Al’s Weekly Blog Posting #6—The Hegemony of Computers: The Rise of the Cyberpunk Genre from Karel Capek to Inception

 

In his classic study Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (1991), Fredric Jameson argues that cyberpunk represents “the supreme literary expression if not of postmodenrism, then of late capitalism itself” (419 n1).  Indeed, cyberpunk has become one of the most significant and influential sub-genres of science fiction to develop in the past three decades.  Its focus upon the computerization of society, the attendant rise of the society of control, and the increased power of global corporations mark it, as Jameson points out, as a genre that explores the core of postmodern, late capitalist society.  For Jameson, postmodern refers to cultural period and late capitalist indicates the economic era.  Of course, as Marxist critics like Jameson maintain, economic forces serve as a the base of a society upon which the superstructure of culture is erected.  Cyberpunk is a distinctly postmodern manifestation of science fiction that depicts virtual reality experiences, cyborg bodies, computer networks, global corporations, etc.  In many ways, it is a direct interrogation of what philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard called “the hegemony of computers” in his famous book The Postmodern Condition (1979).  Lyotard argues that knowledge undergoes a transformation in the postmodern era—it loses value in itself and becomes transformed into information, a commodity that can be bought and sold.  Hence, as society becomes increasingly computerized, society begins to only privilege knowledge which can be translated into computer data, into demographics and statistics.  Cyberpunk often depicts dramas surrounding information housing, theft, and retrieval, but the genre goes further than Lyotard by imagining how all aspects of humanity, including consciousness, can be translated into digital form and transferred into the network.  The genre’s origins can be traced back through the history of 20th century science fiction literature and film through the various depictions of robots, cyborgs, and computers, and a brief history of such works will help position Blade Runner (1982) and Ghost in the Shell (1995) in a distinct lineage of science fiction.

The word robot first appeared in Czeck author Karel Capek’s play R.U.R.: Rossum’s Universal Robots (1921).  Capek’s play concerns a factory that begins manufacturing artificial people that the play calls “robots.”  Today, the world “robot” conjures images of unthinking automatons or inhuman machines that run on cold logic.  But Capek’s robots are closer to androids or cyborgs—they look and act like normal human beings.  As the play progresses, the robots end up revolting against their human inventors, a theme that has continued to appear in sci-fi up until the present. 

 

Since Capek’s R.U.R., the history of science fiction literature and film has been replete with depictions of robots, androids, cyborgs, computers, neural networks, and other forms of artificial intelligence.  But two pre-cyberpunk authors deserve particular mention: Isaac Asimov and Philip K. Dick.  Without a doubt, American science fiction author Isaac Asimov’s Robot Series still represents one of the most influential collections of robot tales.  Comprised of numerous short stories and novels, Asimov’s Robot Series later merged with his Foundation novels to create one massive universal history that spans several millennia.  Asimov’s Robot Series was kicked off by a series of stories concerning positronic robots that appeared in science fiction magazines and that were later collected together in the anthology I, Robot (1950).  Almost completely unlike the 2004 Will Smith film of the same name, Asimov’s I, Robot does not represent a coherent narrative but is rather a series of independent short stories strung together by a loose frame story.  The stories developed a concept that still influences fiction about robots and artificial intelligence to this day: the Three Laws of Robotics.  The Three Laws are as follows:

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey any orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

The self-referential nature of the laws demonstrates how the laws are ranked hierarchically, and Asimov’s I, Robot stories deal with the interactions between robots and humans and the logical conundrums that arise for the robots as they attempt to navigate their world according to these three commandments.  The same laws would appear in numerous subsequent science fiction novels, stories, and films by different authors and directors.  For example, Robby the Robot from Fred Wilcox’s classic Forbidden Planet (1956) operates according to Asimov’s three rules.

