TheoFantastique is a supporter of independent film, particularly in the form of indie horror. Midnight Syndicate Films makes its contribution to this art form with The Dead Matter. The press release for the film reports that post-production was completed at the end of April. “‘I am absolutely thrilled with how the movie came out,” says Edward Douglas, the film’s director, composer, and sound editor. ‘I think it’s exactly what fans would expect from a Midnight Syndicate movie. Classic horror themes…very atmospheric, very creepy…and loaded with twists and turns that really pull you into the dark world we try to create on all our discs. It’s definitely a fun ride for fans who enjoy a good story and an old-school edge to their horror films.'”
The press release also discusses the film’s plot: “The movie tells the story of a girl named Gretchen who’s desire to reconnect with her dead brother draws her into the supernatural world of vampirism and the living dead. Drenched in the dark and shadowy music of Midnight Syndicate and inspired by EC Comics, Creepshow, and Hammer Films, this mix of classic horror and modern twists promises to deliver for fans of the genre.”
Ed Douglas also responded to a few questions about the film in a brief interview:
TheoFantastique:The Dead Matter has a long history before reaching its present form with the upcoming release. How did you move from horror and Halloween music to independent horror filmmaking?
Edward Douglas: Before forming Midnight Syndicate, I studied film and theatre. My first major project was the original The Dead Matter (1996). Back then we had about $2,000 and had to borrow a Super-VHS camera and mics from our school, John Carroll University just to shoot it. We knew that we were going to be limited by our technical specs but we did the best we could with what we had in order to put ourselves in a position to remake it later with an actual budget. As a midwest filmmaker trying to make a movie out here, Sam Raimi and George Romero were two of my greatest inspirations (Sam Raimi had a slightly similar path with Evil Dead). We released The Dead Matter in 1996 but it would take another ten years before we would be in a position to do it again. The success of Midnight Syndicate put us in contact with a lot of people in the entertainment industry, most notably, FX legend Robert Kurtzman (producer of From Dusk Till Dawn, and co-founder of KNB FX) who contacted us to score his drive-in thriller The Rage in 2006. After he was done shooting that film we approached him about The Dead Matter. He liked the project and signed on. We ended up co-producing the film with him, his company Precinct 13, and producer, Gary Jones (Boogeyman 3, and Xena).
TheoFantastique:The Dead Matter is described as a combination of “classic horror themes with modern twists.” What are you trying to accomplish with this synthesis?
Edward Douglas: Just as is the case with Midnight Syndicate, most of my influences come from the classic horror movies. That comes through in our music and it definitely comes through in The Dead Matter. The throwback feel of this film is also helped along by the look of it and the fact that both myself and the DP, Alex Esber are inspired by Hammer Films, Mario Bava, and 70s/80s horror cinema. We’re dealing with classic horror themes in the vampire and zombie and we respect a lot of the established “rules” which gives the movie and story an old-school feel. The fun comes though when we take those conventions and turn them on their side for a bit (the “modern twists”). It makes for an unpredictable movie that keeps you guessing and entertained. I think what I was trying to accomplish was to create a movie that respects the older vampire and zombie films that inspired us while still touching on new ground to mix it up for all of us that have watched those movies a thousand times over and still love them.
TheoFantastique: How can interested viewers see The Dead Matter? And do you have any plans to try to get it into next year’s Slamdance Film Festival perhaps?
Edward Douglas: We just began talks with distributors and will also be submitting it to festivals. I hope to have more information within the next few months.
If the film is anywhere near the caliber of the 2008 CD by Midnight Syndicate, titled The Dead Matter: Cemetery Gates, which was a collection of music inspired by the movie, then horror fans can expect plenty of frights from the film. For further information visit the film’s website.
And do not forget to use Event Security during filming process or festivals.
The new issue of Rue Morgue magazine, #90 (June 2009), recently hit newsstands. I knew when I received their weekly email announcement that I had to pick up a copy of this issue to add to my collection. The cover art drew my attention to the Ray Harryhausen tribute. Fans of fantasy films will be familiar with Harryhausen’s work and influence, have taken the stop-motion animation work of his mentor, Willis O’Brien working on the original King Kong, and transformed it into one of the most influential forms of special effects and entertainment starting in the 1950s and moving into the following decades. The tribute includes little that will be new to Harryhausen fans, but does serve as a good introduction and overview of his work, and also includes a new interview with the “majician” from his home in London.
A few aspects of this tribute are worth noting. First, the coverage includes articles on two recent books on stop-motion that are essential for fans of the art form and Harrhausen’s work. These include Mike Hankin’s Ray Harryhausen: Master of the Majicks vol. 2, and Ray Harryhausen and Tony Dalton’s A Century of Stop-Motion Animation: From Melies to Aardman.
Second, the tribute includes curious references to Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. In an article on stop-motion by Jason Pichonsky, he concludes by mentioning the ongoing legacy of stop-motion through contemporary works such as The Pit and the Pendulum, and Coraline, and mention is also made of Burton’s The Corpse Bride, but curiously Pichonsky does not mention Nightmare, a film of grander scale and with considerably more complexity and ongoing cultural influence than Corpse. And in the interview with Harryhausen the legendary animator seems almost at pains to distinguish between Burton’s stop-motion works as “puppet films” in contrast with his own work that put “characters that were believable in a real context.” This is curious for two reasons. One, Harryhausen’s early work was in George Pal’s “Puppetoons” which then opened the door for his work with more realistic creatures as special effects. Two, it was due to Harryhausen’s influence on Burton that the director has helped keep the legacy of stop-motion going by producing some of the few studio films that feature the art form.
