Chuck Todd interviews me about alternate histories

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Why the Man of Steel Did So Little to Stop Hitler and Tojo?

Superman, Patriotism, and Doing the Ultimate Good:
Why the Man of Steel Did So Little to Stop Hitler and Tojo


by Paul Levinson

[originally published in The Man from Krypton, edited by Glenn Yeffeth, Ben Bella Books, 2006]


“It is that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment which constitutes poetic faith.”
-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Biographia Literaria, 1817


The nice thing about Coleridge’s explanation of what makes poetry work is that it applies to much more than poetry. Nearly two centuries later, we know that we cry at sad movies, get angry at villains in novels, are thrilled by special effects because we voluntarily suspend our disbelief in all of these encounters, and pretend that what we know to be fiction is real. Unlike a rollercoaster ride in which there is a chance, however slim, that we can really lose our lives, our gasps at a horror or science fiction movie come completely from the success of temporarily believing that we can lose our lives, when we know full well that we cannot. The more effective the presentation in eliciting this grand pretense, the more highly we prize it.

Comic books in general and Superman in particular are no strangers to this wonderful wheeling and dealing with our emotions. A human-like alien from another planet with super powers is easy for fans to believe. All right, as a kid I always wondered why Superman didn’t use his x-ray vision to look though women’s clothing, but this super morality was a minor part of an otherwise convincing catalog of super strength, super speed, long-distance seeing and hearing, flying and leaping, and weakness to Kryptonite. With one glaring exception.

Why didn’t Superman use his powers to stop the German Blitzkrieg and the Japanese fleets during the Second World War?



The Size and Dates of Miracles


Wallace Harrington put the matter aptly in his 1999 Superman and the War essay: “most every Superman fan has asked at one point or another over the last 61 years: If Superman is so powerful, why does he not simply put an end to all wars and suffering?” Debuting in 1938, on the eve of World War II, Superman certainly blew his first big chance. It took D-Day and Hiroshima, and the loss of thousands upon thousands of lives, to put an end to the Axis powers.

Instead of applying himself to this worthy task – a task he could easily have accomplished – the Man of Steel for the most part used his powers during the war years to take out common criminals and petty dictators, and vie with fascinating fictional villains such as Lex Luthor who were not as evil as Hitler. There were a few exceptions.

First and foremost was the two-page “What If Superman Ended the War?” which appeared in the February 17, 1940 issue of Look Magazine. In this story scripted by Jerry Siegel and drawn by Joe Shuster, Superman flies to Berlin to pick up Hitler by the scruff of his neck (the classic Superman grip on a villain), does the same with Stalin in Moscow, and hauls the two to the League of Nation’s World Court in Geneva, where they stand trial for crimes against their own peoples. (In our reality, this court was dissolved by the final League of Nations assembly in 1946, and succeeded by the U.N. World Court in the Hague.) The Look story is noteworthy, even controversial, for a variety of reasons:

• It appeared before the United States entered the Second World War in December 1941. It thus was a safe fantasy story, in that it was not presented to the American public at a time in which the nation was actually at war. The story in this way avoided such questions as why didn’t the Man of Steel first destroy every weapon that was firing at American troops.

• The story has been incorrectly identified by many comic-book historians – including Harrington – as having been published not in 1940 but 1943. This may well reflect our yearning for Superman to have made an attempt to stop World War II after it had become a fully global war with massive American participation. Of course, the 1940 story is somewhat anachronistic in 1943 -- why would Superman in 1943 bypass Tojo and Hirohito in favor of Stalin, who while certainly no angel was then an ally of the United States and England?

• More recent anti-war advocates have correctly noted that Superman sought to put an end to the beginning of World War II by bringing its chief villains (Hitler and Stalin had both invaded Poland in 1939, which started the war) literally to justice, without firing a shot. The little story was thus a powerful brief for settling disputes among nations in a world court of law, and for holding the leaders of criminally aggressive nations, not their citizens, to task. These ideals have by and large yet to be adopted by the world, some 65 years out from the Look Superman story.

• The story was published as a special feature in Look Magazine -- not as part of the continuing DC comic-book series, or newspaper strips -- and thus was outside of the normal canon of Superman narratives. This meant that the comic books and strips could continue their accounts of Superman without making reference to the Look fantastic tale. Which was a good thing, since the U.S. was soon to enter World War II, and the comic books would have been utterly beyond anyone’s suspension of disbelief had they depicted a world in which Hitler (and Stalin!) were in prison.

How, then, did the Superman comic books handle the reality of World War II?

With scant use of the war as a central theme, and certainly no knock-out punches to the Axis. “Japanazis” were mentioned in Superman #18 (September-October, 1942), Superman helped train troops in issue #23 (June-July, 1943), and he saves a fictional comic-book writer from the German Bund (Nazi sympathizers in the U.S.) in issue #25 (November-December, 1943). That “King of the Comic Books” tale is a spectacularly inventive “meta”-story – the comic-book writer has angered the Nazis because he portrays Hitler unfavorably – but it is hardly a piece with any major or significant relevance to the actual war effort. Meanwhile, Clark Kent, who has been declared “4-F” because of his poor vision (nice touch – he accidentally sees through the eye-chart, courtesy of his x-ray revision, and reports the letters he sees on a chart in the next room!), helps with Air Force technical training in another memorable story in that same issue. But, again, the Man of Steel, this time in disguise, only helps in training, foregoing the front-line role one might expect of Superman, and which would have been much more inspiring to America.

Harrington accurately notes that, although the stories in the Superman and Action Comics had little relevance to the main battles and issues of World War II, the covers were often brightly patriotic. (Superman stories appeared in both of these publications.) Wartime covers showed Superman attacking battleships, tanks, and enemy positions. He sped to protect our fighting men, and (of course) delivered supplies (a valuable but behind-the-scenes activity). The cover of Superman #17 (July-August, 1942) does have him holding Hitler and Hirohito (no longer Stalin) by their necks and trying to shake some sense into them. And Superman #29 (July-August, 1944) depicted Lois Lane walking arm-in-arm with a soldier, a sailor, and a Marine, saying “You’re my Supermen!” But you couldn’t judge what was inside those comic-books by their covers: as Harrington remarks, “it was actually rare that the action went further than the cover.” In comic-book land, as in our reality, the war raged on, and took its course, with no significant impact from Superman.

The war fared about the same in Superman’s radio and cartoon exploits, 1941-1945. A Nazi spy appeared as a villain in Superman’s adventures on the Mutual Radio Network. Two cartoons produced by the Fleischer studios have Superman engaging the Japanese. Another has the Man of Steel against the Nazis. Although fans held and hold these episodes in high regard, none dealt with decisive events in the war.


