Science Fiction Fans: Your instructions for this week.

1) Go to your nearest comicbook store.

2) Purchase Dynamite Entertainment's Buck Rogers #1, written by Scott Beatty, illustrated by Carlos Rafael, with covers by either John Cassady, Alex Ross, or Matt Wagner.

3) Read said issue.

4) Experience joy.

Stac

Ps. I can't wait to get my hands on this book. Seriously, check out the preview here and you might get an inkling of my overall enthusiasm.

PPs. Oh my God, the energy meter on Deering's suit makes a 'bidibidibidibidibi' sound. Glee. . .

King of the Impossible: The Flash Gordon Review.

'He'll save every one of us!' -tag line from the film.

Every so often, a film comes along that speaks to us about the human condition. It tells us of the loftiest heights of our ambition, the folly of our hubris, and the hope that one day we might come to know a better tomorrow through cooperation and mutual understanding. It's a film embraced by the general public and touted as an artistic exemplar of all our hopes and dreams, a treatise that could possibly lead to the establishment of a finer, better world for all of us. Truly, when these once in a lifetime motion pictures play on our screens we may consider ourselves blessed.

Yeah, those movies are really great. . .but sometimes you just want to chuck the societal/cultural commentary and cut loose with a film that is just gloriously batshit insane. A film with vibrant colors, broad characterization, derring-do, and sheer badassery on an epic scale. A movie that tanked at the box office upon its debut but found a new life on home video as one of the cult classics of an age. A movie that by no stretch of the imagination takes itself seriously. It can't be bothered to; after all love can wait when there's only fourteen hours to save the Earth! If you like your movies ponderous and full of themselves, I can't recommend it, but if you want a film that's wall to wall fun on an epic scale then Flash Gordon just might be your cup of tea.

Despite what the zeitgeist seems to think these days, there was a time when there were space opera heroes other than Luke Skywalker and James T. Kirk. Flash Gordon was a comic strip hero created in the mold of Buck Rogers, who fought intergalactic evil in the spaceways long before George Lucas or Gene Roddenberry turned their thoughts to crafting their own interplanetary sagas. Flash was a polo player and all-around American good guy who--along with his pluck Girl Friday Dale Arden and semi-mad scientist Dr. Hans Zarkov--wound up travelling in space to solve the riddle of mysterious meteors threatening the Earth. Winding up on the distant planet of Mongo, they quickly become the bane of tyrant Ming the Merciless and his countless hordes of evil minions. Beginning in 1934 and continuing as of at least 2003, the comic strip Flash Gordon remains an institution in Science Fiction and Fantasy. It's spun off comicbooks, cartoons, television shows, movie serials. . .and of course a 1980 feature film from Dino De Laurentiis.

De Laurentiis' contributions to pop culture cannot be overstated. The guy produced some of the all-time classics of cult cinema; Barbarella, Death Wish, Conan the Barbarian, the 1976 King Kong remake, and the Flash Gordon film. In later years he would produce such films as Manhunter (which first introduced audiences to Hannibal Lecter), the David Lynch adaptation of Frank Herbert's epic Dune, The Dead Zone, and Army of Darkness. His production company even distributed the Transformers movie back in the '80s. Simply put, he produced some of the most amazing pieces of escapist cinema to come out of the last thirty years. He is, in short, utterly awesome.

Flash is one of those films I'd only ever heard about online or in fandom magazines like Starlog or Cinescape. By the time I'd become aware of this 1980 release it was largely off the radar. Luckily for me it was recently re-released on DVD for the masses to once again become acquainted with this zany little masterpiece. Our paths crossed just this Sunday past when at a Blockbuster for some rental fare I came across the movie in the for sale section. The painted cover by fan-favorite artist Alex Ross drew me in, but the SAVIOUR OF THE UNIVERSE EDITION subtitle was what clinched the deal. A combination of intense curiosity and boredom contributed to my sudden impulse buy. With a few friends in tow, we placed the newly-bought disc into the player. . .and were transported.

I don't want to spoil the film, so a thumbnail sketch of the plot follows: Flash Gordon(Sam Jones) is the newest quarterback sensation for the New York Jets (in the original comics he was a polo player but I guess that wasn't 'manly' enough) on his way back to the big city after some time in the country. He meets a young woman on the flight home, Dale Arden(Melody Anderson), and they take to the skies in a dual-propped plane bound for Manhattan. Unfortunately for them (and the rest of the planet), Earth has been targeted for destruction by the meglomaniacal Ming the Merciless(Max von Sydow), warlord tyrant of the planet Mongo, who plans to annihilate the planet. . .but not before toying with it for a bit.

