Spin, which won the Hugo Award in 2005, is a novel that often feels more like speculative fiction than science fiction. Like much of the work of Kim Stanley Robinson and of Margaret Atwood, Spin takes place in a hypothetical present, and uses current themes and concepts and a solid narrative with strongly developed characters as a backbone for more fictional and apocalyptic speculations.

These speculations revolve around the unexplained appearance of a membrane around the Earth, apparently placed by some extra terrestrial intelligence whose motives will only be revealed at the end of the book. Outside of the membrane, the universe expands at a rapidly accelerating rate, implying that without the membrane, the Earth will quickly fry under the rays of our exploding sun. However, the origin of the membrane remains unclear to the people of the Earth who are condemned to live without understanding why, how, and especially how long. How long until the membrane disappears, signifying the end of the human race?

It is within this existential end-of-the-world context that Wilson develops the story of three friends whose lives will evolve differently under the constant presence and threat of the membrane. Each will use the inescapable uncertainty and ambiguity that now permeates life on earth to make different decisions and to interact with the world according to their own motivations. Yet, their path will cross often, and the truth behind the appearance of the membrane will bring them together in their search for answers.

Despite the fact that Wilson brings additional themes to his story such as conscious self-replicating nanomachines, humanity’s depletion of Earth’s natural resources, the terraforming and colonization of Mars (the depiction of which is in mind one of Spin’s few weak points), and the connection of various parts of the universe through wormhole-like gates, it is the tale of the three friends confronting the realities of a doomed world that dominates Spin. It is not often that a Science Fiction writer tries and succeeds in bringing such depth to his or her characters. Wilson has done just that with Spin and has done it on a canvas of interesting apocalyptic conjectures and ideas that are reminiscent of Greg Bear’s The Forge of God.

Back in 1989, i went to The Rolling Stones’ Steel Wheels reunion concert, and i remember feeling torn between accepting that some people feel the need to ‘do it again’ or to ‘do it one more time’, and not understanding why some do not seem to realize that their best is behind them and that by refusing to let bygones be bygones they run the risk of destroying something that was previously precious. It turns out that The Stones still had a few years left in them, and not everyone had been as unimpressed as i was.

Unimpressed is also the word i would use to describe my reaction after watching Indiana Jones 4. Or perhaps unenthusiastic. Or unconvinced. Or indifferent. There is enough quality in IJ4 to keep one fairly entertained, but there is also something crucial missing, something that was at the core of the previous Indiana Jones films (at least number 1 and 3). Like the Star Wars prequels, which emphasized action and visual effects over character development and dialog, Indiana Jones lost its heart (and wit) and became an unemotional succession of well-choreographed but soulless and stereotypical action scenes.

It is hard to believe that it took so long for Ford, Lucas and Spielberg to agree on the script and to finally end up with this sub par effort that for the most part recycles previous material.

A group of people in Hawaii recently decided to sue CERN over the potential dangers of the Large Hadron Collider Project. The project, located in Switzerland, is the largest scientific project ever undertaken by humanity and attempts to recreate the conditions of the early universe in a tunnel. This led to fears by a few skeptics that the project could potentially open up a black hole here on earth. While these fears have been dismissed by all scientists, they nonetheless help spark the imagination of a populace who is unfortunately more than willing to embrace worse case scenarios about science and about the future of our planet.

Such an implausible scenario is the foundation for Frank Darabont’s latest film (based on a story by Stephen King), The Mist, an old-fashioned monster flick that chills the spine and abounds with dark and pessimistic nihilism. Darabont, who is better known for directing sugar-coated fares such as The Shawshank Redemption (1994) and The Green Mile (1999), shows us a very sinister side of his personality with this truly scary and grabbing film in which all kinds of monsters from another dimension are let loose on a quiet village in New England.

But The Mist is more than just a suburban Cloverfield (2008). It also takes a shot at religious fanatism, at the scientific and military establishments and at a right-wing conservative and small-minded America. In the tradition of many monster movies from the 50s, behind its layer of superficial but effective entertainment (if horror fulfills your entertainment needs that is) lies a social commentary that offers a reflection on the US’ post 9/11 malaise.

With the exception of Back to the Future (1985), i can’t recall a film using time travel as a premise and not completely dividing audiences and critics alike. In fact, it would seem that time travel has become a clear recipe for automatic B movie classification in the minds of most people (films such as The Butterfly Effect (2004) do little to help this bad reputation). Since the majority of the world continues to regard the possibility of time travel as pure fantasy, it is indeed difficult to imagine why these same people would approach a time travel film seriously. And that is unfortunate, since this immediate negation of the possibility of time travel clearly has an effect on one’s ability to assess these films in a fair manner.