Why Didn’t Superman End the War:
Of Superheroes and the Deity



We have already touched upon the very practical reason why Superman could not have put Hitler and Tojo out of their misery in 1941: the war in fact would rage on for another four years, and the comic books and radio broadcasts and cartoons would have been totally out of touch with reality had they allowed Superman to play such a conclusive role in the war. In terms of Coleridge’s analysis of poetry, we could say that, although Superman’s failure to fully confront the evils of Germany and Japan strained the willing suspension of disbelief of his fans, that suspension of disbelief would have been utterly shattered had the comics and broadcasts and cartoons brought us a world in which the war had been ended by Superman.

But there is a deeper, more profound, reason for Superman’s inaction. It has to do with the god-like powers that were ascribed to him. A more mortal superhero such as Batman would not have been in the same predicament. Had Batman and Robin devoted all of their energies to stopping Germany and Japan, they at best would and could have played only a minor role. The Dynamic Duo could have worked day and night in high profile to end the war, and the war could have plausibly continued, just as it did in reality, with no jeopardy to our willing suspension of disbelief. But Superman and the suspension of disbelief required to believe in him enjoyed no such luxury. His super powers were such that if he had applied them to the task of ending the war, it would have been over. We expected more of Superman precisely because he is able to fly at incredible speeds, lift extraordinarily heavy weights, see and hear what no mere mortal can, and is invulnerable to bullets, fire, water, and all manner of catastrophes except those packaged in Kryptonite.

Indeed, from the vantage point of 2005, we can look back and wonder why Superman did not lend a hand that made a difference in all kinds of disasters, natural as well as of human creation. Why didn’t the Man of Steel hold at least one of the levees together in New Orleans with his bare hands after Hurricane Katrina? Why didn’t he rescue at least some number of people when the World Trade Center towers were blazing and crumbling on September 11, 2001? His absence that day cuts especially deep, because he is so closely associated with tall buildings. (A poignant September 11th thread on the web which began just an hour after the attacks -- http://www.geocities.com/womenofgotham/sept11.htm -- is entitled “Where Is Superman When We Really Need Him?”) Questions such as these may seem unfair to pose about a comic-book character, but Katrina and 9/11 were if anything a lot less destructive than the Second World War, in which Superman did so little to prevent millions upon millions of deaths.

Perhaps we are inclined to ask such questions of Superman because we hold him, and his judgment as well as his powers, in such high, nearly god-like esteem. Similar questions have been asked for millennia, after all, of the Supreme Being. The Book of Job, thought to have been written some time between 700 and 300 BC, asks why, if God is good and all-powerful, would He allow such bad things to happen in the world? On an individual level, many who have lost loved ones have had similar concerns. Sometimes entire peoples have been haunted by this question. In the aftermath of the Holocaust in World War II, devout Jews had their faith severely tested: why would -- how could -- God allow such a thing to happen?

The answer provided in the Book of Job is that God sends these monstrous things our way to test us. Other religious teachings suggest that God might not be omnipotent – that God contends with powerfully evil forces, and is sometimes less than completely successful in stopping them. Several religious leaders made this point on the Larry King Show, after September 11: It was their view that the Supreme Being sought to sway the hijackers against their terrible acts, but did not prevail. Or perhaps He/She did, and this intervention prevented that tragedy from being worse than it was.

But Superman can be saved by neither of these answers. Surely the Man of Steel did not refrain from helping more in World War Two, and from intervening in recent disasters, to test us. And though we can understand that he might not be totally successful in vanquishing evil, surely he could make more of an attempt. While unshakeable belief in the Deity may survive the most unspeakable of evils on this earth, can a willing suspension of disbelief in Superman survive his general failure to even confront such evils?



The Real Limits of Fiction and Comic Books



Superman fans can at least have the comfort of knowing that all fictional characters who seek to fight evil suffer from this same exquisite problem, in direct proportion to the size and scope of their powers. Where were the wizards in Harry Potter’s world during World War II? Or were they checked by evil wizards on the Axis side? The annals of science fiction are chocked full of time travelers bent on killing Hitler before he does his damage. The travelers almost always run into some unforeseen complication – sometimes their intervention even ironically enables Hitler. This must happen if the story is to remain consistent with our reality.

Of course, a novel or a movie can posit a new reality, made different from ours by the action of the hero, in which Hitler is never more than a failed painter. But a comic-book series and character would have a very difficult time taking that route. The proximity of comic books to the real world, the pace with which they move, means their characters and stories must toe a fine, demanding line to real events. When I discovered Superman in comic books in the 1950s, they were sold on newsstands and in candy stores, right alongside of copies of The New York Times, The Herald Tribune, The Journal-American, The Daily News, The Daily Mirror, and The New York Post. The fiction in the comics had to be in just the right doses to thrive next to the black-and-white reality in the papers.

Further, the more horrendous the real disaster, the more careful the fictitious hero needs to tread, lest the real victims of the tragedy take offense at their pain being trivialized or exploited. Television and movie docu-dramas about September 11, announced in 2005, were subjected to criticism that the theme was inappropriate for Hollywood treatment. (I disagreed, and argued in a Reuters article “Third Hollywood Studio Sets Sights on 9/11” by Steve Gorman, August 16, 2005, that such presentations are “part of the process by which we come to understand our own feelings about this.”) But any comic book treatment of September 11th would bear a much bigger burden.

So what’s a Superman fan to do? Well, there’s always the approach of not pushing such questions of Superman’s non-intervention too far, and letting him off the Book of Job hook. After all, he is not a Deity, he is a just a comic-book action-hero, and if his life next to newspapers and chewing gum means he has to be more in touch with reality than does a character in a novel, well, maybe we should also give him the benefit of such casual company, and not hold him to impossibly exacting standards.

No ... I don’t think so. That’s not really very satisfying either. Part of the fun of all fiction, comic books included, is teasing ourselves and the stories against how well they relate to our reality.

Maybe a better answer is this: Comic books are inextricably part of the matrix of everyday life – in the case of Superman, our everyday urban life. These little story books work on the premise that, if you happen to look up at the sky for no particular reason, you may see a superhero flying by. Or, if you see a thief snatch a lady’s purse, Superman may well streak down to retrieve it, and haul the thief – by the scruff of his neck – off to jail. We can expand this thieving villain to the level of a corrupt politician, or even to a mad scientist, also living and working in the city, maybe just around the corner, right under our noses. But the key to all of these characters may be that something about them is intrinsically and irrevocably city-sized. Not bigger than or beyond the city, not world-sized or even nation-sized. City-sized. And that includes Superman, who came of age in the heyday of Fiorello LaGuardia, the bigger-than-life, beloved New York City Mayor who read comics to the kids over the radio on Sundays. And this may be as good as any an explanation for why Superman is singularly and frustratingly incapable of responding with real effectiveness to larger-sized threats and more pervasive evils. We can gauge him best in terms of intra-city issues and realities. When we get beyond that, we are in uncharitable territory for this kind of superhero.