Enter Dr. Hans Zarkov(Topol), a renegade scientist whose wild theories about imminent attack from another world have led to his abrupt dismissal from NASA. He plans to use an experimental rocket of his own design to seek out this marauding planet threatening our globe and make them see reason. Thing is, he needs a flight crew for the rocket and his own assistant is somewhat less than cooperative. Enter Flash and Dale who--after their pilots are atomized by one of Ming's fierce attacks--come to a crash landing in Zarkov's greenhouse after Flash (who's been taking flying lessons y'see) manages to bring the plane to a rough landing. With a bit of shaky fast-talking and a pistol for persuasion, the intrepid trio soon find themselves blasting off to the stars, falling into a space warp that leads them to the planet Mongo and it's neighboring moons.

Can Flash defeat Ming and his wicked adviser, the crafty Klytus(Peter Wyngarde) and his lieutenant, the wicked Kala(Mariangela Melato)? Will he be able to resist the cunning charms of the nubile Princess Alura(Ornella Muti), Ming's own daughter? Can he unite the squabbling warriors of the forest world of Arboria and their own Prince Balin (Timothy Dalton) and the winged warriors of the hawkmen of Sky City and Prince Vultan(Brian Blessed) into a force to overthrow Ming's tyrannical rule? Can good triumph over evil within the running time of a classic space opera?

Chances are pretty good you know the answers to all of the above, but if you dismiss the film based on it's (admittedly) hokey premise you'd be doing yourself a disservice. Flash is by no means a classic of the genre that will change everything you know about life, the universe, and everything. But it is an amazingly fun, visually stunning, epic piece of purest, zestiest Gorgonzola cheese that doesn't shy away from the cliches of the genre, but embraces them with a zesty grin and a playful wink. If you can't appreciate Flash's battle tactics in Ming's throne room, or his sincere (and repeated) desire to team up with others to overthrow Ming, if you can't accept that a man can be publicly executed, brought back to life, and then be macked on by an amazingly slinky and seductive alien princess, if you cannot accept a universe where people fly and speak in a seeming vacuum on sky sleds and rockets with fins, if you absolutely positively cannot accept a fleet of hawkmen warriors swooping down from the skies amidst the pounding drums and rippling guitar licks of Queen as we're told Flash Gordon is the saviour of the universe! Well, this film may not be for you. It's a cheesy movie, but also a visual feast and amazingly fun in it's corny, endearing way. If you haven't checked it out I encourage you to do so. Mere adjectives cannot hope to encompass the vibrant colors, ludicrous predicaments, and the exultant joy of the delivery of certain lines('The inhabitants refer to it as the planet. . .Earth', 'Gordon's alive?!') have to be seen in order to be believed.

Mike Hodges's direction of the film seems a mixture of the classic Flash serials as well as the '60s Batman television series, which is no surprise given writer Lorenzo Semple Jr's experience with that show. I could cheerleader about this thing all day, but it's only because I was so utterly taken with a film that just dared to be completely, utterly in love with its subject matter and its universe, while being unafraid to look silly doing so. In an age where Science Fiction and Fantasy have become a bit pretentious with how seriously they take themselves, Flash is a welcome breath of fresh air. No, more than that. He's a miracle! Flash! Aaaahhh. . .!

Stac

My trouble with quibbles: The Star Trek Review.

'In the 23rd century... ' -opening text, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Let's get the obvious out of the way right from the beginning; I loved this movie. Truly, madly, and deeply did I fall into utter twitterpation with J.J. Abrams love letter to the original Star Trek series, so much so that it has taken me weeks to sit back and try to look at the film with any degree of critical distance and objectivity. I've explained in previous posts my deep affection for The Original Series and the first six Star Trek films, so upon hearing of this revamp I did what any reasonable, level-headed Trekkie would do: I loathed it outright. The initial teasers did little to improve my mood; it seemed we were destined for an 'Xtreme' take on Trek starring Chris Pine as a James Kirk by way of Johnny Knoxville. I was highly, highly nervous as I sat down Saturday, May 2nd to watch a sneak peak of the film. By the time the credits had rolled, I was utterly charmed by the film, crowing it's praises to my friends and incredibly stoked about the prospects of what the franchise had in store with its new paradigm. I kept mum for over two weeks, which for a pop-culture junkie loudmouth like myself is a feat of herculean inner strength and character. Seriously, you have no idea how much I wanted to blab my guts at length and in great detail. I deserve a gold star, or at least one of those scratch 'n sniff stickers(the one with the bunch of grapes that reads 'Grape job!' would be nice).

As I said I let the film percolate in my brain for weeks after seeing it a second time opening night with my friends. Now that I've given it some appropriate distance we're going to dig into the depths of this film; what worked, what didn't, the whole gamut from the awesome to the absurb. If you've got the stones join me on the pad in transporter room two. Set phasers to stun.