With The Jacket for example, a film that deals with a hospitalized gulf war veteran being able to project himself into the future after being injected with hallucinogenic drugs and being locked up in a drawer (this strange treatment, concocted by a mad doctor played by Kris Kristofferson, is part of a shock therapy for violent patients), most critics seemed unable to take seriously the idea of time traveling from one’s mind and by being placed in a tight and closed-in environment such as a drawer. I suppose some kind of nice helper device such as a time machine or a tunnel wrapped in plastic foil, or even a never fully explained elaborate apparatus might make it a bit easier, but a drawer just doesn’t cut it. Also, there is the usual tendency to identify time travel inconsistencies and to seek a clean resolution without any open issues or questions. Any loose end that remains at the end only fills the already uncertain viewer with additional doubt and ambiguity.

I realized some time ago that, not only is time travel possible (after all, who are you not to trust Albert Einstein?), but also that we no longer need to be afraid of inconsistencies. As the theory of parallel universes grows in popularity, it provides an interesting way to approach time travel and to envision different scenarios playing into the future. In The Jacket, the character played by Adrian Brody seems to be capable of transporting himself into the future, or perhaps, into a parallel universe, with only his brain as a catalyst. The drawer and the drugs are enablers (this also formed the basis for the excellent 1980 film Altered States), as is the fact that his brain structure has probably been rearranged by the wound shot he received during the war, but there is no external device that helps him achieve this. Only his mind. Is this far fetched? Perhaps a bit but that does not make it impossible. As i explained in my review of Jumper (2008) and of The Connectivity Hypothesis, there is plenty about the mind we do not know and have forgotten. Could the unlocking of various regions of our brains allow us to teleport ourselves or to time travel? After all, there is mounting evidence that ESP, telepathy, levitation, telekinesis and other supposedly ‘paranormal’ activities might in fact be the products of minds that have learned to reprogram or restructure themselves, or perhaps even more simply, to open themselves to long lost possibilities.

The Jacket has some good performances and an appealing cinematography. Directed by the artistically inclined John Maybury, the film is slow and deliberate, which, again, if one is not buying into the material, will make it seem arrogant and tedious. Shot in the cold snowy winters of Quebec and Scotland, the atmosphere is heavy and dreary and adds nicely to the feelings of madness and confusion experienced by the lead protagonist. A better than average film, the Jacket falls somewhere between the scary intensity of Jacob’s Ladder (1990), the intriguing modernity of Donnie Darko (2001) and the strong visuality of Stay (2005).

Destination Moon, co-written by the great Robert Heinlein, is a reasonably good effort at a depiction of the first human flight to the Moon. It certainly does not reach the level of sobriety and all-around professional filmmaking of such classics as The Thing from Another World (1951), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) or Forbidden Planet (1956), but it nevertheless tries very hard to convey (more or less) accurately the human and technical challenges of reaching the moon.

In between the amusing standard 1950s silliness of some of the acting and dialogues and the irritating shallow displays of courage and patriotism, there are some interesting moments and one can’t help but being impressed by the amount of care that went into the special effects and in trying to understand the science behind reaching the Earth’s only natural satellite. One has to bear in mind that this film was shot several years before the Soviet Union’s Luna and Sputnik Programs produced their first results and 19 years before NASA succeeded in sending the first astronauts to the moon. Last but not least, it would be another 3 years before Tintin walked on the Moon!

It is refreshing to be reminded of a time when people were truly excited about progress and technology and still dreamt about the future.

A couple of interesting things happened shortly before i left my flat to go watch Wall-E (2008).

First, i finished reading Citizen Cyborg by James Hughes. The book, which i will soon review on this blog, makes a compelling case for Democratic Transhumanism, and as a subset of this, for extending certain rights to non-Humans (be it Apes, Dolphins, Elephants, Robots or Aliens…), under the argument that we have an obligation to treat anyone or anything capable of feelings and of self-awareness in the same manner (or almost the same manner, depending on various criteria) that we would (should) treat our fellow human beings. The second thing that happened is that i came across two very recent articles that proved timely and appropriate in their relevance to Pixar’s new film: Emotional robots in the spotlight and When Human Rights Extend to Nonhumans.