But we can still draw inspiration from Superman’s successful urban-sized exploits. We can be awed by his powers. We can bemoan that he has been unable to use them to stop or end the debacles of our day since his first appearance back in 1938. And we can retrieve that noble, lost, impossible potential and do all in our limited, non-super power to help.


Saturday, May 21, 2005

King Kong at Large in the 1950s Bronx

The Big Ape on the Small Screen:
King Kong at Large in the 1950s
in the Bronx

by Paul Levinson


[first published in King Kong is Back,
ed. David Brin, BenBella Books, 2005]


It was an age before DVDs and VCRs. There was
no cable to speak of, except in a few rural areas,
where cable piped in the networks. Sitcoms, Westerns,
soaps, news programs, and variety shows were all the
rage on the air. Few if any movies made it to the little
black-and-white screens.

Hollywood moguls had earlier scoffed at television
and its power. Who would sit home and watch a
flicker on the screen when you could walk a couple
of blocks to a local theater, and see a big double-feature
for a quarter? Sometimes these movie houses even
brought back great old movies from earlier decades.
That was the only way a kid in the 1950s could
enjoy the media past.

But we heard tales. From friends with
older siblings. From hipper parents. For some
reason, a film about a huge ape riven with love
and bullets on the Empire State Building caught my
attention.

Meanwhile, things were afoot in the corporate
media world of that day. General Tire had acquired
RKO Radio pictures and its movie library in 1955.
This meant that WOR-TV in New York City -- the
local Channel 9 -- had access to lots of movies
from bygone years.

Channel 9 had little else going for it. It was
not affiliated with any of the major networks.
But soon it had the Million Dollar Movie.
The station was so starved for programming that it played
the same movie every night during the week, plus
three times on each day of the weekend.

On Thanksgiving and the surrounding week, it played
King Kong.


The View from the Grand Concourse


You can see the Empire State Building
from some parts of the Bronx. A tower of Oz
at the end of the yellow brick road of Broadway --
which in fact runs from the Bronx all the way
downtown through Manhattan.

I used to wonder, when I was watching that
fabulous heart-rending end of King Kong, if I would have
been able to actually see the ape on a clear
day if he had been on top of the Empire State Building --
clutching on to Fay Wray, swatting those damned
strafing bi-planes -- and I on the Grand Concourse
or University Avenue up in the Bronx.

I settled for seeing him in my living room,
on the small, blurry, black-and-white Motorola
that my father had picked up "for a bargain"
some place in the early 1950s. It gave
us plenty of aggravation -- my father hated
to pay the repairman, who was needed at
least several times a year -- but it also gave
us miracles every night, and some nights
more than others.

Television was the second medium to bring
entertainment electronically into the home.
Radio was the first, and therefore had
to invent lots of programming -- news and entertainment
-- as it went along. Television was able to
swoop down on radio, and pick up some of
its stars and a lot of its programs. Jack
Benny and Gunsmoke both made the jump into vision.
And then TV turned to Hollywood and scooped up some of
its movies, too.

There was and is a world of difference between
seeing a movie on a big screen in a public
theater and a small screen in the bosom of
your home. It was more than not being hit
by a Goober candy or Ju-Ju Fruit thrown by
some kid in the back row. It was more than
not having to pay a quarter for the ticket.
It had to do with intimacy and convenience.

Somehow, watching King Kong in my underclothes
made me more vulnerable, more engaged, more
agape at his power than if I had seen him
on the screen in the Allerton Movie Theater
near my apartment building. He and Fay Wray
and Bruce Cabot were just a few feet
away from me, for God's sake. Sometimes,
when I stretched out on the scuffed parquet
floor, my nose up to the screen, they were
just inches from me. Skull Island and the
Empire State Building both were in easy
reach, as close as the pennies under the couch.
When Carl Denham (played by Robert Armstrong)
intoned "It was Beauty killed the Beast," he was
imparting that weighty lesson only to me.


Multiple Visions


And then there was the repetition. When it's
something you love, or are on your way to loving,
repeat performances are a good thing. Movie
theaters of course allowed people to come back
and pay as often as they liked. But even if
the money was no problem -- and, in the 1950s,
quarters added up, especially to kids on
a quarter-a-week allowance -- who had the time
to walk the three blocks to the theater every
day and/or evening? Some theaters allowed you to
stay as long as you wanted, and see a second or
even a third showing, at no extra charge. For
those that did not, you could try hiding out in
the bathroom. But even in those cases, no seat
in a movie theater was as comfortable as the
floor of your home.

Few media in the 1950s offered satisfyingly multiple
renditions, at home or at large. Rock 'n' roll radio
played the same songs over and over again, but not
so that you could count on hearing the specific
song that you wanted. Books could be renewed from
the library, but lugging them back and forth was no
pleasure. No one I knew could afford to buy too
many books for enjoyment -- well, at least we had
comic books. Most of television was as fleeting as
lightning, but there was the Million Dollar Movie.
When Kong was on that show, it was a comic book come
to life. Kong and comic books ... but Kong was more.

Repeated viewing allows attention to detail.
King Kong on television rewarded it. I was struck,
even as a kid, that this was not just an ape-gone-wild
or a horror movie, but a show about show
business. The expedition to Skull Island is
led by show-man Carl Denham. Kong is brought back to
New York to make money. It's not just beauty that killed
the beast, but the exploitation of venal stardom and
untamed nature.

Denham's schemes may have gone awry, but the 1933 movie
that told his fantastic story grossed almost two
million at the box office, I found out later. And
Channel 9 did ok with the ad revenue it generated from
the movie. A cash register rang every time Denham
spoke Kong's epitaph.

There were other provocative aspects of the story which
struck me later, in retrospect. King Kong is a big,
black ape. His attraction to Ann Darrow (Fay Wray)
plays right into Southern racist stereotypes about
the lust of black men for white women -- and
a knock-out blonde, at that. The ever-pithy Denham
observes on Skull Island, as a native chief takes
notice of Ann: "blondes are scarce around here".
And later, when Jack Driscoll (played by Bruce Cabot)
objects that getting Kong off the island won't be easy,
Denham regards Ann and replies, "but we've got something
he wants."