 

Philip K. Dick took depictions of robots, cyborgs, and other human simulacra to new heights in his various novels that used beings with artificial intelligence to examine the limits of humanity, the potential for machines to be human, and the perhaps even more disturbing premise that humans might be nothing more than machines.  Dick remains most famous for his novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968), the novel that provided the inspiration for Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner—Scott actually took the title of the film from the 1979 William S. Burroughs novella that has no relation to the film.  Dick’s Electric Sheep and Scott’s Blade Runner represent distinct texts that should be examined on their own terms.  They both feature the same plot concerning a man hunting down rogue replicants, cyborgs who have human intelligence, emotion, and appearance.  Scott turns Dick’s satirical story into a brooding neo-noir sci-fi drama, but Dick’s novel—like most of his work—harbors a comedic edge that uses androids to satirize humankind’s belief that they are special, that they are the centers of existence and the apex of the evolutionary ladder.  Dick’s novel dehumanizes humanity by not only depicting the humanity of the androids but also by pointing out the mechinization of the human through devices such as the mood organ and the empathy box.  The mood organ allows individuals to program their emotion for the day—they can program themselves to be anything from businesslike to depressed.  Yes, you can choose to experience a day of black depression if you so desire.  Furthermore, the citizens in Electric Sheep take part in a religion known as Mercerism, which requires them to use Empathy Boxes that allow them to collectively experience the sufferings of Wilbur Mercer.  Mercer’s life consists mostly  of the Sisyphean task of eternally climbing a bmountain.  Hence, in this world—an in ours—androids become like humans and humans steadily lose their humanity.  Dick would explore similar themes in other novels such as We Can Build You (1972) and The Simulacra (1964), both of which feature mechanical humanoids with artificial intelligence. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While the birth of cyberpunk genre proper cannot be entirely attributed to William Gibson, his novel Neuromancer (1984) undoubtedly remains the most influential work in the genre.  Neuromancer takes place in Gibson’s “Sprawl Universe,” which he had already introduced in a series of short stories that appeared in Omni magazine.  The “Sprawl” stories were later collected in a volume entitled Burning Chrome (1986), and Gibson went on to publish his genre-altering “Sprawl Trilogy”: Neuormancer, Count Zero (1986), and Mona Lisa Overdrive (1988).  Set in the not-too-distant future, the “Sprawl” stories and novels depict a world in which cities have spread out and engulfed their surrounding environs and in which information has become the hottest commodity of the day.  Corporations house their information in computers, which are connected together via a network known as “the matrix.”  Because of this depiction, Gibson receives credit for envisioning the Internet and coining the term “cyberspace.”  Hackers are able to break through corporate defense mechanisms and retrieve valuable information.  Gibson’s series also features cyborg characters who have electively altered their bodies with enhanced replacement eyes, razor fingers, etc.  Additionally, the novel develops the concept of digitizing one’s personality and housing it digitally after death, a theme that Philip K. Dick had already explored in his classic novel Ubik (1969).  Numerous other cyberpunk authors cropped up in the 1980s and1990s including Bruce Sterling, Pat Cadigan, and Neal Stephenson.  In particular, Neal Stephenson has represented a significant influence on the genre of science fiction since the early 90s.  Stephenson blends the postmodern, satirical aesthetic of Thomas Pynchon, John Barth, Don DeLillo, etc. together with cyberpunk themes to create a heady mix of satire, sci-fi wonder, and literary complexity.  His novel Snow Crash (1992) has had a lasting impact on the genre of study of science fiction.  The novel depicts a near future in which individuals can insert themselves into an entire digital world via virtual avatars, and it concerns the release of a computer virus in the real world that can infect the brains of users who witness it.  Hence, the novel explores how humans have become computerized, how our brains have been altered on such a fundamental level that computer programs can achieve access to our brains across the barrier of flesh.  Ghost in the Shell develops similar themes with its inclusion of cyber-brains, which allow users to directly access the net via their brain and to communicate almost telepathically with others but which also harbor the danger of one’s brain being hacked and one’s self (or “ghost”) as the film calls it being erased and replaced.

 

As we have discussed in class, we as a society seem to harbor an almost irrational fear about robots and artificial intelligence, a fear that has undoubtedly been inculcated in us by science fiction cinema.  Without a doubt, James Cameron's The Terminator (1984) remains one of the most classic cinematic tales of dystopian robot oppression.  Aside from Piranha 2: The Spawning (1981), the sequel to the 1978 Roger-Corman-produced cult classic that Cameron has subsequently disowned, The Terminator represents the first real James Cameron film.  If you are somehow unfamiliar with The Terminator, it concerns a future in which computers have taken control of the world and enforced their regime of power via nuclear weapons and robot warriors (or terminators, as they are called).  But, in the future, a revolutionary hero named John Connor arises to lead a revolt against the machines.  In order to forestall the revolution, the computers send a terminator back into the past to kill John Connor’s mother.  This terminator represents a new model that is clothed in human tissue (a cyborg) that looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Gritty, brutal, and almost nihilistic, The Terminator combines time travel together with cyberpunk themes to generate a terrifyingly dystopic vision not just of the future but of the then present-day Los Angeles of the 1980s.  Like so many cyborg tales—including Blade Runner—The Terminator is not just a film about the possibility of machines rising up against humanity; it is also a film about humanity itself.  As the sci-fi/action plot of the film develops, a subtler love story also begins to blossom between the two human protagonists (John Connor’s father and mother) who share a single evening of love during their attempts to evade and destroy the terminator.  Their love seems to be what marks humans as different than machines, but in James Carmeron’s sequel Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), we witness that terminators can develop emotions or at least be programmed for commitment and fidelity in a way that mimics human love.  The Terminator has been followed by numerous sequels, comic  book spin-offs, and a television series in which both evil and good cyborgs begin travel through time in a battle for control of the future. 

