Female Monarch Movie

Title: Bohemian Rhapsody

Director: Um … haha … yeah well

Screenplay: Anthony McCarten

Yes, it’s Female Monarch, the movie slash biopic slash Live Aid performance reenactment, starring Rami Malek and Rami Malek’s prosthetic teeth. It’s a karaoke music video montage, Queen’s Greatest Hits loosely strung together with a couple of talky bits sandwiched between the singles.

The feeling it evokes is not-quite-nostalgia, as I don’t really remember Live Aid all that well, nor was I especially interested in Queen, but it’s more nostalgia for nostalgia, a feeling I’ve missed out by not being there, in the moment. It also evokes a feeling of why-the-hell-did-I-just-watch-this, given the depth is about as deep as the melody for “We Will Rock You” and the only thing that really stuck out were Freddie’s incisors. 

It’s a fairly by-the-numbers rock bio, charting a familiar course of rise to fame, descent into debauchery, last-minute eucatastrophe standing-in-the-pouring-rain moment, redemption in front of a live global audience of nearly two billion. There isn’t much insight, and since most of the members of Queen save front man Freddie Mercury are still with us and probably need placating if the movie was to secure song rights, it definitely plays softball with the challenges the group faced. It’s just thing happens, song, a different thing happens, song, Freddie comes out as gay, song happens, another song happens, Live Aid happens, roll credits.

The movie plays fast and loose with historical accuracy in the name of creating this cookie-cutter drama, inventing a break-up that never happened and moving Freddie’s AIDS diagnosis several years forward so that his “I’ve got to go and leave you all behind” lines from the song “Bohemian Rhapsody” at Live Aid carry greater weight. 

I’m not joking about the Live Aid thing. The last 15 minutes of the movie is essentially a shot-for-shot reenactment of Queen’s 1985 Wembley performance. Which is available on YouTube for the princely sum of zero dollars, so frankly, why not just watch that?

It’s also a very narrowly-focused movie, with Queen apparently existing in a musical vacuum broken only in the last act by name-dropping everyone else who was at Live Aid (= everyone, basically). There is, for example, no mention of their collaboration with David Bowie on “Under Pressure”, whose first two bars give all 90s guys like me the shakes whenever we hear them on the radio—we know it could go one of two ways. You’re either in for a treat, or on a one-way elevator ride to audio hell. 

So, distressing lack of Bowie. I ask for your thoughts and prayers during this difficult and Bowie-less time. 

I believe that at times like these, it is traditional to leave a scathing Rotten Tomatoes review and then create a series of increasingly incoherent rants on YouTube, but I figured I’d put my thoughts out in the most impactful way possible. Cough.

Bridging the Genres: Walking on Glass / The Bridge

Titles: Walking on Glass & The Bridge
Author: Iain Banks-without-the-M
Publisher: Macmillan

I’m a ginormously huge, rabidly proselytizing advocate of the science fiction works of Iain M. Banks with an M (e.g. Use of Weapons, Excession, Look to Windward, etc.), but I’ve always held back from his mainstream fiction as, at first glance, it seemed very Scotto- or at least Brito-centric and thus less relatable.

As with most of the thoughts floating around this shaggy old head of mine, this one also turned out to be completely wrong.

While both Walking on Glass (1985) and The Bridge (1986)—Banks’s second and third mainstream fiction novels after Wasp Factory—are at least partially set in 1980s London and Scotland, respectively, they’re both far more concerned with the interior life of their protagonists than the superficial details of life in the UK.

The two novels share a lot of similarities both structurally and thematically.

Structurally, they both weave together three separate narratives which at first glance appear separate, but whose connections gradually become apparent as the story progresses. 

Walking on Glass is the more opaque of the two, the connections among its strands more tangled and harder to unravel. There’s Graham Park, a shy art student smitten with an elusive and mysterious woman named Sara ffitch (two F’s, lowercase); Steven Grout, a possibly delusional man convinced he is actually a noble warrior exiled from another time or place imprisoned on Earth; and in the most SFnal thread, a man named Quiss, a warrior who has been exiled to a crumbling castle made of books and illuminated by glowing fish, where the only way to escape is to win nonsensical games such as one-dimensional chess and blank dominos and answer a nonsense riddle: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

The “point” (or maybe the “question” to put it better) is to what extent the people in the three stories are delusional or engaging with reality. Grout at first glance appears to be a lunatic, but the Quiss story suggests there are indeed warriors in another time/place, thus creating an element of doubt. The waters are further muddied when Grout discovers a discarded matchbook with the riddle “What happens when an unstoppable force meets and immovable object?” raising the possibility that it’s actually Quiss’s story which is delusional. If you extend that line of thought to the one that seems the most mundane—Graham’s hopeless pining for an unavailable woman—then we start to see how much of life is built on seeing what we want to see, believing what we want to believe. In a way, Graham’s behavior is as crazy and nonsensical as Grout’s or Quiss’s. 