How many children or even adults got all of this
in a single viewing of King Kong in a movie theater
back in the 1930s? Television, often criticized for diluting
profundity and reducing complexity in story-telling --
for going for the lowest common-denominator in its programs
-- turned out to be the best friend the creators of
King Kong ever had. Writers Merian C. Cooper and
Edgar Wallace (and James Ashmore Creelman and Ruth
Rose) couldn't have asked for more. The subtleties and
depth and overtones of the plot -- as well as the nuances of
the direction and cinematography -- all rose to the gleaming
surface on the small screen's multiple showings in the
living room.

The Million Dollar Movie thus presaged some of the
advantages of videotapes and DVDs. In fact, I watched
King Kong more frequently during most Thanksgiving
weeks than I see a movie I rent from Blockbuster or
cable-TV's Movies-on-Demand today. The main advantage
of watching movies on current TV screens -- other than
the size and color -- is that you can pause and re-wind.
Kong could neither be stopped nor reversed once he
began his gloriously ill-fated journey on the
Million Dollar Movie. But you could count on him
coming back for a series of return engagements every
single year.


Vertical vs. Horizontal Myths


The nature of the Million Dollar Movie audience was
also different from movie-theater audiences before and
after the 1950s, and DVD audiences today, and worked
to the advantage of King Kong. People usually see
movies in theaters with just one or two or a few more
friends and relations. They might talk about the movie
for a few minutes or maybe a few hours on and off after
leaving the theater, but the next day they are not likely
to discuss the movie with any one else, unless they too
have very recently seen the movie, or the subject
comes up for another reason (such as the Academy Awards
night on television is near). DVD rentals engender
even more fragmented audiences -- the likelihood
that someone outside of your immediate family
will want to talk about a DVD you just saw is slim.

In contrast, King Kong was a hot subject of
discussion for me and my pals for a good week
or more. Thanksgiving helped us out. We
were off from school for a few days, and
had less than usual homework (not that it would
have mattered if we had had a ton of homework).
We could not only watch the movie repeatedly, but
talk about it in between, go over particular
scenes and dialog and details, and be primed
to look out for them in the next viewing. We each
had favorite scenes. Jordie loved the jungle.
Ray and Phil went for the scene in which Kong
broke free of his chains. We all hissed the
bi-planes. (What was my favorite part? Well,
I liked Fay in Kong's arms -- I'm a hopeless
romantic, what can I tell you....) Our
group mind was brought to bear in appreciation and
analysis of the movie -- before such a phrase even
was common in sociological parlance. Our
hyper-scrutiny left no stone unturned.

The application of many minds to an idea, theme, or
story is an engine of myth-making. In the old days --
in classic times, or, actually, all times up until
the electronic age -- the only way a story could be
embroidered by many minds was over time. An oral
account, a handwritten manuscript, even a printed book
other than an immediate best-seller just took too
long to disseminate and percolate to become a myth any
time soon. In order for the critical mass of mind
power to be reached, the theme or story had to be
passed down and commented upon by generations of
people. I call this process "vertical" myth-making.

With the arrival of the electronic age -- actually,
not telegraph or telephone in the 19th century but
radio in the 20th -- a new way of generating myths
was at hand. Huge numbers of minds could imbibe a
radio show at the same time. Radio was the first
instantaneous simultaneous mass medium. With the
advent of national networks in the 1920s, radio
could reach the mass of minds needed to make a story
into a myth in a heartbeat. I call this "horizontal"
myth-making.

Motion pictures in movie theaters never quite had this
capacity. The theater offers pockets of simultaneity,
not a single wave that pulls in everyone listening
at that moment. Although the requisite number of minds
to make a myth could be reached in motion picture houses
a lot faster than in bookstores and libraries, it was
still hit or miss in comparison to first radio and
then television broadcasts. Indeed, anything less than a
huge hit movie with a very long run at the box office was
unlikely to have any long range impact upon our popular
culture.

King Kong was of course a pretty big hit movie in
1933. Had it not made a strong and continuing impression,
it would not have been picked up by the Million Dollar
Movie
in the 1950s in the first place.

But once on television, King Kong played to a very
different audience. A world of kids unencumbered by
jobs, free to stoke their imagination and cultivate
their craving to watch and talk about the big ape
fighting for love atop the Empire State Building, again
and again.

The "kids" part of this equation is crucial. Only children
(of all ages, but usually not yet fully adult) have that
unquenchable desire, the intensity, to want what they
enjoy over and over. Only local, low-budget television
was in a position to satisfy that need back in the 1950s.

King Kong was there for us on the Million Dollar Movie
in New York City year after year, as we grew up. The
brave, doomed ape and his enduring lessons remained
the same on the screen, as we got older. Just like a
Passover seder, in which the ancient story of how
the Jews broke out of their bondage is re-told around
the table once a year. Except ... well, Kong's
story had no happy ending, and yet was much more fun
Even a sad movie beats an upbeat religious tradition.


Repeat Performances


In the movie, King Kong moves both horizontally and
vertically -- across the expanse of the globe, as Kong
is brought from Skull Island to New York City, and up
(and down) the Empire State Building, as the ape makes
his last stand for love.

The pattern was also played out in the way Kong built
his myth in America. Horizontally, as people first saw
the movie in theaters across the country in 1933.
Vertically, as word of the movie and occasional return
engagements simmered in ensuing years. Horizontally
again, in a big way, when kids in New York City saw
it over and over again at the same time on the Million
Dollar Movie
. And topped off with a vertical thrust, as
kids saw the movie year after year on the Million Dollar
Movie
at Thanksgiving time.

The broadcasting of the exact same program on a yearly
basis was something unique for media in general and
television in particular. Movie theaters of course had
return engagements, but not a guaranteed yearly schedule.
Specific television programs were rebroadcast as reruns,
series and sitcoms continued for years, but none with the
metronomic rhythm of the Million Dollar Movie and its
holiday presentations, which you could count on like
clockwork.

This wasn't limited to just King Kong on Thanksgiving.
Yankee Doodle Dandy was shown every year for a week around
July 4. March of the Wooden Soldiers with Laurel and
Hardy was shown on a rival NYC TV station -- WPIX (Channel 11)
-- as great counter-programming to King Kong every
Thanksgiving Day. But King Kong made the longest lasting
impression. There are no re-makes that I know of scheduled
for Yankee Doodle or Wooden Soldiers.

Patriotic musicals and Christmas comedies no doubt strike
chords in our popular culture very different from the
spine-tingling chimes of horror-adventure movies.
Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolfman have enjoyed sequels and remakes almost every decade.

