bandit era Needham. Secondly, we learn that Needham utilized a process called Introvision to produce certain sequences in the film. From what I can deduce, Introvision is code for really crappy blue screen effects. Truly, you should seek this one out just to witness perhaps the most uncalled for blue screen sequences in motion picture history! The grand finale is the stuff of legend.

So with all this having been said, why does the Megaforce poster rate as one of the greatest pieces of film advertising/pop art ever conceived? Because my friends it is honest . . . with a vengeance. The information is all there in the poster for you to see – nothing is hidden. Indeed, the filmmakers are telling you in no uncertain terms that this is Megaforce – deal with it! If you were foolish enough to pay good money to waltz into a theater to see an action film starring Barry Bostwick, directed by Hal Needham, featuring Introvision (particularly in the same summer that you could pop into the auditorium next door and see Blade Runner, The Thing, Star Trek 2, Conan, Poltergeist, Tron, etc.) then you were getting exactly what you deserved!

(Note: In the interest of full disclosure the author feels it necessary to confess to not only seeing Megaforce in the theater that summer, but to owning a complete set of the Matchbox vehicles and the Atari video game . . . deeds not words baby!)

THE HOUSE BETWEEN EP 6: Trashed

A sinister telepath named Sange (Florent Christol) from Theresa's (Alicia A. Wood) past arrives via faulty transit on a secret mission to kill one of the denizens of the "house at the end of the universe." Meanwhile, Travis (Lee Hansen) takes matters into his own hands when Arlo (Jim Blanton) won't clean up the increasingly chaotic house, specifically his collection of tin cans. Finally, Sange's influence spurs a revelation that changes everything for Astrid (Kim Breeding), Bill (Tony Mercer) and the other captives in the house. Produced by Joseph Maddrey for the Lulu Show LLC. Written and directed by John Kenneth Muir.

The House Between Episode # 6 ("Trashed") Director's Notes

Tomorrow, the second-to-last episode of The House Between's first season, "Trashed" goes live. Before that happens, I wanted to write these notes about the creation, making, shooting and editing of the show.

When I first conceived The House Between, a central metaphor was the notion of the mysterious house as "Earth," the place we all live...and share. One of the first questions I then asked was: what do you do with all the trash? If these people can't leave the house (like we can't escape Earth...yet), how do they accommodate the garbage that human beings so casually but monumentally generate? As the story "Trashed" opens, we see that matters in the house between are getting kind of...smelly. The kitchen is a mess, and trash is an issue. Once I had that notion, the idea of something being trashed kept coming up in my writing. Our villain, Sange, arrives via a faulty transit and his body is "trashed" in the process. He tells a story about something even more frightening...about an act that "trashes" the foundations of reality itself. Voila - I had an episode!

I don't want to go into too many details about the storyline, but as you can likely tell from the preview last week (and the teaser called "Violator" posted some time ago...), Sange - the intruder in the house - makes life difficult for our dramatis personae. In more specific terms "Sange" is a telepath from the same psychic "astronaut" program that Theresa graduated from.

And I guess that leads us to another one of the core ideas I wanted to get across in this story. If "Mirrored" was the tale that sort of broke down Theresa's armor and revealed the psychic's vulnerable side, the die is cast here, and she is forced into the middle of a situation where she must take sides. On one hand is Sange, and on the other is her ad hoc family in the house. It's a battle of families, and the family unit is a big metaphor for me on The House Between. Here, Sange represents the family of origin, sort of, the place where Theresa grew up and still feels the pull of old responsibilities. But the others in the house represent the family she has come to join in the course of her life. In a situation like this, which family do you choose? The one you came from, or the one you're with now? That's a big question for a lot of adults, I think, and certainly the answer varies by circumstance and situation.

However, you'll notice that the character of Sange often says absolutely terrible, sexist, demeaning things to Theresa. I saw this behavior as not merely "Black Hat-ism," meaning that Sange is a nasty villain, but as an acknowledgment that sometimes, for some people, there are unpleasant traits in brothers, fathers, or moms from the family of origin. Someone you love might be a racist; a homophobe, anti-Semitic. How do you continue to get along with that person when their behavior is just so blatantly unacceptable? We find our ways, and that's sort of the notion I wanted to get across. You know: what happens when your brother meets your friends, and they don't get along? I don't think that after this episode, Theresa can rightly claim she's not a part of the house between "family" anymore...no matter how much she denies it. She's down in the trenches...with the rest of us unevolved humans.

In terms of genre, I think you'll detect perhaps a resonance of The Terminator here -- the notion of an intruder showing up with a mission to kill somebody, in this case, the mysterious "Draftsman." I must also note, lines of dialogue from "Space Seed," Aliens, and The Blair Witch Project (!) all rear their familiar heads at various points in the episode. Voiced by Sange, Travis and Arlo respectively.