 

Japanese cinema also began to develop concepts of the posthuman and the cyborg in works that today would be deemed “cyberpunk.”  In particular, Katsuhiro Otomo’s manga series Akira (1982-1990) and its film adaptation had a lasting influence upon cyberpunk, anime, and the entire science fiction genre.   While Akira (1988) does not exactly feature cyborgs, computers, or other cyberpunk tropes, its punk aesthetic and posthuman themes had a lasting influence upon cyberpunk and science fiction in general.  The manga series and the film differ radically, so I will focus on the film for the sake of brevity.  Akira concerns a dystopian future in which the original Tokyo was destroyed in a bizarre explosion and in which a new city—Neo-Tokyo—has been built upon the ashes.  Neo Tokyo is plagued by biker gangs and terrorists.  Against this background, a group of bikers encounters a strange child on a freeway one evening.  One of the bikers, Tetsuo, almost hits the child and his bike explodes.  He is subsequently hauled away by a secret, black ops government group who begin running tests on him to detect psychic abilities.  Tetsuo begins developing almost omnipotent powers of telepathy and telekinesis.  As the film progresses, his power increases to the point where he begins to lose bodily form and absorb everything surrounding him.  Tetsuo becomes an image of both the posthuman and the cyborg—he is an image of the human reduced to pure mind and energy, a post-body human that joins with the universal flow of energy.  Featuring elements of body horror and metaphysical examinations of identity and the universe, Akira represents one of numerous attempts by science-fiction to imagine humanity’s evolutionary future.  Cyberpunk inevitably depicts the computer as the tool that will lead humanity forward to embrace its evolutionary potential.  This future evolutionary leap often entails a consequent loss of bodily form and a reincarnation in a state of pure consciousness, pure energy, or in another state of matter.  Such evolutionary futures often also depict the merging of human consciousnesses into a collective, gestalt entity.  For other examples of such speculative evolutions, see Arthur C. Clarke’s Childhood’s End (1953), Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Greg Bear’s Blood Music (1985), Octavia Butler’s “Xenogenesis Trilogy” (Dawn [1987], Adulthood Rites [1988]. and Imago [1989]) or “Patternist” series (Patternmaster [1976]. Mind of my Mind [1977], Survivor [1978]. Wild Seed (1980), and Clay’s Ark [1984], Hideaki Anno’s anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995-1996). Ryutaro Nakamura’s anime series Serial Experiments Lain (1998).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our second cyborg film, Mamoru Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell (1995), is based on Masamune Shirow’s manga of the same name—Shirow published three volumes of the manga in 1989, 2002, and 2003.  The film gave birth to a sequel that was perhaps even more acclaimed than the original, further manga series, an anime television series, and an anime television movie.  Both Oshii and Shirow are iconic figures in the world of manga and anime.  Shirow also wrote such anime, cyberpunk classics as Appleseed (1985-89) and Dominion (1986), which was the inspiration for the anime series Dominion: Tank Police (1988-89).  Mamoru Oshii has become a major force in Japanese science fiction cinema, both in anime and live-action film.  From directing numerous episodes of the classic anime series Urusei Yatsura (1978-87; or Lum as it was translated in the United States) to helming his own films like Avalon (2001), Oshii has created a diverse filmmography that attests to his brilliance across the cinematic medium. 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Japanese cinema has also created numerous films that combine the body horror genre fully with cyberpunk to create bizarre blends of science fiction, horror, and gore, some of which feature experimental styles and some of which are just b-level genre fare.  The most famous example of this hybrid version of cyberpunk remains Shinya Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989), a bizarre, low-budget, experimental film about a man who transforms into a walking scrap heap.  Visually unnerving, Tetsuo became a cult classic, was followed by two sequels, and influenced later films like Yudai Yomaguchi’s Meatball Machine (2005) about a young woman who is transformed into a biomechanical being after encountering an alien technology.  Meatball Machine still maintains a striking aesthetic, but recent years have also seen the rise of gore-drenched, hyper-sexualized, cyberpunk/body horror hybrids that use the tropes of the genre not to explore the epistemological and ontological questions of their forebears but for pure titillation.  Films like Naboru Iguchi’s The Machine Girl (2008), Yoshihiro Nishimura’s Tokyo Gore Police (2008), and Naoyuki Tomomatsu’s Maid-Droid (2009) include vast amounts of gore, soft-core sex, and sexy cyborg action, but never develop along the intellectual lines of Blade Runner or Ghost in the Shell.  Prolific, Japanese, transgressive auteur Takashi Miike (Audition [1999], Ichi the Killer [2001], Visitor Q [2001], Gozu  [2003], and Sukiyaki Western Django [2007]) turned the genre to comic effect in his film Full Metal Yakuza (1997), which plays like a Japanese parody of Paul Verhoeven’s Robocop (1987).  Finally, the genre has been pushed into truly transgressive space by Taiwanese-American visual artist and experimental filmmaker Shu Lea Cheang’s I.K.U. (2001), which was advertised as a “Japanese Sci-Fi Porn Feature.”  Inspired by Blade Runner, the film features pornographic sex scenes as a means of attacking Japanese censorship.  The film’s title comes from the slang word “iku,” which literally means “I’m coming.”  The film concerns shape-shifting cyborgs that seduce subjects and collect data from subjects at the moment of orgasm.  I.K.U.  was the first pornographic film to ever be screened at the Sundance film festival.  While not all of these are great films, they do demonstrate how the images of the cyborg and the posthuman have infiltrated pop culture on a fundamental level.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Indeed, two films from the last twelve years demonstrate how the themes of cyberpunk have become fundamentally hard-wired into our culture to the point where such films can become mega-blockbusters. In 1999, Andy and Larry (now Lana) Wachowski released their cyberpunk thriller entitled The Matrix, which depicted a hacker named Neo who discovers that his entire world is an illusion.  In reality, computers and robots rule the earth and keep humans as prisoners who serve as their batteries.  The humans are plugged into the matrix, a computer simulation that the humans believe to be their life on earth.  Despite its heady sci-fi themes, the film became a major success and led to two sequels: The Matrix Reloaded (2003) and The Matrix Revolutions (2003).  In 2010, Christopher Nolan released an even more heady, complex, and convoluted film about the nature of reality.  His film, Inception, concerns dream thieves who are capable of infilitrating one’s dreams to receive information and even implant ideas, both of which are classic sci-fi themes.  Despite its depressing, surrealistic, and often hard-to-follow plot, Inception became one of the big hits and most talked about films of 2010. 

