Category: Culture

Dust, Magic and Carnie Freaks: HBO’s Carnivàle

Warning: Spoilers a-comin’

Right, so this review’s a few weeks late, but I had other commitments.

I’ve been watching both seasons of Carnivàle since the beginning, and I’m here to say it’s been a hell of a show. The story—taking place in 1934 in the American Southwest—focuses on two characters: first, Ben Hawkins, a troubled young man picked up by a traveling carnival; he has the power to heal and even raise the dead, but only by taking energy from other living beings. Second, Brother Justin Crowe, a California preacher who can look into people’s souls and make them face their greatest sins.

Warning: Spoilers a-comin’

Right, so this review’s a few weeks late, but I had other commitments.

I’ve been watching both seasons of Carnivàle since the beginning, and I’m here to say it’s been a hell of a show. The story—taking place in 1934 in the American Southwest—focuses on two characters: first, Ben Hawkins, a troubled young man picked up by a traveling carnival; he has the power to heal and even raise the dead, but only by taking energy from other living beings. Second, Brother Justin Crowe, a California preacher who can look into people’s souls and make them face their greatest sins. Though they don’t know it at first they are nemeses, destined to meet and fight to the death—which they end up doing in the second season finale.

But there’s a lot more to Carnivàle than a plain old good-vs-evil story. It’s a fascinating glimpse into Depression-era America. To be honest, I don’t know how historically accurate it really is, but I appreciate that there was no attempt to sanitize or romanticize the era. These are not the Good Old Days. There’s dust and dirt everywhere (with a few exceptions, the carnival people rarely wash much). There’s bigotry and segregation. There’s poverty and fear, with Communists, Jews and atheists blamed for the nation’s problems. (Good thing that doesn’t happens anymore, right?) It was a different world, a bigger world with no television or internet, where news and people travelled slowly, and to many of these people, the big cities of the East Coast might as well be on the Moon. And in this world, it was okay to pay money to gawk at bearded ladies or Siamese twins or midget strongmen or some guy in a tux biting the head off a chicken. Nowadays people gawk at white trash losers on Jerry Springer or deluded famewhores on American Idol. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if we’ve changed all that much.

The show has both a great cast and great characters: there’s the very fey Lizard Man (played by the equally fey John Fleck, who sadly didn’t stay on for season two). The Cootch dancers (i.e.: strippers), a mother-and-daughters team that take their clothes off on stage and turn tricks for the patrons, with the father as barker and pimp. Interestingly, two of the strippers are pretty large and curvy women, quite unlike today’s stick-thin performers. Samson, the Carnivàle’s assistant manager, funny and sometimes tender yet taking no bullshit from anyone. Far creepier is Apollonia, the Carnivàle’s extremely accurate Tarot reader, completely paralyzed for years and only able to speak through her daughter. Kudos to Diane Salinger for her performance. I imagine the role probably wasn’t very tempting—she only moved twice in the entire first season, and spoke a total of five or six words—but she managed to bring Apollonia to life with tiny, subtle facial expressions. Also, Tim DeKay’s biceps? Whoof.

The story moved along slowly for the first season, revealing this fantasy world little by little, taking its time, always leaving the viewers hungry for more. Visions and vague hints gradually fleshed out the truth about Ben’s past, Justin’s past, their future together, and their ties to other characters: the enigmatic leader of the Carnivàle known only as “Management;” Henry Scudder, a “gentleman geek” who worked with the Carnivàle many years ago, and has powers similar to Ben’s; Professor Lodz, the resident mentalist who can actually read minds; Sofie, daughter of Apollonia. It was a rich history and mythology that was not spoonfed to the audience, and that’s the way I like it. This is a show that forces you to pay attention.

The problem is that there’s such a thing as too much mystery. It’s fine to tease and slowly reveal a world, but eventually you need to deliver. And now that Ben and Justin have had their confrontation, too many questions are still left unanswered. First of all, what was at stake? Why exactly were they fighting? It was never revealed why Belyakov tried to kill Scudder a generation ago or why he kept looking for him for twenty years. Hints from Management and some of Ben’s visions suggest that Justin’s victory (especially now that he’s received his boon) would lead to the Trinity site bomb test—and thus a nuclear holocaust? I don’t know. Does this mean we’re living in a world where the Creature of Darkness won? That would explain a lot, even though Ben did kill Justin. Maybe fighting each other is just something that Avatars do, which makes the conflict a lot less interesting. What does it mean that Sofie is “the Omega,” as Lodz’s spirit wrote? Samson’s opening monologue in the series premiere says that the Age of Magic will end with Trinity. So, does that mean she’s the last Avatar? Will she have to face Ben someday (in the series finale)? Sofie seems to be neither Light nor Dark: though she rejected Justin, she later on apparently tried to resurrect him. There had been some previous hints that she had a dark side, especially the visions about her mother being raped by the Usher but this “Omega” business basically came out of left field and was never explained. And yes, it’s fun to speculate, but that can only carry me so far.

Maybe all of this will be explained in later seasons (if they’re ever produced), and Dan Knauf has apparently clarified some aspects of the background and mythology in online chats and such, but I haven’t read them and I shouldn’t need to. The show should stand on its own. All this, and the many season two sub-plots that went nowhere (Lila’s quest for revenge, Lodz possessing Ruthie, Stumpy’s money troubles, Iris and Norman plotting against Justin) make me feel that they’re winging it, and it’s not a good feeling.

Finally, I really wish they hadn’t turned Brother Justin into a gloating villain.

Really, that’s my biggest disappointment with the finale. It was only halfway through the first season that viewers were sure he even was the villain. Yes, he was a religious fanatic, who preached a lot about God’s wrath and smiting and not so much about love and giving (one big reason, for me, to see him as evil. The atheist in me does not react well to hellfire preaching). Yet, at the same time, he was the only one of his congregation to welcome the Okie migrants, those who had lost everything to the Depression and the Dust Bowl. While the rest of his prim-and-proper California church (seemingly untouched by the Depression) tried to ignore the migrants’ dirty, off-key-singing selves or made veiled complaints about the church being “too crowded”, he pushed for a proper church in which the Okies could pray. The place he had in mind was Chin’s, a local Chinese brothel which he planned to convert to a mission after using his mojo to convince its owner to donate it to his church. It was a nasty scene that showed Justin’s ruthlessness and total conviction in his own rightness, but I couldn’t feel too sorry for the brothel owner even when he later committed suicide, because he was a massively hypocritical, bigoted pedophile.

It seems on some level Justin was aware of his evil side, and his powers, but tried to repress them, or saw them as a test from God. After a particularly intense vision (lasting most of an episode), he began accepting that this was his nature, and referring to himself as the “Left Hand of God”—the hand that deals out wrath and smiting, as opposed to the right hand, that deals out mercy. Yet even that was interesting, because, really, he was still a man of God. Just a somewhat different god.