The final piece of Rue Morgue‘s tribute worth drawing attention to is a matter of accuracy in details. The normally very accurate folks at Rue Morgue missed a photo caption, mistakenly labeling Harryhausen’s pre-production artwork of the Ymir in 20 Million Miles to Earth and associating it with concept art for the Kracken in Clash of the Titans.
With this latest issue Rue Morgue continues to demonstrate that it is one of the top notch magazines addressing, as its subtitlte states, “horror in culture and entertainment.” This tribute to Harryhausen is less extensive and moving than their tribute to Forrest J. Ackerman just before his death, but their feature on this legendary animator and special effects technician demonstrates that they recognize his place in fantastic cinema history.
Professor Graeme Harper is Director of the National Institute for Excellence in the Creative Industries at University of Wales, Bangor. He is author of Swallowing Film (2000), and Comedy, Fantasy and Colonialism (2001), and the co-editor of Signs of Life: Medicine and Cinema (2005). He is also the co-editor of the journal Studies in European Cinema. With Rob Stone he is the co-editor of The Unsilvered Screen: Surrealism on Film (Wallflower Press, 2007). Despite a busy schedule, Professor Harper recently shared his thoughts on aspects of surrealism and its connection to horror films.
TheoFantastique: Thank you both for editing a volume that touches on an interesting aspect of not only art but cinema as well. I have been thinking through the relationship between Surrealism and horror films after reading the suggestion from David Skal in The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror, but I didn’t know where to turn. Your book provided not only a good place to start, but also some good thoughts on specifics in horror films and beyond. To begin, how did you come to be associated with the subject of Surrealism?
Graeme Harper: I began in the way many others probably began: by noticing Dali’s work, and then by looking further into what was going on, and why. From there the historical elements emerged. And, being a fiction writer, I quickly was drawn to the work which then bridged to Futurists such as Marinetti. I wasn’t aware, at first, of how political the movement/s was/were.
TheoFantastique: Can you summarize Surrealism in terms of what defines it and how it has been expressed among painters and poets?
Graeme Harper: Anti-rationalism, dream, freeing people from structures – all this fits somewhere. It’s often not useful to think of Surrealism as one thing; even though the manifesto work suggests a “glue” between proponents, there’s lots of personalities/individualism, and they all have their own specific takes.
TheoFantastique: How did Surrealism work itself into film and in what genres and forms?
Graeme Harper: The visual was pretty strong within the movement. Being as individualism and individual integrity and autonomy is strong, then the notion of the visual as open interpretation quite rightly had some key value. The idea of a new language of the visual is within the ideas of the Surrealists – and this fits politically as well as aesthetically with what they were thinking. Creativity untethered also fits well and the notion of the visual’s natural generativity sits there also.
TheoFantastique: One of the chapters in The Unsilvered Screenthat most resonated with the purposes of this website is Barbara Creed’s that looks at Surrealism in the films of Alfred Hitchcock, David Lynch, and David Cronenberg. Creed describes Hitchcock as not only a “master of suspense” but also a “master of the surreal.” In what ways might this be so for viewers not used to recognizing this element in his work?
Graeme Harper: Light and dark. Hitchcock scholars know this element. But the notion of the persistence of time (and no need to mention the film of Hitchcock’s that exemplifies that technically so well!) is key.
Compositionally it’s very interesting to think how much these two things: light/dark and time are involved in the Hitchcock world view.
TheoFantastique: At one point in her chapter Creed references Carl Belz who argues that Surrealist art includes the elements of “emotional shock, psychological chaos, unabashed eroticism, and a disturbing ‘aura” surrounding characters” that Creed argues are all presented in The Birds. Can you touch on some of the surrealist elements in the film as a case study to help readers appreciate this aspect of the classic film?
Graeme Harper: I see Barb’s chapter has had some impact on you! Excellent! It’s a very good exploration. Okay, even at its simplest, the sense of natural chaos overwhelming the imposed structures of human life is part of The Birds. But you could also look at the use of angular close-ups involving faces and terror (or, indeed, the imagined use of these also: because, of course, much like Surrealist art in a more general sense, The Birds is full of suggestion and the power of suggestion).
TheoFantastique: David Cronenberg’s horror films tap into surrealist aspects as it touches on the body. What does Surrealism say about our conceptions of the body, and how is some of this pushed, perhaps to extremes, in Cronenberg’s work in Scanners and Videodrome?
Graeme Harper: Well, yes, Cronenberg – an excellent question. Liberating the human imagination? Absurdity? Psychological confusion? A belief in the body as conduit not container? Cronenberg, in Surrealist terms, is not entirely pushing “to extremes”, given that, say, something like telepathy is relatively conservative in nature, and selective in human involvement (ie. it doesn’t necessarily upset the political or social order). Videodrome is perhaps more interesting in that sense. Then, of course, we could talk about the more recent A History of Violence and wonder if the intrusion of individual history into family/group history reveals something of a Surrealist tendency – not least through the use of physical attributes (the appearance of Ed Harris, for example) to destabilize the mainstream functioning of human life. No as unlike The Fly as some might suspect!
TheoFantastique: Graeme, thank you for making your fine book on Surrealism available to me, and for answering some of my questions on the topic as it relates to horror and suspense in cinema.