The Bridge also follows three plot lines, this time involving Alex, a successful engineer who crashes his car near the Firth of Forth bridge in Scotland and slips into a coma, John Orr, his alter ego inside the coma, and the Barbarian, a violent Conan figure who exists within John Orr’s dreams—a dream within a coma. 

As Alex lies in a coma John awakes on The Bridge of the title, a kind of enormous version of the Firth of Forth bridge inhabited—like the London Bridge of long ago—by thousands of people in a kind of Terry Gilliam/Brazil-esque society of secretive agencies and societal rules. A psychiatrist tries to help John by analyzing his dreams, but John resists—for reasons that become clear as we learn more about Alex’s history—and invents dreams instead. One of his real dreams is of the Barbarian, a kind of uber-Conan killer assisted by a wisecracking familiar and a flying dagger called a “knife missile” (a term instantly recognizable to anyone who has read Banks’s Culture stories). 

Here, I think the idea is that all three—Alex, John and the Barbarian—are leading lives governed by what are, when you get right down to it, nonsensical rules and standards. The Barbarian inhabits the world of Fantasy and myth, with spells and curses made or broken acausally, while John’s Kafkaesque world is similarly arbitrary, with people marshalled and ordered about for reasons they cannot understand or articulate. As with Walking on Glass, this realization leads us to look at the mundane story line, in this case Alex, his professional frustrations and his tangled love affairs, and see how our world, too, is governed by pointless and meaningless rules.

Both novels overflow with Banks’s cheery wit and exuberant imagination, especially in their most fantastical modes—Quiss’s castle and the Barbarian’s adventures. 

Walking on Glass definitely feels the less polished of the two, with the twist/reveal in Graham’s story managing to be at once both entirely predictable and then from out of nowhere, over the space of a few paragraphs, just weirdly and unnecessarily convoluted and grotesque. There’s about three twists in a row and they’re all just dumped on you with no warning in one scene, which honestly just feels kind of cheap and detracts from the essential groundedness of Graham’s story line. 

In addition, the connections among the three story lines aren’t really clarified, but left fuzzy and open to interpretation, which could be frustrating for many readers. 

The Bridge, by contrast, is much more silky and smooth, and the humor more pervasive and deft, though my reaction to the ending was that Banks went too far in the other direction after Walking on Glass—instead of leaving things undefined, here he really just lays out the theme and message in 60-point Impact font, THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS. As a counter-reaction to people scratching their heads over Walking on Glass? Who knows. 

Appropriately though, both books taught me the folly of artificially limiting what you read to one genre, and to avoid being bound by senseless and meaningless categories.

1979

He was born in an in-between place, a valley with old and rounded hills behind, sharp and eager mountains before, a kind of negative space of not-geography. It was the kind of place life largely passed by, with wars that broke behind the weathered hills and storms that raged beyond the peaks. 

In the sheltered valley there was idyll and ease. Days, months and years slipped by his defenses, unchallenged. And crept up on him as he stood by the window, watching the distant lightning.

Liveblogging Conan the Barbarian

The full movie of Conan the Barbarian is available on YouTube (link above), so I watched it and posted my reactions and thoughts in real time. This is easily the dumbest idea I've ever had for a post on this site, so of course I had to do it. There is no earthly reason for you to read this and watch along, but ... sorry, can't think of anything. 

Ready? Then let's begin:

0:26 First thing on the screen is Nietzsche: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." This movie is already metal as fuck. 

1:03 An 8/10 opening credits. Only Arnie and JEJ get billing.
Voice over! Ugh. 

2:00 Forging a sword. Now we're LITERALLY being metal.

4:25 Conan's dad gives him THE talk. You know the one. About Crom and the gods, against a majestic bluescreen. But wait! Is his dad Kris Kristofferson?
No. No he isn't.

OH NO THE VILLAGE IS BEING ATTACKED BY GWAR. 