Now, Ben seemed like a nicer guy, but he was wanted for murder—the details never known, unfortunately, and that fact seemed only there to drive a couple of subplots along—and his powers were definitely a double-edged sword. The series premiere showed that clearly, as he healed a crippled little girl and killed her family’s crops at the same time. Sure, she can walk now, but they will probably either starve or have to move, and it’s doubtful whether they’re any better off. Also, let’s be honest: Ben wasn’t all that bright, so it was hard to see him as any kind of hero. He was essentially a passive creature, led by Management’s advice or commands and whatever clues he picked up along the way in his quest to find Henry Scudder, rarely trying to take control of his life.

The main characters lost most of their nuances in season 2, and the main plot simplified. After killing Management and receiving his full powers, Ben grew a few brain cells but no extra depth. Justin didn’t get any more nuanced either: he reveled in his dark powers and the control he had over his flock, delighted in mentally torturing Iris and Norman, and… well, the less said about what he did to his maids, the better. But the worst part was his final confrontation with Ben in the finale. At the end Ben was helpless, his father’s special trench knife snapped off at the hilt, and what does Justin do? Does he immediately kill his nemesis with that nasty-looking sickle he’s been waving around for the last ten minutes? No. To quote Frozone, “He starts monologuing!” Yep, Brother Justin takes a moment to gloat, giving the boy enough time to grab the knife blade and skewer the evil preacher. Two years just to get to this? Blah. Justin deserved much better.

Don’t get me wrong: it may sound like I didn’t enjoy the later episodes, but the good definitely outweighed the bad. I loved the show, and will definitely be tuning in if a third season is produced. For all its flaws, Carnivàle stands heads and shoulders above most of what’s on TV these days. If you like your TV literate and pretentious, if you like your heroes dirty, if you like your freaks freaky, if you like your magic down-to-earth, if you like your fiction historical, if you like your story arcs long, then this just may be the show for you.

Game Review: Homeworld 2

I just finished playing Homeworld 2. All in all, it was a hell of a game, just as engaging as its predecessors Homeworld and Homeworld: Cataclysm. Not perfect, mind you, but still pretty damn amazing.

I just finished playing Homeworld 2. All in all, it was a hell of a game, just as engaging as its predecessors Homeworld and Homeworld: Cataclysm. Not perfect, mind you, but still pretty damn amazing.

The Good:

The game, to nobody’s surprise, looks absolutely awesome. The grand starscapes of the first and second games are still there, of course. Ship design is top notch: Hiigaran ships are similar to their Homeworld counterparts, but far more advanced, and look amazing, from the sharp-edged Interceptor to the exquisitely sleek and deadly Battlecruiser. This was a far cry from the Cataclysm ships. The command ship in that game—a self-sufficient mining vessel called the Kuun-Lan—wasn’t exactly stylish or pretty, and neither were its auxiliary ships; however, they did share a very solid, very functional design, of which I thoroughly approve. But honestly, when all’s said and done, sleek and deadly’s the way to go if you’re playing a space-battle game. Vaygr ships are interesting; some have an odd asymmetrical look that was a bit startling the first I saw it, but have now decided is very cool. As are the Progenitor ships, blocky and deceptively rough-looking. The Bentusi Mothership looks quite nice, though I have to question its very existence. More on that later.

The soundtrack also earns my love. While Homeworld’s music was very atmospheric and New-Age-y, and Cataclysm’s was more punchy and action-oriented, Homeworld 2 brings us a beautiful soundtrack with a variety of rousing ethnic rhythms that kicks large amounts of ass. Truly the best of both worlds. The voice of Fleet Command is back, and boy have I missed her. The most emotional part of Homeworld, for me, took place at the very beginning, when Fleet Command ran through her startup checklist in her cool, emotionless voice, ending with “The Mothership has cleared the scaffold. We are away.” They repeated these lines almost word for word in Homeworld 2, but I’m sorry to say it didn’t have the same punch. In the first game, the Hiigarans were about to set off on their greatest adventure, the search for their ancestral home. In Homeworld 2, we’re just running away from a Vaygr attack. Blah. Although I have to admit, the shutdown checklist at the end of Mission 14, as Fleet Command left the Mothership and prepared to transfer to Sajuuk, was a very nice touch, and quite affecting.

(Don’t get me wrong. The voices of Ship Tactical and Ship Command in Homeworld: Cataclysm were very good. Tactical seemed older, experienced, a veteran of many space battles and a total pro. She never once lost her cool, no matter how bad things seemed. Command, however, seemed younger and more nervous, probably recently took command of the Kuun-Lan and never expected to do more with it than, well, mine a lot of asteroids—which was its function, after all. And, granted, things are a bit tense for most of the game, since the Kuun-Lan accidentally unleashed a horrible sentient biomechanical plague that threatens all life in the galaxy and against which they have—at first—no serious defense. But really, is that any reason to panic?)

Some of the gameplay has been improved. I appreciate how the Build, Research and Launch Managers only take up about a quarter of the screen, and are slightly transparent to boot, allowing me to manage my fleet with no break in the action. The concept of ship upgrades, introduced in Cataclysm, has been taken to a whole new level. It’s now possible to target individual subsystems on capital ships and Motherships (engines for all; ion turrets on Battlecruisers; resourcing and production facilities on Carriers. And so on). Two major differences between Cataclysm and Homeworld 2: research costs resources as well as time; but on the bright side, strike craft don’t need to dock to get upgraded.

The single-player missions are really, really hard. Which I like. Why did some reviewers complain about that? Come on, don’t you want to be challenged?

The Not So Good:

So, what, I can’t pick my ship colours for the single-player game? That was the best part! Okay, not really, but it’s still a bit annoying. Yes, you can pick colours for the multi-player battles (and not just your colours, but your fleet badge, which I thought was a lovely touch. If you ever wanted to wear the emblems of Kiith Nabal or Kiith Manaan, or some of the other Kiithid we saw in Cataclysm, now you can.) But for the single-player missions, we’re stuck with the default blue, white and grey colour scheme. Which is fine, really, no big complaints, but I just wish I had a choice.

And we’re back to unit caps? Sigh. One of the best innovations of Homeworld: Cataclysm was the concept of Support Units. Though it restricted you to a very small fleet at first, later on gave you a lot of flexibility. You weren’t bound by arbitrary limits of, let’s say, 14 fighter squadrons, 12 corvette squadrons and 20 frigates. If you wanted to focus more on fighters and less on frigates, then you were plum out of luck. 14 squadrons was all you could build, no matter how few frigates were on the field.