Before our screening Tuesday night, Charles brought up the comparison that his high school teacher had made between Blade Runner and The Matrix with Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” from Book VII of The Republic (c. 380 BC).  As I was watching Blade Runner, this seemed like a genuinely though-provoking comparison that could lead us to discuss invisible truths, perceptions of reality, concepts of the universe and identity, etc.  If you’re not familiar with the “Allegory of the Cave,” I highly suggest reading it.  It’s short and can be found here: http://www.historyguide.org/intellect/allegory.html.  Also, in case you are interested, In Blade Runner, when Roy and Leon visit the eye doctor, Roy enters with a misquotation from William Blake’s America: A Prophecy  (1793).  Roy states, “Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc.”  The original line is “Fiery the angels rose, and as they rose deep thunder roll’d.  Around their shores: burning with the fires of Orc.”  Roy’s allusion to Blake’s poem seems to juxtapose him with Orc, the regenerative hero of Blake’s poem, but his misquotation in which he describes the angels as falling instead of rising recalls Lucifer and John Milton’s Paradise Lost.  Indeed, the scene in which Roy literally meets his maker, Tyrell, recalls the scene from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in which the creature meets his father Victor Frankenstein.  Like the creature, Roy was created by Tyrell against the natural order of things, and he lives his life on Earth as a pariah.  The comparison to the creature further draws us back to Milton’s depiction of Satan because Frankenstein’s monster identifies with Milton’s epic poem and its depiction of Lucifer’s fall.  Finally, I will indulge in a somewhat narcissistic moment by pointing out that I discuss William Gibson, Ghost in the Shell and our next two films (Primer [2004] and La jetee [1962]) in my dissertation, “Variables of the Human: Theoretical Utopianisms and Heterotopian Science Fictions,” which you can access online through the library if you are interested in such things: http://dc.lib.unc.edu/cdm4/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/etd&CISOPTR=3084.  The chapter on anime has been published separately as an article in the journal Intertexts. 