7:20 Dude has a horned helmet. Extra metal points right there. For badass barbarians, the Cimmerians sure went down like little bitches. Big hammer dude is awesome though. 
10:29 Led by Evil General Lemmy. 
11:32 That hair, James Earl. It's magnificent.  

14:30 Narrator: 'Why did they do it? Eh. Who the fuck knows.' Thanks Narrator. Very helpful insight.

15:21 We have this task requiring extreme physical strength. What type of slaves shall we get? Hmm. I know! Little kids! Nothing stronger than preschoolers. 
16:31 Especially if the preschooler is Arnie.
Is the thing he's pushing supposed to be a grindstone for flour, or have they just got kids pushing it for giggles? If it's a mill, why the heck is it in the middle of nowhere?

18:25 OK, now Arnie's a gladiator and his first opponent is ... Lord Humongous! Biggest crossover in cinematic history.

20:32 Leveling up his loot, Skyrim style. He's up to 'Steel' now. 

21:24 Mr. Miyagi from the Karate Kid makes a cameo. BIGGEST CROSSOVER IN CINEMATIC HISTORY. Wax on, wax off you idiot. (Slaps Arnie)
22:20 First boobies. Not very sexy ones, but boobies nonetheless. The 80s were a magical time.

24:01 The greatest monologue ever uttered in cinematic history. Ever.

34:41 So he screws the witch, she turns into medusa, so he kicks her into the fire and she becomes a cheap special effect. 
But hey, I'm not here to kink shame.
Whatever turns you into a flaming ball of light, baby.

35:27 Fun fact: Subotai was the name of Genghis Khan's best general. Dude seems pretty Hispanic for a Mongol, though.

37:08 We're now watching Lord of the Rings. Look at all this scenery we're jogging through!

39:44 Red light district. There's a llama. Why? No wait. I don't want to know. 
46:05 Arnie getting 'Nam flashbacks. Very PTSD. 

52:45 The other girl he screwed turned into a firework. This one just turned into a hungover drunk. Must have done it wrong, Arnie. 
It's King Max von Bit Part in Force Awakens.

I SALUTE YOU!

1:04:45 What is it with Arnie and raging Asian stereotypes? Here's another.
1:05:43 Arnie infiltrates the hippies by carrying a bouquet. 
1:08:10 And promptly murders a gay man. Subtle this movie is not.

Let's crucify this dude but not actually stick around long enough to see if he's dead because we're Bond villains, apparently. 

1:27:49 Getting ready for the KISS concert. 
So, is Conan technically a zombie now?

1:30:52 Thulsa Doom has the best orgies. I hope they brought enough mysterious green goop for everybody.

IT'S PEOPLE. The mysterious green goop is people. 
Everyone: Pretends to be shocked.

Sorry lady, you're name wasn't on the movie poster. No resurrection for you.


1:46:25 Okay, but this is basically the plot of Home Alone with sharp edges.
1:48:05 They've been preparing for like, a week. Has Max's daughter been chained to a rock the whole time? That's going to stink, man. 

1:54:06 Saved by Disco Valkyrie!

Some guy assassinates the leader of your murderous cult: 'Huh. Welp, guess we'll all go home now.' 
... and done.

Great 80s cheesefest/10. 
They should do one more Arnie Conan movie, but like Johnny Cash 'Hurt' Conan, looking back on his life, all the cult leaders he never found time to kill. I would cry.

Thin Air

Title: Thin Air
Author: Richard K. Morgan
Publisher: Del Rey

This is kind of Morgan returning to his roots, as Thin Air is more like Altered Carbon than anything he's published in the intervening years. 

There's a cynical, hard-bitten, quasi-military protagonist who now works independently, dragged into a missing person investigation that turns out to be part of a bigger conspiracy ... which is pretty close to the setup of Altered Carbon. The action takes place on a barely- slash badly-terraformed Mars rather than Earth and the gee-whiz technology is cybernetic implants rather than digitally backed-up consciousness, but the tone, setting and story beats are all pretty familiar.

I suspect whether you like this or not will depend on how you felt about Altered Carbon, and whether you wanted more of the same. Personally, I enjoyed the overall style and tone, but the hero is a little too super-powered for my taste, and like a lot of whodunits a lot rides on suspects or baddies revealing their entire plans in lengthy monologues in unlikely situations, and plus I think the conspiracy is a little too convoluted for its own good.

Maybe the biggest change, other than the surface details of the setting, is there's a kind of acceptance in the writing that wasn't there 16 years ago--the world is shit, but it's the world we gotta live in, so we might as well make the best of it. Despite the noir style there is an almost, if not quite hopeful, then almost zen feel to the ending.