A few aspects of the gameplay are somewhat questionable. The taskbar is vastly expanded and shows all commands (moving, attacking, even specialized functions). Was this really necessary, or even useful? How many people will try to click on these icons instead of using the keyboard shortcuts? Also, each mission ends as soon as all objectives are complete. You don’t have the option of hanging around and rebuilding your fleet before moving on. All resources are collected automatically, but as soon as one mission’s done, you’re outa there. I’m not sure if this counts as a positive or negative. On the one hand, it does make the game faster-paced and more challenging, and clearly it’s not such a huge handicap if I still got to the end. On the other hand, it’s a pretty radical and unexpected deviation from the first two games. So, I’m torn. Intellectually I know I shouldn’t mind, but emotionally I don’t like it.

Now, let’s look at the story. To be blunt, it makes no fucking sense. The story in Homeworld was fairly straightforward: the Hiigarans discover that their planet is in fact not their home; genetic analysis proves they are unrelated to most other life around them, and the discovery of an ancient millenia-old starship (containing an ancient starmap that seems to point to a planet of origin) clinches it. The Hiigarans decide to reverse-engineer the old hulk and build a massive mothership, designed to carry a large fraction of their population, and look for home. And immediately run into their old enemies the Taiidani, who exiled them from their homeworld so long ago. The Hiigarans have to fight every step of the way to reclaim their home and heritage, and learn their forgotten history. Simple, yet epic. Me like.

Homeworld: Cataclysm’s story was a bit more twisted, but the setting and initial premises flowed from the events in Homeworld. Fifteen years after reclaiming Hiigara, things aren’t exactly rosy for the former exiles. They face serious political and social problems at home and abroad, including near-constant warfare with some remnants of the Taiidan Empire, who—quite correctly—blame the Hiigarans for killing their rightful emperor and breaking their hold on the galaxy, upsetting thousands of years of political stability all in the name of looking for home. Though to be fair, many if not most Taiidani were quite happy losing the aggressive, oppressive lunatic on the throne. (It’s all in how you look at it, I guess.) A few missions in we’re introduced to the Beast—a biomechanical virus with a strange collective intelligence, which can take over both machines and people—and the main plot gets underway. Yet even here, the story grows logically, step by step. In between fighting Beast-infected fleets and Taiidani Imperial forces, the Kuun-Lan uncovers the origin of the Beast and how to eradicate it, and—shockingly—learn that it has allied with Taiidani Imperials, so full of hate and resentment that they’re willing to jeapordize their future for just one more shot at Hiigara. It’s a paranoid little story, where friend becomes foe, bitter people choose revenge over survival, losing means a fate worse than death, and the good guys are very much alone. All that, and extremely challenging missions. What’s not to love?

Homeworld 2’s story, by contrast, is very much standalone, introduces plot points out of nowhere and—even more frustratingly—contradicts what has gone before with no good reason. The initial cutscene and first couple of missions introduces the Vaygr—essentially an interstellar Mongol horde led by a religious fanatic, who have their eye on the Hiigaran system—and the concept of the Three Far Jumper Cores, ancient hyperspace technology that allow ships to cross vast interstellar distances in the blink of an eye. One such Core is in the possession of the Vaygr. The second was found by the Hiigarans in the derelict ship, and incorporated into the first Mothership for their journey home. A hundred years later a second Mothership has been built, also housing the Second Core.

This is the first problem: how is it that Fleet Command is still alive after a hundred years? Here’s the second problem: Why build a new Mothership? Was it in response to the Vaygr attacks? Third problem: there was never any previous hint that the Mothership’s hyperspace technology was in any way special. In fact, there was good reason to think it wasn’t: we learned in Homeworld that Hiigarans were exiled in a whole convoy of ships, only one of which eventually made planetfall. Were they all carrying Far Jumpers? Why would the Taiidani have let powerless, disgraced exiles get away with this unique technology? Absurd as it seemed, it was necessary to set up the main plot, to wit: a prophecy. It seems the Hiigarans are destined to reunite the Core Trinity. Whoever does this would apparently gain great power, power with which to reshape the galaxy and begin a whole new age. This prophecy is delivered by the Bentusi, an ancient star-faring race who were the Hiigarans’ only allies during their homeward journey, delivering crucial technology and advice. They appear here in a great-looking new ship, reminiscent of their old design but seriously jazzed up. As impressive as the visual was, this again seemed unnecessary.

So off the Hiigarans go, hunting down clues as to the Third Core’s location, all the while trying to stay ahead of the Vaygr who also seek to reunite the Cores. Eventually they go up against the Vaygr leader, destroy his command ship and take his Core. The Core Trinity is reunited inside Sajuuk, an ancient mythical ship created by the Progenitors, the mysterious race that first developed hyperspace technology and built the Cores. (It turns out that the third Core was housed in the Bentusi Mothership.) Under the control of Fleet Command, Sajuuk moves to eliminate the remaining Vaygr forces. The end? Not quite. In a surprise twist, just as Sajuuk and the rest of the good guys confront the Vaygr in orbit around Hiigara, a number of unknown ships appear out of hyperspace and start bombarding Hiigara. Who are they? Not Bentusi, not Hiigaran, not Taiidan, not Progenitor. Were they allied with the Vaygr? Who knows? Where did they come from? My guess is, the writers’ asses.

Now it’s the end. Time for that new era of peace and prosperity.

Okay, I’ll admit. This story had some good moments. The start of Mission 8, when the Hiigaran discovers the Gatekeeper of Sajuuk, a Dreadnought-class ship that had remained dormant for millenia. My thoughts during that cutscene ran more or less as follows: “Holy cow, this looks cool”—as the view swooped in towards the Gatekeeper’s berth—“Oh, shit, it’s still active!”—as lights blinked on on the ship’s surface and it slowly began to move—“Ohmigawd, this music is amazing.” There’s the transfer of Fleet Command to Sajuuk, which I’ve already mentioned. The closing cutscene and credits, nicely grand and cosmic. But those Big Cosmic Moments weren’t connected in any interesting way, and there were some moments that were… not so good, where it felt the writers were deliberately trying to recapture the magic of the first two games. For example, Fleet Command’s startup checklist in Mission 1 (already mentioned), and the Bentusi’s sacrifice in Mission 10 to destroy the Keepers, seemingly indestructible Progenitor ships. This felt too reminiscent of the scene in Homeworld: Cataclysm where another Bentusi ship blew itself up (and most of the attacking fleet) rather than become infected by the Beast.

Don’t let that stop you from enjoying Homeworld 2, though. I still highly recommend it, especially if you’ve enjoyed its predecesors. And if you can ignore the silly plot and enjoy the Big Moments, more power to you. When all’s said and done, Homeworld 2 is a truly superb game.