My friend and fellow LOTTD member, Kim Paffenroth, is about to release his latest contribution to zombie apocalyptic literature in pop culture through the book, Valley of the Dead. The synopsis is as follows:
“For seventeen years of his life, the whereabouts of the medieval Italian poet Dante Alighieri is unknown to modern scholars. All we know is that during this time he travelled as an exile across Europe while working on his epic poem, The Divine Comedy. In this masterpiece he describes a journey through the three realms of the afterlife. The volume describing hell, Inferno, is the most famous of the three.
“Valley of the Dead is the real story behind Inferno. In his wanderings, Dante stumbles on a zombie infestation, and the things he sees there – people being devoured, burned alive, boiled in pitch, torn apart by dogs, eviscerated, impaled, crucified, etc. – become the basis of all the horrors he describes in Inferno. Afraid to be labeled a madman, Dante made the terrors he witnessed into a more ‘believable’ account of an otherworldly adventure with demons and monsters, but now the real story can finally be told.”
In addition to the intriguing story line combining Dante and zombies, the book will include cover and interior art by Alex McVey. Valley of the Dead is published by Cargo Cult Press, and is coming out as a signed, numbered, limited edition. The book will only be on sale from June 1 through August 31.
A friend who is aware of my passion for the fantastic, and that Guillermo del Toro is one of my heroes in this field, passed along a link to a recent article and brief interview with the film director. The article appears in WIRED MAGAZINE 17.06 from May 22, 2009. The piece is by Scott Brown, and it is titled “Q&A: Hobbit Director Guillermo del Toro on the Future of Film.”
In the article Brown rightly calls attention to Guillermo’s rise to fame in the fantastic, plucked from the obscurity of “fanboyland” to become the creative genius behind films such as The Devil’s Backbone, Mimic,Blade II, and Hellboy, but also the academy award winning Pan’s Labyrinth. As a result of his abilities in fantasy storytelling, Peter Jackson hand selected del Toro to “helm the two-part prequel to The Lord of the Rings” with The Hobbit.
The brief interview with del Toro is also interesting in that it presents a window into the filmmaker as broad storyteller who is willing to draw upon a variety of media to tell stories, whether film, television, or video games, and combinations of these media. At one point del Toro opines that “[i]n the next 10 years, we’re going to see all forms of entertainment – film, television, video, games, and print – melding into a single-platform ‘story engine.’ ..The moment you connect creative output with a public story engine, a narrative can continue over a period of months or years. It’s going to rewrite the rules of fiction.” I’m excited about these possibilities, particularly with visionaries like del Toro involved.
The article includes a sidebar which catalogs del Toro’s films, and notes that he is connected creatively to at least 11 movies coming out over the next decade. WIRED labels him “the dominant fantasist for this period,” and rightly so. However, as the sidebar discusses his proposed film projects the shortcomings of the author are very noticeable in appreciating aspects of the fantastic. For example, del Toro would like to produce his own version of Pinocchio based on Gris Grimly’s “dark 2002 novelized reimagining of the classic tale,” and del Toro would like to do so through stop-motion animation. Reportedly del Toro would also like to draw upon stop-motion for the Ronald Dahl fantasy The Witches. But in WIRED‘s view, Henry Selick’s Coraline, and the future Fantastic Mr. Fox are more than enough stop-motion for them. Contrary to WIRED‘s narrow vision, stop-motion animation is a unique cinematic art form that thankfully continues to surface from time to time in film through its patron saints such as Tim Burton and Nick Park. Hopefully del Toro will have the vision and gravitas as a director to draw upon this art form if he feels these stories can best be told through this medium.
The article also mentions del Toro’s desires to direct a new version of Frankenstein, which is del Toro’s “longtime passion project.” Once again WIRED is not happy, stating that Kenneth Branaugh’s 1994 film Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein should serve as an indication that we do not need another “Frankenstein reboot.” It’s hard to know where to begin in response to this. In my view Branaugh’s film was a good one, adhering closer to Shelly’s book than most other cinematic treatments. Beyond this, the Frankenstein story has quite a longevity and cultural impact, and is hardly in need of rebooting. Del Toro may indeed have the creative vision to add his own contribution to the continuing Frankenstein mythology.
I am pleased by the possibilities posed by del Toro’s popularity and I hope that his creative vision remains at the forefront of his future projects and are not subsumed under Hollywood’s overarching desire for large box office receipts.
Last night I had the opportunity to watch the latest installment in the Terminator film franchise, Terminator Salvation. The comments that follow represent some of my reflections on the film which touch on aspects of the storyline that those who have not yet seen the film may wish to avoid.
First, my overall impression. At the outset there were reasons to be concerned about this film, including a few negative reviews I encountered, and the negative turn in the franchise with the disappointment of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. Even so, I was optimistic in that the trailers on television and the Internet gave indication that this film held some promise. Christian Bale, a good actor with a solid track record in fantasy and horror films, plays the lead role in the character of John Connor. Beyond this, the director, McG, although not previously associated with a science fiction or adventure film of this magnitude, gave indications in interviews of his desires to revive the franchise, and to prove to critics that he could live up to the expectations of Terminator fans for a bar set very high by James Cameron. My optimism was warranted in that my impression of the film is a very positive one. Although very different from the first two successful Terminator films, in my view this film has enough going for it as a solid cinematic effort and development of the Terminator mythology to enable the franchise’s resurrection should others echo my sentiments in the form of box office receipts. Beyond my initial impressions to aspects of the film stood out for me in the form of the backdrop and character exploration.