We shot "Trashed" on Friday, June 9, 2006, and our cast of regulars was joined by guest star - and horror film scholar - Florent Christol, as Sange. I must say, Flo had an interesting effect on all the ladies in the cast and crew. They all melted like butter upon hearing his mellifluous French accent. If anyone quibbles with this assessment, I have Exhibit A: ENDLESS footage of the actresses smiling, laughing, flubbing lines, and so forth, during their scenes with Flo. Truly, Flo was a great sport about coming in and playing a heavy (with lots of dialogue...), and even getting heavily made-up for his transit "wounds." Flo showed up, had to mouth sexual taunts at Astrid, was tied to a staircase (!) and then had his face melted. All in a day's work!

And that's where my spfx genius Rob Floyd came in. He did some absolutely beautiful make-up for Sange's transit injuries. Really spectacular, accomplished stuff. Rob is always coming up with great gags and stunts, and "Trashed" was no exception. Between special effects and fight scenes (and regular cast make-up...), Rob had his hands full on this episode and did an awesome job.

This was also the episode in which Tony Mercer (Bill) had a killer monologue. Seriously, it was a difficult, involved chunk of dialogue (chunk meaning about six pages...). At one point, I sent Kathryn, my wife (and a therapist...) to check on Tony while he was rehearshing to make sure the script hadn't driven him to the point of insanity. This was after about a half-hour in which Tony had gone into an endless repeating loop of the speech. But Tony's preparation paid off, and he carried off the scene with his typical brilliance and commitment. Why isn't this guy in Hollywood movies yet?

And then, digging into my repository of memories (the ones I wish I could suppress...), there was the scene between Tony, Lee and Kim that took 21 takes. Now, to be fair, I should clarify. It wasn't that these three were messing up a lot or anything. Occasionally, it was me, and people watching the scene who would screw it up...from laughing so hard. The scene begins with Lee (Travis) tossing a pair of garbage bags onto the second floor hallway floor, and every time Lee did it, he'd do it a different way, or with a funny expression, and various spectators would crack up. This is actually one of my favorite scenes in the show, watching these three do that scene. Just wait till the blooper reel...

I thought "Visited" was our special effects show (that's the one with the creepy-crawly Outdwellers) but "Trashed" takes the cake. It's my own mini-Phantom Menace, I guess, as there's more than forty separate optical special effects in this installment. You'll notice about twenty-five - the rest are actually effects-within-effects if that makes sense (meaning more than one optical per shot...). This level of effects integration has made editing a bear, to say the least, but oddly rewarding and challenging. Every time I compose a new special effects shot, my computer crashes and I have to re-boot, so this has been time-consuming.

The original cut of "Trashed" came in at over 35 minutes, and had to be pared down dramatically. This means that the episode actually has several deleted scenes. Other episodes feature deleted moments, or moments we didn't get to shoot (but which are in the script...), but whole scenes are gone from "Trashed" and I hate that, but if they didn't move the story along, they were trimmed.

In particular, Lee Hansen, Rick Coulter (DP) and myself shot a secret scene one morning that is just a beautiful character moment for Travis; and furthers nicely the dynamics of the Travis-Astrid-Bill triangle. I liked it a lot - especially because none of the other actors knew about it, and because it fit so well into the larger Travis story arc. I also like this moment because it shows you what Travis is up to when people aren't paying attention...and that's kind of his "shtick' in "Trashed," messing with people for the hell of it, particularly Arlo. But...as much as I like the scene, it just didn't really work well in "Trashed," and kind of diverted attention away from the central plot. Lee has such personal magnetism and presence as Travis, that the scene played like a set-up for a pay-off that never came. Everyone would be waiting all episode to see what would come of this scoundrel-like behavior.

Another loss I truly mourn is the John Muir version of the horror movie cliche about the evil killer who makes one last attempt to complete his mission before being dispatched. Seriously...these shots are like two of my favorites on the entire show. I had the camera on the floor and was lurching it towards Flo while he crawled for his prey. Again -- great shot, but it didn't fit particularly well once the scene was cut together. Damn! This one will see the light of day on the special extended director's remix.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy "Trashed" when it premieres tomorrow. Until then, enjoy the deleted scene with Travis. That rascal.

Reader Pop Art # 3

Today's pop art selection comes from one of my best buddies, who comments frequently here on the blog under the handle Joey Bishop Jr. He's offered the readership another excellent work of art to consider: the iconic (and amusing) poster imagery of the 1985 Dan O'Bannon film, Return of the Living Dead. I must admit I'm tickled over this choice...I think we must be separated at birth...

Anyway, he writes:

This is one of my favorites. There is just so much going on here that it immediately pulls you in. Assume for a moment that we all know nothing about this film. Then look at the poster with fresh eyes.

Even the casual movie fan knows what a zombie is. But on this poster, they have mohawks, and wear leather jackets! Hell, one even has a padlock thru his ear. This is the first big obvious clue that something new is going on here.