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

When Invasion of the Body Snatchers was released in 1956, it was considered one of the best films of the year. As many posters have already written, the movie was an allegory for McCarthyism and Communism, but I think it should be remembered that it was probably a bit terrifying to audiences. Audiences during that time period would not have noticed the corny jokes or awkward lines (especially by policemen) that we notice today. It did not have monsters, violence, or death, but its plot is intensely thought-provoking and the soundtrack adds suspense. As one of the first examples of a sci-fi thriller with a political message, Invasion of the Body Snatchers is clearly a template for later filmmakers. In fact, District 9 is in the politicized sci-fi thriller mode, as are more current films like Minority Report and V for Vendetta.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

First, I think Invasion of the Body Snatchers has very exaggerated acting that sometimes undermines the plot. I find it interesting that Don Siegel chose to use alien-human imitations to discuss the ideas surrounding communism and McCarthyism during the 1950's. The story could have had the same affect or sent the same message without using the cover of a sci-fi movie. I think this is similar to District 9's attempt at a political and social commentary. At the same time, the sci-fi aspects of both movies indirectly shows the audience the faults of the society they live in without blatantly criticizing them, which may diminish the effect of the message. I do think that the exaggerated acting and attempt at a realistic love story take away from the fear the director is trying to establish in the audience. Without this fear in being taken over by humanoids and losing all sense of yourself, the movie fails to strongly convey the fears of society, but is instead a merely entertaining film.

I do think that the ending of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers is the most interesting and thought provoking part of the film. The twist at the end with Becky turning into the humanoid forces the audience to lose hope and invokes a greater desire for Miles to win. I think this part sends a message that even in the face of impending doom and complete destruction you should still continue onwards, which is a well needed directive for the audience. I do; however, find the final shot of Miles very enticing because his facial expression leaves the audience wondering what may actually happen, which is very reflective of the times. Specifically, I questioned whether or not calling in the national guard was actually going to save all these people from the invasion of the humanoids, or if it was another lost attempt just as Becky was in the end. I think this is the most realistic aspect of the movie and essential to showing how McCarthyism impacted the lives of many people. They sought help during those times, but were never guaranteed their success.

Alien

I was throughly impressed with Alien. I had always though of it has a horror film, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it more of a sci-fi action with a bit of body horror. I did find the body horror to be hard to watch purely because it truly looks like something I would obviously never want to experience. I think the story is interesting, especially given that they go find these things in the 2nd one. I think that while it is a cool story and a great movie, I find it comical how futile the aliens end up being. Stephen Hawking claims that we need to stop searching for alien life forms and need to be far more afraid of them then we are. He claims that if we were to run into another life-form it would probably be so technologically advanced it would either destroy us or enslave us similarly to the way the aliens do the towns people. I find it interesting how parts of the film leave me feeling like I would never stand a chance against the alien, but then there are times where you are left feeling like the humans somehow have the advantage. Sci-fi films are still bound to human rationality in order to please the audience; thus leaving us as the eventual victors. I wonder how people would like an alien movie that is slightly more realistic and doesn't have a happy ending for the humans.

Alien

I personally did not enjoy this movie. I feel that I may have missed the point. To me, it just seemed like a bunch of gory alien horror. The only significant theme I can recall is the dangers of space age technology and the horror of encountering things outside of our world. Weaver's character seems to be the only rationally-thinking person on the entire spaceship who is more concerned about the well-being of the entire crew than the discovery of another species in outer space. She serves as the voice of reason among a cast of whimsical characters who tend to make rash decisions. Had her fellow crew members listened to her about leaving the alien creature outside of the craft despite the fact that one of them would die because of it, the majority of them would have been saved. = believe this serves to show the way humans are often very impulsive in the face of panic. e cannot seem to differentiate between the costs and benefits of our actions when there is so much at stake. It seems as though the horror and wonder of being outside of one's element.

Man vs. Woman/ Phalluses?

