Steampunk

Science Fiction fans of Oxford are lucky to have the current Steampunk exhibition on their doorstep, at the Museum of the History of Science, Broad Street. This historic museum is perhaps the perfect place for the world premier exhibition dedicated to the art and science of this little known sub-genre and underground movement. Steampunk is a literary genre with a strong and growing fan base who embrace it with vigor, often dressing up in full Victorian-inventor attire and actively involving themselves in the scene, by designing art and objects or writing novels and comic books. Born in the eighties, around the same time as the Cyberpunk movement, Steampunk looks back to the Victorian period for stylistic inspiration, embracing the zeal for scientific experimentation and prophetic insight typical of the period dominated by such sci-fi giants as H.G. Wells and Jules Vern. But a certain punkish spirit also runs in its bloodlines. In much the same way that forgotten musical genres enjoyed resurgence in the wake of punk's cultural atomic flash, other areas of sub-culture and fandom went through renaissances of their own, the literary and comic world being no exception. Punk's levelling, grassroots call for individualism seemed to resonate within the hearts of other downtrodden subcultures. Typically looked down upon by mainstream culture, the Sci-fi and comic geeks were the outcasts of the literary world, their beloved genres sneered at by the serious minded literati.
But a hardcore underground movement had been growing for sometime. Many of the indie alternative book shops that sprung up around London in the early seventies such as Dark They Were And Golden-Eyed, as well as the nascent convention scene, seemed to be peopled by the same sort of outsider hippie types that fed into such idiosyncratic proto-punk shops as Granny Takes A Trip and Let It Rock. These young upstarts were beginning to learn the trade and would go on to make a mark on their respective industries in the aftermath of punk's year zero. It seems fair to suggest that the spirit of punk that hugely affected cultural output in the early eighties fed into these growing fan scenes, rejuvenating them with a questioning cynicism and fiercely independent outlook. Only in a post-punk world does the newly gritty, morally questioning and serious-minded comic revolution of Alan Moore, for example, really make sense. The do-it-yourself spirit of punk percolated through into such sectors of society, thus inspiring new lineages to break out. 2000AD for example, a British comic publisher born in the eighties, and starting point for many of today's anarchic British Invasion comic creators, is characterized by its gritty aesthetic nods to punk and sneering, tongue-in-cheek disregard for convention. Indeed, many early examples of the steam- and cyberpunk look can be found in its pages, including the bizarre imperial war machines found in Nemesis the Warlock, and the grimy dystopian mood of Judge Dredd. The Steampunk aesthetic is a strange mixture of Victorian design flourishes in dark wood, brass and tough leather, with the sturdy functionality of bare cogs and gears, reflecting the considerable industrial advancement of the Victorian era. This is all carried off with a youthful narcissistic eye for detail, particularly in the beautifully designed costumes of the scene's participants. Waist coats and bodices customised with straps and cogs, are typical, creating the mad inventor meets gothic dandy look. There's an invigorating enthusiasm reflected in Steampunk, which considers the mechanical age and the potential it harbours with a wide-eyed wonderment somewhat removed from Cyberpunk's techno-cynicism. Steampunk strikes a far more positive chord, by creating its own alternative history which indulges itself in historical speculation and dares to ask 'what if' of the steam era. It paints a whimsical alternative present that has grown out of the industrial age and bypasses our digital age completely, revelling in a retro-futurism and mechanical fetishism that is fantastical and awe-inspiring in its reach.
For more info check out the exhibition and this blog dedicated to it, which has many other related links.

