It’s the way (they) tell them

Sometimes when I feel like winding myself up (and for some reason the Daily Hate’s website isn’t working) I look up films I’m either fond of or have seen very recently on IMDB.

Beneath the ‘fact-check’ or who’s who, the obligatory ‘FAQ’ and ‘Trivia’ sections and above the (Please God NO!) reviews, there’s purple box of discussion threads… in which live the parasitic opinions of self aggrandising fourteen-year-olds (Pot… kettle…).

I came across one recently for the dark sci-fi film ‘Splice‘.

The lead comment went as follows:

“I just saw it on video, and, well, it was bizarre. But obviously, it was meant to be that bizarre and extreme in order to get the point across about science, morality and the like, right? It’s just that I’m not quite sure what that point is? Or am I looking too deep and this was just a *beep* crap movie? Thoughts?”

Whilst I can vaguely agree with the importance of a film having a ‘point’, this user seems to have become rather hung up on the idea of their being a ‘moral’ to a story.

The ‘moral’ in stories is a very simplistic piece of deconstruction. The zoological equivalent of identifying that some animals have legs. It’s a good start, but there’s a hell of a lot more than that going on.

The thing is I’m even vaguer on a film (or any story for that matter) necessarily having to have a ‘point’. Some stories are inherently pointless. All quiet on the Western Front, Figures in a Landscape, Ulysses. All of which tell stories of characters who don’t really grow, or change, and are usually destroyed by a cold, unforgiving senseless world. What’s the point?

If anything asking ‘what’s the point’ is probably the most important ‘point’ of these pieces.

So, if a story doesn’t have to have a ‘point’ or a ‘moral’, what is it that separates it from just being a bunch of crap that happens?

A lot of it is in the way it’s told. Arthur C Clarke wrote impeccably well thought out and researched science-fiction, but his prose and characters were so atrocious that I haven’t read anything of his in over a decade and a half. Whereas Herman Melville and Jane Austen can write entire chapters about the awkwardness of asking someone to dance on a partially flayed whale (it’s been a while since I read Moby Dick) and I’ll gleefully re-read it because it’s (dare I say it) fun.

Splice, however, falls some way away from the kind of mindless fun that characterises, say, ‘The Rock’.

Instead it dwells on parenthood and uncomfortable issues such as infanticide, incest and rape. But these aren’t there just for the sake of being shocking. Rather the film feels like an exorcism of fears. It doesn’t give answers or ram a ‘THIS IS WHAT NOT TO DO!’ down the viewers throat, but credits the audience with the ability to react and come to the conclusion by themselves.

Also, don’t have sex with genetically modified lizard people!

Fist of Zen

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Typing the title for this post I initially put “Fiat of Zen” which is, I think we can all agree, an awesome idea for a story… but that will have to wait till later.

It’s been a busy few weeks and, by way of an apology for not updating at all in November, I’d like to share a bit of what I’ve been doing mixed with some poorly understood philosophy.

I warn you now this post talks about symbols and is likely to lose me what few followers I have (Hi Dave).

Most of you will be familiar with this symbol:

Yinyang

Yinyang

Yin & Yang is something of a mistranslation as this implies the two things are somehow distinct and separate (which somewhat misses the point).  The Yinyang symbolises the unity of opposites and how the entire universe is in a perpetual state of flux. The ‘eyes’ are also important in representing that there is always mixing of opposites, hard within soft, light within dark… bloody hell I sound like E L James.

Now what you’ll probably also be familiar with is this symbol:

Omote Manji

Omote Manji

Which has nothing, whatsoever to do with the Nazis. In fact it serves basically the same function as the yinyang above. If anything it’s a more interesting symbol; the crossing bars representing not only the unity of opposites, but also that all things are on a spectrum…

But enough Zen, time to talk about fists!

A couple of weeks ago was the BSKF (British Shorinji Kempo Federation) Taikai (tournament). Shorinji Kempo is a martial art that I’ve been doing on and off for the better part of a decade and, having recently gotten back into training, I thought it might be fun to enter. There were a number of categories and, keeping in mind all the unity of opposites stuff above I decided to do a solo demonstration piece and enter the tan-en (single form kata), then a demonstration piece with my fellow kenshi in the dan-tai embu (group kata) and finally pit myself against others in the randori (sparring).