Secondly, the humor aspect is addressed in a novel way. How is the title presented? By one of the freshly risen zombies apparently spray-painting it on his own tombstone.

A good tagline can also help make a film, and this one presents it in a bold, right in your face font. No screwing about, this film is all about having a good time.

Finally, the last aspect I love about it is the background. I feel this is where the horror aspect becomes quite clear. Very subtly presented past the three lead ghouls, who obviously grab a ton of attention, are a host of others. There is nothing funny or humorous about these. The are skeletal, lurking shades in the dark. They are all business and very dangerous. As Burt in the film says "...they'll kill you and eat you if they catch you!"

I miss posters like this. They had an original concept, as well as someone sitting down taking the time to draw or paint it, and giving it personality. Small details as the razor blade necklace, or the pins on Mohawk's jacket are great touches.

Starting in the late 90's thru the early 00's, we had a run of identical genre posters. Maybe you remember what I mean. The poster would show whatever teenyboppers were hot on UPN or the WB this week, in a silvery river looking smear kind of thing that ran across the poster. This "smear" would sometimes either be superimposed onto something like a knife blade, or have the threat of the film looming over it. For example, take Urban Legend Final Cut, or Halloween Resurrection. Look at those and then see how many other similar posters immediately come to mind. All they were were a paycheck to someone who took Photoshop for Beginners. It showed that the plot, or the monster, or whatever a true genre fan was looking for was an afterthought, as long as "the masses" knew they got to see Neve Campbell at 8 bucks a pop.

But I digress. Punk zombies, vandalism, and an offer to party???

Just be sure to send more paramedics.

I totally agree. I think "Back from the Grave and Ready to Party" is one of the cleverest and most amusing ad-lines of all time. It really captures the thrust of the movie. But there's more here too. As I write in Horror Films of the 1980s, Return of the Living Dead "ably reflects the punk nihilism of the age" and "the enduring fear of nuclear apocalypse."

I enjoy the fact that this film focuses on a culture of death music and death imagery (with characters named Trash, Suicide, Scum, etc.). These 1980s young adults fetishize death ("Do you ever fantasize about being killed?") and live on an ugly landscape of urban blight and decay ("I like it; it's a statement," one character says of the industrial park/modern wasteland where the action occurs). The film's punk scoring, with music like "Party Time" over the resurrection of the dead and "The Surfing Dead" played over a siege, adds to the film's sense of absurd existential angst. In essence, to "party" is the only thing to live for in a world where the government is going to nuke you in the end...

This poster beautifully captures a period in American culture (the apocalypse mentality of the 1980s) both in terms of politics, music and film; just as it cannily captures the movie's go-for-broke, imaginative sensibilities. I know it's heresy to say so, but Return of the Living Dead is THE zombie movie that captures the eighties (the way Romero's Night and Dawn reflect perfectly the 60s and 70s.) Return was a big hit in theaters, and you gotta wonder...how much of that success originated from this daring, original poster? The movie was great - a masterpiece even - yet perhaps it was the poster that got bodies in the auditorium...

Don't forget, mail me at my website www.johnkennethmuir.com and send me your pop art suggestions, with reasons why your choice is valuable to you. I'm really enjoying your submissions and want to see more!

Reader Pop Art # 2

Hey everybody, we continue our gaze at pop art today with another beautiful reader selection. This choice comes from erudite and amazing Kim Breeding, a skilled artist in her own right. She has given us a cover rendering from the first installment of the new Labyrinth manga.

She writes:

"The maddening Escher-esque staircases are echoed here from the movie's big climax, both behind Jareth himself and also in the collar around poor Toby's neck; he is dressed up as a worthy successor to the throne of the Goblin King, but his confusion is clear in his portrayal here.

Besides the collar, the crown seems a bit too big and heavy for the boy's head. What is the huge disc above and behind Jareth? Is it a religious halo? We are perhaps meant to think so, except that it is not a source of light, but of darkness. The ball he is holding, also from the movie, recalls the sphere that many a monarch in old paintings is seen to be holding, though in the other hand was usually a scepter or sword (where IS Jareth's other hand? tee hee) so together with the halo, we are meant to see that even though Toby is wearing a crown, Jareth is still the reigning monarch.

The castle looming in the background recalls the image from the movie when Sarah first enters the magical land and sees the impossible task before her. This is the beginning of Toby's impossible task. In the movie, Jareth was in love with Sarah and tried to make her his queen; now, that plot foiled, he turns to the little brother, to make him his heir. One could argue for thinly veiled homo undertones with that, but I think that's too obvious..."