THE GOOD:

The Cast: Whoever did casting for this film should get an extremely generous bonus from Paramount and Bad Robot alike. This is as damn-near a perfect recreation of the original seven characters' chemistry as could be expected from a recreation/remake/reboot of a classic television property. I think only the Brady Bunch movies got this level of eerily, spookily accurate in some instances. Now, admittedly not everyone is a perfect fit. Chris Pine still needs to grow on me a bit as Kirk, though from what I saw in the film there's serious potential. He's got that cocky swagger, that sly cunning, and of course the (slightly) smug charm that epitomizes one James Tiberius Kirk. He's not an exact recreation of Shatner, but over the course of the film he made the character his own.

For eerie recreations I think you'd have to go no further than Zachary Quinto's Spock and Karl Urban's Doctor McCoy. Quinto is almighty spooky in his resemblance to a young Leonard Nimoy and Urban nails Deforrest Kelly's mannerisms and cadence with an accuracy that made me grin from ear to ear. I hadn't realized just how much I missed McCoy in my Star Trek until that moment. I don't think Urban was doing an impersonation so much as an homage, but that's a moot point. What matters is that the original trinity of Trek is recreated with an attention to detail that bodes well for the future of the franchise.

Zoe Seldana makes for an Uhura who's competent as well as comely, and John Cho and Anton Yelchin fill their more limited screen time as Sulu and Chekov with bits of business that make them entertaining to watch. Simon Pegg gets the worst of it, as we have to wait about two-thirds of the film before Scotty makes an appearance, but once he's there he adds some levity to a film that may have been getting a bit full of itself to that point. He's underused, but what is there lays the groundwork for the heroic miracle-worker we all know and love.

Bruce Greenwood makes for an awesome Christopher Pike and I think it's a shame that we didn't get more with him in command of the Enterprise. I realize his purpose for this film was basically to warm Kirk's chair for his inevitable rise to the captaincy, but he was an effective character that had a confidence and command that I think should have stayed in place for at least another movie. We'll get into my thoughts on that as we segue into the negative aspects of the film.

It was fun to see Leonard Nimoy play Spock (or rather, Spock-Prime) for what could well be the last time, though for all the nostalgia his presence brings to the film and how it adds a touch of class of the handoff from old continuity to new, there are questions and problems raised by his presence that I'll address in the negative section.

The Look: Seriously, the film looks amazing. The Starfleet vessels look like a mix of the original series and something more realistic. I'm hesitant to invoke the relaunch of Battlestar Galactica, but the ship design and their usage in space, particularly some of the camera work in keeping track of them, looked great. Nero's mining ship looked suitably menacing, whilst Spock-Prime's odd little ship looked at once futuristic and fantastic.

The centerpiece of the entire movie is, of course, the Starship Enterprise, and she looks as beautiful as you could imagine. Care was taken by the special effects team in honoring the best of the original television series and the films, and it shows. It's not an exact replica but the spirit of the initial design is there. I loved the look of the bridge, the corridors, the transporter room, and sickbay. Engineering. . .well. . .let's leave it for later.

Vulcan and Earth are the worlds at the center of this film, and each looks epic in scope. Vulcan is a harsh, sterile desert world that is so harcore it has buildings that hang down from the bottom of cliffs like stalactites. Tell me that's not hardcore. Earth is a utopian paradise, where Starfleet and the Federation have led to an idyllic world replete with female officers in miniskirts and hot green coeds. What's not to like?

The transporter effects are wicked, the phasers looked at once classic and badass, and the uniforms looked functional but true to the tunics and slacks of the original show. It looked like the Star Trek universe, or at least a fresh take on the old familiar jazz riffs. I ate it up.

It is a prequel, yet it isn't: Time travel in a Star Trek film? That's as groundbreaking and revelatory as the correlation between water and moisture, but the time honored cliche actually works in creating an alternate timeline that allows for new adventures to be told within the classic framework free of previous continuity. As templates for a soft reboot go you could do a lot worse, and it was actually nice to see the characters work all this out for themselves rather than have it exposition-dumped to them by some omnipotent being or some other such plot device(of course, that left Quinto with the unenviable task of providing said exposition dump but hey). This isn't to say there aren't some problems that arise from fiddling around with the space-time continuum, but we'll get to those soon enough.

So yes, some reasoned and salient points on how this movie kicked some ass, and while I was watching it I was 100% on board for both viewings. Let me maintain that I still like the film and enjoyed it immensely, but after a while I found that the more I thought about it, the more I found hard to swallow. Let's talk about

THE BAD:

Nero: What a complete and utter waste of time and space this character was. Don't get me wrong, Eric Bana does his best with what little he's given to work with here but the character suffers from a terminal case of Not-Khan Syndrome. He's got no character, he's just an evil cipher that sits on his throne on his mining ship and is evil for it's own sake. Sure he's reeling from the dual loss of his homeworld and his wife and child, but we don't get to see any of that, his motivation barely gets referred to except in passing, and the character just makes decisions and has methods that to any sensible person in the audience seem utterly moronic:

1) Nero finds himself thrust through a black hole(something that should kill him all kinds'a dead, see below) and finds himself over a century in the past. Now let's think about this for a minute. You're over a hundred years in the past with foreknowledge of what's going to happen to your doomed planet in the future. You mean to tell me Nero just sits on his hands and doesn't inform the Romulan Empire? He doesn't think to set course for the Neutral Zone and warn his people, or to provide them with the amazingly badass technology of his mining ship/spooky-looking death fortress that would surely make the Romulan Star Empire the supreme military force of the Alpha Quadrant?