So before I begin my post, I will state that I did not watch Alien, thinking, oh yeah, I can totally see the phallic imagery used throughout the film. No. My oh-so-tactful boyfriend began discussing the phallic imagery of the film while we were eating dinner. Needless to say, I lost my appetite. Yet I was shocked to find myself agreeing with a lot of details/scenes he brought up. I became interested in the production art and came upon articles and videos about Swiss artist H.R. Giger, one video of which I have posted below. Please watch the video; I think we might all agree that the paintings/sculptures he creates are at once disturbing, yet hauntingly beautiful. I wonder at humans; we are often fascinated by what scares and disturbs us. Forgive me that tangent.

Back on topic- Alien. When watching the film I was struck by the art, the design of the aliens, and the design of the two ships of the film. Before discussing phalluses, I wanted to briefly discuss the spinal imagery in the movie. I was struck by the walls of the alien spaceship and by the "space jockey" alien. There appeared to be spinal-like outlines on the floor and walls of the ship. Giger’s designs seem to play upon a manipulation of the skeleton and the spine. The video I posted just shows how Giger uses a spinal design in his artwork- how interesting that a most human characteristic- the vertebrae- human backbone- is what Giger comes to associate with alien life forms. Hmm. What could Giger be indicating about humanity/aliens through this art?

And now back to a Freudian topic- a look at phalluses and phallic imagery in the film. I was taken aback by the notion that the alien’s eyeless, great long head looked like a penis. Actually, yeah, it kind of does, right? I’m not the kind of person obsessed with putting everything in terms of sex and latent sexual desires, but I think one might comment on the remarkable way the film depicts men versus women. The women of the film seem to have the better intuitions. And as Ripley demonstrates, she has the strongest character and determination; she is a survivor. While Lambert dies and is arguably not made of the stuff Ripley is, throughout the film she is constantly suggesting that taking in the alien egg and doing certain things is not a good idea. Though Dallas and the android (android Bilbo) obstinately push to keep the alien aboard, Ripley and Lambert want to follow procedure (quarantine) and feel suspicious of the facehugger/alien. So, I might argue that the heroine’s defeat of a penis-shaped alien suggests female strength, resilience, and spirit. Ripley is independent, she is alone; but she uses her bravery and mind to outwit the alien.

This post turned out to be more a description of a man vs. woman theme than a discussion of phallic imagery, but I think a mention of phallic imagery can get the ball rolling on everyone’s imagination. In addition, I wanted to note that Ridley Scott wanted in the final sequence of the movie for the Alien to kill Ripley but the studio determined that Alien had to die and Ripley survive. As a result of this film, Sigourney Weaver shot to stardom and is listed as one of the greatest, most “bad-ass” women in film history. What a different kind of film we would have had if this had happened- would it have been as iconic?

Science Fiction and Energy Weapons

Several of the science fiction films we have watched including Alien and District 9 include some sort of energy weapons. When I refer to energy weapons, I am referring to any type of weapon that is not of the traditional projectile-releasing type. These types of weapons have caught my attention because they seem to be unnecessary to say the least. The current state of human military innovation has proven time and time again to be perfectly capable of causing as much damage as desired to a target. The question I now find myself wondering is why there is a fascination with such advanced weaponry in science fiction. The weapons found throughout science fiction films are far beyond the realm of the necessary or useful for any sort of task that might appear in the film, yet the weapons still appear very often. It is true that weaponry is one area of technology, just like any other, that a science fiction film would seem to push the boundaries of. My only concern with this subject matter is that it is an inherently dangerous technology that has been focused on. This thought led me to the question of whether or not all science fiction films must have some sort of inherent warning in them? Is this why they always seem to present some sort of danger or troubling technology? Also, would it be possible for there to be a science fiction film that focused on some technology that was safe and possibly beneficial for all humans?

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Interestingly enough, I felt that “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” was one of the most realistic films that we have watched thus far. Personally, I would say this is due to the fact that the characters all seem to be your very typical run of the mill townsfolk. The females in the movie play typical motherly and even submissive roles as a nurse, a stay at home mother, and a secretary while the males take charge, as doctors, police and the like. This sets the stage for the rest of the film as Miles takes control of nearly every situation, Becky in distress trailing behind. Ultimately this relationship is incredibly typical of the era of the film, an era torn apart by fear of McCarthyism.