This is a fascinating choice, with uniquely interesting resonances. Especially because David Bowie played the character in the film version and is, after some fashion, a work of pop art himself. The former Ziggy Stardust is an immediately recognizable signifier as an alien or "other" (given his starring role in such films as The Man Who Fell to Earth). Oftentimes, what Bowie's personhood or presence represents to artists is not merely "alien-ness" but rather the very human and specific quality of androgyny. Kim's joke about thinly veiled homosexual undertones in this work of art is spot on in the sense that Bowie is infamous for his aura of sexual mystery (if not homosexuality). Did Bowie really sleep with Mick Jagger (Angela Bowie reportedly once found them naked in bed together...)? Perhaps that's not the immediate issue here since this isn't Bowie per se but rather an original depiction of Jareth - a character he originated. Still, it relates back to Bowie. The apparent androgyny of this villainous character (right down to hair-style and delicate eyes...) indicates in the frame the idea of danger. Or certainly mystery. Our knowledge of Bowie adds to that interpretation, I believe

Thanks Kim for sending this art along! And readers, don't forget to send more selections. I want to see the pop art that has influenced and impressed you!

Reader Pop Art # 1

Our first reader-chosen pop art selection arrives on the blog courtesy of Dr. Howard Margolin, the host of Destinies: The Voice of Science Fiction. Thanks for starting us off in great shape, Howard!

He writes:

This cover always struck me as one of the finest DC ever turned out. Drawn by the incomparable Neal Adams, it has the same background color as his classic "Superman Breaks Free" from issue 233, and redone later as a Power Records cover and the cover of Action 485, but this is the opposite side of Superman. The shading on Superman's costume as he leans forward enhances the effect of his skin turning green as he dies of Kryptonite Poisoning. Also, remember that this was before the era of multi-layered computer coloring, so the interplay of light and shadow (e.g. the light glinting off his shoulders) was particularly effective. Plus, his statement, "I'm taking you with me," given his vow never to take a life, was shocking to me at the time. Can't say I recall the story at this point, but this cover is forever etched in my memory.

When I study this cover, first-and-foremost I see an expression of rage - which isn't usual for Superman. His fists are coiled, balled up in anger. Notice too how the dialogue balloon on the right side of the cover is jagged and sharp, emphasizing the rage inherent in the Man of Steel's words ("I'M TAKING YOU WITH ME - all caps!). Also, as the cover is laid out, there seems to be a source of light (like a sun or something...) behind Superman, I'd guess at shoulder level. An intense light...gradually getting less intense as it moves away from him. By featuring it behind him, and in that position, it makes Superman the fulcrum of intensity in the composition. As though his anger is creating light - energy - itself. I think the feeling Howard describes - shock - is exactly what the cover intends to convey; the notion that Superman is mad as hell and about to kill someone. Everything in this cover, the jagged balloon, the intense light behind him, the all-caps, the balled fists, convey this notion. Also, the reflection of green on Superman's face tends to make him look even more murderous and abnormal, which is important to the idea that the universe portrayed here is disordered, wrong (hence, shocking or surprising). On a very basic level, this is also a look at idealized masculinity turned inexplicably angry and violent.

Don't forget, I want to see your selections of great pop art and feature 'em on the blog! Send your images and your feelings about the art to my e-mail at www.johnkennethmuir.com.

The House Between Episode # 6 ("Trashed") Preview:

Happy Friday readers! It's time for a preview of the upcoming The House Between episode, # 6: "Trashed."

The episode airs next week, but hopefully this will whet your appetite for the upcoming installment. Crazy stuff is happening now. Really crazy stuff...

Look for my director's notes next week for some behind-the-scenes info on the writing and shooting of "Trashed."

Pop Art # 1: Space:1999 Lunchbox

On the eve of my blog's two-year anniversary, it's time to commence a series of close-up articles that I've been wanting to write for a very long time. I've featured here retro-toy flashbacks, collectibles of the week, trading card close-ups and so forth, but I want to move to an even deeper level of examination in terms of the genre items I've collected. I want to discuss them in terms of artistic value.

A word of prologue. I come from a family of collectors. My parents collect Maxfield Parrish prints, Roseville pottery, and more. Kathryn, my wife, collects cobalt blue glass. Of course, you've seen my collection of toys, models, action figures and other collectibles. People often ask me why I collect these things - these hunks of plastic and such - and the answer that I come back to is that there is a value in these items beyond nostalgia. Some will see what I'm about to argue here as the ultimate degradation of artistic standards, but I don't agree...

In and of themselves toys, comic-book covers, posters, action-figure cards and the like are often very, very beautiful. I believe wholeheartedly that they qualify as art. If Roman graffiti, scrawled a wall thousands of years ago is art, then why not a trading card? Why not an action figure diorama? There is no good answer, except that stewards of the term "art" are stringent gatekeepers.

Now, I realize that purists will recoil at this description - memorabilia from TV shows and films as art. What I'm talking about here is not "true" art, they will claim, but rather kitsch. Their argument would be that the renderings I admire are inferior, derivative, commercially produced, theatrical and deficient in some manner. I understand their argument, but it's flat-out misconceived...and wrong.