But King Kong did it the hard way -- the same movie, the
same ape, the same nearly forgotten actors on little screens
in living rooms. The more you consider King Kong on the
Million Dollar Movie in New York City, the more it all fits
into place. Kong goes down fighting from the top of the
Empire State Building -- which, by the 1950s, was not just
the tallest building in the world, but the very tower from
which television transmitters were broadcasting their
programs to the city. Kong came from a prehistoric island
-- not only was the 1933 movie prehistoric by filmmaking
standards in the 1950s, it was black-and-white at a time
when film and TV were both set to make the leap into
living color. This synchrony between the story of King
Kong and the circumstances of its presentation on the
Million Dollar Movie helped make it unforgettable.

Indeed, I doubt that Peter Jackson would even have remade
King Kong in 2005 had it not been for the ape's
extraordinary sojourn on television in the 1950s. That
small screen was a time capsule with a window that
carried Kong first into our living rooms in
the dawn of television, and then into our psyches and
permanent popular culture the half-century after. Kong
stayed reassuringly the same on the small screen for
a few years, and then grew into mythic proportions in our
recollections and imaginations.

So enduring was King Kong's impression on the small
screen, that when the 1933 movie was released in
black-and-white VHS in 1998, a typical review on
Amazon.com began: "As a young child in the nineteen-fifties,
I used to watch this film whenever it appeared
on TV on 'Million Dollar Movie'. I loved it
then. I love it now. Time has not diminished
the capacity of this film to mesmerize and
hold the viewer in its thrall." The review was
signed by "Lawyeraau". It could have been written
by me, but it was not. (I don't believe in
pseudonyms. Denham taught me the value of fame.)


Postage Stamp Resurgent


Television has grown enormously since the 1950s.
Where once there were three or four national
networks and a smattering of small local stations,
today there are hundreds of stations on cable
and satellite. Where once what you saw on TV
was gone the instant after you saw it, and repeat
performances of something you loved were a gift
from on high, today we have TiVo and movies-on-demand
and VCRs and DVD players and any number of ways
to see something as often as we please. Where
once the screen was small and black-and-white and
blurry, today our screens are clear and colorful
walls.

But the small has survived and has even mounted
something of an amazing comeback. Cellphones
have come in on little cat's feet -- or
people's little fingers -- and they're not just
for phone calls anymore. "Mobisodes" and "V-casts"
are offering new kinds of television for cellphonic
viewing, with episodes just a few minutes long.
Beyond that, pretty much anything available on
the Web is becoming accessible on the cellphone.

So I'm looking forward to Peter Jackson's King Kong.
But in an ideal world, I'd hop into my Mini Cooper
after the movie and drive to a nice, quiet spot on
the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. I'd make sure
I could see the Empire State Building. Then I'd
call up the 1933 movie on my little cellphone screen....

I know I'd watch that last scene a few times -- hey,
I'm not so enamored of the past that I don't take
advantage of modern perks. And as I drove down to the
highway afterwards to get back to wherever I was going,
I'd put the phone to my ear, so I could hear Denham say,
"It was Beauty killed the beast," one more time, right
in my ear.

Then I'd call up some of my friends from the 1950s --
Ray, Jordie, yeah, I'm still in touch with a few
of them -- and we'd talk about it...

What part of that is more fantasy than reality for
me these days? Only the Mini Cooper -- but, hey, you
never know....

Monday, December 23, 2002

Confessions of a Science Fiction Chauvinist

Another one of my vintage Locus Online columns, this one published on 23 December 2002 - the day after I saw The Two Towers... (with a 2007 note and YouTube video of my commentary on The History Channel's Evolution of Science Fiction, 28 September 2002, added at the conclusion of this column) ...

Confessions of a Science Fiction Chauvinist, as Occasioned by Seeing The Two Towers

by Paul Levinson

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Labels and categories are important in popular culture. What works for food in restaurants works for food for thought: if you find only sushi in an Italian restaurant, or just steak in a seafood place, you are right to be annoyed. The labels "science fiction" and "fantasy" would seem to work the same way — if you find only magic in science fiction, aren't you entitled to be aggravated? I always thought so. But I'm beginning to think otherwise.

2. I have read hundreds of science fiction novels, and many more science fiction stories, since the 1950s. I have read perhaps a handful of fantasy novels, and a few dozen fantasy stories. The Lord of the Rings was not among them. The few works I enjoyed — such as John Crowley's Aegypt novels — were due not to the story, but the sheer verve of the writing.

3. What I most value in science fiction is its exploration of the human impact of scientifically plausible but not yet accomplished developments, or discovery of similarly plausible truths about the real, natural universe. Yes, I know there is much in time travel that is paradoxical — that's actually why it's so much fun — and faster-than-light travel violates Einstein's proscriptions. Yet the very fact that we can talk about the relevance of Einstein's theories to science fiction seemed to make it different from fiction that relies on spells and elves.

4. My lack of interest in elves led me to forgo not only most fantasy novels, but even the lesser investment of time required for fantasy movies. I did not see The Fellowship of the Ring in any theater. I hadn't thought about renting the videotape, one way or the other, but on a rainy Thursday evening last August, with nothing else on Blockbuster's shelves of even the remotest of interest, I brought home a copy. The first part of the movie — which took place in the Shire — was barely enough to hold my attention. I think the physical resemblance between Gandalf and Jean-Luc Picard kept me interested more than anything else... But by the end of the movie, I felt very differently. I've now seen The Fellowship of the Ring, in one mode or another, perhaps a dozen times. And I just saw The Two Towers. I think they are masterpieces of movie-making, fantasy, and, as I will explain below, perhaps even of science fiction. (And, seen in the context of the unfolding story, The Shire section is now most enjoyable, too.)

5. If Hobbits were hominids, the Dwarves some kind of Neanderthals, and the Elves an early version of humanity for which we have no fossils at hand, would the story be any different? Would it be if Orcs and Uruk-hai were genetically engineered? (We are already told that the Uruk-hai were "bred" — or, in Darwin's apt term, artificially selected.) Does it make a difference whether spells or lasers cause avalanches? What if the "spell" were really the working of a tiny, powerful, ancient technology, which — like lots of work done in the Far East in perishable bamboo, in prehistoric times — did not survive the ages? For that matter, couldn't the ring itself be an extraordinary technology which, among its many powers, includes cloaking? Is the ring as a bestower of invisibility any less scientifically plausible than the formula of H.G. Wells's Invisible Man? If magic and highly unlikely science can play similar roles in stories, Wells may have more in common with Tolkien than Verne.

6. The Lord of the Rings also has much in common with another kind of science fiction, epitomized in the Foundation and Dune series. The three sagas offer exquisite examinations of power, fine siftings of morality across characters, keen reckonings of small detail in grand events — whether the driving force is spice, spell, or psychohistory. When contests are of cosmic significance, and we're interested in the human response, the specific technological basis of the events — whether magic or science — may not be very important.