2) Okay, so you don't go to Romulus. You're pissed as hell at Spock and want him to pay. Well, if that's the case why do you then wait twenty-five years to commence your attack on Vulcan? Why not just roll on up to the planet within a couple days journey at high warp and lay the planet to waste before Spock can A)be born or B) can even be in a position to thwart your evil plan? Is this some weird form of obsessed lunatic chivalry? What, it wasn't sporting to go after Spock at a point before he can stop your plan or be too late to save your world?

3)Nero's mining vessel has a completely nonsensical design to it, and I don't mean in terms of improbable space design, I mean health and general safety. There's water on the floors, platforms from one area to another with no discernable stairwells, poor lighting, and absolutely no guard rails or means to keep you from plummetting to your death. Also it starts out badass and impressive by destroying the U.S.S. Kelvin as well as the Starfleet task force sent to Vulcan, but then becomes completely hapless in the face of the Enterprise and Spock-Prime's teeny little science vessel. What's that about? Also, using their drilling rig to place the Red Matter is also stupid as hell. Why use the drill to slowly bore into a planet's surface when a well-placed disruptor blast could do the same job? Why does the black hole have to be in the planet's core? I'm reasonably sure that if you have something that can create a black hole and then place said black hole next to a planetary body, that world is pretty much screwed, to say nothing of anything in the immediate vicinity. Which brings me to my next point.

4) If you're going to use a drill with a long, dangling cord, maybe take the oppurtunity over the course of the twenty-five years you spent waiting and plotting your revenge to oh, I don't know, armor it up? God almighty, you think if Darth Vader had noticed the exhaust ports on the Death Star he'd have gone 'No, leave that horribly vulnerable spot there for the next twenty years or so. I honestly can't see them ever being a problem.' Oy.

Science Doesn't Work That Way, Even In Trek: What the hell is Red Matter, and who thought it'd be a good idea to use a black hole to stop a sun from going nova? That's like dousing someone on fire with gasoline in an effort to put them out. It makes no frickin' sense. Surely there'd be some way by the late 24th century to get a sun's core to level out. I mean, at the very least Picard should be able to get Q on speed-dial and ask for a favor.

'Yes Q, I will wear the pink bunny suit to all my diplomatic functions for an entire year. Yes Q. Just fix the sun of Romulus. Thanks.'

Time Travel. It will make you insane: In a way, I might have almost preferred a full reboot of the franchise if it meant that the following roadblock wasn't sitting in my path. Once I thought about it, the entire film becomes a retroactive act in frustration. I think the only thing worse than being a writer of speedsters like the Flash has to lie in writing anything that deals with time travel, especially in Star Trek.

Spock-Prime is trapped in the past with Nero, but the thing is, Spock has time travelled before. Like, a lot. So much so he even devised a way to do it. So why doesn't he slip Young Spock the computations for time travel, then have the Enterprise and a fleet jump back in time and ambush Nero before he can destroy Vulcan and leave only 10,000 Vulcans left alive? And don't feed me that 'needs of the many' bullcrap because you can't tell me either Spock wouldn't want to at least save his mother. Or for that matter, travel forward in time to just before Romulus's sun goes nova and apply the Red Matter properly. Don't tell me it couldn't be done, it was just lazy writing. You could even do it and argue that the presence of the Red Matter in the past created an alternate timeline, which would allow for the creation of the 'new' Trek while leaving the 'old' Trek universe intact.

Don't play the time game unless you plan to play with it right and map out all the consequences accordingly. Otherwise you end up leaving your plot full of more holes than a block of swiss cheese.

Engineering: What the hell was up with those engineering sets? I get it, we're supposed to think of the Federation starships as more naval-seeming vessels with a kind of lived-in atmosphere, and on the Kelvin that worked fine as it seemed to be an older Starfleet vessel. But the Enterprise is the flagship of the fleet, the benchmark and testbed of all sorts of advances in starship design. You're going to tell me there's a frickin' boiler room on board the most advanced ship in the fleet? Really? Okay. . .does it run on shovel-fulls of dilithium coal? Also, points to my friend Yrol for pointing out the laughable Galaxy Quest-like chompers that Scotty almost gets fed to after he and Kirk beam back to the ship. What was the point of that thing save to create peril? Compared to the sleek, lovely set pieces of the bridge and sickbay it was just jarring. Hopefully the sequel will improve the design to something a bit more futuristic-looking.