The body snatching pods have created a world much like Thomas More’s Utopia, in that all is even and seemingly perfect, though this can only be achieved with the destruction of independent thought. The impact of the pods was felt primarily on the mental states of the changed, creating a chilling production, one that personally I would fear more than physical pain. However, the pod people seemed so peaceful, given their lack of emotion that perhaps Miles should have just given in. Miles was instead so high strung, fearing any interaction with humanity. As he ran down the highway, he seemed so possessed by the fear and from an outsider’s view, Miles was in fault, even crazed.

On a side note, I have always found something so tired and true about black and white classics, perhaps due to my immediate connection to “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” and the like. However, this same feeling rings true here as well. As scared and even insane as the characters become, I still felt a sense of hope for Becky and Miles even when the police (and nearly the rest of the transformed Santa Mira) were in full chase for them. Black and while brings back an innocence factor that is rare in the box office hits of today, making “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” a bit refreshing as out of date it is.

Politics of the Body Snatchers

Daniel Mainwaring’s classic black and white science fiction flick Invasion of the Body Snatchers released in 1956 serves a purpose to entertain viewers with its thrilling storyline, but it also sets out to reveal deep opinions of anti-communist persuasions of the time.

The McCarthy Era spanned approximately one decade and lambasted Senator Joseph McCarthy and his anti-communist pursuits. This led to many thousands of Americans being accused of partaking in communists activities or even being commies themselves. Suspicion became a huge epidemic in the country. We see this same kind of suspicion take place in the film. People come forth to a community doctor and accuse their family members of being characterless impostors. It is however hard to tell at first if their suspicions are true because the afflicted people act like humans so flawlessly, but we come to realize that these people have no cultures, minds or emotions of their own.

As the paranoia is setting in most people in the town are being changed into these seemingly lifeless doppelgangers. This theme is a cautionary tale of what can happen if people become blind or intentionally turn away from the spreading of harmful ideologies, like communism.

Interestingly, these types paranoia and suspicions had multiple effects on American life with such establishments as the House of Un-Americans Activities Committee and these censorship changes even made their way into the Hollywood scene. Many writers, directors and production studios were blacklisted due to their controversial work.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

While watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers I found myself frequently wondering how the movie was received at the time it came out. With advancements in technology, the “special effects” of the movie were laughable in comparison to what we’re used to in the movies of today. I was surprised with how little the characters questioned the aliens and simply accepted the transformation. This reference to communism seemed like somewhat of an exaggeration although I’m sure the scare was very real at the time. I had a hard time taking the intense scenes seriously with the ridiculous music and melodramatic dialogue.

It was not clear to me who was leading the revolution and how people were being persuaded to join. They were hosting meetings about it but seemed like people followed just because others were doing it rather than having any real motivation of their own. I was curious if the theme of communism was related to the way women were portrayed as sexualized and subservient to men in the movie or if this was simply the general value of the time.

Invasion Narratives and Attack of the Crab Monsters

Films like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Thing, and Them! are routinely referenced in discourses on the 1950s Red Scare mentality. While these fairly high-profile movies are certainly prime exemplars of the genre, a look at one of my favorite low-low-budget films of this period, Roger Corman’s 1957 film Attack of the Crab Monsters, demonstrates just how pervasive and formulaic Red Scare horror films had become by the end of the 1950s.

Several dollars were spent on the making of Attack of the Crab Monsters. The sets and effects used in this film make Invasion of the Body Snatchers look like Gone with the Wind. Fortunately, sci-fi invasion narrative tropes are free, and Corman used them all.

A scrolling text intro explains that we are about to witness the landing of the second scientific expedition to an “uncharted atoll in the Pacific.” The first group of scientists has disappeared without a trace, and it is the viewer’s job to help the second group find them. We soon learn that the expedition is a cooperative effort between the U.S. Navy and this group of scientists, a plot device that runs consistent with the “military-scientific ‘cooperation’” theme that Redmond mentions in his introduction to the invasion narratives chapter (316).

Through character banter we learn that the U.S. had been doing H-bomb testing in the area, and the atoll had been covered in “a blanket of hot ashes and radioactive water.” The first team of scientists had been sent to study the effects of the nuclear fallout—one more cold war theme that Corman has checked off the list.

The second team of scientists consists of a male nuclear physicist with an ambiguous “foreign” accent whose point of origin lies somewhere between Bavaria and Boise; a male botanist with a Pepé le Pew accent; a military technician played by Russell Johnson (“The Professor”), who was henceforth typecast as a hunky island dweller who fixes radios; and a male and (token) female team of biologists who are, of course, a couple because men and women can't be friends without developing romantic attachments.