7. If the invocation of magic still rankles — and I admit that it still does — here is another consolation. As Greg Bear and I noted on a recent History Channel documentary*[see YouTube videoclip at the conclusion of this column], the hot sciences in science fiction have become biology and anthropology, replacing physics and even the information science (cyberpunk) of previous years. And whatever else LotR may or may not be, it is indubitably a work of biological and anthropological fiction. Saruman's flocks of spying birds are feats of biology in the sky, whether the birds are bred, gene-spliced, commanded, or all of the above. The same is true of the Ents, though the intelligence and mobility of trees is far less plausible. But in both cases, living organisms are the vehicles of the story — birds not planes, trees not automated catapults. Lord of the Rings was an epic of biological imagining, decades before most science fiction caught up. Here, again, we see a kinship between Wells (The Island of Dr. Moreau) and Tolkien, and, a bit later, Herbert. All three were Darwin's children, in a way that Verne and Heinlein, and even Asimov, were not.

8. None of this diminishes in the slightest the joy of coming upon an idea so strikingly scientifically plausible that I am amazed it is not already an actual fact. That is indeed the unique province of science fiction, shared by Verne, Wells, and Asimov, but not Tolkien. But I do see as far less valid the famous observation of Greg Benford that fantasy is science fiction played with the net down. That is certainly not the case when the fantasy is biological and anthropological extrapolation, and the net is woven of gene-spliced realities and an archaeology which discloses hominids and what-not living on this Earth for at least a million years. And, when the universe or the world-as-universe is the object of the game, and morality and power the fields of play, it may not matter if there is a net at all.

9. I have not yet read the book. My daughter has a copy, and is devouring it. I have held it in my hand, read the prefaces and some of the appendices. I am drawn to read it... But I am determined to wait until I have seen the third movie, because I saw the first two without having read the book, and I'd like to be able to appreciate Peter Jackson's complete accomplishment from the same narrative seat in the audience, beyond the proscenium arch of knowing the end of the story... I know this is right. I even talk about it in my classes, as a professor of media theory... But, oh, the book beckons... [Note added in 2007: But, indeed, I got side-tracked and never did get beyond the opening chapters of the book.... I did read all of Harry Potter, however ...]

*Here's an excerpt of my commentary on The Evolution of Science Fiction, first aired on The History Channel, September 28, 2002, and rebroadcast many times since...

Wednesday, July 10, 2002

The Sopranos as a Nuts-and-Bolts Triumph of Non-Network TV

Naked Bodies, Three Showings a Week, No Commercials:
The Sopranos as a Nuts-and-Bolts Triumph of Non-Network TV


Published in This Thing of Ours: Investigating the Sopranos,
David Lavery, ed. Columbia University Press & Wallflower Press, 2002

Paul Levinson


Cable television was conceived in reflections. Born in the
1950s as a means of delivering network TV to areas of the
country unable to receive its signals broadcast on
electro-magnetic carrier waves, cable began to take wing in the
1980s as a medium of more original content -- or programming
somewhat distinct from networks -- with CNN's all-news and HBO's
all-movies. But even though HBO featured movies much newer than
those seen on network TV -- fresh out of the box office (hence,
"Home Box Office") -- it was still, after all, a second-hand
operation. The movies had already been seen by many viewers in
their original box office showings -- in theaters.

HBO's remedy was to field "made-for-HBO" movies. These
also enabled HBO to distinguish itself from competitors now also
offering cinema on cable. The best of the "made-for-HBO" movies
showcased important subjects (Murrow, 1985; Stalin, 1992)
and major network television and Hollywood talent (Murrow
starred Hill Street Blues's Daniel J. Travanti; Stalin was
portrayed by Robert Duvall). But though these were great
television movies, they fell far short of being great movies.
They were smaller, psychologically as well as culturally, than
Gone With The Wind, The Godfather, and Star Wars. They
were less daring, less experimental, than 12 Monkeys or The
Usual Suspects
. In all respects, and even at its most original
and important, the cable-TV movie was still second best.

HBO and its competitors also introduced a variety of gritty
documentaries on prostitution, crime, sex, and drugs. These
certainly went a lot further than network documentaries, in
subject matter and explicit treatment. At their best, HBO's
Taxi-Cab Confessions achieve a kind of down-to-earth, noirish
verite unavailable in most other television and cinema. And yet
when a history of the TV documentary in the past decade is
written, it will undoubtedly put Ken Burns' PBS work -- on the
Civil War, baseball, and jazz -- in first place of importance
and influence.

It took an original TV dramatic series -- The Sopranos --
to put HBO and cable TV in a class by itself.


Old Wine in New Bottles


The TV series was a natural for network television from the
very beginning. Its roots were in the Saturday movie-serial and
the radio series -- in some cases, radio provided the entire
tree (Gunsmoke was uprooted from radio and planted in TV).
Available in the home, free of charge (the advantages of TV over
motion picture theaters) and with pictures as well as sound (the
advantage over radio), the 30-minute and then 60-minute weekly
television series became enormously popular. Its ultimate
impact on cinema was the end of the neighborhood theater and
motion picture cathedrals like the Loews Paradise in favor of
multiplexes in shopping malls. Radio was forced to scramble for
new content, and in a master stroke (courtesy of Alan Freed)
discovered rock 'n' roll.

But the television series inherited a necklace of flaws
from radio. Punctuated by commercials, viewable only once and
then you were out of luck, sharply limited in its language and
showing of flesh, the network TV series carved a niche for
itself in a mostly sanitized, superficial never-never-land. In
contrast, motion pictures offered uninterrupted narrative and
opportunities for repeat viewing (in the 1950s, I sat through
many a movie twice -- though, of course, seeing the same movie
again on a different day required purchase of a new ticket). By
the mid-1960s, the motion picture codes that in previous decades
had frowned on even the word "pregnant" were gone; nudity was
in. These advantages of the motion picture theater were no
doubt in part responsible for its survival in any form in the
age of television.

Meanwhile, network television was beginning to improve, in
technology as well as content. The VCR, beginning in the
mid-1970s, allowed people to watch their favorite shows as often
was wanted, without commercial interruption. Sitcoms such as
All in the Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show tackled much
more serious subject matter than I Love Lucy. Two decades
later, NYPD Blue even coughed up a little more realistic
language -- such as "asshole" -- and a very occasional very
quick glimpse of a naked body or two.

And yet the fixes were far from fully satisfactory.
Fast-forwarding through commercials on a VCR is not the same as
relaxing back in your chair and watching a program with no
commercials in the first place. Much more importantly, the
network television dramatic series were created -- written from
the very first word -- with commercial interruptions in mind.
It was and is a form of brief, ten-ish minute chapters, each
needing to conclude with some kind of climax or hook to keep the
viewer from wandering too far during the commercial break. This
form of course survives the expunging of commercials in VCR
replay.