Grindhouse Trailer Classics

Just the tip of a very slimy 'iceberg' of filth, these trailer discs are big in America and can regularly be seen played at elitist underground rockabilly clubs. For anyone wishing they'd been there in the 70s, a washed-up deadbeat on 42nd street, dirty mac and liquor bottle in a crumpled brown paper bag, staring dead-eyed at the relentless stream of violence and pornography, this is heaven indeed. An endless conveyor belt of men in rubber monster-suits chasing bikini girls, limbs being hacked off with rusty saws, hatchets lodged in delinquents' foreheads, perm-headed hipsters and jive-talking jungle-bunnies, scantily-clad death squads and Nazi prison lesbian torture sequences, this two hour long DVD, complete with 55 cruddy trailer classics is an unbeatable viewing pleasure. There's a bizarrely pure, unadulterated thrill to be experienced viewing these clips, that'll have you appreciating the obvious artistic talent involved in making the lowest form of celluloid scuzz look genuinely appealing. You just know these films of third reich sexual-experiments, hippie-occultism and bad-ass ninja hitmen are total stinkers, but you'll want to see them anyway, even though you've probably just seen all the best bits in the 60 second trailer. The crackling graininess, sordid, unerotic sex and worryingly gratifying primal onslaught of bloodiness, will leave you feeling, to borrow a phrase, unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed. It's probably best to watch these at a party, among friends, where it will no doubt provide a good hour of hilarity and enjoyment. But hey, why not watch it alone. Numbed by the absurdly graphic images indelibly scarring your retinas, you'll start to wonder if the human race hasn't gone very wrong somewhere along the line.
You know what? It probably has. But you'll find the plight of our wayward species will pale in significance as long as the gloriously offensive, hypnotic dance of flesh and death continues. So quit worrying, sit back and gorge yourself on this awesome visual junk.

John Wyndham

The Midwich Cuckoos is the fourth in a series of sophisticated science fiction novels by the great John Wyndham, which also includes such hailed classics as Day of the Triffids and The Kraken Awakes. Cuckoos, a very English sci-fi, is a gripping, thought-provoking page-turner in which an entire village is temporarily knocked-out, its inhabitants succumbing to a deep sleep, awaking to find itself very much changed. Or rather, awaking slightly confused but generally okay, only to discover several months later that whatever it was that caused the blackout also managed to make every woman in the village pregnant. This unknown, unseen force has struck at society's most cherished and vulnerable asset, its children. Child-based horror is always disturbing, and plays on our greatest fears. Not only, in a very natural, instinctual way, do we hope to protect our young, our precious offspring from the danger and horrors of the world, but in a very modern sense we fear the untamed, amoral potential of a youth gone wild. Wyndham very cleverly explores both fears, finding the sensitive nerve and twisting it, as motherly devotion and species paranoia clash. The hope for a rational solution is threatened as the unexpected and inexplicable challenges mankind's assumed superiority and claim to the earth. Cuckoos is a remarkably philosophical book. As fear and paranoia slowly infiltrate this cosy community, the hero, like many of Wyndham's lead characters, intends to reason his way out of the problem. In many ways this forces us to face some rather unsettling truths about who we think we are, as a species, how we treat 'lower' creatures and what we can expect from a race that seeks to replace us. It also brings to light, in a very frightening way, the lack of global trust or community, as power-hungry nations squabble for command of an otherworldly power they naively believe they can control. The Midwich Cuckoos is one of the most intelligent and exciting horror stories, all the more chilling for the almost detached indifference and certainty of its quiet menace.
(The Simpsons famously pays tribute to the book, and its film version Village of the Damned, with The Bloodening!)

Red Tornado

(Not especially trashy this, unless you're one of those high-brow killjoys who still looks down on comics despite it being an entirely acceptable entertainment medium in Japan and even though respected,'real writers' have written stories, with Ian Rankin's recent contribution and Neil Gaiman's having started his career in the industry. Not to mention the fact that Watchmen is considered one of the great modern novels. I guess comics are still considered low-brow and childish by most, especially in Britain, and superhero comics in particular. Still this is pretty mainstream seeing as it is a DC title...anyway with that said let's get on with the review.)