Bad News For Northstar

So I’m hearing through the grapevine that in Wolverine #25 (due out later this month), a brainwashed and evil Wolverine will kill Northstar. Yay. Terrific. This’ll be the perfect end for Marvel’s token gay superhero. He was kept in the closet for years, summarily dropped from Alpha Flight, picked up again, brought out of the closet for one freaking month (only as a desperate move to boost flagging sales, I hear), disappeared for a while more after Alpha Flight folded, and only in the last few years allowed to be out. Jerked around and treated like crap for most of his 20+ year career, yet still managing to be an interesting and multidimensional character and, yes, a trailblazer, now he gets to die a stupid death.

So I’m hearing through the grapevine that in Wolverine #25 (due out later this month), a brainwashed and evil Wolverine will kill Northstar. Yay. Terrific. This’ll be the perfect end for Marvel’s token gay superhero. He was kept in the closet for years, summarily dropped from Alpha Flight, picked up again, brought out of the closet for one freaking month (only as a desperate move to boost flagging sales, I hear), disappeared for a while more after Alpha Flight folded, and only in the last few years allowed to be out. Jerked around and treated like crap for most of his 20+ year career, yet still managing to be an interesting and multidimensional character and, yes, a trailblazer, now he gets to die a stupid death. The issue is written by one Mark Millar, whose oeuvre I’m not familiar with, and this isn’t exactly making me run out and buy his stuff. Fuck you, Millar. And fuck you, Marvel. Fuck you right in the ear.

In lighter news, it seems Superman is a dick.

No More Faith of the Heart

So in case you hadn’t heard, Enterprise is due to be cancelled. Yes, that’s right: enjoy it while you can, because this season will be the last. I have a few thoughts on the matter, which I’d like to express here, if I may.

Thank you, merciful Zeus. No more craptacular theme song. No more of me wanting to punch Archer right in his arrogant jackass mouth.

So in case you hadn’t heard, Enterprise is due to be cancelled. Yes, that’s right: enjoy it while you can, because this season will be the last. I have a few thoughts on the matter, which I’d like to express here, if I may.

Thank you, merciful Zeus. No more craptacular theme song. No more of me wanting to punch Archer right in his arrogant jackass mouth. No more of me hating Berman and Braga with a fiery passion for their fucking up the Star Trek prequel series, pissing on continuity, and basically killing the franchise. Even Voyager, lame and pathetic though it was, managed to limp through to its (laughably derivative and idiotic) seventh season finale.

Let’s be fair: I love Phlox. I loved Hoshi, shy geekgirl that she was, until Linda Park started phoning in her performance and the character’s unique talents became less and less useful. Reed always has style and class. Trip was… okay as a character. And he had a nice chest. As did Mayweather; pity about that lack of lines outside of a few Boomer-focused episodes. Archer, as mentioned above, was and is a jackass: an overbearing, small-minded, impatient, somewhat bigoted tool who shouldn’t have been allowed within a light-year of any first-contact situations. Sigh. Scott Bakula is still all kinds of hot, and I did love him so in Quantum Leap. And T’Pol? A “hot” Vulcan chick, all boobs and pouty lips and ribs, played by a former model who can’t do the Vulcan thing and really needs a sandwich.

Again to be fair, and though it’s too little too late, this season’s pretty good: they finally got around to laying the groundwork for the Federation, which they should have been focusing on right from the start. And Vulcan society’s on the right track at last. You know, that may be the one thing that burns me the most: how the Vulcans were treated in Enterprise. Ever since the original series, Vulcans were a dignified and honourable people, somewhat arrogant and condescending, yes, but very logically so. They were pacifists with ancient and rigid traditions that may have seemed barbaric to humans (betrothal as children, ritual combat), but it worked for them.

So what did we see for the last three years? Lying Vulcans, warlike Vulcans, sneaky and underhanded Vulcans who were no better than humans, who didn’t mindmeld and oppressed those who did, illogical Vulcans who didn’t follow the IDIC philosophy, Vulcans who got lectured by fucking Archer, of all people, on how to respect one another. Why? Seriously, I’d like to know. Was it just done for conflict, and sort of got out of hand? Did Berman and Braga enjoy ruining the Borg and the Klingons on Voyager so much that they said, “Hey, let’s take down Vulcans on this new show!” “Yeah, sounds like fun!” “And then let’s have Archer save their culture and carry Surak’s katra!” ?

And there’s the decon gel, as though B & B were thumbing their noses at the viewers. “It’s soft-core porn in space! Woo! We’re all about the eye candy!” And the Ferengi! And that Temporal Cold War bullshit! And…

Bah. Let the franchise die. I won’t miss it, not the way it is now. Star Trek’s been dead in every way that counts for most of the last decade, anyway. If it’s a choice between continuing like this and pulling the plug, then I for one am all for euthanasia. Voyager and Enterprise are only pale shadows of what Star Trek used to be.

The original series? With all the cheese and the go-go boots and the clunkers (“Brain and brain, what is brain?” Oy.) there was… substance. Messages about racism and war, and hope for a better future. RIP, Gene.

The Next Generation? Okay, the first two seasons were generally nothing to write home about (“Justice”? Please. “Symbiosis”? Drugs are bad, mmkay. “Shades of Gray”? Save us from boring clip shows. Dr. Pulaski? No thank you.) But the third… Ah, that’s when things picked up. “Yesterday’s Enterprise.” “Sarek.” “The Best of Both Worlds.” Remember when Picard is captured by the Borg and taken to the centre of their ship to address the hive mind?

Captain Jean-Luc Picard. You lead the strongest ship of the Federation fleet. You speak for your people.
“I have nothing to say to you. And I will resist you with my last ounce of strength.”
Strength is irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours.
“Impossible. My culture is based on freedom and self-determination.”
Freedom is irrelevant. Self-determination is irrelevant. You must comply.
“We would rather die.”
Death is irrelevant. Your archaic cultures are authority-driven. To facilitate our introduction into your societies it has been decided that a human voice will speak for us in all communications. You have been chosen to be that voice.

Remember when the Borg were actually scary? Remember when we had a smart, educated captain commanding the Enterprise? A captain whose knowledge of linguistics and mythology helped him make first contact with a species who spoke only in mythohistorical allusions?

I remember Deep Space Nine: the grittier Trek, the Bajoran politics and religion, Cardassians and Dominion, the always entertaining Garak (sorry, “plain, simple” Garak). “Duet.” “Improbable Cause/The Die is Cast.” “In the Pale Moonlight.” The shades of grey and the longer story arcs that, true, didn’t always work, but dammit, the writers tried, and that counts for a lot.

That’s what I remember. That’s what Trek is to me. And I hope that after Janeway and Archer have faded into oblivion, it’s the legacies of Kirk, Picard and Sisko that will endure.