The items I intend to focus on in this series of essays do indeed possess aesthetic value. In simpler terms, they stimulate the spirit and the brain...the essential qualifications of art, and more than that, these items often have "something to say" (another criterion of art). As for these products being derivative (as in derivative of earlier art styles...), I can only respond by answering in this fashion: what isn't derivative? Please, tell me. Search long enough and deep enough and you'll see that every work of art has an antecedent. That's how art is created. The artist takes inspiration from other work, then builds on it, synthesizes different styles...and arrives at something new. It's still derivative, in some sense, however. Even if it's a rejection of a previous school of art, it's still derivative because dislike is what fostered the new art. See?

The next hurdle we cross here is one of this toy/memorabilia art being "commercially produced." This is perhaps the most ludicrous argument for disqualifying something as art. For centuries, painters and sculptors have accepted commissions - been paid - by patrons to produce art for audiences. Sometimes the patron is the Church. Sometimes it is a head of state. Sometimes it is just a very rich aristocrat. What is the difference, then, when a painter or artist takes a job for the licensor of merchandise for a television show or movie? The difference here is all semantic...no substance.

As far as being deficient...well, the elitists can make any claims they want, but in my heart of hearts I know that in four hundred years, scholars and art historians will be gazing at Star Trek and Star Wars the way we gaze today at Shakespeare. Or Greek myth. I won't live (dammit!) long enough to see my prophecy fulfilled...but I believe I'm right. Similarly, the genre art that's been created in the last thirty years around projects like Star Trek, Star Wars, Space:1999, Battlestar Galactica, The Black Hole, etc., will one day be held up as being of a "school" of art that at times can be profound...even though it was mass marketed and aimed at children. (Also aimed at children: The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, The Hobbit, Harry Potter...anyone want to say they ain't art?)

But enough of the generalities. I want to open this series with a close-up analysis of the Space:1999 King Seeley Thermos Company (copyright 1975 ATV Licensing Limited) lunchbox. This work of art consists of a series of beautifully done artistic renderings from the Gerry/Sylvia Anderson production, Space:1999 (1975-1977).

What does this lunch box have to say to us, today? That's an interesting question, and the answers are legion. On one large rectangular side, of the box we are faced with Dr. Helena Russell (played by Barbara Bain). To the right of her portrait, we see her being clutched by a cyclopean green octopus, while Commander Koenig fires his stun gun at the beast. In terms of imagery, what we're registering here is the repetition of the very story that the episode "Dragon's Domain" references: St. George and the Dragon. The defeat of a monster by a knight or hero.

We're also seeing an intentional repeat of the 1950s sci-fi trope of the hero rescuing the damsel in distress from a green, tentacled space monster or other far-fetched threat. The man (Koenig) - our hero - is in an all-out action pose (much as would Luke Skywalker be in a Star Wars poster), coming to the rescue of his lady.

But the imagery actually cuts deeper, even than such references indicate. Space:1999 has often been referred to as an "odyssey," like Homer's Odyssey. That epic poem is about a man and his crew trying to get home, and thematically, Space:1999 is not far afield from that narrative. The men and women of Moonbase Alpha search for a home in space; not Ithaca but a new Earth. Importantly, The Odyssey features Odysseus's encounter with a cyclops...a monster we see portrayed here.

So, while on one hand we can look at this image and say it is cliched (woman attacked by green space monster!) or claim it is simply derivative, on the other we see it for what it is: the space age re-telling of a basic human myth. In visuals that, while attractive, are also not so horrific that they frighten the intended audience (children).

The images on this lunch box tell us much about the time-period from which this art sprang. Notice the image across the bottom, a "beige," soft, homey interior (on Moonbase Alpha), where various crewmen are at work. In keeping with the disco decade, the 1970s, the haircuts and costumes are unisex, speaking of sexual equality (The era of the ERA).

Furthermore, pay attention to the prominence of the microscope in the composition. Victor Bergman is essentially Moonbase Alpha's "oracle," known for such dialogue as "the line between science and mysticism is just a line." He's a priest, in other words, but his dogma is science, and even his pose (reminiscent, after a fashion, of Auguste Rodin's "Thinker"), highlights his role as "oracle" in the adventure. The promise of science is expressed by that tool, the 'scope...like Bergman is reading the runes. Otherwise, we see Sandra Benes looking somewhat more ethnic than on the show, Kano - a black man - and two female technicians in the background. The message of this composition is plain: men and women of all stripe and creed working together on Moonbase Alpha. A promise for the future. Cooperation, not conflict.