"Like a short-sighted Exocet"

“Like a short-sighted Exocet”

I think the single-form went pretty well, in fact I managed to come joint first. I felt like I messed up and am sure there were things that could have gone better, but I’m also sure that in competition you’ll always win when you feel you don’t deserve to and lose when you feel you do.

Guess who's doing this without a partner...

Guess who’s doing this without a partner…

This was followed by group kata and, after a whole week of practice it went pretty smoothly (we came third overall).

One of numerous pictures of me getting my backside handed to me...

One of numerous pictures of me getting my backside handed to me…

My final event was the sparring and, to be honest, after the nerves and excitement of the kata I wasn’t really feeling up to it… which is a mealy-mouthed way of saying I crashed out in the first round.

We are the champions etc...

We are the champions etc…In case you’re wondering mine’s the little one on the floor to the left of centre.

My own highs and lows aside it was an excellent result for City Dojo where I train, with everyone showing up getting at least a certificate and between us taking away five trophies (although I’ve agreed a time-share on mine).

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this little glimpse at what I get up to in my free time and whilst I’m not any sort of authority on zen, buddhism or the martial arts, if you’ve enjoyed seeing me get kicked ten ways from Sunday maybe have a look into dojos near where you are?

Incomplete Recollection

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Good storytelling is the art of suspending disbelief. This is helped immensely by writers doing their research properly so that, even if something occurs that the reader doesn’t expect, it makes more sense that way.

Good example: Firefly

All the exterior shots (in the series at least) of ships in space are silent save for bursts of radio communication and occasional incidental music. It’s an accurate portrayal of the absence of sound in a vacuum seen almost nowhere else and serves to underline the sheer loneliness of the wilderness the series is set in.

Bad example: Total Recall (2012)

What did the new film take away from the original Paul Verhoven adaptation of Dick’s work? Well there’s the dark sense of humour, the graphic violence and the joys of Schwarzenegger saying “Get your ass to Mars!”

What did it add? An improbably complicated transport system through the middle of the planet that may as well have the words “Action set-piece” painted on the sides in eighteen foot high letters of flame.

Firstly let’s look at the reason for “The Fall” being there. Supposedly this is to facilitate the daily movement of a large workforce from “The Colony” to the “United Federation of Britain” (wow guys, subtle). which doesn’t strike me as particularly cost-effective. I mean, given that the major industry in the UFB appears to be the manufacture of robots, wouldn’t it make more sense to use the local population? Especially if, as is implied, this place is so overcrowded that the most valuable resource is living space. But no, instead it makes more sense to build a tunnel through the planet.

Next is the simple geographical mistake that Australia isn’t on the exact opposite side of the planet to the UK. New Zealand is something of a better bet and, yes the computer graphics in the film do show the tunnel curving a bit, but this just raises more questions than it answers (of which, more later).

Let’s gloss over that for now and look at the most glaring problem.

If you were to make a hole through the middle of the planet, then add a few simplifying assumptions (uniform density, no air resistance, no change in temperature from passing through/near to the planet’s core) and drop something in; it would accelerate towards the centre, then decelerate on its way out, reaching the other side in a little over 42 minutes (not the rather optimistic seventeen portrayed in the film). The key thing is, if you were to do this with some kind of vehicle then, for everyone on board, they would be falling at the same rate, making them effectively weightless for the entire trip (like the zero-gravity training astronauts undertake on aircraft).

This is quite a cool idea and could’ve led to some very dramatic inception-style stunts. But instead the director seems to have decided that people won’t be able to get their heads around this and instead opts to portray everything as having normal gravity except for a minute or two as “The Fall” passes the planet’s core. This might not seem like much but the failings are painfully apparent, especially when the action sequence reached its end and objects couldn’t seem to decide whether they were going to behave in a realistic fashion, or stay stuck to objects by some kind of Hollywood super-gravity.

