In my field there are a lot of serious people who take themselves and their jobs very seriously. No joke. I once used the words "paternalistic" and "silly" in a class taught by one these very serious dudes and he, along with the very serious students in the class, scoffed at my use of the word "silly" because it was a "strange locution" and not very descriptive. Yeah, they are that serious. As a result of their penchant for seriousness (I should note that wit is sometimes aloud in the classroom, but only when it's either campy or self-aware kitsch, which is pretty much he same thing as camp), they often look down their long, sullen, noses at Sci Fi.
Here comes a tangent: though they often deride the 19th century realist novel, these same folks tend to drool over the modern and postmodern novel, in part, because, in their eyes, such novels are "more real" than the old realist aesthetics. Though I agree that the modern aesthetic is much cooler than realism, I don't believe that it is anything more than an aesthetic. Also, I don't believe that reading or writing about literature will lead to a social awakening or revolution, and I don't believe that literature should serve a political purpose (with poetry it's a bit different). I guess I'm what one would call a liberal -humanist (this is a fancy term we use in literary studies to say that such a person thinks that reading literature and viewing art makes us better in that we better understand the human condition and, hopefully, thereby act more ethically toward others).
Having said that, one of the reasons I enjoy sci-fi (or as some might say, "that lowly sub-genre of 20-21st century film/lit.") is that it often does a much better job of making social commentary or exploring philosophical possibilities than anything that we might call plausible or, verosimil. Rather than get into the why, I want to offer an example. The film Another Earth comes out this July. Though I haven't seen it, I can tell from the trailer that, like many other good sci-fi films, it uses the genre as a medium to explore questions of ethics, the possibility of forgiveness, and the complexities of human relations. Can this be done outside the frame of sci-fi? Of course, we only need to look to Bill Shakespeare to give us many examples. However (I guess here is some of the "why") some of the best sci-fi also allows us as spectators (or readers) to partially or completely remove our prior biases from the argument and, hopefully, understand that x or y situation in the fiction we are being presented is analogous to this or that situation in our society. When it's done well (Re: Gattaca or Blade Runner) sci-fi can be very effective in communicating its message. When it's done poorly, we end up with didactic trash like Avatar. I'm hoping that Another Earth will be another example of the former. Feel free to chime in on my thoughts, agree, disagree, why? Or, what's a good sci-fi you enjoyed, or a terrible one you can't stand (I should admit here that I love Lynch's version of Dune (1984)).
5 comments:
I think Sci-fi is too much of a blanket term. Just look at the cable channel. It's a bunch of crap. I'm going to start to refer to pedantly refer to the good stuff as 'high-sci-fi'. Who's with me? Later we can form the "high-sci-fi-high-five". Ho-oh!
Seriously, I'm glad that within my research interests sci-fi is absolutely worthy. Though I also know that it has produced some pretty crappy nerd-porn.
I like it Mac,"High-Sci-Fi". The bulk of what is on the sci-fi channel (I think they changed it to Syfy, which is dumb) could easily fall into the flaming pile of poo category. In fact, I think their last original series actually won the Golden Flaming Pile of Poo award., affectionately referred to by many nerds as the GFP-Poo award.
I don't usually watch too much sci-fi, but I adore reading it. More than anyone else, Bradbury opened my mind to new possibilities and forced me to think in completely novel ways. I truly believe that reading things like The Martian Chronicle created new neural pathways in my brain. In other words, reading Bradbury as a 13-year-old was absolutely mind-blowing. I loved every second of it.
My name is Ben, and I endorse the above comment.
First, thanks to Mac for the resounding Ho-oh! I recommend everybody check out Cody's Ho! as recorded at the KFLC this past month.
Second, in reference to removing ourselves from prior conceptions, I think that's why I've always liked Star Wars over Star Trek. Star Trek, it seems to me, is always in a constant state of futurity, always looking for the next thing, an explorer attitude. Plus, it's us. The people running Star Trek are us in a couple hundred years. I feel like it's too close to home and so therefore, ironically, less believable than Star Wars. There's always some scientific explanation for what's happening. Plus, the themes and messages in the shows are a lot more overtly directed at contemporary events and attitudes. It often feels like the Scooby Doo ending on Wayne's World where the villain is unmasked and everybody learns their life lesson:
"It's Old Man Jenkins from Amusement park!
-And I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you snooping kids!"
"And I've learned that platonic love can exist between two men."
Star Wars, on the other hand (not 1-3), feels lived in. There is no attempt to explain why light speed exists. There are problems in the ships. There are dirty criminals and indifference and skeptics. It's like walking into a room and seeing a plate with a half-eaten sandwich, a cup of something, and a book placed face down on the table. It's not clean and sterile like I remember the Star Trek series looking.
Plus, Star Wars isn't the future, it's the past, and it's not us. It explicitly says at the beginning, "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away." It's people somewhere so far removed from us that we, ironically, can relate more. The force is explained to us, but it's not scientific. It's part of a learning process that Luke undergoes and it's related (dare I say it?!) to universal human realities.
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