As a Democratic Transhumanist and Technogaianist who grew up absorbing large quantities of Science Fiction cinema and literature, i have never felt anything remotely bizarre or ‘abnormal’ in the idea of giving some human rights (and one day, equal rights) to non-human creatures. It is a very arrogant notion to think that only human beings deserve the right to not be tortured, beaten or imprisoned. All animals today deserve at least to be treated with fairness and in a similar fashion to the way we (should) treat human beings who suffer from mental or physical handicaps. And the more intelligent animals are and then become (through genetic engineering), the more rights they should receive. The same applies to robots. Many people continue to harbor negative feelings towards robots, and most cinematic or media representations of robots and artificial intelligences still tend to focus on dystopic visions and worse-case scenarios for the future, but as soon as you place these people in front of a little machine that makes cute sounds or starts to even remotely act human (Honda’s ASIMO or Sony’s Qrio for example), their fear begins to alleviate and the possibility suddenly arises that this machine might be worthy of our empathy after all. As machines become more intelligent and more human, we will learn to treat them with respect, and one day, we might even forget that they are machines (overcoming in the process the challenges posed by the theory of The Uncanny Valley). This process will not be easy and we can expect to meet many Luddites and robot-haters (human-racists) along the way, the type of narrow-minded and hateful people that Steven Spielberg portrayed in his film Artificial Intelligence: A.I (2001). But ultimately, old-style humans will become just one of several types of creatures existing on Earth and on other planets, and issues of rights will turn out to be increasingly relevant and important.

Enters WALL-E, Pixar’s latest magical creation, a little box of a robot (who looks uncannily like E.T (1982)) designed to collect the waste that has covered the surface of the Earth. Humans have long left the planet, unable to co-exist with the garbage that they created. Instead, they now live in gigantic spaceships, their every need attended to by machines, and their ‘humanity’ slowly disappearing as they become fat, illiterate and totally devoid of social aptitudes. This dystopic representation of the future is very much based on early 21st century fears regarding our abuse of the environment and of natural resources, obesity, sedentary lifestyles, addiction to the internet, and loss of old-fashioned values and traditions, but it fails to take into account the technological advances that will make some of these problems obsolete. Still, these issues are today very real, and even if progress helps us overcome them in the future, they must nonetheless be addressed today. The pollution of our planet, for example, by our relentless need for energy and consumption, and by the greed of corporations, is slowly turning into a global catastrophe with potentially dire consequences for Earth and its inhabitants.

It is thus on this fairly bleak canvas that Pixar paints a love story between two robots who risk their lives to help bring life and humanity back to a desolate Earth. Pixar has repeatedly shown with Toy Story (1995), Finding Nemo (2003), The Incredibles (2004), and Ratatouille (2007) that animation has the power to move adults and children alike and that animated films deserve to be given the same credit as non-animated features. With WALL-E, they manage to develop a powerful and extremely moving love story between two machines, and to raise several pertinent current issues in the process. Some have argued that the film loses some of its edge as it goes along, especially with its fairly cliché happy ending. However, and i like bleakness as much as the next Frenchman, i personally see WALL-E as a fairy tale that needs no apology for its happy resolution. Pixar already pushed the envelope plenty with this animated feature and I don’t think that keeping the bleakness going to the very end would have been appropriate. So simply let the joy and entertainment of ‘WALL-E the love story’ overcome you and view its morale as a call for awareness and action rather than as an apocalyptic message. Oh, and don’t forget: robots can be human too.

I once submitted several questions to the online discussion platform for social and environmental change www.droppingknowledge.org (a platform which I helped build). One of these questions raised the issue of whether it makes sense to spend so much money on space exploration when so much needs to be done on earth. I asked the question because this theme is of interest to me, although I have never believed that reducing our investment in space programs would directly and positively affect problems such as poverty or pollution. It is not simply more money that we need to overcome these problems. It is commitment and sacrifices of another kind. Nonetheless, I have encountered many social thinkers and environmentalists who see no purpose in space exploration and regard it as a waste of resources and while I can see their point to a certain extent, I remain fully convinced in the beauty and mystery of space exploration. I also believe that man’s destiny lies in the stars and that it will not be long before some of us begin to leave the blue planet behind.

In the Shadow of the Moon is a outstanding documentary film on the Apollo Space Program (the Mercury Program is briefly mentioned, referencing The Right Stuff, the book by Tom Wolf, which was turned into an excellent film by Philip Kaufman in 1983), narrated by the small group of men who had the privilege, and courage, to be the first humans to step on an alien world. The film is remarkably well put together and adroitly combines the fascinating tales and emotional insights of the astronauts with some amazing footage from NASA. It all feels so real that one immediately forgets that the film is an assemblage of original footage taken 35 years ago by cameras in cockpits or attached to spacecrafts and lunar modules. This footage is so skilfully intertwined with the narrative that one could be forgiven for thinking that the film crew shot additional footage to serve the storyline. What can not be forgiven however, after watching this brilliant and intensely touching film, is to continue thinking that the moon landings were a creation of the US government and that they in fact never took place. I believe there is plenty of proof in In the Shadow of the Moon to dispel any such absurd notions.