The backdrop for Terminator Salvation differs from the previous installments in that we move beyond the battle to prevent the possibility of apocalypse, to the reality of this nightmare and human beings attempting to survive in a post-apocalyptic environment in an ongoing battle with machines. The late modern or postmodern imagination has moved beyond more traditional expressions of apocalypse as informed by the Judeo-Christian tradition to formulate new expressions of fears of the End fueled by secular concerns that may also be influenced by new conceptions of religious apocalyptic ideas. Terminator Salvation fits within this context by exploring new forms of apocalyptic while also retaining some of the religious concepts and terminology from previous religious apocalyptic narratives, such as the concept of Skynet’s nuclear annihilation functioning as a form of Judgment Day, and the film’s title referencing a form of salvation. In my view this post-apocalyptic environment opened up new avenues for storytelling and character development in that we have moved beyond the main story element of battle between humans and various versions of killing cyborgs locked in combat to either prevent or hasten apocalypse, to the reality of post-apocalypse itself. In the backdrop of Terminator Salvation, mere survival in a landscape scarred by nuclear weapons, as difficult as it would be, is made even more horrific in that humans must also fight for survival against technology out of control that seeks to destroy the human race. A single Terminator may have provided plenty of thrills in the first installment, and Terminator vs. Terminator provided additional excitement in the next two installments, but a complete war against humanity while battling a network of killing machines opens up many new possibilities, both in the fight for survival itself, as well as the challenges posted by the need for understanding the increased complexity of humanity’s relationship with technology.
Beyond the post-apocalyptic backdrop for the story, its wrestling with changing conceptions of identity was intriguing. In the postmodern environment the understanding of human identity is very different from that of a modern environment. In postmodernity identity is viewed as fluid and unstable, subject to the creation of new conceptions of identity in differing contexts as these contexts change. This means that one’s identity is not fixed, by nature, nurture, or social context, and that in spite of these things the individual can choose to create a new sense of identity as the situation and context warrants.
This postmodern idea of identity instability plays itself out in Terminator Salvation with the character of Marcus Wright. We are first introduced to this character before the nuclear annihilation unleashed by Skynet as Wright sits on death row for murder and is given the opportunity to donate his body after death for scientific experimentation. Wright dies by lethal injection, only to awaken years later after the apocalypse unsure of what has taken place, where he is, and what year he is now living in. Slowly, Wright puts the pieces of the puzzle together as he encounters various participants in the human resistance against the machines. He comes to discover that John Connor is an important figure in this movement, and he seeks to connect with him in an attempt to return to San Francisco (now under the control of Skynet) in order to find the answers he seeks about his past and his present. Wright finally joins with Connor and the resistance, only to discover that he is not the human being he thought he was, but is instead a cyborg-human synthesis, but one very different from the Terminators. Wright’s bodily makeup involves a synthesis of human flesh and metal, but is different in that he has a human brain controlled by a digital chip, and has a specialized heart. At the conclusion of the film the audience learns, as does Wright, that he was made by Skynet as the perfect creation with the potential to infiltrate the resistance in the hopes of killing Connor. This devious purpose does not sit well with Wright, who makes the decision to pursue a different path, one in keeping with humanity and the resistance. As a result he removes the controlling chip and takes steps to save Connor from the T-800 Terminator.
The Wright character provides an interesting exploration of postmodern identity instability and recreation. This is illustrated dramatically as Connor has Wright in his gunsight and must decide whether to kill him or allow him to follow through on his offer to track down Kyle Reese in the hands of Skynet and scheduled for termination. In a tense showdown Connor asks Wright “What are you?,” to which Marcus responds, “I don’t know.” Wright’s ambiguous identity confuses both characters, and this tension of identity is resolved through the ensuing actions of both characters.
Marcus is indeed in one sense a machine created for a purpose and programmed for destruction. But he is not limited by his creator’s intent or his internal programming. Instead, he makes a choice, prior to the removal of the controlling computer chip, and decides to live as a human being and in keeping with humanity’s desire for life and freedom apart from Skynet’s desires for destruction. Earlier in the film Wright asks another character if he thought that people should be given a second chance. At the film’s conclusion Wright provides a second chance, a chance at redemption, for himself and for Connor, as Connor lays dying of a major chest wound and Wright offers his own specialized heart as the only life-saving means of intervention. Through this action Wright again exemplifies the best of what it means to be human, using his heart (literally and figuratively) and offering his life on behalf of another. This act of compassion becomes another example of Wright’ choice of identity forged through sacrifice and choice in the face of a challenging context.
Terminator Salvation also reflects a postmodern apocalyptic in its questioning of elements found in the Judeo-Christian apocalyptic as it tackles the subject of good and evil, as well as infusing ambiguity into the question of who constitute the “saved.” Typically in the franchise “good” humanity squares off against the “evil” machines. But in this film human beings can be seen acting just as evil and ‘robot-like” as Skynet and its Terminators. And who does the “salvation” refer to in the film’s title? The natural assumption is that it refers to individual human beings, such as John Connor and Kylke Reese, and by extension, to humanity itself. With these key players in the franchise’s apocalyptic timeline saved from Skynet’s destruction, although the battle rages the audience can rest assured that humanity will triumph and ultimately be saved. While this is surely one of the references to “salvation” in the film’s title it may also have another reference to Skynet itself, or at least aspects of it. This interpretation can be developed from the actions of Marcus Wright, a cyborg creation of Skynet who overcomes his mechanical identity and programming, and in so doing exhibits very human characteristics offered on behalf of humanity. In this way hope and salvation glimmers even for the machines themselves.