(And in case you’re wondering, that scene from “The Best of Both Worlds, pt. 1”? I wrote that from memory.)

Comic Book Review: Ghost Rider 2099

This series was part of Marvel 2099, a short-lived line of comics started in the mid-90’s which featured familiar-looking heroes in a gritty, futuristic, extremely cyberpunk setting. They all take place in—yep, you guessed it—the year 2099, and the world is a very different place. The Age of Heroes is long over, and costumed crime fighters only a distant memory. But now a new Age of Heroes is dawning; new legends are being born, in a world sadly lacking in legends.

This series was part of Marvel 2099, a short-lived line of comics started in the mid-90’s which featured familiar-looking heroes in a gritty, futuristic, extremely cyberpunk setting. They all take place in—yep, you guessed it—the year 2099, and the world is a very different place. The Age of Heroes is long over, and costumed crime fighters only a distant memory. But now a new Age of Heroes is dawning; new legends are being born, in a world sadly lacking in legends.

I also looked at Spiderman 2099, Punisher 2099, Doom 2099 and X-Men 2099, but Ghost Rider 2099 is the only one I followed for more than three or four issues. These series—at least initially—were actually very good. The protagonists could easily have been cheap rehashes of 20th century heroes, or something corny like their great-great-grandchildren. Instead they were highly original, three-dimensional people living in a complex and interesting world.

Ghost Rider 2099 took place in Transverse City, a huge urban sprawl stretching between Chicago and Detroit. Originally designed as the starting point of a transcontinental superhighway, most of Transverse City is a construct ten storeys high and twenty lanes wide. Due to massive unforeseen costs and corporate corruption, the project was never finished. The only section actually completed was the Detroit–Chicago axis, which was nonetheless pressed into service. Since there was no way to even approach the construct’s enormous capacity, various levels and sections were parceled out to secondary developers. Now Transverse City is a nightmare urban jungle with no official central government. The most powerful corporation is D/MONIX (Data Manipulation and Organization Networks), which has sunk its hooks into almost every other company.

Kenshiro “Zero” Cochrane was a cyberhacker—able to connect his nervous system directly to the Net—living on the streets of Transverse City, who got murdered while plugged into cyberspace. Mysterious artificial intelligences living in an area of the Net they called “the Ghostworks” preserved his consciousness and implanted it into a powerful robot. Their plan (as explained to Zero) was to use him as a living symbol to counteract the greed, stupidity and corruption infecting human civilization. “They’d kinked an automated factory complex, made those assemblers dance… They clothed me in silicon and carbon steel, fiber optics and superdense metatasking nanoprocessors, and enough integrated hardware to make payback by the ton. Then they turned me loose.”

When I heard that the Ghost Rider of 2099 would be a technological instead of a supernatural creature, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Even though I realized the Ghost Rider wouldn’t fit in very well in such a cyberpunkish setting, there was no reason why he shouldn’t last until the 21st century. After all, what’s a hundred years for a being that’s existed for millenia? But upon reading Ghost Rider 2099 #1, all my doubts vanished. This was an amazing issue! Len Kaminski’s dialog was sharp and vibrant, while the exquisite art of Chris Bachalo and Mark Buckingham truly made readers feel like we were walking the grimy streets of Transverse City.

The central character himself (as befits this setting) is definitely not your average hero. In fact, he’s not even a very nice guy. He’s self-centered, violent, callous towards his girlfriend, and hateful of authority. (Mind you, all the authority figures he’s had to deal with deserve to be hated.) Now that he has the power to express his “rage against the machine,” Transverse City will never be the same again.

Some of the other players in this little drama are: Kylie Gagarin, Zero’s girlfriend (actually, ex-girlfriend); Jimmy Alhazred, “a.k.a. The Dreaded Doctor Neon,” a young cyberhacker low in experience but high in enthusiasm; the cool and professional Anesthesia Jones, an acquaintance of Zero’s with connections to the city’s underworld; Dyson Kellerman, D/MONIX’s holographic CEO; and last but not least, Harrison Cochrane: Zero’s father and a D/MONIX bureaucrat, he was the one who arranged his son’s death.

I swear, apart from the conspicuous absence of four-letter words, I could almost forget I was reading a Marvel comic. This series was just so fierce and iconoclastic, nothing like I’d ever read from that company. Three scenes, in particular, stand out:

In the very first issue, a terrified Zero Cochrane is running from his killers. Delirious from a poison they had shot him with, he happens upon an electronics store window filled with TV’s. All the commercials seem to merge together crazily:

“Two out of three clinical studies agree! Nothing stops the searing pain and itch of existential angst and unfulfilled ambition faster than MEGAVIL! It’s proven two hundred times more effective than the leading brand! Now with activated polydimorphine!”
“—denies charges of widespread corruption and—”
“—embarrassing foot odor? New garden-fresh scented—”
“—officials dismissed as negligible the possible carcinogenic effects of—”
“—hot chewy brownies, anytime!”

Zero goes crazy. Shouting “It’s all lies! All of it! Shut up! SHUT UP!” he picks up a stick and starts smashing the store window. Then the fit stops, and he mumbles, “Oh, man. This… civilization… sucks.” The very last image on the page is a closeup of the sign that used to be in the store window. It says: “EVERYTHING MUST GO.”

(No description can do this scene justice. Even ten years later, I still think it was damn powerful.)

In issue #5, Zero (in his brand-new robotic body) finally confronts his father, who says: “You were nothing but a common gutter criminal… I did what any law-abiding corporate employee would’ve done. I had a duty to society!” Ghost Rider replies: “Screw your society! It’s nothing but a con game rigged so you and the rest of the suits can keep making a profit! The only duty anyone with even a shred of humanity left has is to tear is down!”

And finally, one hilarious little scene. In issue #7, Ghost Rider is forced to visit New York City incognito. While wandering the streets, he is accosted by a religious fanatic who starts his spiel: “Excuse me, citizen. Do you know what causes all the wars and misery in the world?” Replies our hero: “Yeah. Bit-heads like you.” Heh. Who says you don’t learn anything from comic books?

Ghost Rider 2099 was a breathtaking series from the word go, and kept up the pace for nine red-hot issues. But then, in issues #10–11, the writer forced Ghost Rider into a completely pointless slugfest with half a dozen ugly bad guys. I admit it was kind of fun while it lasted, but come on! Zero had better things to do and more interesting enemies to kill. In issue #12, Zero went up against his toughest adversary yet: a vigilante called Coda, “the last word in law enforcement.” The fight ended with Ghost Rider being vaporized by the vigilante.