But what stands out the most for me after watching this film is the spirituality that these men developed after experiencing not only the beauty of the cosmos but also the serenity and fragility of our planet as seen from space. Some of the shots of Earth taken by the astronauts during the various Apollo flights have become omnipresent in our media over the past 30 years and, more importantly, have become synonymous in certain circles with a visualization of our planet as the self-regulating homeostatic organism named Gaia. First proposed by Dr. James Lovelock (who incidentally started developing his theory while working for NASA) in the early 70s, but already hinted at by Vladimir Vernadsky in the 1920s in his seminal book The Biosphere, the Gaia theory has been embraced by most people who feel empathy towards our planet and who regard it as a connected and living organism that deserves our respect and attention. And while Gaianism has been around for a while, and has even regained some of its momentum in the past few years due to the increased number of environmental issues facing our planet, a new belief has emerged, one that merges a deep respect for the Earth and all of its living creatures with a conviction in the powers of technology to help us overcome these issues and to, in the process, achieve a deeper spirituality and a global consciousness. Drawing, among others, on the work of the French monk Teilhard de Chardin who believed that technology would help us reach The Omega Point which is a higher state of global consciousness, these believers in TechnoGaianism, and i am one of them, tend to also be transhumanists with a social agenda and a democratic slant (James Hughes’ Citizen Cyborg is a particularly good reference on this latter subject).

Perhaps we do need Space and to get closer to the stars to remind us not to forget our duties towards Earth. Where some people might detect an irony or even an incompatibility between space exploration and the preservation and love of our planet, I see an interconnectedness following its logical progress and taking the human race to its next step in evolution, clearly driven for the first time in history by Man itself and in agreement with a desire to see all living and non living creatures existing in perfect harmony with this or any other planet and thus, with the cosmos as a whole.

Once in a while, one stumbles upon a work of such quality that one cannot help but to be baffled at how such a work could escape one’s notice for so long. Diaspora, written in 1997 by Greg Egan, is one of the most powerful, mind bending and far reaching book I have ever read.

As I have posted several times before, one of the drawbacks of many Sci-Fi representations and stories brought to the silver screen, is the difficulty in reaching the right balance between depicting a credible future, sometimes a distant future, while at the same time preserving some sense of ‘normality’ as well as traditional frames of references in order to not alienate the viewer. Unfortunately, this balance is rarely reached and most of Hollywood’s visualizations tend to be very limited and writers or directors seem content to show us the same old humans with the same old problems, values and physical characteristics, regardless of when in the future the story might be occurring. Just place these archaic visions of the past in front of a couple of futuristic looking buildings, add some fancy cars with doors that slide vertically and complete the package with the occasional gismo to obtain your average run-of-the-mill Sci-Fi flick.

While Sci-Fi literature offers many possibilities for more credible, fleshed out and geeky visions of the future, there has still been an over-reliance on ‘traditional’ humans as lead or even as only characters. This seems to have changed in the past few years, and the implications of Transhumanisn are increasingly being used as material for many Sci-Fi books. In Diaspora, Greg Egan describes in great detail how the ‘human race’ might split and evolve towards a post human future. While the process of becoming more than human will most likely be very gradual, with humans combining with machines and vice versa (a process that has already started with the adoption of pacemakers, Cochlear implants, prosthetic limbs, or even the mobile phone which has become a natural extension of ourselves), Egan portrays a future a few hundred years hence dominated by three main forms of beings: the Fleshers, ‘traditional’ humans with or without genetic modifications, the Gleisner Robots, robotic shells inhabited by human minds, and the Polis Citizens, the uploaded minds of humans ‘living’ in computer and simulated worlds. In addition, on rare occasions, the polis creates a new mind, a purely artificially conceived one, albeit very human in many ways.

Over a period of several thousand years, Egan traces the quest of some of these Polis Citizens as they attempt to prevent and then escape the destruction of our universe (an early consequence of this destruction is the end of the Fleshers, and thus, the end of humanity as we know it today). This quest will lead these highly advanced non-physical entities, our descendants, to some of the most far-reaching destinations the mind could possibly conceive.