When critics and scholars write of Star Trek, they often note the series' sense of optimism about humanity...and the future. And yet, it's the far future we're talking about there. Three hundred years from now and beyond. Space:1999, being a product of the mid-1970s (the time of the Energy Crisis, Watergate, Vietnam, etc.) is not so blatantly optimistic. However, it is what I call "Apollo Age" optimistic. Which is that the design of the ships, even the computer block (with colon) style of the series logo reflects 1970s bread-and-butter optimism about a fast dawning space age. The Space:1999 eagles are not aesthetically-pleasing in the sense of the U.S.S. Enterprise, one might argue, but quite beautiful in the same way that Apollo capsules are: as realistic space craft that "feel" within our reach now. They are utilitarian, and more importantly, evocations of believable space travel. The Eagles boast landing gear like modern space craft (The Enterprise does not), and the design is modular, meaning that different portions can be "subbed" out for different missions, an acknowledgment of the cost of space travel.

Look at the moon buggy on the lunch box: it has wheels, an antenna, bucket seats, headlights. It's something we instantly recognize, only tweaked to be slightly futuristic. As fans, we complained (and rightly!) in Star Trek: Nemesis over that all-terrain vehicle Picard drove...it stuck out like a sore-thumb in the advanced world of Star Trek. The design was not artistically true to that particular universe, whereas the moon buggy design is just right for Space:1999.

The image of the Eagle high above the alien (Caldorian) spaceship on the lunchbox is also one that tells us some important things. It reminds us that Space:1999 - again - has one foot in the present, and one in the future. In contrast to the modular, lattice-work Eagle, the Caldorian ship (the product of a more technologically advanced circle) is all curves and ellipses. But surrounding it, you'll see, are Alphan light posts. This is a nod to reality, and one of the things that makes Space:1999 so attractive to fans. A "captured" alien ship, or one in for repairs, WOULD have equipment like that around it, no? Space:1999 never scrimped on realism, despite what some critics would have you believe, and this image -- which is not from the series itself, but a compilation of images synthesized for this art work - reflects the contrast between Earth science and Alien science. In one composition, we see the alien ship bracketed by Earth technology, the light posts and the Eagle soaring above. Again, a foot in "future" reality, and a foot in space fantasy. In one specially constructed image.

Aside from featuring the photographic portraits of two very attractive leads (Landau and Bain), this lunchbox captures the imagination of the TV series, sparks images of alien encounters, and speaks in volumes about the possibilities (unfulfilled...) of the Apollo age.

This lunchbox isn't just playtime at recess, or an attempt to "sell" something, it's Space:1999 - the ethos, the aesthetic, the drama, the history - re-packaged in another form. And that my friends, is art.

I hope you'll stick with me as I gaze at other examples of pop art in the genre franchises of years past. There's a lot of real beauty and talent in this venue, and it's about time that it was discussed and debated for what it is. Join me. Let me know what you think. And if there's any comic-book cover or poster that you think resonates powerfully with you in terms of art, bring it up (and send an image!)

RETRO TOY FLASHBACK # 59: Barbie & Ken Star Trek GiftSet

To celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of Star Trek in the year 1996, Mattel released this truly unusual (but interesting...) genre crossover, the Barbie & Ken Star Trek GiftSet. This beautiful, oversized "collector's edition" toy includes our man Ken in gold command uniform, and Barbie in red yeoman's uniform, replete with sixties hoop earrings and an almost Janice Rand-worthy hair-style.

This Mattel toy features an interesting word to the wise in the lower corner of the box rear. Not just that "Barbie doll cannot stand alone" (does that mean she needs Ken after all?), but that "Space instruments are non-working." In other words, the nicely detailed tricorder, phaser and communicator that accompany this set don't actually operate.

My favorite element of the set is the illustration on the back (featured above; center) that shows Barbie and Ken strolling on what appears to be the planet surface from the episode "Obsession.' Any minute now, a vampiric cloud is going to come over one of those rocky outcroppings and drain the white blood cells from them. Quick...grab the anti-matter! But seriously, it's clear someone took some time with this photo: the low-resting mist, the form of the rocks, the color of the sky...it all clearly evokes the classic series, circa 1968.

The Barbie and Ken Star Trek GiftSet box is itself a nice gold color (like the command tunic from the series..), and on the back, Mattel has kindly written in descriptions of the various "space instruments" (the ones that don't work). The tricorder is, for instance "a specialized state-of-the-art sensing technology available for specific engineering, scientific and medical applications." The phaser is a "handheld weapon used by Starfleet personnel that can be adjusted to a variety of settings including stun, heat and disruption."

Finally, a nice legend on the bottom of the box celebrates Star Trek's thirtieth birthday, and entreats us to "Join Barbie and Ken" as they "beam aboard" the Enterprise for this anniversary. The legend also notes - correctly - that the Roddenberry series imagines "a constructive future for all mankind." Nice.