And that’s when things really went downhill. The next issue was the start of Ghost Rider’s involvement in a huge crossover—spanning all 2099 titles and lasting for several months—entitled “2099 A.D.” In it, Doctor Doom (a villain in the 20th century who has his own series in the 21st) took over the USA. Which wasn’t too hard, since there was no longer any central government or defence force. He then enlisted the aid of Ghost Rider (who, in the meantime, had regenerated himself) to control Transverse City. Zero, of course, refused, but Doom had previously made a bargain with the Ghostwork AI’s. By using access codes they had given him, he rewrote portions of Ghost Rider’s operating system, and so forced him to change his mind. Just like that, Zero Cochrane became a law enforcement officer.

I was sickened and shocked. How dare they do this? What the hell were they thinking? Ghost Rider isn’t a cop. He kills cops! He was the ultimate anti-authoritarian nightmare, and they did the worst thing they could: they took away his rage against the machine, and made him a part of that machine. Once again, Marvel management has shown us they’re not afraid to screw around with a story’s basic themes and characters, destroying its heart and soul. (Yeah, I blame the management. I’ve got a hard time imagining Len Kaminski wanted this to happen. After all, he’s been writing the series since the first issue. Zero Cochrane must be like his very own kill-the-pigs, burn-the-establishment-to-the-ground-and-dance-on-the-ashes baby. Then again, maybe I’m projecting too much of the character on the writer).

Just to add insult to injury, the artwork in issues #13–14 sucked big time, making me pine for Bachalo and Buckingham. Or, really, any half-decent artist.

Issue #14 (April ’95) was the last one I bought, but Ghost Rider 2099 went on for at least a year before being canceled. Before I completely lost interest I could see signs that it might be picking up steam (a new artist, with a very weird but oddly catchy style, and a gradual shift of Zero’s attitudes back to his old ways), but by then it was too little too late. I decided I could never trust the Marvel powers that be not to interfere with good stories and characters, and so swore off picking up any new Marvel titles. Ten years later I’m having a very easy time keeping that resolution.

Comic Book Review: Deathlok

Michael Collins was a pacifist and cybernetics expert, who believed his work was being used to develop advanced prostheses for handicapped people. When he discovered that his employers were really building a superpowered killer cyborg code-named “Deathlok,” Collins was murdered and his brain placed inside Deathlok. His mind was thought to have been destroyed; the brain was simply to serve as “wetware” support for the cyborg’s operating system. But Michael Collins was still there, inside, and eventually he regained control of Deathlok. Vowing never to use his powers to kill another living being, he set off to make a new life for himself.

Michael Collins was a pacifist and cybernetics expert, who believed his work was being used to develop advanced prostheses for handicapped people. When he discovered that his employers were really building a superpowered killer cyborg code-named “Deathlok,” Collins was murdered and his brain placed inside Deathlok. His mind was thought to have been destroyed; the brain was simply to serve as “wetware” support for the cyborg’s operating system. But Michael Collins was still there, inside, and eventually he regained control of Deathlok. Vowing never to use his powers to kill another living being, he set off to make a new life for himself.

The first issue of Deathlok I read was #16 (October ’92), and I was immediately fascinated. The mind of a pacifist stuck inside a killer machine? Neat! Sure was a nice break from all those other heroes who willingly went fighting crime and actually liked punching it up with villains.

The series’ uniqueness didn’t end there, though. You see, Michael Collins was a Black man, and proud of it; So was one of the writers, Dwayne McDuffie. Black people (characters or writers) are rare enough in comics, let alone Black people who actually make points about racism and other forms of prejudice. However, those points were only irregularly made. The problem was that Deathlok had two writers who took turns scripting: McDuffie, and one Gregory Wright. The stories written by McDuffie (especially the “Souls of Cyber-Folk” storyline, issues #2–5, and Deathlok’s stay in the country of Wakanda, issues #22–25) were more interesting, original, and made the political points. (“The Souls of Cyber-Folk” is a reference to The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois, from which Deathlok quotes in issue #2; the story itself draws parallels between racism and the prejudice experienced by cyborgs and artificial beings.) On the other hand, storylines written by Wright were not so interesting or memorable, with shallow plots heavy on mindless action scenes.

It was a constant struggle throughout the series’ short life: for every reader who loved Michael Collins as a Black hero, as a pacifist hero, there was another reader who thought he was a sissy wimp, and hungered for Deathlok to get back to its roots. See, way back in the 70’s, there was apparently a series called Deathlok the Demolisher, set in a lawless and violent post-apocalyptic future; the title character used to be a US Marine Colonel named Luther Manning who was augmented against his will after being critically injured, and went on to become an ultraviolent anti-hero. More recently (in 1990), Marvel published the adventures of another Deathlok cyborg with the organics and brain of a ruthless and bloodthirsty beat cop and former marine named John Kelly. Taken in that context, a pacifist Deathlok was even more startling. In issue #17, readers learned that Collins’ Deathlok body used to be Kelly’s; his brain had been fried by the onboard computer and replaced by Collins’. At the same time, a backup of Kelly’s personality was reactivated; for a couple of issues it served as Deathlok’s anti-conscience, railing against his pacifistic ways, urging him to be more ruthless, and generally annoying the hell out of Collins and any reader who agreed with him. Kelly’s personality later transferred itself into another cyborg, code-named “Siege,” who made occasional appearances throughout the rest of the series.

The beginning of the end came in issue #31, the start of the 4-part “Cyberstrike” storyline. This weird, confusing story, involving parallel timelines and time paradoxes by the dozen, pitted Michael Collins and Siege against the Luther Manning Deathlok (who never existed in Collins’ timeline) and the Demolisher (i.e.: Manning’s future self) in a crazy and headache-inducing battle royale as they tried to prevent their realities from being destroyed by a power-hungry time-skipping meddler… And that was it. The series ended with this storyline that tried to resolve the paradoxes about all these past, present, alternate-present, and possible-future Deathloks. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a “What the hell?”

It was a tragic waste. A wonderful idea had been lost, probably never to return. Maybe it was doomed from the start, but I don’t feel it was ever given a proper chance. I only wish Marvel’s powers that be had established Dwayne McDuffie as a full-time writer and let him do his own thing, free of constraints. As for those whining losers who only wanted high body counts, they should have been told them to fuck off and go read Spawn or The Punisher.

Comic Book Review: Alpha Flight

What originally got me interested in Alpha Flight was the fact that (a) it was a Canadian superhero group (in fact, the only Canadian superhero group in the Marvel Universe), and (b) it was the only series I knew of then to have an openly gay main character. Being gay myself, I was naturally curious to see how a superpowered queer would be treated. I got into the series only a few months before it folded in early 1994 and, over the next couple of years, collected most back issues, the two annuals, and a couple of team-ups with the X-Men.