Egan doesn’t shy away from grand mathematical and physical speculation, and for the average reader, his lengthy descriptions of the universe’s most innate workings will seem a bit tedious at times. But sticking through these sections is quite worth it as one is rewarded by an avalanche of fantastic and awe-inspiring concepts. There is plenty to ponder in Diaspora and anyone interested in what existence might be like as an uploaded mind, in a possible direction for the future of the human race, in parallel universes and multi-dimensions, in the potential for alien life, or simply in the infinite mystery and beauty of the cosmos, then this book is an absolute must-read.

I am still somewhat perplexed by Ken MacLeod’s decision to conspicuously display ‘A Space Opera’ on the cover of his book, directly below the title. Is he trying to inform us from the very start that because it is a space opera, we shouldn’t take some of its content too seriously? Is this a way to excuse or justify a certain lightness and comic approach to this story about the future of the human race 400 years from now, after a singularity-type explosion of technological advancement has led to war on earth and to the splitting of the remaining humans in various gangs that compete with one another in space? If yes, is this disclaimer powerful enough to lessen one’s disappointment when reading that the future will be led by a gang of swearing Capitalist Scots or by some East-Asian Communist community of terraformers? Is this fun for 300 pages? I certainly didn’t think so and was bored after 50. The ideas brought forth in Newton’s Wake do not feel challenging and thought provoking enough or have been better depicted in other novels. They seem to rely on a very 20th century understanding of human nature, communication and social interactions. In addition, the lead characters are all quite uninspiring and, in fact, not really likeable, as exemplified by one of the stories which revolves around two musicians who are, in my opinion, two of the most boring characters I have read in a book recently.
In conclusion, my first exposure to the work of a man who is supposedly a new force in Sci-Fi and transhumanist literature has not been a very enjoyable one and it might be a while before I attempt to read another one of his books.

From a futurist perspective, the possibility that everything in the universe is connected by a quantum vacuum (or Akashic field, or any other name that might help define what remains an elusive theory), from the smallest particles to the largest cosmic phenomenon, is a fascinating idea to contemplate.
Many transhumanists, such as Raymond Kurzweil and Hans Moravec, believe in the concept of a future global consciousness, enabled through the merging of the human brain with technology, particularly artificial intelligence. Already today, many are pointing at the rise of social applications, the increasing use of mobile technology and at the speed at which the Internet is evolving, to draw comparisons with various aspects of the human brain. Could the Internet become conscious? It is indeed a possibility that is not to be discounted.
Likewise, it is very likely that, sooner than most people realize, human beings, through mind upload and the development of AI, will be able to achieve a pooled consciousness, which one can only hope will lead to a betterment of many ills that plague our world today.
Yet, this connectivity exists already today, as it has for as long as the universe has existed. Moreover, if we believe the System Theorist and Integral Theorist Ervin Laszlo, our universe, having benefited from the infinite learning of this connectivity and coherence, is itself only an enhancement of previous universes, thereby explaining the ultimate perfection that enables every aspect of our cosmic life to come together and function.
Laszlo further speculates that every atom in our body is connected to every atom in the universe, including naturally to those of our fellow biological entities. To support these claims of connectivity between human beings and the cosmos, Laszlo provides a plethora of examples and scientific tests that have been performed over the past 100 years. Regrettably, the troubling and fascinating results from these tests have been mostly ignored by the scientific community (and by the medical community as well, as explained by, for example, Deepak Chopra in his books on Quantum Healing) and by the public as a whole, who prefers instead to discount them and to classify them as alternative and mystical belief.

This loss of ‘focus’ keeps us as a species from reaching towards global consciousness and higher states of being, a realm which is today the exclusivity of a very few, usually those practicing meditation or those gifted with certain abilities such as healing, clairvoyance or even deep compassion and empathy. While technology can be the promise for a better future, there is no need to wait for the Singularity and beyond for the merging of our minds with that of machines to reach global consciousness. We can renew a process that was lost a long time ago by reaching out to the cosmos and by embracing the possibilities of the quantum vacuum that exists all around us and within us. Because we are the cosmos.

I have never drunk a liter of corn syrup, but i can imagine that it must feel pretty similar to watching The Astronaut Farmer. After a very brief initial period of enjoyment, discomfort sets in, followed rapidly by nausea, resulting in the end in sickness.

This film, about a discharged NASA officer turned farmer who still harbors dreams of going into space and decides to build a rocket in his backyard, has enough cliches and cheap, preachy lines to make you want to forget that the Polish brothers once managed to make two decent films: Northfork (2003) and Twin Falls Idaho (1999) . But the Cohen brothers they are not.

It never ceases to amaze me how much bad acting and miscasting (only Virginia Madsen and Bruce Dern are properly cast and deliver interesting performances) and amateurish writing can still make it to the screen.