Finally, the film also explores a possibility for a resolution of our fears over technology out of control. In an essay for Cinefantastique Online prior to the film’s release I wondered whether it would seek to resolve this fear through some form of trans- or posthumanism, the use of technology to extend human capabilities, which some fear may go so far as to see a blurring or even an eradication of the lines between the human being and technology. To some extent I feel vindicated in my prediction in this area. Although the concept was not explored in an overt way, Wright’s wrestling over his sense of identity, and his offer of his technologically-enhanced organ, and with it his life to save the life of Connor, represent an introduction of the philosophical, metaphysical, and techno-theological issues related to both an exploration of transhumanism and our fears of science and technology run amok.
Terminator Salvation is not a perfect film, but then again, there is no perfect film. Some may come close in the eyes of fans, but they are always the creation of fallible artists. Even with its limitations and imperfections Terminator Salvation is an enjoyable addition to the Terminator film series that, along with the television series, may have helped to reboot a franchise birthed over two decades ago.
For decades popular culture has experienced and enjoyed two related phenomena, that of Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs), along with alleged alien visitation, as well science fiction films that feature flying saucers and their occupants. Indeed, as author Paul Meehan has noted, “[s]aucer movies are a distinct subgenre of science fiction film, and perhaps should constitute a genre of their own.” Meehan has done fans of science fiction films involving UFOs, as well as those interested in the UFO phenomenon, a great service in writing Saucer Movies: A UFOlogical History of the Cinema(The Scarecrow Press, 1998). Paul has a B.A. in Cinema Studies from Hunter College in New York, where he studied with film writer Barbara Leaming. One of his classmates was Maitland McDonagh, author of Filmmaking on the Fringe and other books on the horror genre. In addition to Saucer Movies, he is the author of Tech-Noir: The Fusion of Science Fiction and Film Noir (2008), Cinema of the Psychic Realm: A Critical Survey (2009) and Horror Noir: The Nexus of Film Noir and the Horror Film, (to be published in 2010). He lives in San Francisco.
Paul and I explore the thesis of Saucer Movies in the following interview.
TheoFantastique: Paul, thanks for a great read in Saucer Movies. They have long been a favorite expression of science fiction for me going back to my childhood nightmares over Invaders from Mars. I’m glad to see someone explore this topic, and do so well. Your passion for the subject matter comes through in your writing. What is your personal connection to UFOs and their expression in cinema and television?
Paul Meehan: I was always a big fan of science fiction books, comics, TV and movies, and like everyone else I read the occasional news story about UFOs but was not overly concerned with them. Then in 1976 my wife saw a large, football-shaped object with extremely bright lights passing over the Jerome Park Reservoir in the Bronx in broad daylight. Although I did not see the UFO myself, I was mystified by her sighting and afterwards decided to explore the phenomenon in earnest. I discovered the “forbidden science” of ufology, an area of study with a rich and compelling literature that was very distinct from science fiction narratives. At some point I asked myself the question, “what if you analyzed sci-fi films in regard to their ufological content rather than as science fiction, and the idea for Saucer Movies was born. I looked at each of the 300 films in the book not only in terms of their critical and film historical significance, but also in terms of how they connect with the study of UFOs.
TheoFantastique: You remind your readers early on that science fiction has long had a connection to extraterrestrials. What are some of the earliest cinematic expressions of aliens, and to what do you attribute this early exploration of life on other worlds?
Paul Meehan: Cinema pioneer George Melies featured costumed “Selenite” moon-dwellers in A Trip to the Moon (1902), and in the British short When the Man in the Moon Seeks a Wife (1906) a moon man comes to earth looking for human females. Other silent film aliens appeared in A Trip to Mars (1910), A Message from Mars (1913), and Algol (1920). In the modern era, the Republic serial The Purple Monster Strikes (1945) provided the template for practically every Hollywood alien invasion film made during the 1950s. Prior to the arrival of flying saucers on the national scene in the summer of 1947, extraterrestrial themes were inspired by advances in aviation and rocket science, particularly in Germany, Russia and the United States during the 1920s and 30s that first popularized the idea of space travel. The works of Verne and Wells, and later the American pulp science fiction writers and cartoonists of the 30s and 40s, created a lively mythology of planetary voyages and extraterrestrial visitations. These themes did not find their true expression in movies, however, until after the UFO phenomenon first reared its ugly head during the “Roswell summer” of ‘47 and the Hollywood product began to be driven by what was being seen in the skies over America and reported on the front page of every newspaper in America.
TheoFantastique: You also describe the “relationship between UFOs and saucer movies” as “complex and multifaceted.” Before you examine this relationship chapter by chapter you describe various explanatory hypotheses to account for this relationship, including the Bad Film Hypothesis, the Government Conspiracy Hypothesis, and the Prescience Hypothesis. Can you briefly define these, and would you care to share which one you might subscribe to?
Paul Meehan: The Bad Film Hypothesis is the belief that the entire UFO phenomenon is an artifact of pop culture, derived specifically from obscure sci-fi dreck like Killers from Space, that presumably implant extraterrestrial notions inside the heads of UFO witnesses subconsciously. If this hypothesis was correct, then abduction reports should have emerged during the 1950s, when saucer movies were very popular, but abductions weren’t reported until the early 1960s. Abductees do not report meeting popular screen aliens that resemble E.T., Chewbacca, Yoda, Mr. Spock or the creatures from the Alien and Predator movies, but go on reporting the same bland little gray guys with monotonous regularity. The Government Conspiracy Hypothesis suggests that our government knows the truth about UFOs and is using the film business to disseminate info on covert U.S. contact with aliens. This theory is popular with many UFO proponents, but I have found absolutely no evidence to support this. The Prescience Hypothesis posits that film-makers are unconsciously tapping into the UFO reality and expressing this in movies in a precognitive fashion. One example of this is the flying saucer landing in Washington in 1951’s The Day the Earth Stood Still preceding the spectacular series of radar-visual sightings over D.C. in July of 1952. Another example is the Japanese monster movie Rodan (1956), which featured missing time amnesia and recovered memories associated with a mysterious flying object years before these themes became a standard feature of abduction reports. Since writing Saucer Movies, I have found more evidence of prescience manifesting itself in films on subjects other than UFOs, but that’s a topic for another book.