What originally got me interested in Alpha Flight was the fact that (a) it was a Canadian superhero group (in fact, the only Canadian superhero group in the Marvel Universe), and (b) it was the only series I knew of then to have an openly gay main character. Being gay myself, I was naturally curious to see how a superpowered queer would be treated. I got into the series only a few months before it folded in early 1994 and, over the next couple of years, collected most back issues, the two annuals, and a couple of team-ups with the X-Men. It was a large investment of time and effort, which makes it even harder to admit that, in the end, Alpha Flight was a disappointment.

The story begins in X-Men #121 (May 1979), when the X-Men travelled to Canada and tussled with Canada’s Official Super-Hero Group, Alpha Flight. These six Canadians had been invented solely to give the X-Men someone to fight but apparently struck a chord with the public and so, four years later, they received their own ongoing monthly series.

All things considered, the series was off to a promising start. John Byrne—the writer and artist for the first 28 issues—did a pretty good job of creating personalities and histories for characters that were nothing more than powers, code names and nifty costumes. He introduced us to the distant and mysterious Snowbird, shapeshifting daughter of northern gods; Sasquatch (Walter Langkowski), a scientist who could transform into a monster; Shaman (Michael Twoyoungmen), a Native man who studied to be a medical doctor and rediscovered the magic of his ancestors late in life; the mutant twin speedsters Northstar and Aurora (Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie Beaubier), her with dual conflicting personalities, him a sarcastic and obnoxious loner; finally, Vindicator (James Hudson), founder and leader of Alpha Flight, wearing a special suit that allowed him to fly and project beams of energy. To this original core of six were added two in issue #1: Puck (Eugene Judd), a midget with excellent fighting skills and a Mysterious Past, and Marrina, an amphibian humanoid with a Mysterious Origin.

The stories weren’t exactly inspired, or even terribly original. Some of the characters were annoying knockoffs: for example, Sasquatch was a gamma-powered shifter like the Hulk, and in fact his origin story has him reproducing Dr. Banner’s experiments with gamma energy. Also, Puck was in my opinion too reminiscent of Wolverine, with the short stature, hairy body, Mysterious Past and unrequited love for a redhead (in this case it was Heather Hudson, Vindicator’s wife and later widow). The dialogue tended to be painfully artificial and expository, as you’d expect from mainstream superhero comics of that era, and the plots contained the usual tired shenanigans of “shocking” twists and retcons… but on the whole I thought they were mostly serviceable, and entertaining enough.

It seems that Northstar had been written as a gay character right from the start, and that his abrasiveness was just a way to hide his feelings and keep others at a distance. But that clue, and others in his personal history, were only there if you knew what you were looking for. In issue #41 (December ’86), there came a huge, not-at-all subtle hint about Northstar’s gayness. More hints followed, about one per issue. “Aha!” I thought. “They”re going to make him come out for sure!” Imagine my surprise when, in issue #50 (September ’87), Northstar’s nature was retconned as being part Elf, and he, Aurora and Puck were suddenly yanked out of the story. If I had to guess, I’d say that the execs at Marvel got a little nervous about this costumed faggot and wanted him gone. Plus, Elf, get it? It’s like, fairy. Yeah, my sides are still splitting.

Northstar stayed gone for two and a half years, returning in issue #81, his gayness forgotten for the moment. It was in issue #106 (March ’92) that he officially came out of the closet. I used to think I’d have a hard time finding that issue since it had to be a valuable collector’s item, but it turns out Alpha Flight was never that popular. I think I eventually got my hands on it for about $10 (Canadian!). “So” you might be thinking, “this is great! It’s a major step forward for gays and lesbians, right? An openly gay superhero is bound to open people’s eyes, make them rethink their positions, right?” Sure, but…

Let’s not beat around the bush: Northstar’s coming out was a joke. Yes, I thought it was done pretty well (a bit preachy, maybe, and it had to happen in the middle of a big fight scene, but there you go). Yes, it caused a reaction. Yes, gay readers loved it. But then Northstar went right back into the closet as fast as he’d come. The words “gay” or “homosexual” weren’t even mentioned once throughout the series’ remaining run. Northstar’s coming out was vaguely mentioned a couple of times, but never using those words: it was just his “revelation.”

If I had to pick a moment, I’d say that’s when Alpha Flight jumped the shark. In retrospect the creative team—never stellar to begin with—had been running on autopilot for a while now, and the last two years of the series’ life were filled with dull, pointless and/or derivative storylines, padded with mindless action scenes or focussing on new and completely uninteresting minor characters.

The 4-part Northstar miniseries, beginning immediately after Alpha Flight‘s last issue, only added insult to injury. I thought now they’d address his gayness. No such luck. It was just a mindless action-oriented plot, with the coming-out obliquely mentioned only once. We did see a former love interest of Northstar’s, but guess what? She was a woman!

Northstar’s brief coming out wasn’t Alpha Flight‘s only opportunity for really interesting and potentially groundbreaking stories, but the writers and management lacked either the balls or the imagination to do more than scratch the surface. There was Sasquatch, who at one point (through a very strange sequence of events) was temporarily transformed into a woman. There was the ongoing issue of Aurora’s multiple personalities, which merged and split and changed at the writers’ whims. There was Kara Kilgrave, an adolescent mutant with purple skin and the power to control minds introduced in issue #41: she left Alpha Flight for a short time to try to have a normal life, but failed miserably. The writers had a golden opportunity to explore what it means to be an outcast and freak.

One thing that doesn’t so much disappoint as piss me right off is the mangled Canadiana. Readers were reminded in almost every issue that John Byrne is an expatriate Canuck… but so what? The stories—even the exposition on Canadian landmarks and history—still all felt written from an outsider’s (ie: U.S.) perspective. I don’t know what a Canadian perspective or sensibility would look like in a superhero comic (or maybe I do?) but I’m sure Alpha Flight didn’t have it. This was not a comic written by us or for us. The geography and history could have been taken out of any high school textbook, what French there was was usually very bad or not real Québecois, and there were even several instances of the writers and artists disrespecting our national heritage with their sloppy work. Look, I’m no flag-waving nationalist, and I realize they didn’t want to make too much of an effort since most of the audience didn’t read French and probably couldn’t find Canada on a map, all tucked away down there. Really, I’m not asking for much: Maybe get the national motto right. Or at least learn to draw the flag correctly. Jesus.

I’m still missing a couple of issues, but have lost interest in searching for them. Neither am I interested in collecting the latest volumes (Alpha Flight was restarted twice; first in 1997, lasting about 30 issues, then in 2004). I hear Northstar temporarily rejoined the Flight in their second incarnation, has been with the X-Men for the last couple of years, and is a lot more out. Well, good for him, but I won’t be following his adventures anymore. If I knew then what I know now, I probably wouldn’t even have started. Alpha Flight never reached much beyond “okay,” and many other comic books have done a better job of portraying queer characters without wimping out.