And as for the language and nudity on NYPD Blue, it's
still unrealistically tame. Is there any cop who hasn't said
the word "fuck" to a colleague officer? You never hear it on
the ABC-TV series. And the nudity is mostly backsides,
including Andy Sipowitz's to boot.


Bada Bing! Nudity


The female nude was the most popular subject of high
Victorian photography, but no one talked about it then.
Indeed, naked bodies remained under the covers in popular
culture until Playboy in the 1950s, which in turn liberated
the motion picture in the 1960s. But network television stayed
recalcitrantly pure. Driven by the inexorable calculus of
simply attaining the largest possible audience for its
commercials, network TV's first commandment is "thou shalt not
offend". HBO's subscription revenues encouraged no such
restrictions. It was from the outset a medium midway between
magazines and network television. Further, cable delivered its
programming outside of the "public airways," which made it less
vulnerable to Federal Communications Commission intimidation.

Nudity in itself, however, is not all it's cracked up to be
-- at least, not as an element of narrative. Like all aspects
of drama, nudity in a storyline needs to be motivated to achieve
its best affect. There should be a good reason in the story --
a reason other than the viewer's enjoyment of the naked body --
that characters are unclothed. Otherwise, the nudity may
distract from rather than help tell the story.

Couples making love certainly is a logical place to
dispense with clothing. But this puts a big burden on the
storyline. We need to understand why our couples are having sex
at the time and place portrayed. And unless the story can
accommodate a good few minutes of attention to the couple in bed
-- the kind of attention you see in the soft porn on HBO,
ShowTime, and Cinemax -- the viewer may not get to see the
specific part of the body he or she is looking for.

The Sopranos's brilliant solution is to situate most of
its nudity in the Bada Bing! strip joint run by Tony Soprano's
aide-de-camp, Silvio Dante. The setting is an eminently logical
place to frequently find Tony and his crew discussing business,
and the naked women need no further motivation than that they
are dancing in the club. The viewer can sit back and enjoy the
show on at least two levels, plot unfolding at the bar or the
tables, eyeful on the stage.

Of course, the strip club has its limitations as a vehicle
of nudity. No males are seen naked; no full-scale sex occurs.
(Devotees of the former can watch HBO's also superb Six Feet
Under
; and naked sex is all over cable, including HBO's Real
Sex
documentary series.) But Bada Bing! is nonetheless an ideal
locale -- doing for The Sopranos what the diner did for
Seinfeld and the bar owned by Munch, Meldrake, and Bayliss did
for Homicide -- but with a physically illicit explicitness
that gives sexual energy to whatever other story is unfolding.

Linguistic explicitness -- language, as crude as it gets --
is also a staple of The Sopranos, and heard throughout the
show. To this day, the TV networks rarely if ever go into
George Carlin's "Seven Dirty Words" territory (words, unlike
"prick," which have no saving double meaning -- their sound is
always vulgar or obscene), but the Sopranos say them all.
Speaking as a male viewer, I can't say that curse words are as
pleasurable to hear as nudity is to see in Bada Bing!, but their
presence in The Sopranos lends a reliable verisimilitude to
every episode.


Once is Never Enough


A classic critique of television, among those who worried
that it was undermining our literary values, was that its
stories were gone the minute after they had been seen. Unlike
the book, which offered endless retrieval of its pages already
read, or even the motion picture, which permitted viewing more
than once in a variety of ways, television basically gave it to
you once, and that was it. Summer reruns were minor exceptions.
Extended reruns in syndication, at first ignored, proved to be
one of the most potent forces in television and popular culture
with its vaulting of the original Star Trek series -- which
ran only three years in its first incarnation on NBC in the
1960s -- into a major phenomenon that would give rise to
numerous offspring series, motion pictures, and novels. And the
VCR, as mentioned earlier, allowed viewers who troubled to tape
the TV show the option of seeing it again.

But HBO's decision to present its original series,
including The Sopranos, more than once a week -- that is, to
replay the programs -- got much more directly at the human need
to see again. Offering each episode on Sunday evening, and then
at least two more times during the ensuing week, had two
advantages over just once-a-week network TV. First, viewers
could catch the episode if they missed the initial showing, and
in time to pick up the very next episode the following week.
Second -- but in many ways even more significantly -- viewers
could in subsequent showings pick up and appreciate complexities
and aspects of the program missed the first time around.

In all fairness to network TV, its evening programs began
in the 1950s as discontinuous episodes. They had few if any
ongoing storylines. The characters by and large remained static
throughout the season and even across new ones. There was
little if any benefit in seeing the show again. Only with
Dallas in 1978 and Hill Street Blues,
St. Elsewhere, etc in the 1980s did prime time TV
begin to indulge in continuing stories.

But even at their most complex, these night-time serials
were usually paper-thin compared to The Sopranos, whose depth
in effect expanded into a niche afforded by multiple viewings.
The result is an intensity and an intricacy seldom attained even
in motion pictures. Indeed, The Sopranos has more in common
with The Godfather saga and Goodfellas than either does to
its respective genres of television and motion pictures, and
this is not just because they all are mafia stories. The unity
also comes from their complexity, and the rewards obtained from
their viewing more than once. (A very few movies are so complex
that they almost cannot be appreciated until seen at least more
than once. The Usual Suspects is an outstanding example.)

The resistance of network TV to multiple showings comes
from its commercial structure -- why would an advertiser pay top
dollar to have a commercial broadcast on a rerun? HBO suffers
no such pressure.

But the lack of commercials frees HBO serials in a more
direct and powerful way.


No Breaks

There is a tradition for just about everything -- including
commercial punctuation of narrative. Certainly the acts of a
play are a form of punctuation, as are chapters in a book. But
few plays are an hour in length. And the reader of a book is
always able to move right into the next chapter, with no break
at all.

It is a triumph of human creativity that anything
worthwhile was able to emerge from the Procrustean bed of TV
commercial interruption. But from this commercial interruptus,
good, even wonderful television did proceed, ranging from The
Twilight Zone
to the best of Hill Street Blues, St. Elsewhere, LA Law, and NYPD Blue and ER more recently.

Yet few of these shows were as consistently gratifying,
episode for episode, as The Sopranos(and, of course, The
Twilight Zone
was an anthology, not a continuing story). This
is in part because the lack of commercial evisceration in The
Sopranos
makes each episode a short movie.