The search party soon learns that the first group of scientists has been killed by giant crab monsters, who absorb their victim’s intellect and lure new victims to their lair by speaking telepathically (?) in the voice of the last victim they killed—an obvious metaphor for communist brainwashing. Fortunately, the botanist is one of the first to bite it, so for the vast majority of the film the giant crab monster speaks in a Pepé le Pew voice, which is awesome. Later, the quasi-Bavarian nuclear physicist becomes the new voice of the crab monster. So, for most of the film, the crab monster speaks with a distinctly un-American accent, solidifying its role as the “image of Otherness” that Biskind discusses (322). Says the voice of the Bavarian crab monster: “We will rest in the caves and plan our assault upon the world of men.” Scary, diabolical communist crab monsters.

Speaking of the world of men, Attack of the Crab Monsters is lousy with negative female stereotypes. In the early exposition, Russell Johnson explains to a young sailor that the male biologist “works on land animalism” while the female biologist, Martha, “takes care of the sea food.” Among her other specialties is skin diving in a bikini, clinging to men, screaming, wearing tight turtlenecks and lethally pointy bras, fainting, and being awakened in a flouncy negligee (never visit an uncharted atoll without one) by telepathic crab monsters in the middle of the night. Also, she is an untrustworthy tease who openly expresses just enough vague dissatisfaction with her current relationship to generate a spark of hope in the technician (Russell Johnson), who nearly kisses her more than once. Later, Russell Johnson’s desire to win Martha’s affection leads to his selfless heroics and subsequent grisly demise as Martha and her biologist fiancée cower behind a rock with their arms around each other. Martha manages not to faint this time.

The film’s tension culminates in a battle with the very worst kind of crab monster— a pregnant female. In this regard, Attack of the Crab Monsters is very much consistent with Biskind’s description of the queen ant in Them!: “[The queen ant] implicitly presents, in slightly disguised form, a paranoid fantasy of a world dominated by predatory females. The ant society is, after all, a matriarchy presided over by a despotic queen. The queen, it seems, strikes only at patriarchy…. all her human victims are male.” As is the case with Them!, only male characters are killed in Corman’s film. Furthermore, Russell Johnson dies while fighting a female crab in order to save the life of Martha (the tease) and her fiancée. So, in a sense Johnson is killed by two women, the poor sap. Like Them!, Corman’s film “has as much to do with the sex war as it does the cold war. The film’s attack on extremism becomes an attack on women in a man’s world” ( Biskind 322).

Attack of the Crab Monsters trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0emuNT8F0-g

Women in Alien and Body Snatchers

I find the movie Alien to be a horror classic in the alien sci-fi genre. The film was groundbreaking in its special effects, (which one has to remember was in 1979), and of course for creating the creepy and iconic “alien” itself. I am more of a fan of the sequel Aliens, mainly because it simply has more action than the first one and Sigourney Weaver has more opportunities for great one liners.

One element of both films I thought was interesting was its portrayal of women. You would be hard pressed to find a starker contrast than Alien’s Ripley and the bumbling Becky from Body Snatchers. Ripley is not only a strong heroine capable of saving both her and her crew mates, but she also displays more intelligence and foresight than her male counterparts in Alien. In any genre of movie we typically see a male being the ultimate survivor and ass-kicker, so it is refreshing when a story gives us a woman like Ripley who exemplifies both bravery and strength. Ripley is certainly one of the most famous and empowered heroines in sci-fi or modern cinema. On the other hand we can rewind a mere 20 years earlier to the time of Body Snatchers and observe the faint-hearted Becky. As we discussed in class, Becky is simply incapable of doing anything without the assistance or encouragement of her savior Dr. Miles. To give her some credit she does display a bit of bravery when opting to stay with her lover instead of fleeing, (and I guess she stabbed a guy in the doctor’s office), but throughout the movie it’s pretty obvious Becky cannot take care of herself. This portrayal of a woman being beautiful, (dressed to the 9’s with hair done, full makeup, and of course high heels on), and dependent on her man was typical of the decade and an idealistic view of what women ‘should be’. A film like Alien showing a female character on quite the other end of the spectrum shows a great leap of progress for women during the time elapsed between the two films. As always, movies and pop culture reflect broader social commentaries and political meanings-and the same can be said for the representation of women in these movies and the stereotypes of the time they were made.