Some will be able to look beyond the film’s obvious flaws and will find this feel-good tale entertaining. But its cheap sentimentalism and messages of family, heroism, courage and of the importance of role-models will probably hold more appeal to the US market than to us European cynics.

As we approach the fourth and final season of the TV series Battlestar Galactica, based on the 1978 cult Sci-Fi series of the same name, and with the recent release of the excellent Razor, it is worth stating how surprisingly addictive this modern version is. I can’t remember ever following a TV series for three years in a row, but that is exactly what I have been doing with Galactica, even though I initially got into it somewhat reluctantly, assuming that modern television, which I have come to associate for the most part with trash TV, could not possibly deliver on the promise of the original series, and to a larger extent, could not, week after week, year after year, provide intelligent Sci-Fi.

But Galactica has done just that. There have been many moments when the different style and vision of a new director became too obvious and created a disjunction in the viewing experience and, in some cases, resulted in quite boring episodes, but overall, the series has been consistently solid, entertaining and clever.

Being the cynic that I am, I spent the first few episodes listing all the inconsistencies I could find (and there were many) and why certain things such as fashion, books, pens, products designs, allergies, cancer, city architecture, and much more, all looked and felt so terribly 20th century. A civilization that has mastered the ability to build ships that travel across space but that still writes with pens, uses notebooks and can’t find a cure for breast cancer…At that point, I felt that the problem with Galactica was that it failed where so many Sci-Fi films or series have failed before…it failed to effectively and convincingly create the world that it is supposed to create. Whether for budget reasons or for wanting to keep the viewers in an area of familiarity, or simply, for lack of trying, Galactica uses a large number of current human metaphors, traditions, and habits to portray a world that exists far into the future (or into the past)….but that world should in fact look nothing like today’s world. A civilisation that is capable of building faster-than-light ships, a civilisation that split a long time ago from the civilisation that lived on earth, so long ago in fact that new myths have had time to develop, would dress, eat, behave, live, and possibly even look very different from the way we do today.

But I suppose only Sci-Fi nerds like myself would let that bother them, and in all fairness, I fully realize that sustaining a TV series for 4 years without making these types of mistakes would require a higher budget and/or an increasing reliance on animation and, ultimately, the series would probably end up with a much smaller audience due to a lack of familiar, earth-like, frames of reference.

Despite these initial concerns, I found myself slowly captivated and sucked into this world that adroitly combines human and personal stories with larger issues that draw on current events (torture, war, terrorism, tolerance, politics, genetics….) that also seem fairly plausible as potential issues for the future; well, for the near future at least, since if one looks seriously deep into the future, one would expect some of these issues to be resolved, or at least, to have taken on a very different meaning.
Most of the characters are well developed and cast, and each episode (with the occasional exception) has at its core a strong storyline that offers its own rewards but rarely seems disjointed from the overall and consistent thread of the series.

In the end, it is refreshing and pleasing to see a Sci-Fi TV series being handled with such genuineness and earnest. Battlestar Galactica has definitively done its bit towards restoring credibility to televised Sci-Fi and to Sci-Fi in general.

Take a bland and decent looking actor, place a silly and useless woman at his side whose sole role it is to shriek every five minutes, pair him with a crazy and hyper, but brilliant inventor, use lots of ridiculous costumes and utterly preposterous plastic and latex things like flowers, rocks, bubbly tanks and Martians, place it all in a Victorian context, and you get an unfortunately overly used recipe for making terrible Sci-Fi B movies.

I have never read this novel by HG Wells, but I sincerely hope that this film, about that crazy threesome mentioned earlier getting to the moon long before the first astronauts, has taken plenty of freedom with the original story, as i would hate to think that Wells was capable of such silliness…

This silliness is even more so highlighted when one considers that Planet of the Apes (68) and Kubrick’s 2001 (68) both came out only four years after First Men in the Moon.
The only people who are going to enjoy this film are the ones who watched it when they were children and still remember fondly the absurd Martian latex costumes. For the rest of us, well, let us just keep an open mind.

Often considered one of the best Sci-Fi novels ever written, and winner of the first Hugo award in 1953, The Demolished Man tells the story of Ben Reich, a rich and corrupt businessman in 24th century America, who murdered one of his rivals (the first murder in 70 years) and is being investigated by a very intelligent and telepathic detective. Yawn.

I clearly was not engrossed by this detective story which, aside for the concept of a telepathic society, offers few surprises and interesting ideas. Perhaps it did in the 50’s when it came out but I find it today to be quite dated and to propose a vision of the 24th century that I think is way off the mark and slightly irritating in its simplicity and lack of imagination.