I was given this particular toy circa 1997 by some dear friends here in Charlotte, and I've kept it on the shelf ever since, though - unfortunately - the box endured some water damage during our move from Charlotte to Mint Hill in 1999 (A Star Trek crystal ball leaked, alas...) Finally, I also remember (but don't have...) another Barbie crossover set. Am I imagining this, or did Mattel also release in the late 1990s a Mulder/Scully Ken/Barbie set celebrating the X-Files? Boy, what I wouldn't do to see a release of a Barbara Bain/Helena Russell and Martin Landau/Koenig Barbie/Ken set!

Driftwood 2007 & RoboCop

Recently, I had the high honor of serving as judge in a non-fiction competition at Point Loma Nazarene University. I judged a fine selection of student essays, and the results have been published in the Driftwood Creative Arts Magazine, Volume 27 (2006/2007 Edition). The contest winner is Matt Benson, who wrote a very interesting piece entitled "UCR Last Game vs. Idaho." The magazine itself is a lovely work, with essays by contest winners and honorable mentions in categories of fiction, poetry, photography, non-fiction and more. It was a pleasure and honor to be included.

Also, the magazine published a scholarly article I've been developing for some time, about the socio-political predictions/prognostications of the 1987 RoboCop. The article appears in its entirety in Driftwood. It is called "It Saw The Future of America," and here it is:

How many science fiction films can truly be termed prophetic? If Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (1982) had proven accurate, Americans would be speaking Japanese and living side-by-side with humanoid androids by now. If Escape from New York (1981) had anticipated the future correctly, there would have been no 9/11 terrorist disaster...because the Big Apple would have been converted into a giant, maximum security prison in the late 1990s. As is plain from such examples, cinematic musings concerning the future have a funny way of getting it wrong.

However, this isn't so in the unique case of Paul Verhoeven's 1987 film, RoboCop. True, Americans are not today policed by an emotionless cyborg wielding imposing weaponry. However, on the very cusp of the film's twentieth anniversary, the observant viewer can detect how so much of the world RoboCop unhappily predicted in the Age of Reagan has come to pass.

How did a science fiction - nay, superhero - film come to serve as a social critique of the very culture that produced it? In answering that question, it is critical to understand the history and context of RoboCop. During the 1980s, when the film was crafted, many big American cities faced daunting new difficulties. Because of the "trickle down' economic policies of the U.S. Federal Government, termed both "Reaganomics" and "Voodoo Economics" and aptly described by the Christian Science Monitor in December of 1981 as a hodgepodge policy of tight money, deep budget cuts in the social service area, and reductions in taxes for wealthy individuals, it wasn't necessarily "morning in America" as President Reagan boasted. At least not for everyone.

Here are some statistics to back up that assertion. First, the budget for the Department of Housing and Urban Development was cut from 32.2 billion dollars in 1981 to 7.5 billion dollars in 1987-1988, meaning that government aid was less available for the indigent. Secondly, the number of Americans living under the Federal poverty line rise from 24.5 million to over 32 million in the late eighties. More than two million Americans were homeless by the later part of the decade, though President Reagan asserted that many of them were actually homeless "by choice."

So the poor grew poorer during the balance of the "greed" decade, and the rich grew richer. The middle class also suffered, with home mortgage interest rates teetering at a staggering twelve percent. The bottom echelon of American society was ravaged by street crime, and the yuppies at the top of society - men with names such as Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken - were proven corrupt. In some cases, millions of dollars were "stolen" through insider trading. This "greed is good" era of corruption, the age of characters like the fictional Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas) from Wall Street (1987) was also the context of RoboCop.

In 1987, Hollywood responded to the prevailing Zeitgeist and a new breed of superhero film - a genre which universally focuses on social justice - gazed closely at these myriad ills. The result was not only a blockbuster action film, but the creation of a popular character that has not yet disappeared from the pop culture terrain, appearing across the ensuing decades in films, TV series, cartoons, comic books and toy stores.

Described by his corporate owners as "the future of law enforcement," RoboCop was the character's given name. He was a crime fighting cyborg, a hero (and former cop...) who could walk the savage streets of a city in chaos (in this case, Detroit), as well as clean up the board rooms where the decadent rich snorted cocaine, soaked the poor, and went unregulated by winking, toothless, laissez-faire government. Part Charles Bronson (another eighties icon...), part Batman, and part Clint Eastwood, RoboCop was introduced in the 1987 film directed by Dutchman Paul Verhoeven. Peter Weller starred. Shot in thirteen weeks in the summer of 1986, RoboCop was crafted on a budget of just ten million dollars, and Verhoeven was reportedly attracted to the material because of the comedic atmosphere and content of the screenplay. Pat of the satire involved poking fun at American culture and politics, and the course both were taking as the Republican Party increasingly won the war of words (and elections) in the public square. In the end, RoboCop accurately predicted two important facets of our contemporary American life: the corporatization of the culture and the coarsening of the mainstream media.