Here, have a captaincy: Kirk goes from cadet to commander to captain of the Enterprise in essentially a period of 24 hours? You're kidding right? We couldn't have maybe established the crew as coming together on the Enterprise with Kirk and Spock maybe working their way up the ranks and earning battlefield commissions to their classic roles? No? We're going to do it in like a day? Say what you will of Shatner's Kirk but at least he worked his way up the ladder to a command rather than having it handed to him as part of some kind of nebulous 'destiny' tripe. I get that the film wanted to waste as little time as possible getting everyone established in their classic crew positions, but still. We couldn't have done a couple quick cuts ahead in time? I mean, Nero waited twenty-five years, I'm sure he could've waited a little longer. . .

THE VERDICT:

Don't misunderstand me, I thought this film was a helluva lot of fun to have at the cinema. But it's not without it's flaws, and in a way I'm kind of glad for them. Star Trek has always been a little hokey, and if the film sometimes fudges a bit in its quest to entertain I'm hardly going to loathe it for trying. My hope is that the filmmakers take the lessons of what did work and didn't and parlay it into a sequel that blows the doors off of all our expectations. Reccomended.

Stac

Every saga has a beginning.

“Tragedy is like strong acid -- it dissolves away all but the very gold of truth.” -D.H. Lawrence

Ten years. Can it really have been so long since George Lucas took fans back to that galaxy far, far away and brought about the second renaissance of Star Wars fandom? It seems unreal to think that such time has past, that indeed the saga as a whole has been completed. Sure, there was the brief appearance of the Clone Wars movie and subsequent television series, and there's the promise of a live-action series set amidst the period between Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope (or, as I still call it, Star Wars). So it can be forgiven if the day has a bit less significance for the more casual of pop culture/science fiction fans out there, given the prevalence of Lucasfilm material on the airwaves and easily at hand on DVD.

1983 saw the apparent conclusion of the Star Wars saga. Return of the Jedi brought Luke Skywalker full circle and had the scarred young hero face down his father and his father's dark master and redeem him, bringing him back to the light and reuniting with his long-lost sister. Also, the Empire got its collective ass handed to them by a combination of daring pilots, intrepid commandos, skilled naval leaders, and a band of tribal teddy bears. When the credits rolled on Jedi, even the most diehard fans presumed that was it. The story had ended.

Still, the franchise lived on. In VHS videos, toys, games, comics, and with the release of Timothy Zahn's Heir to the Empire novels and Tom Veitch and Cam Kennedy's Dark Empire comics series in 1991 the galaxy far, far away found itself given new life. For all the excitement the newly born Expanded Universe (as the fans have come to call it) brought about it would be another eight years before Lucasfilm would produce another lightsaber epic.

To understand just why this film had the impact it did, you have to understand the world as it was back in 1998/99. The Internet was only just beginning to come into it's own as the central hub of geek information and speculation it is today. In those halcyon days if the average Star Wars geek wanted information on the (then rumored) production in the works, he'd have little choice but to slog through shows like Access Hollywood or even (shudder) Entertainment Tonight. So it was that one fall night in 1998, when my brother and I waited through an entire episode of teasing from the bipedal smiles of Access Hollywood for the merest glimpse of the Phantom Menace trailer. The images of the mounted Gungan warriors moving through the mists of the Naboo forest made our jaws drop in much the same way as I suspect that Star Destroyer's arrival in the original film blew '70s SF fans away. And then the rest of the trailer played, and we were hooked. Utterly.

Flash-forward in time to May 18th, 1999. My brother and I have waited patiently. Toys? Purchased. Novel adaptation by Terry Brooks? Obtained. The last day of waiting seemed an eternity, but when midnight rolled around and our tickets for the show were in hand we bolted to the Uptown theatre in Red Deer, Alberta. Waiting in line for what felt an eternity we sat and fidgeted and literally willed that last half-hour out of existence. The sheer joy in the room as the 20th Century Fox fanfare pounded through the speakers, giving way to the glittering green logo of Lucasfilm, the roar of the crowd at the sight of the familiar:

a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . . .

If converted to electricity it would have powered Tokyo for days.

I saw The Phantom Menace seven times in the theatre. Ryan would have preferred we'd seen it at least 10 together, but the fact of the matter was that by the fourth or fifth viewing the film just didn't blow me away as it had previously. I chalk this up to a number of factors, but I think it comes down to something a lot of fans took umbrage with at the time; it wasn't what they'd expected. Or rather, it was a Star Wars movie, just not the one they thought they'd be getting.