With the recent release of a new Red Tornado mini-series, now seems as good a time as any to take a look back at the android hero’s past incarnations. Well… there haven’t been many. In fact, along with appearing for a number of years as a painfully underwritten second-stringer in the Justice League, Red Tornado has only once before had his own title. A four part mini-series was released in 1985, in the aftermath of the Crisis on Infinite Earths, DC’s massive cross-over sensation which shook up continuity. This event was an attempt to clear the deck, to start afresh and ultimately attract new readers, who were being scared away by convoluted background stories, and the daunting hardcore knowledge needed to understand what was going on. This event is a milestone in the DC Universe and remains a great read even today. In fact the success of the event is perhaps responsible for the crisis-mania which has swept DC ever since, in which, ever-more devastating events threaten the universe, requiring every character to get involved and redefine their allegiances to good or evil. This crisis-ad-nauseam seems to happen ever year, from the disappointing and yawnsome to the downright incomprehensible. This is, perhaps ironically, to the detriment of the original Crisis’ good intentions; the Universe is an increasingly complicated place again, putting off new and regular readers alike.

Anyway, back to the Red Tornado. His 80s mini-series, written by Busiek, with art by Infantino, is certainly not among the worst of post-crisis character relaunches. Actually it is quite an entertaining read, in which Busiek does an admirable job at bringing together Tornado’s back story and introducing personal conflicts that must be overcome. The comic reads like DC’s attempt at a Silver Surfer type story. A sentient being, outcast by the society he tries to help, questions his place in the world. The story draws on themes of identity and belonging, and at a push can be read as a typical slice of social, perhaps racial commentary. The alienated android, Red Tornado, is feared by humanity. In classic small-minded human tradition this soon turns to hatred for what they can’t understand. Taking note of this all-too-human tendency, as well as Red Tornado’s insecurity about his place in the world, The Construct, the villain of the piece, plans to take full advantage and over throw mankind, initiating the apocalyptic ‘age of the machine’. The floaty mind substance that is The Construct has the enviable ability to take control of machines and human minds, leading them army-like to do his bidding. The Justice League, that is, among others the strongest man on earth, the world’s greatest detective, and a woman who apparently failed IT at school, prove utterly useless against this new menace (in fact it’s a little worrying just how easily they fall under his spell), leaving only Red Tornado impervious to his mind games. Weakened by doubt and fed up with the way he’s treated, old Reddy picks one hell of a bad moment to give up on humanity all together.

The fear of technology is well depicted in this comic, as is the frailty of the modern world and its reliance on machines. The story plays on our fears of a challenge to our lazy indulgences, highlighting the modern world’s inertia and over dependence on the comforts of technology. There are some good scenes as well, including one a little reminiscent of the Bodysnatchers, where Kathy finds herself all alone in the world, fleeing from a crowd of brainwashed townsfolk, as well as having to avoid all types of machinery. She ends up hopelessly stranded, fighting for mental independence.

Red Tornado is an appealing, sympathetic character, one which certainly has tremendous potential. He should be a major player in the DC Universe. He is refreshingly conflicted and insecure. Ironically this super-powered robot with weather-related abilities has characteristics that are much more down to earth than the arrogant sure-footedness of many of the muscle-bound heroes. I say ‘should be a major player’; he isn’t, and Buseik’s attempt ultimately falls a little flat. It’s an entertaining read and there are some good ideas in it, but it’s also painfully predictable. The support characters, Kathy and Traya are underdeveloped and at times annoying, so it becomes hard to care about Red Tornado’s plight. His civilian alias, John Smith, a non-descript dull persona which he has obviously chosen in an attempt to be accepted, is perhaps too boring, so its difficult to care too much when he decides to give it up. Artistically, the data file panals are a neat idea, as we access the hero’s past as if flicking through a computer programme. And Infantino’s striking covers are cololurful and a joy to behold. But ultimately the premise seems old-hat and a little shaky, and despite some interesting themes it remains somewhat superficial. There’s an overall confusion as to what it is that makes us human; the distinction between humanity and machine is unclear, undermining the very tenants on which the conflict balances. In the end it’s like watching DC failing to pull off an idea Marvel excelled at in the ‘60s.