One pertinent joke in the screenplay by Ed Neumeier and Michael Miner involves a "Lee Iococca Elementary School," an institution whose name equates a failed corporate mogul with a child's role model; on a part with historical figures such as George Washington or Abraham Lincoln. Another rib-tickler features a mainstream electronic game glorifying nuclear war and based on Milton Bradley's popular game, Battleship. It is named...Nuke 'Em!

The latter joke is particularly funny since RoboCop arrived in theaters shortly after an event in which President Reagan had cavalierly joked about outlawing "Russia forever" and even threatened that "we begin bombing in five minutes." On a related front, Reagan had also asserted that nuclear missiles fired from a submarine could be recalled after launch. That was flat-out wrong.

Therefore, RoboCop's extrapolation of a future America where nuclear bombs were hailed as an acceptable part of the cultural landscape isn't so far-fetched. And today, of course, the press has reported Bush Administration plans to commence a new nuclear regime, one that features a reportedly "safer" breed of bunker busting nukes. It's eighties redux, and RoboCop predicted it.

America's seemingly endless propensity to drive gas-guzzling gigantic automobiles is also satirized in the prescient RoboCop. Commercials depicted in the film advertise for a new vehicle, the 6000 SUX (not SUV, SUX). The 6000 SUX offered a whopping 18 miles to the gallon, meeting it literally "sucked" gas.

Sadly, this is no longer the arena of science fiction either. With little regulation from Washington D.C., Detroit has regularly offering Americans super-sized vehicles that actually do get only 18 miles to the gallon. Fact has caught up with fiction. So much so that President Bush has finally addressed our nation's "addiction" to foreign oil. Still, who will ask us to give up our 6000 SUX?

RoboCop also dramatizes the cutthroat world of corporate one-upmanship. In the film, OCP business men not only vie for stock options and promotions, but actually kill one another to gain seniority in the company. An exaggeration? Perhaps, though today Americans' understand that Big Business and good ethics don't always walk hand-in-hand. In the fallen corporate giant Enron, for example, employees held discussions about the "Death Star," in their efforts to bilk the consumer, a way of literally annihilating opposition. Still, there's no murder charges attached to the company's corruption. Not yet, anyway.

RoboCop also accurately predicted the right-wing's push to destroy the Federal government (to "drown" it, in the conservative parlance). In particular, the movie comments on the relentless push towards the privatization of municipal and government programs, the dismantling of the social safety net. After his narrow re-election victory, Americans saw the effort manifest in President George W. Bush's now stalled drive to privatize Social Security and hand over the trust fund to the mercies of the stock market.

Much of RoboCop revolves around just such a notion, in particular the business conglomerate OCP's funding and administration of the Detroit Police Department "as a business;" an enterprise designed solely to generate profits. Of course, OCP only worries about the bottom line in this venture. Yet a police force should protect and serve the entire community, not merely a particular corporate interest, right ? Yet if the market is to be unfettered and unregulated, a hallmark of the Reagan Revolution and conservatism, who knows where the push towards privatization will ultimately end?

In toto, RoboCop's Detorit is an unregulated world of business run amok, and street criminals and board room executives work hand-in-glove to ruin the life of the American Joe. Ronny Cox portrayed Richard Jones, the Bill-Gates-like businessman who wants to push his pet project, an "urban pacification" droid called the ED 209 into production, despite the fact it is riddled with glitches (Windows Vista, anyone?).

Back in the 1980s, some right-wing media watchdogs (like the Moral Majority) decried the level of violence on screen in films like RoboCop, but even the blood and guts proved relevant to Verhoeven's indictment of eighties morals. Just two years earlier, Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985) depicted similar levels of horrific violence in a non-fantasy setting, but cloaked the horrifying bloodshed under the patriotic fabric of the U.S. flag and nationalistic pride, thus escaping criticism from the right. Those that condemned RoboCop for its gore missed an important and telling point: its violence was actually meaningful because it satirized the violence deemed acceptable in our mainstream entertainment.

Today, violence in the media is worse than ever. During the opening stages of the Iraq War, for instance, Fox News, CNN and MSNBC all broadcast on American television the bullet-ridden corpses of Saddam Hussein's dead sons. Again, this was done with the blessing of the Bush Administration and an act cloaked in patriotism. Transmitting images of dead bodies is apparently deemed okay by the same government that strenuously objects to Janet Jackson' wardrobe malfunction at the Super Bowl. Thus RoboCop's violence soaked world, one with murder in board rooms and private homes, reflects our new reality.

Gazing at it twenty years later, one can determine how RoboCop got just about every detail of the "future" right. It did so by imagining a nightmare America where the Reagan Revolution never ended. Today, we seldom get movies with such careful and thorough social criticism embedded in their cinematic DNA, least of all in a mainstream "entertainment." Why? Because the same big corporation that lobby our politicians for favors also control the news media...and the entertainment - movie - conglomerates.

Welcome to the future...