TheoFantastique: At several points in your book you note parallels between German folklore and UFOs and aliens. At least one folklorist, Bill Ellis, has made similar connections. Have these parallels been food for thought for you in the mix of UFO and alien sightings, and cinema perhaps all functioning as contemporary forms of folklore?
Paul Meehan: A connection between folklore themes and UFO lore was first explored in scientist Jacques Vallee’s 1969 book Passport to Magonia, in which he noted similarities between folk tales about elves, fairies, pixies, changelings and leprechauns and 20th Century accounts of UFO occupants. While there may be resemblances between the narratives (i.e. little people with magical powers, time dilation, stolen babies, etc.), many ufologists, myself included, do not find Vallee’s arguments persuasive. It’s undeniable that UFOs and aliens have a folkloric dimension in American culture, and those interested in this aspect of the phenomenon should consult Douglas Curran’s book In Advance of the Landing: Folk Concepts of Outer Space. In the 1990s, academic folklorist Thomas Bullard analyzed the content of nearly 200 alien abduction reports and concluded that the stories did not exhibit the standard characteristics of folklore narratives such as successive embellishment. I think that people often confuse the cultural manifestations of the UFO phenomenon with the phenomenon itself. We point to a ridiculous man in a tin foil hat rather than at a UFO that profoundly disturbs our worldview.
TheoFantastique: How has the cyclical nature of the popularity of UFO and alien movies related to UFO sightings? There doesn’t appear to be a direct correspondence in your research.
Paul Meehan: My research has found a negative correlation between historical UFO “waves,” or times of high UFO activity, and the release of important saucer movies. For instance, a significant UFO wave occurred in 1952, but the only alien-themed feature film released that year was the low-budget oddity Red Planet Mars, which didn’t even feature a spaceship. Similarly, 1973 was the year of the biggest UFO wave in history, but no saucer movies were produced by Hollywood in that year. Conversely, if movies produce UFO sightings, then 1953 would have been a peak year after the release of Jack Arnold’s classic 3-D saucer movie It Came from Outer Space and the first two alien invasion films in color, William Cameron Menzies’ Invaders from Mars and George Pal’s War of the Worlds, but this did not happen. Similarly, there was no upsurge in sightings after the release of Close Encounters in 1977 or Independence Day in 1996.
TheoFantastique: I was intrigued by your comments on the “cinematic religious experience” that came with 2001: A Space Odyssey. You describe something similar with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, though not to the same extent in the film or in audience reactions. I had never noticed this element before in CETK, but I think you are correct. In what ways do you see CETK as expressing a type of religious or spiritual experience in connection with UFOs and aliens?
Paul Meehan: Spielberg reportedly modeled CETK after 2001, watching Kubrick’s film numerous times during production. The vertical structure of Devil’s Tower was meant to suggest the similarly-shaped monolith in 2001. Both films center around a quasi-religious quest by a single individual (Keir Dullea in 2001, Richard Dreyfuss in CETK) to make contact with a godlike alien intelligence. The Moses-like Dreyfuss, climbs Devil’s Tower, a figurative Mt. Sinai, and later is taken up into the heavens in a celestial ship like the prophet Ezekiel. The entire film has a visionary quality that climaxes with the descent of the glittering mothership in the final reels. CETK‘s message of interplanetary peace, music and goodwill delivers a powerful spiritual message.
TheoFantastique: When you discuss UFO cinema and television in the 1970s I appreciated your mention of significant but neglected television efforts such as The Love War, The Enemy Within, and The UFO Incident, programs that resonated with my interest in UFOs as a teen. But then in the late 1970s UFO cinema exploded with films like CETK, Star Wars, and Alien. In this time period you say that the influence of conceptions of UFOs and aliens in cinema moved away from literature and toward the influence of UFO reports. Can you give a few examples?
Paul Meehan:Close Encounters led the way by incorporating material from various UFO reports into the plot, as detailed in my book, including the description of gray aliens. Even the film’s title is derived from the UFO typology developed by researcher Dr. J. Allen Hynek (who also appears briefly in the film). This trend actually started with the 1975 telefilm The UFO Incident, a docudrama based on the real-life UFO abduction of Betty and Barney Hill. After CETK, a number of films inspired by UFO events rather than fictional sources, including Starship Invasions (1977), Mysterious Two (1979), Hanger 18 (1980), Endangered Species (1982) and Wavelength (1983). Beginning in the late 1980s, films based on best-selling books about alien abductions, Communion (1989) and Intruders (1992) were produced, followed by the movie version of the Travis Walton abduction, Fire in the Sky (1993). TV’s The X-Files would later incorporate ufological material into the plotlines of the highly successful series..
TheoFantastique: You consider Contact a “lyrical film” that you rank alongside 2001 and CETK. What is it about this film that merits your praise in this context alongside these cinematic classics?