So, if you liked A.C. this will definitely scratch almost exactly the same itch. If not, probably not your thing.

Winter Holiday Reading List!

Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle: A classic far beyond any words of mine to either help or harm. Got a Vonnegut collection from my brother for Xmas, so working my way through that.

David Drake, Hammer's Slammers Vol. 1: Interesting to see it obviously gestated in the same juices as BattleTech, with its intergalactic mercenaries and monocultural colony worlds lifted straight from 20th century stereotypes. 

Started off promising with some good rip-snorting scifi action (reminded me more of Renegade Legion than BT, but anyway), but I find the constant slaughter of civilians faintly nauseating (let's massacre these surrendering guerillas, let's drop a nuke on this village, let's not bother distinguishing between combatants and non-) so I've given up halfway through.

Joe Abercrombie, Heroes: Set over the course of a sort of medieval Gettysburg, a three-day battle between the barbarian Northerners and the civilized Union. Anachronisms abound, including late medieval armies organized into divisions and regiments, but a lot of the hack and slash is entertaining. 

Started reading Abercrombie years ago, when I quite enjoyed his destruction of fantasy genre conventions (the kindly wizard is a manipulative schemer, the dashing hero is brain-dead, the torturer is the nicest character, the mute gets the best jokes, etc. etc.) but over the years his grimdark anti-trope style has itself become a trope, so I found a lot of this predictable: the worst people will come out on top, the nicest people in the latrine, and so on. 

Still, Abercrombie's a vivid and entertaining writer, so it's a fun read.

Martha Wells, All Systems Red: Novella about a self-aware security cyborg tasked with defending a survey team when everything starts to go wrong. Won both the Nebula and Hugo awards for best novella, and though I'm still only halfway through, I haven't been too impressed. Too much seems to ride on the cyborg's indestructible nature and ability to hack any system, while the baddies are boilerplate corporate bad-guys we've been seeing in scifi since, like, Alien.

Digital Lascaux

One day you’re going to write the best thing you’ve ever written, and you won’t even know it until maybe years later. You’ll just go on, blissfully producing a steady stream of increasingly mediocre drivel. 

And what’s worse, no one will read it, this masterpiece of yours, and it will disappear forever into some dusty hard drive in some server farm cavern. Never to be seen again, unless data archeologists stumble across it in a thousand years, like some digital Lascaux. 

Van Gogh died a pauper, and you are no van Gogh.

No Word for Yes

The Tatemae were a quiet, peace-loving race, descended from avian omnivore stock, migrating along the Perseus arm in flocks of swept-wing spacecraft. 

They were involved in more and bloodier wars than any other race in the galaxy.

The trouble was this: The race had no word for “Yes,” and thus by extension, no way to give an unambiguous “No.” Regardless of their individual feelings, culture custom and language forced any individual Tatemae to hem and haw and reply to any request with “Well, it might be difficult…” 

Did they come in peace? Well, they might, they might not. Too early to tell.

Would they be willing to exchange technologies? Ah, now, that was a good question.

Could they change their migration route? Hm. Might be tricky.

How about a peace agreement between their race and ours? Perhaps. Hard to say. 

Would they withdraw before we open fire? They’d give it some thought.

And cue another bloodbath.

Animate Entropy

As quantum scientists know, the world is shaped by observation and belief, and so it will end when enough of us want it to. We’ve approached that point asymptotically, a steady erosion of our will to live through famine, war, pestilence, and even just the common, petty, daily drudgery of not being dead.

That loss has weakened the foundations of the world, and allowed the demons in.

A demon is just animate entropy, with no more malice than an acid or alkaline, only driven by the need to liberate all the stuff that makes you you from its molecular bonds and the tyranny of being you.

This is why demons are banished by belief. Only the certainty that life in all its imperfections is still worth living will ensure that there will be any life left in the universe.

Klondike Again

The wagon master eased his horse to a halt at the crest, and turned to the train behind him. 

After centuries the Klondike River was once again a destination, though its visitors were running from something, not to. It was hot even in winter, and gritty asphalt got into everything, including the food. 

“Welcome,” he called to the refugees. “Welcome to the promised land. Welcome to the last indrawn breath before the mortal exhalation of a dying world. Welcome to the penultimate paragraph in Earth’s final chapter. 

“Enjoy the scenery, dinner is at seven. Hope you like grubs and algae, cos that’s what you’re getting.”