Sixteen years of anticipation, of supposition, of pondering just what the next move would be. Where would the saga go after the tale of Luke and Vader was told? I think a lot of the older fans didn't expect a look back, or a vision of their ultimate villain as a young slave caught up in the machinations of the virtuous and vile alike. They didn't expect a rigid, dogmatic Jedi Order that had become hidebound by its own rules, nor did they appreciate the notion of the idyllic Republic being seen as a corrupt body that allowed evil such as Palpatine's to flourish. They didn't expect C-3PO to have such strong ties to the Skywalker clan, nor did they expect to find that the mother of the heroes of the second trilogy to be nearly ten years Anakin's senior. It took a step back, it showed the truths behind the idealised story Obi-Wan Kenobi told Luke in that hut on Tatooine. There's a shadow cast on the film despite it's nearly beat for beat echoing of the original Star Wars film. The optimistic ending doesn't hold true, given the foreknowledge we have of the protagonist's ultimate fate. By the time the end credits roll by and we hear Vader's labored breathing over the sweetly wistful strains of John Williams' Anakin's Theme, we know we've seen the beginning of something far different than any Star Wars we'd seen before.

Simply put, the Original trilogy is a heroic epic. It is the reclamation of hope from despair, the triumph of good over evil. The Prequel trilogy is a tragedy. It's the story of how paradise was lost. The Phantom Menace sets the stage for Anakin's fall from grace, introducing us to the key player's in his fall and showing us the galactic tapestry upon which he and Palpatine will warp and corrupt the face of the galaxy. Menace is a story of political maneuvering with adventure story trappings, whereas Star Wars/A New Hope is an adventure story with some war story trappings. The two are distinct entities within the greater series as a whole.

This is not to say the prequels are flawless; Lucas himself admits he doesn't have the best ear for dialogue and the less said of the capering of one orange Gungan the better. Still, for all his foolishness and subsequent brooming offstage Jar Jar Binks does help to engage the younger viewers in much the same way Wicket W. Warrick did with children of my generation. The fact that his blind idealism and hope for the future(and his desire to be admired) inadvertently pave the way for the formation of the Empire adds to the overall tragedy of the prequels.

The Phantom Menace dares to be different than what came before it. Is it perfect? No. But it is a relevant film and a worthwhile pattern in the greater Star Wars tapestry that is all too readily dismissed by those who aren't willing to appreciate it. To do so is to only focus on one half of the story as a whole, and to deprive oneself of the essence of the full heroic cycle. Do you need the prequels to enjoy the Star Wars fans you enjoyed as a child? Perhaps not. But without those first three films, the Original trilogy lacks contrast, and yes, even some depth. Because for all our proprietary claim to Lucas's vision, it is his story to tell. To focus solely on one half of the tale while dismissing the other can be done, but its a deprivation that can only leave the overall experience a diminished one. I encourage anyone who may have dismissed the prequels to give them a second look. They're not perfect films, but they do have something to say, and their contribution to the greater saga of Star Wars deserves to be heard.

May the Force be with you,

Stac

Comics/Novels I'd Write For Free: The Cylon War.

Lately I've been on something of a Battlestar Galactica kick. I've purcased the new Caprica Direct-to-DVD film and the first season of the reimagined series, and I've been reading and re-reading my copy of the Battlestar Galactica Roleplaying game with a feverish intensity. It can only mean that once again my tastes have shifted and are now firmly in BSG territory.

With that in mind, I've been thinking about what I'd do if I ever recieved the oppurtunity to write anything set in the BSG universe. To me, there's really only one story that I'd want to tell, be it via a comicbook or in prose, and that's the story of the Galactica and the First Cylon War. I understand that Dynamite Entertainment is already publishing their take on the events that sparked the first war with the walking chrome toasters, but I haven't read it yet. This is my take on a potential comics series or a novel.

It would complete the trinity of the Battlestar saga, with Caprica as the beginning and Battlestar Galactica the ending, The Cylon War would be the middle of the story. It doesn't have the Pride Before The Fall of Caprica, nor the Grim Determination to Survive/Is Humanity Worth Saving of BSG. No, this series would be something entirely its own animal. If I had to boil it down to a pitch statement it'd be simply this: 'Band of Brothers versus Killer Robots.'

I'm too young to have caught the original Battlestar Galactica on the airwaves (I saw a cut of the pilot movie on VHS at my cousin's house in Ostrea Lake, Nova Scotia many a moon ago) but I do have a fondness for the series ultimate theme; that no matter what the opposition humanity's spirit proves indomitable against the implacable aggression of the machine. This would be a story of heroism, though maybe not with the same theatrical trappings of the original series but definitely with a nod toward a grander, more epic style of storytelling. This is the 'good war' of the BSG universe in much the same way World War II is considered to be in our history. This is the war where the Twelve Colonies of Kobol united in a way they never had before against a foe that was not interested in power or principality but in the complete annihilation of their civilization and the extermination of its peoples.