Probably the closest that commercial TV ever came to this
cinematic ambience was Homicide: Life on the Street. And that
show labored mightily, and not entirely successfully, to
transcend its commercial tethers. Many was a Homicide
episode that started off slowly -- perfectly fine for a movie --
but potentially deadly for a program that would break for a
commercial a few minutes down the line. And many was a
spectacular grilling by Pemberton in the box that lost a bit of
its momentum in a commercial break. No wonder Homicide
struggled in the ratings, and was eventually cancelled
notwithstanding its critical acclaim.

Undriven, unriven by commericals, The Sopranos is able to soar.
Threads in each episode can be as long or short as called for.
Nothing distracts from an intensity that beats like a nearing
anvil; nothing gets in the way of our quiet contemplation of an
endearing moment. There are interruptions, all right -- but
these are the interruptions of the rest of our lives during the
week.


Sopranos as Prelude to WebCasting

It is no coincidence that cable TV found its narrative
stride in The Sopranos and like series at precisely the same
time as the Web was making its first series mark on our culture.
All the salient Soprano characteristics discussed here -- the
nudity, opportunity for repeat viewing, freedom from commercial
interruption that distinguish cable from network TV -- are also
found on the Web. Naughty words and images abound on the
Internet, they can be seen as often as desired, and such
advertisements as are found there are usually at the beginnings,
endings, and edges of documents and images -- they frame rather
than intrude. The Internet can thus be seen a potential
Sopranos writ large; or, The Sopranos can be seen as an
incipient Internet.

Of course, technology, however accommodating, is not enough
for great narrative. There must be human minds creating the
wine. The unique advantages of cable TV thus made The Sopranos
possible; in terms of science and philosophy, those
characteristics were necessary but not sufficient for The
Sopranos
. The rest reside with the writers, actors, directors,
producers.

But cable TV made them an offer that couldn't be refused.

reviews of the final nine episodes of The Sopranos (2007): First of Nine, Second of Nine, Third of Nine, Fourth of Nine, Fifth of Nine, Sixth of Nine, Seventh of Nine, Eighth of Nine, Ninth of Nine

further posts on the meaning of the series finale:

The Sopranos and Hamlet

The Sopranos End and the Closure-Junkies

The Sopranos, or the Tiger?


Sopranos Symposium at Fordham University, May 22-25, 2008: Final Program


*Note added 12 June 2007: The Sopranos finale drew 11.9 million viewers, and was the most-watched show on all of television, including the free networks.








The Plot to Save Socrates


"challenging fun" - Entertainment Weekly

"a Da Vinci-esque thriller" - New York Daily News

"Sierra Waters is sexy as hell" - curled up with a good book

Tuesday, May 21, 2002

Ten Reasons to Like the Clones

[Originally published in Locus OnLine]

Tuesday 21 May 2002

Ten Reasons to Like the Clones

A response to reviews of Star Wars Episode 2: Attack of the Clones



by Paul Levinson


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is not a formal review, but rather a response to the negative reviews of Attack of the Clones which have (unsurprisingly) appeared in The New York Times and elsewhere.

I'm presenting this response in the form of my ten top reasons for liking — actually, loving — Attack of the Clones. In order that these reasons, and this letter, not be misconstrued as satire (ala David Letterman), I'll present the reasons beginning with number 1. Then, after the list, I'll make a few comments.

1. The plot has a neat Asimovian twist, in which what starts out seeming evil later turns out to seem good but in the end winds up being evil, after all. Further, there is a delicious Asimovian inevitability in this: at the conclusion, we understand that whatever actions the leading characters take, the conclusion — the strengthening of evil — will be upheld.

2. While we're on the subject of Asimov, I thought the movie had all sorts of nice homage-references to the Foundation series: the capital city looks, for all the galaxy, like Trantor; the library looks like the library at Trantor; a planet is missing and must be found, ala Second Foundation. I've seen some critics who have lambasted these references as derivative. But as someone who has loved the Foundation series for nearly 50 years, I found the allusions only enjoyable.

3. Speaking of homages, there is a splendid air-borne car-chase scene near the beginning of the movie, very reminiscent of Blade Runner in locale. Several critics have praised this scene in their otherwise negative reviews, and I certainly agree about this scene.

4. The Jedi: It was wonderful to see the Jedi in actual battle, as an elite force, near the end of the movie. This scene was the equal of the best scenes in A New Hope (the original Star Wars movie), and The Empire Strikes Back, which were the best two previous movies (more on this below).

5. Yoda in one-on-one battle: this was also a superb scene, thoroughly motivated in the story.

6. Different levels of prowess among Jedi: In past Star Wars movies, this was only hinted at (or, in the case of the Darth Vader, he was identified as stronger than the rest). In the Clones, we see explicit variations: Obi Wan is unable to defeat the bounty hunter (Jango Fett), but the Jedi played by Samuel L. Jackson (Mace Windu) is. (And there is some very good, subtle development of Obi Wan as a Jedi whose physical prowess is perhaps not quite as good as those of his colleagues — which makes sense, given that his mentor, Quai-Gon Jinn, was killed in the last movie, before Obi-Wan's training was 100% complete.)

7. Natalie Portman gives a fine performance. Her character was, at any rate, far more believable as love interest than Princess Leia.

8. Excellent Dolby sound effects, throughout. Check out, especially, the sound when Obi-Wan is pursuing the Bounty Hunter in the asteroid cluster.

9. Lots of good, derring-do touches of humor throughout the movie, including some nice self-referential stuff. (Again, tone-deaf or myopic critics seemed to have missed this.) Example: Obi-Wan says casually to Anakin, early in the movie, about the physical risks Anakin exposes both of them to, "you'll be the death of me." (While we're on the subject of Anakin, the difficult portrayal of the beginnings of his seduction by the Dark Side was handled well, including his first slaughter of innocents, and the accompanying music.)

10. I liked the different colors of the Jedi light-sabres: red bad, green good, blue apprentice, and one special purple.

I could go on, but you get the picture.

Well, ok, here's one more: I like the thread of evil, like a recessive Jedi gene that only comes out every few generations, running from master to apprentice: the evil Dooku is the good Quai-Gon's master, who is the good Obi-Wan's master, who is Anakin's....

In general, I think Clones is a lot better than Menace and Return of the Jedi, and it may be as good as The Empire Strikes Back. As a story, I actually liked it better than New Hope, but that's of course in a class by itself. [Note added in 2005: I also liked Clones better than Revenge of the Sith, which I liked more than Menace.][Note added in 2007: I'm thinking now that Clones may be my favorite Star Wars movie.]

So how come so many critics have been disappointed?

My guess is, they don't really love science fiction. If they did, a movie that draws upon the Foundation trilogy, Dune, Blade Runner (it also draws on Gladiator — spoofs it — which is a kind of fantasy) would have been irresistible, despite its imperfections.


InfiniteRegress.tv