I am offended as I was misled. I was misled to believe that Sunshine is a grown-up, serious and spiritual Sci-Fi flick. Never mind that that I had the chance to visit the set in London and that I read the script in its early stages, thinking that it felt a lot like many other movies I had already watched. I am still offended. Especially considering that Sunshine is fairly grown-up, restrained and ‘realistic’ for about 70% of the film, and thus raises our expectations and gives us the impression that we might just be watching some quality Sci-Fi, until that seriousness dissolves into a explosion of pseudo-horror nonsense that unfortunately brings nothing to the film, and on the contrary, takes much away from its chances at passing on any kind of spiritual message. Instead of aiming for a Solaris or a 2001, it ends feeling like a not very scary Event Horizon. Pity, as Sunshine offered plenty of quality moments, some impactful visuals, and so much potential for raising the bar of Science Fiction cinema…

Peter Bradshaw and Philip French of the Guardian rarely surprise me with their reviews, especially when it comes to Science Fiction, but they certainly did in the case of Sunshine (http://film.guardian.co.uk/Film_Page/0,,2029236,00.html). A case of misplaced British pride?

How to begin an explanation of Illium and of Olympos, two novels published in 2003 and 2005 by Dan Simmons, the remarkable author of the Hyperion series?
Where to begin is even more problematic. Four days after finishing Olympos, i am still trying to make full sense of what i just read, and to determine if it is even worth attempting a summary. Or perhaps the only kind of summary worth attempting is a simple list of concepts and ideas that permeate the two books:

Quantum energy and teleportation. Multiple universes. Time travel. Post humans. Old style humans. Nanotechnology. Brane holes. Avatars. Logosphere. Noosphere. Marcel Proust. Shakespeare. The Tempest. Caliban. Setebos. Greek Gods. Achilles. Moravecs from Jupiter. Olympus Mons. Mars. Ariel. Odysseus. Burning Man. Technological singularity. Nuclear apocalypse. Prospero. Sycorax. ARNists. Rubicon virus. Global Caliphate. Wandering Jew. Nabokov. Pantheistic solipsism….

But whereas Illium successfully and wonderfully sets up this amazing and insane concoction of ideas, themes and concepts and made the reader hungry for more, Olympos fails to deliver and to fulfill our expectations. Too many unanswered questions, and too much delivered too early or over too many pages. Still, if you are interested in stretching your imagination and indulging in a little mind bending space opera, this is it.

A decent 1950’s Sci-Fi effort. The film has its share of silly moments but it tries very hard to deal seriously with a potential invasion of earth by UFOs.

Imagine Independence Day 40 years earlier, with some nasty aliens in foam suits trying to destroy earth and most of its recognizable monuments. Only the ingenuity of a human scientist keeps the invaders from succeeding with their not-very-well-thought-through plan.
The ‘special effects’ were produced by the father of stop motion in cinema, Ray Harryhausen, who would later work on the visual effects for Jason and the Argonauts, One Million Years BC and Clash of the Titans. The UFO’s and their laser beams are particularly well done. The rest is, well, it’s 50’s sci-fi. So let’s not beat a dead horse.

Many scenes reminded me of Tim Burton’s Mars Attacks. It is likely that Earth vs the Flying Saucers is one of the many films that inspired Burton to make his homage.

Isaac Asimov has published over 400 books in his lifetime. This is, apparently, more than anyone else has ever published, in any literary genre. My first reaction when I learned this, is that when someone churns out books so quickly, they are bound to come up at some point (or regularly) with less than average material. Stephen King, for example, is one of these authors whose great works are starting to become invisible in the middle of an ever-growing pile of nonsense.

The Gods Themselves is not one of Asimov’s bests (Asimov declared, however, that this was his favorite novel). It feels to me as if he came up with a great central idea but had to force himself to build a story around it.

This story revolves around the idea of parallel universes and the exchange of energy between these two universes.

‘Aliens’ in a parallel universe find a way to contact earth and to get the people of earth to build a Proton Pump. This pump allows each universe to get a free source of unlimited energy, something that, for different reasons, both sides need badly. But, in each universe, someone realizes that this will come at a cost and tries to stop the pump.

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A winner on several occasions of various ‘worst film ever’ competitions, this film does indeed live up to its reputation.

No efforts were spared for this extravagant science fiction saga in which aliens from space decide to exterminate the human race by turning its dead into zombies…

The costumes are ravishing, the acting of the highest calibre and the production design surely must have had an influence on Ridley Scott and Stanley Kubrick…

Or maybe not…it’s all bad and cheap but, perhaps because I have seen Tim Burton’s film Ed Wood, i couldn’t help but smile at the naivety of it all…

And if one watches long enough, it almost becomes…cute.