Movie Review: What The Bleep Do We Know

Tag line: “It’s time to get wise!”

Uh-huh.

I heard about this movie from a friend of mine, who’d seen it, loved it, and urged me to go see it for myself. From the online trailer, and a couple of reviews I’d read, it looked like your typical pretentious yet shallow New Age fluff, and thus a complete waste of my time. Hell, I’d already suffered through half an hour of Waking Life, people! Nobody should have to endure that twice.

Tag line: “It’s time to get wise!”

Uh-huh.

I heard about this movie from a friend of mine, who’d seen it, loved it, and urged me to go see it for myself. From the online trailer, and a couple of reviews I’d read, it looked like your typical pretentious yet shallow New Age fluff, and thus a complete waste of my time. Hell, I’d already suffered through half an hour of Waking Life, people! Nobody should have to endure that twice.

But: This friend is an even bigger skeptic than I am, and every time we saw each other he asked if I’d seen it. When I answered no, he kept insisting I had to see it. Okay, obviously somebody somewhere was missing something, and I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t me. I trusted my friend’s judgement so, even though my expectations weren’t high, I decided I had to go see it for myself. Keep an open mind, right?

My verdict: Bleah. Where do I even start? How about with the lazy, lazy writing? There’s no story here. Most of the movie is taken up by talking heads babbling a lot of platitudes about the wonders and mysteries of Quantum Mechanics and the human mind. Most of what isn’t talking heads is pretty special effects, of atomic nuclei and galaxies and… a sort of wormhole thingy, which maybe was supposed to represent quantum tunneling? I don’t know. Oh, and a shimmering grid occasionally overlaid on the “normal” world, vanishing and reappearing at random, that was supposed to symbolize how illusory the real world is. It looks just like the Enterprise-D’s holodeck grid, except that grid was yellow and this one is blue. A blatant ripoff, in my opinion.

The rest of the movie was taken up by a paper-thin parable, further driving home the messages of the talking heads. The characters are completely two-dimensional, and even that’s probably generous: there’s the Hard-Nosed Skeptic, who eventually starts believing in spite of her better judgement… and for some reason was written as speech-impaired (possibly hearing-impaired as well, though that wasn’t consistently portrayed. More sloppy writing); there’s her roommate (or lover? again, that part wasn’t clear), the Somewhat Ditzy But Nice And Well-Meaning Believer; and you’ve got the Inexplicably Wise Basketball-Playing Kid, who appears out of nowhere to spout yet more wisdom at the Skeptic and coax her “down the rabbit hole.” Viewers may identify with one or more of them to some extent, because they’re so archetypal (to be charitable), but they have no way to really connect with them, or understand what makes them tick. But then, we’re not supposed to connect with these characters. They—along with the talking heads—exist only to serve as mouthpieces for the movie’s Big Message.

And what is that message? The usual New Agey clichés: The denial of objective reality (‘cos we create our own reality, inside our minds and by interacting with the universe, because of quantum); the need for a “new paradigm;” the glorification of mystery over knowledge, and childlike wonder over skepticism; cool-sounding myths that are highly suspect (though not provably false), like the one about Native Caribbean people at first not being able to see Colombus’ ships on the ocean because they’d never seen ships like that before; cool-sounding myths that are provably false, like Transcendental Meditation reducing crime rates. And through it all, very complex topics like QM and cognitive science being either misrepresented or mangled into sweet-tasting sound bites to support these mystical beliefs.

I walked out of the theatre after about 45 minutes; I’d been checking my watch and rolling my eyes for… well, pretty much all of the movie up to that point, really, but the mention of Transcendental Meditation was the last straw.

So what was I supposed to get out of this movie? That the world is a strange and exciting place? Yes, it certainly is. But I already knew that, from reading legitimate science books. That we can be slaves to our own perceptions and assumptions? That it wouldn’t hurt to look at the world with wonder and fresh eyes from time to time? You won’t find me disagreeing. But I believe that movies like What The Bleep Do We Know? are more a distraction than anything else. One may watch it and feel suitably enlightened or at least pleasantly confused, but ultimately the movie offers no genuine substance. Instead it shows some seriously exciting science, hopelessly distorted into a colourful kaleidoscopic jumble that gives lay people only the illusion of understanding. Do you want to see the world and appreciate its beauty? Do you want to change your life, become more than who you are now? Then go out there and do it. You don’t need to waste your time with this vapid mystical fluff. The world is exciting enough without filling your head with other people’s fantasies. As the late, great, Douglas Adams wrote, “Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

Left, Right, Left, Right

So. 51 days into the redesign, and where am I at?

It’s going pretty well, actually. I’ve converted all of the pages except the photo galleries to the new (provisional) design, and even those should be done very soon. That’s the easy part. Now that I’ve got the styles in place, I’ll be able to shuffle things around much more easily. CSS-based layouts are a godsend, they are. I’ve still got a lot to learn (no duh), but it doesn’t look so intimidating anymore.

So. 51 days into the redesign, and where am I at?

It’s going pretty well, actually. I’ve converted all of the pages except the photo galleries to the new (provisional) design, and even those should be done very soon. That’s the easy part. Now that I’ve got the styles in place, I’ll be able to shuffle things around much more easily. CSS-based layouts are a godsend, they are. I’ve still got a lot to learn (no duh), but it doesn’t look so intimidating anymore. At first, I was going to stick to my trusty old table-based layout; but when I tried to get a little fancier I ended up with massively nested tables, so I said “Fuck that noise!” and took the plunge. CSS all the way, baby. Haven’t looked back since. In fact, a while later, I decided to move the sidebar from left to right. All it took were a few changes in the stylesheet, and boom, all my pages had their sidebar on the right. Seriously, how awesome is that? If I hadn’t been enlightened before, that would have done it for sure.

But like I said, that’s the easy part. CSS and HTML, that’s just… coding (I always code my pages by hand). The real struggle will be designing graphics, because it means using a side of my brain that just hasn’t gotten much exercise. Left brain—analytical, logical, language oriented? No problemo. Right brain—intuitive, emotional? Ah. That’s a problemo. I’ll need to learn a whole new language. No, not even that (just showed my bias, right there), but much more basic—primal, if I may use the word—ways to express myself.

I think I got that particular revelation while visiting Web sites on Paleolithic art a couple weeks ago. The people living 20 or 30,000 years ago had no written language, and maybe not much of a spoken language, but they still produced some seriously kick-ass art. I have to watch myself here; can’t fall in the trap of thinking “Ooo, Cro-magnons were primitive and brutish, they had no left-brain thinking at all.” Which, well, is certainly very condescending and probably very wrong. But they must have had a very different mindset, and that’s something I need to explore.