The First Cylon War lasted just over twelve years (4,571 days) and ravaged the system containing the Colonies. Our story would start approximately 3 years into the conflict, with the war going very, very badly for the Colonial Fleet. The Cylons are unlike any foe the recently combined militaries of the twelve planets have ever faced before. They never tire. They never stop. They don't surrender and they don't retreat(at least at first). The initial Cylon uprising caught each of the Colonies completely by surprise, blindsiding them with an ambush from within their very ranks. The machines that had been entrusted to serve man and fight their battles rose up in a single night of blood and fire and killed damn near everything in their path. The how and the why of the uprising would be a mystery (after all, what's on screen is canon and I don't want to step on toes) but the Colonies now live in the aftermath and nearly three years of sheer and utter hell. Through a massive effort the Cylons were driven from most of the colonies, but they have holdings in several key sectors of the system. Worse, they stole a great deal of military ordnance, schematics, and the technical data for the new Colonial Rangers (later to be known as Raiders) and the plans for the proposed series of Basestars to be constructed on the Scorpia shipyards.

Worse, the richer colonies found their technology turned against them. The machines could make computers sit up, roll over, play dead. Passenger liners found their computers infected by Cylon viruses that made the airlocks open to hard vacuum midway through voyages, far past the point of any return and disabling emergency backups. Military vessels found their power systems cycling into overload and their sublight engines firing at random, automated turrets turning on friendlies as well as their own hulls and blasting them to scrap. Computers became the enemy, high technology became the enemy, anything that was too advanced and networked was too great a risk. Thus the step back to simpler systems, simpler technologies to keep colonial assets safe.

The ink was barely dry on the Articles of Colonization when the first twelve battlestars were shipped off the line; Atlantia, Galatea, Pacifica, Pegasus, Prometheus, Daedalus, Herakles, Athena, Icarus, Argo, Achilles. . . and the Galactica. Each ship represented one of the newly unified Colonies, with Galactica represnting Caprica, the capital world of this bold new alliance. Each ship was meant to be crewed entirely by men and women of the services of their respective worlds, an exemplar of their commitment to the new alliance and the hope of the ultimate defeat of the Cylon menace.

That was the plan. The simple fact of the matter is the Cylons are killing Colonial personnel with a frightening degree of efficiency, and more often than not personnel from other colonies are ending up sharing space with soldiers from other worlds. This was the long-term goal of Fleet brass, but the plan was to bring everyone together gradually. Sagittarons and Capricans having some severe issues, to say nothing of Picon, Scorpia, and Tauron. Simply put, there's hate between people as much as there is hate of the toasters. Its only the shared hatred of the walking chrome monsters that keeps the soldiers of the Colonial forces in check. Just.

In the meantime, the reorganized fleet has ground to cover and long struggles ahead. Aerilon and Tauron are being occupied by Cylon forces, with Canceron and Gemenon just barely hanging on. The Cylons are an implacable foe, armed to the teeth and far stronger and tougher than any human. Not to mention their sheer force of numbers (a long-term goal for Colonial forces is to eliminate Cylon production facilities wherever they're found. No easy task, as the Cylons have become increasingly adept at hiding their facilities). The odds are stacked against humanity, but if it's one thing the machines have underestimated it's human tenacity, the sheer damned stubborness of people with their backs to the wall and damned little to lose.

Our cast of characters is a bit nebulous, but I have a few ideas in mind:

Commander Michael Nash: Nash was the first commander of the Battlestar Galactica, mentioned only in passing by Aaron Doral in the BSG miniseries. A native Caprican and product of its military academy, at the rank of major aboard the destroyer Righteous he took command when the CO and XO were killed in the Cylon uprising, managing to rout the machines and save the ship from being taken. His heroism and the Righteous' protection of civillian vessels during the uprising were noted by command, and when the Colonial Fleet unveiled the battlestars Nash was promoted to Commander and assigned to Galactica. A young man at 35 years of age, he realizes his appointment was more about politics and propoganda than it was about merit. Still, he possesses a rare gift for tactics and a manner that endears him to the men and women under his command.


Executive Officer Colonel Valerie Bayrin: Valerie was initially in line for command of Galactica until Nash came along. She's not happy with the way things are, but the fact that Nash made her posting as XO of the ship a condition of his acceptance of Galactica's command has gone a long way toward cementing a solid working relationship. A devout believer in the gods, the war has tested her faith but its held , even in the face of an enemy that seems to be the wrath of Hades incaranate. She's an older woman, in her mid-to-late 40s, having worked hard to attain her rank amidst the slight chauvinism of the Caprican military.