Paul Meehan:Contact is one of a very small number of alien-themed films (the short list includes 2001, Close Encounters, Cocoon, E.T., Starman and Phenomenon) in which extraterrestrials are friendly and provide something beneficial to mankind. It’s also a study of the Ellie Arroway (Jodie Foster) character, who is loosely based on real-life SETI scientist Jill Tartar. As such, the film has a distinctly feminine perspective that is very rare in science fiction cinema. The scene in which Ellie confronts the alien intelligence, disguised as a simulacrum of her dead father on a tropical beach with galaxies wheeling through the sky overhead is perhaps the most beautiful image in the history of the genre.
TheoFantastique: Given that your book was published in 1998 it ends with an analysis of UFO cinema as expressed from 1994-1997. If you were to update the book in order to account for developments in UFO cinema in the next decade, what type of observations would you make?
Paul Meehan: After the glory days of the saucer movie wave that lasted from 1994 to 1997, the whole subject became passé and science fiction film turned to cyberpunk and superhero themes. The few alien-themed movies that were made during this period were awful dreck like Evolution and Dreamcatcher, and after 9/11, aliens became equated with terrorists in films like the War of the Worlds remake and Cloverfield. The last few years, however, have seen a resurgence of the form in movies like Alien vs. Predator, The Day the Earth Stood Still retread, Monsters vs. Aliens and Race to Witch Mountain. This may be due to an uptick in dramatic UFO sightings reported in the media recently, including the Stephensville, Texas, Chicago-O’Hare and Tinley Park, Illinois sightings. I have been considering writing a sequel to Saucer Movies, which may be my next project.
TheoFantastique: Paul, thanks so much for your research into an interesting topic. I hope you’ll come back to discuss your other books and their subject matter.
Will the new TERMINATOR explore apocalyptic anxiety regarding technology and nuclear annihilation in a new way? In my recent article for Cinefantastique Online I explore the changing face of apocalyptic myth and then suggest ways in which this might be explored in the soon-to-be-released TERMINATOR SALVATION. Below are excerpts from the article which can be read in entirety here:
Fears and scenarios depicting The End are found throughout cultures and religions, going back to the earliest times of humanity. Just as we need stories to explain where we have come from and why we are here, we also need stories to explain our inevitable ending. As Elizabeth Rosen has commented, “The story of apocalypse has become a part of our social consciousness, part of a mythology about endings that hovers in the cultural background and is just as real and influential as our myths of origin.” As an explanatory myth, apocalyptic “is an organizing principle imposed on an overwhelming, seemingly disordered universe” (Apocalyptic Transformation: Apocalypse and the Postmodern Imagination [Rowman & Littlefield, 2008]).
In Western culture, apocalyptic has been rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition which continues to exert strong influences and much of the vocabulary related to considerations of the End. But various cultural circumstances have contributed to the shifting use of our apocalyptic vocabulary, as well as a change in the way in which the apocalypse is construed altogether. So while in its Judeo-Christian context, “apocalypse” referred to a revelation of divine vindication in the face of persecution and seeming cultural disorder, in contemporary usage “apocalypse” is now used as a term that refers to an overarching catastrophe that threatens the existence and present form of the human race. In addition to a change in vocabulary with reference to the End, late- or post-modernity also adds a new twist to the apocalypse, not only moving beyond the Judeo-Christian framework but also critiquing the notion of apocalyptic itself, producing variations in conceptions of the End that introduce new moral ambiguities and at times question whether the End really is the End or more of a radical form of transition and transformation.
It is dangerous to speculate too much on a film that has yet to be released, based upon brief glimpses from a trailer, but TERMINATOR SALVATION may provide a new element in response to our anxieties and fears over our relationship with technology, that of synthesis. If this is part of the storyline, then once again science fiction presents a futuristic possibility, but one only slightly ahead of the present. An intellectual movement exists called transhumanism or sometimes posthumanism. This has been defined as the combination of technology with human beings in such a way as to “enhance human intellectual, physical, and psychological abilities.” All well and good as we think of Steve Austin in the 1970s television series THE BIONIC MAN, and war veterans with robotic limbs replacing those lost in battle. But many have wondered how far transhumanism might be taken, going so far as to change human beings into something entirely nonhuman or posthuman as part of an ongoing process of evolution and social transformation.
Tonight my wife and I took in the latest entry in the Star Trek franchise, an attempt by Paramount Pictures to rebirth and reinvigorate a long running classic in television and cinematic science fiction. Previously I had seen the trailers for the film on television and had mixed feelings in connection with the possibility of seeing the film. Like any extended project, the various television series, and the films, have been of varying and uneven quality. As I’ve stated in previous posts, I am a long-time fan of the original Star Trek series from the late 1960s, and with these biases stated up front, I present the following reflections on the new film.
My primary concern with the new film was that it would be heavy on action, low on science fiction. Much that passes for horror and science fiction these days is better classified as action-horror (as in Underworld) or action-science fiction (like Transformers), rather than a more pure form of these genres (if there is such a thing). This doesn’t mean that such projects aren’t enjoyable, just that they represent a current marketing and storytelling trend. This is obviously a result of the need to have the most appeal to contemporary audiences, particularly younger movie viewers, who prefer action and special effects many times over substance. But in my view, one of the most appealing aspects of the fantastic, particularly science fiction, has been its ability to not only capture the imagination through action, adventure, and special effects, but also provoke thought and reflection. My concern with the new Star Trek was that it would be heavy on action and skimpy on storyline. If this were to take place Paramount would be taking a risk in that if this film is to be successful it must appeal not only to a new audience possibly unfamiliar with the original series, but also those longtime fans who are very familiar with the early mythos.