If they’d done it properly it would’ve made for a spectacular set-piece that stands up to at least an a-level physics level of deconstruction.

But it gets worse when you try to look closer. Firstly, the planet doesn’t have a uniform density. Odd though it may sound, the acceleration due to gravity actually increases inside the earth due to the greater density of the earth’s core (if you were to stand on the surface of the core you would actually be heavier than at the planet’s surface, despite having less of the planet beneath you).  Now this wouldn’t make much difference in our scenario as whatever acceleration is being felt, it’s felt by the vessel and occupants equally, so they still remain effectively weightless. But if we look at a tunnel that skirts the outside of the planet’s core (like the info-graphic suggests) things get even weirder.

Firstly this means we’re no-longer free-falling, we’re instead sliding down a very steep slope. This is fine if we assume that “The Fall” isn’t just a fall but has some sort of high-temperature superconducting mag-lev system (along with the complete vacuum we’ve already assumed in the tunnel). First of all we’re no-longer dealing with an effective absence of gravity. instead what we have is a pull towards the planet’s core that starts off relatively small at each end, but gets suddenly very strong as the vessel passes the core, so much so that, at the moment is passes the edge of the core, the pull of gravity towards the core is actually stronger than when standing on the earth’s surface. So instead of weightlessness at the centre, this is when you’d feel gravity the most… and it’d be pinning you to the wall rather than either the floor or the ceiling.

But it gets worse when we look closer still. In order to achieve the transit time of seventeen minutes we’d have to accelerate the vessel more than gravity would do on its own. This would effectively stick everyone to the ceiling at either end, not to mention require a huge amount of energy both to push the vessel down hard on its drop towards the core, and then to decelerate it enough to stop it flying into the stratosphere upon its exit on the far side.

So, in summary, a contrivance that fails on every level.

To really put this into perspective; crime writers have been known to be given a hard time by readers over inappropriate use of SOCOs (scenes of crime officers) rather than CSIs (Crime Scene Investigators). Whereas errors on this level would be more akin to Rebus donning a super-hero costume, rugby tackling some muggers and then locking them up in his basement.

Teaser

Just a quick update following on from the last post to let you all know that Iain M Banks did indeed appear in Manchester and a fun time was had by all.

I’ve penned a more thorough review here.

It’s deliberately a little brief, mainly because I’m currently in the process of editing together my the audio of the event into a podcast that should hopefully be winging its way to your ears anon.

In the meantime here’s a little teaser.

Scottish Fiction

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Just a brief post tonight, mainly to tell the world how good it feels to be back in Manchester.

I’m up for the Literature festival and will be heading off shortly to attend the release of Iain Banks‘ new book “The Hydrogen Sonata”

The non-specific title should be enough to tip you off that this is Iain Banks with an ‘M’ and said Sonata is the latest in his ever-entertaining ‘Culture’ series.

A review of the book will have to wait until I’ve read it (and a review of the event will have to wait until it’s up on the Manchester Literature Festival Blog), but in the meantime I’d like to ponder a little on what makes Banks such an entertaining writer:

First and foremost is the simple fact that he is a Scottish writer. By which I don’t just mean he’s a writer who’s Scottish, but a writer who gleefully sets most of his non sci-fi writing in Scotland. In contrast to Ian Rankin, this doesn’t rely on a single character to maintain interest but a diverse cast of engaging characters and stories that refuse to contemplate for a micro-second that Scotland is any less deserving of attention than England, France, America.

It’s probably also of no surprise that Banks is an advocate of Scottish Independence.

Where his non sci-fi books are firmly gripped to a contemporary, realistic Scotland, his sci-fi is outlandish to the brink of farce, yet it has enough internal detail, consistency and focus on human characters (albeit ‘human’ in a very loose use of the term) that this never really threatens the suspension of disbelief.

One of the recurring themes in these books is terrifying hyper-weapons being in the hands of benign eccentrics… which probably says more about Banks’ real view on political ideology than anything the SNP has come out with.