Senior Chief Petty Officer Darren Tanner: has been given the unenviable task of being the Galactica's officer of the deck. A man who brooks no fools and is a little too quick to speak his mind before his (slight) sense of tact can catch up, he nevertheless is respected by the men and women under his command. His people are the front line of Galactica's repair crews and damage control teams, his mechanics work to repair and get the bugs out of the new Viper Mark IIs that have just rolled off the assembly line. There are some who resent him for his Sagittaron heritage(and Tanner's not overly fond of his more vocally overbearing Caprican crewmates) but when circuit boards are bursting into flame and you need your Viper working yesterday there's no better man for the job. And he knows it.


Major Darius Ravig: is top kick of the Colonial Marines on Galactica. In his eyes there's him, the XO, the CO, and the gods in that exact order and nobody better forget it. His division 'the Ravagers' have seen combat in some of the worst skirmishes of the war to date, on the ground and in the black. He's a veteran of some of the worst of the fighting between Caprica and Sagittaron and his feelings for 'those people' are short and sour. Nevertheless he tables his opinions and keeps them close, working with his men to ensure that every human under their protection makes it back alive and every toaster in their path gets slagged.

Doctor Alyssa Muverro: is the Galactica's CMO and resident angel of mercy. She's acerbic, occasionally a bit too criticial of her patients and their complete disregard for their health and safety in time of war, but she and her team of doctors and nurses are the best in the Fleet. There's no question in her mind that the Cylons are monsters; she's seen enough of their handiwork to know with complete certainty that they need to be destroyed to the last clanker. An attractive woman in her early thirties, she has no lack of potential suitors on Galactica. Sadly she's all too committed to her wife Rebecca, and frequently worries about her safety as the battles lines inexorably push closer and closer to Caprica. . .

Captain Robert 'Ares' Wendell: is Galactica's CAG (Commander, Air Group) and leader of a squadron well on its way to becoming a legend. Ares is one of Caprica's finest pilots, almost without peer behind the stick of his Viper. He flies with a cool precision that belies his more rambunctious personality when off-duty. The four squadrons under his command have come to call themselves 'Wendell's Warriors', and each of them would fly into the mouth of hell if either Nash or Ares gave the word.

Professor Neville Pryce: is a civillian advisor to the military, one of its foemost minds on the applications of robotics and one of the programmers on the Cylon project. While the President's first impulse was to round up every last mind who had anything to do with the creation of the Cylons and have them imprisoned or executed, the fact of the matter is the creators of these metal monsters have information on their capabilities, their tactics, and their weaknesses that could be useful. As such, each battlestar has at least one of these men and women aboard, tasked with providing intelligence on the Cylon threat and devising new ways to defeat them. The fact that each of these people get a front-row seat to the carnage their rampaging creations have wrought isn't lost on Fleet Command either. Pryce lives as a virtual prisoner, a pariah amongst the crew. He smokes like a chimney, his nerves are shot to hell. His actions may have led to the deaths of millions, perhaps even the doom of the entire human race. The guilt is threatening to swallow him whole. . .and more, a budding resentment that could well blossom into a full-on hatred for the humanity that has burdened him with their collective guilt and rage. His viewpoint is boiling down to a survival of the fittest mentality, and what better survivors are there than 'his' Cylons? Galactica's crew may have a valued resource at their disposal. . .or they may have embraced a viper to their chest. Time will tell.

The Cylons: The most terrifying thing about the Cylons is just how damned close they came to wiping out humanity in one fell swoop. The uprising was just barely defeated by the reeling militaries of the twelve colonies, and even as a unified force the Colonial Fleet is hard pressed in space or on the ground. Cylon Raiders execute manuevers at speeds that could snap human vertebrae, basestars have ample power reserves to spare (not needing such human necessities as life support), and the Model 0005 Centurion is one of the deadliest soldiers to ever grace the field of battle. The Cylons move in near-total silence; they don't grunt, don't scream, they don't make a sound. The last thing a Colonial soldier might hear as the enemy closes in is the soft whooshing of their eye-sensor palatte and the click of a cocking trigger.

Worse, the Cylons are learning. Their tactics morph and change, adapting to the advances of the Colonial Fleet with startling speed. They've learned how to detect and create ambushes, how to hold humans in bondage and use them as labor behind enemy lines. They've even learned to conserve their resources by retreating. This last they rarely implement, as their factory bases remain secure at this time, but its still an eerie reminder that the toasters aren't mindless. Rumors abound in military intelligence of a newer model, the IL series, designed to coordinate Cylon forces and act as command units. They were only in the design stages when the Cylons revolted. . .could they be a reality?

The Cylons are an implacable foe at this time, united and driven by a single goal: to kill their former masters and ascend to their rightful place as the dominant species in the galaxy. There's no moral ambiguity here: its kill or be killed.

A war comic in space. A space opera with a taste of gritty realism. A heroic humanity struggling valiantly against a nigh-unstoppable mechanistic foe. Humans versus Robots. All these and more would be found within the pages of The Cylon War.

And I'd do it all for free(or for a modest fee. ~.^)

Stac