To the credit of Paramount, the director, and the screenplay writer, Star Trek strikes a balance between an emphasis on action supported by strong special effects, coupled with a good effort at connecting the current film to the characters and aspects of the original series. This had to be done carefully so as to avoid a cartoon appearance to the film. The last thing the Star Trek franchise needs is something akin to the relationship between the classic Looney Toons and Spielberg’s Tiny Toon Adventures for kids. Although action is an important part of this film, the producers recognized that one of the keys of Star Trek‘s success was the relationships between the characters developed over its initial three seasons, into years of syndication, and eventually through several feature films. The new film continues this process by taking the audience back to the beginning by introducing how each of the major characters came together at Star Fleet Academy, with an emphasis upon the relationship between Spock and Kirk.
But even with these commendable aspects the film is not without its difficulties. Before reading further I should warn the reader that what follows will include plot spoilers. The new film involves a familiar narrative device of time travel common throughout Star Trek’s various incarnations. This introduces elements in conflict with the original series, including the destruction of Planet Vulcan and the death of Spock’s mother. At the end of the film when the villain is destroyed, in part by suction into a black hole which also brought them into a timeline which resulted in the overarching storyline’s contradictions, I assumed all would be set to right as the alternative timeline and life stories of the characters on the Enterprise would be reset to those consistent with the original series. Not so. As the movie ends Vulcan is still destroyed leaving only a fraction of survivors, and Spock’s mother is still dead which will make it very difficult for her to appear in a “future” episode of the series in the franchise’s overarching storyline. Given that those who wrote the screenplay must be aware of this inconsistency my assumption is that the studio hopes this film will be successful and will lead to future films with this cast pursuing this alternative scenario, and in the future a storyline will be introduced that brings the film and the original series into harmony.
Beyond this major story problem other inconsistencies are present that may be noticeable only to Trekkers and those with a detailed familiarity with the Star Trek mythos. For example, Kirk’s first tour of duty out of Star Fleet is on the newly commissioned Enterprise, and yet episodes of the original series indicated that Kirk served on at least one other vessel before taking command of the Enterprise. In the new film Kirk and Spock serve under Captain Pike, who is promoted to Admiral at the end of the film. In the original series we learn that Spock served under Pike, but there is no indication Kirk ever did, and when Spock visits Pike in the two-part episode “The Menagerie,” he addresses Pike as Captain, not Admiral.
Another aspect of this film was a little wierd for me. In this alternative storyline Spock and Uhura have a romantic relationship, something never hinted at in the original series. In addition, this seems to be in conflict with the original series where it portrays Spock as having little interest in females apart from a seven year mating cycle. I’m all for Spock exercising his libido from time to time, but the relationship between Spock and Uhura in the new film seemed a little much in light of the original series.
Overall I’d give Star Trek a B-. It’s a good initial effort at revitalizing and reimagining the franchise. It has it’s problems, but it could have been a lot worse. And that’s saying something from a classic Star Trek fan. Perhaps this bodes well for a summer with lots of promise in science fiction cinema. Here’s to hoping that Terminator Salvation does as well, or better.
I didn’t know my posted commentary would lead to a lively discussion in the blogosphere and on the broader Internet, but this seems to be the case.
Over a year ago I started TheoFantastique as a way in which to express my appreciation for the fantastic, to probe in depth the various genres that make up the fantastic as they are expressed in popular culture, and to also explore the ways in which religion and spirituality influence these genres at times. I have done so as a person of faith, and I see no incompatibility between my faith commitments and my appreciation for the fantastic, including horror. In fact, I have argued that those who share my faith commitments are the ones out of touch with a significant expression of what it means to be human, and a means of engaging others on issues of cultural and religious significance. I have written a few essays on this topic, including “Christianity and Horror Redux: From Knee-Jerk Revulsion to Critical Engagement,” which was aimed at a Christian audience, and more recently, “Divinity into Darkness: The Rise of Christian Horror,” for a general reading audience in response to a recent article on the topic in Rue Morgue magazine.
I know my views on such things are not widely held in conservative Christian circles, but what did surprise me was to find similar sentiments alleging incompatibility between Christianity and horror from a very different metaphysical perspective. One of my fellow LOTTD members, Curt Purcell of the great The Groovy Age of Horror blog, weighed in with his thoughts on incompatibility in “Thoughts on Christian Horror.” This led to a number of comments and lively discussion on the topic, including a few comments of my own. I will add here though that in my view Purcell seems to be defining his terms and concepts, including “Christianity,” “horror” and “compatibility” in ways far different from my own, but interestingly and seemingly in common with fundamentalist and evangelical Christians who likewise find horror and Christianity incompatible bedfellows. With this discussion at The Groovy Age of Horror I thought the topic would be laid to rest. Not so.
Yesterday I discovered that Steve Biodrowski of Cinefantastique Online picked up on the discussion and the interaction, weighing in with his own perspective in an essay titled “Sense of Wonder: Bashing Christian Horror.” Readers of this piece will see that Biodrowski disagrees with Purcell in a few arguments similar to my own.
Readers know where I stand on the issues, as evidenced by my specific writing on the topic, and the overall thrust of TheoFantastique which tries to exemplify not only a compatibility between the fantastic and the transcendent, but also an enriching partnership. I share these items so that my readers will become aware of the discussion on this topic, and in the hopes that they might join in the conversation.