In 2005, i had the pleasure of attending a lecture by Michio Kaku for the release of his new book Parallel Worlds. Kaku is a leading theoretical physicist and is often credited as being one of the founders of string theory. He also happens to be a fascinating speaker who seems equally at ease in front of an audience or the press as he is in front of his equations.

For a few decades, physicists have been searching for the theory of everything, the theory that would unite all past works and findings regarding gravity, relativity, nuclear physics, and quantum physics. This theory, it is hoped, would explain our universe, from its smallest particles to its largest phenomenon such as its ever-increasing expansion. String theory and its possible 11 dimensions brought us closer, as did its newer incarnation, M-theory. Now, Kaku argues, the idea that our universe is only one out of an infinity could possibly provide the missing answers to help complete the search for this theory of everything. Kaku writes effectively, clearly and convincingly, revisiting succinctly the various theories of the past, and mixing this information with pertinent examples from science fiction works (showing once again that Science Fiction is nothing other than foretelling the future).
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Film architecture and design has existed almost as long as cinema itself. In 1976, Leon Barsacq argued in Caligari’s Cabinet And Other Grand Illusions that the fantasist sets developed by Georges Melies at the beginning of the 20th century were a considerable improvement over anything that had been done previously in that they created a deeper reality and gave the image a more substantial meaning. He further added that cinema escaped its primitive phase once it moved away from simple backdrops to three-dimensional sets, thereby creating an architectural space within cinema[1]. Post World War I, the German Expressionists fully explored this new architectural space through the creation of sets that attempted to reflect the inner emotions of the characters in the films. And David O. Selznik’s use of the term ‘production design’ in reference to the work of the American director and set designer William Cameron Menzies on Gone with the Wind (1939), finally helped film design and architecture gain the official recognition and visibility that has since become an integral part of the cinematic experience and of the output of most film industries.

Following fairly closely the emergence of production values in the history of cinema has been the rise and acceptance of science fiction cinema. It is indisputable that the two are interconnected and that a process exists where both feed off from one another. Cinema learns from architecture and architecture learns from cinema. As far back as 1926, many architects were said to have been impressed and influenced by Metropolis (1926). Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 (1968) also apparently became a source of inspiration for the world of architecture, with the director himself having sourced a lot of his inspiration from several existing architectural and design trends and concepts. Today, terms like ‘science fiction architecture’, ‘high-tech architecture’ or ‘cyber architecture’ are commonly used to refer to a new and ‘modern’ style of architecture that draws heavily on science fiction and new technologies. For many architects, ‘science fiction is an imaginative form of design’[2], making its visualizations worth studying.

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Winner of an academy award for best special effects in 1954, this film is a precursor to the modern day blockbuster and a brave attempt at bringing Wells’ classic novel to the screen.
As with many Sci-Fi films from the 50’s, one has to alter one’s field of judgment and critical sphere to account for the passing of time.
Yet, other films from that time such as The Day the Earth Stood Still, The Thing from Another World or Invasion of the Body Snatchers have endured much better and continue to appeal to modern audiences.

British Science Fiction cinema has always lived in the shadow of its American counterpart, either as a result of a direct effort to emulate an American style to enable the films to reach broader markets or as an indirect consequence of the fact that, since the 50’s, Science Fiction cinema has been associated with America, drawing on its rich heritage of comics and magazines.

But British Science Fiction cinema has in fact a much greater legacy than is often given credit to. Since the beginning of the 20th century, various British directors and producers have explored the genre, often taking it into new directions, pushing its boundaries, and drawing on the wealth of ideas and masterful works which British Science Fiction writers like H.G Wells, George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Arthur C. Clarke, John Wyndham and Michael Moorcock have produced over the years.

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After the release of Dr. Strangelove in 1964, Kubrick set his sights on Science Fiction.

At that time, America and Russia were fully engaged in a space race that had already witnessed the first men (and woman) in space, and the first unmanned probes to the moon.

The first space walks were only one year away. But more importantly, in the context of 2001, theories abounded about extra terrestrial life and the possibility of ‘alien’ intelligence in the cosmos.

Kubrick was fascinated by this concept and decided it was time to make a serious film about the relationship between Man and the Universe.

He did not take any of the previous science fiction films seriously and was eager to create a vision that would be perfectly plausible and convincing. He enlisted the help of one of the most praised science fiction writer and scientific mind of that time, Arthur C. Clarke. They embarked on 18 months of preparation, with Clarke first writing a novel based on one of his short stories from 1948 (The Sentinel).

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