The Death of Obsession

In the last two blog entries, I have discussed Robert Silverberg’s novella “Born with the Dead” in Phases of the Moon: Six Decades of Masterpieces by the SFWA Grand Master.  Jorge’s wife Sybille has died and been rekindled.  She lives in the abodes of the “deads” known as Cold Towns, and travels the world on research trips and pleasure jaunts.  He tracks her movements as best he can, but is refused entry to Cold Towns, and her friends prevent him from meeting her when he flies off to wherever her travels have taken her.  Finally, she has had enough.  In Zanzibar, she and her friend learn that Jorge’s plane has landed.  “We cannot allow this to go on, can we?” her friend asks her.

WARNING: Robert Silverberg’s stories breathe life into fantastic worlds populated by interesting characters.  His prose is sublime, and rich with meaning.  In sharing with you some aspects of the story, I hope to provide insights you can apply to your own life.  However, this blog post will tell you how the story ends, and as discovering how a story ends is one of the great joys of reading, I would not rob you of that experience.  (Such as: “Luke, I am your father!”)  So, with that spoiler alert duly sounded, I shall proceed.  Read further at your own peril.

Sybille and two of her fellow deads meet Jorge in the hotel bar.  Over drinks, Jorge tries to convince Sybille to give him a few hours of conversation.  He believes that in talking through his obsession, she can help him end it, and both of them can then go their own ways in the future.  But it has been three years since Sybille died.  It is painful for the “deads” to converse directly with the “warms.”  Nor do Sybille and her friends believe that an hour or two of conversation would end Jorge’s tireless, driving obsession.  

So they plunge a self-defense dart into him and have him rekindled.

After a few weeks, Sybille and her friends meet Jorge in a Cold Town.  He is getting acclimated to his new state of existence.  He sees them as demigods, and now he is one of them.  Yet as they discuss their future plans, he loses interest in them.  He decides not to join their little circle of friendship.  Freed of his former bonds, he has his own interests to pursue.  

I can understand why some regard this ending as depressing.  Yet great beauty exists in self-actualization.  In crossing the gulf that separated them, Jorge realizes he never needed Sybille: that was a myth he created and perpetuated.  In the past, I have related to this story in terms of the relationships with family and friends that have frayed or fractured.  For our actions, and others’ actions, affect our ability to interrelate with each other.  Eventually, our growth as individuals creates so much difference between us that the closeness we once shared no longer exists.  While we must love others for the relationship that once meant so much to us, we must hold ourselves in readiness for whatever (or whomever) the future brings our way.  Obsession over what we once had, but no longer exists, can only hold us back from all that life might have in store for us.

But, as I related in the previous blog, today I view the story through a different lens.  Jorge had fixated upon the idea that a conversation with Sybille would enable him to deal with his life and the challenges that lay ahead for him.  Like Jorge, I had clutched hold of my own myth: that in meeting my literary heroes at conventions, I would impress them with my worthiness.  They would then welcome me into their company, and actively help me get published.  Yet, just because we choose to believe something does not make it true.  As Gracchus says to Jorge, 

“I think you’re a fool.  I think you’re a weakling, but I don’t dislike you, I don’t hold you to blame for your own foolishness.” 

Today I resolve to make smart decisions, and pursue actions that will lead to publication.  

How about you?  What does Silverberg’s story say to you?  How can you apply “Born with the Dead” to your life?

Related Dragon Cache entries

We are what our deeds make us: Pike’s Yeoman

Forever in Flux?

Those Most Precious to Us

Related Internet Links

The Worlds of Robert Silverberg

Robert Silverberg, science fiction elder statesman

The Gulf Between

Silverberg resides in good company,
atop a stack that never diminishes

In yesterday’s blog post, I discussed Robert Silverberg’s award-winning novella “Born with the Dead” in Phases of the Moon: Six Decades of Masterpieces by the SFWA Grand Master.  Although his character Jorge is a widower, he is financially well off, has a good career, and could easily be getting on with life.  Yet he cannot let go of his dead wife, Sybille.  Her Will stipulated that after her funeral, her body would undergo the rekindling process.  Thus, while she is no longer a “warm,” she still inhabits the planet Earth.  She visits the barricaded communities of the “deads” known as Cold Towns.  And she regularly travels the globe, still pursuing the academic fields of study that fascinated her before she died.

Jorge tracks her movements as best he can.  He tries to gain access to the Cold Towns she visits.  He flies after her when she travels to far off counties.  Yet every time she refuses to meet with him.  Finally, he uses drugs and fakes his death to sneak into a Cold Town.  When he meets with her, she tells him a story she discovered on one of her research trips.  Then she leaves him, and only later, after he researches the details of her story, does he realize that she was lying to him.  For the characters she spoke of did not live during the period she placed them in.  It appears that she saw through his disguise.  Her story was her way of saying that she did not desire to speak with him further.

Still he pursues her.  In Zanzibar, one of her dead friends finds him in the restaurant at his hotel.  Sybille knows he has followed her here.  She wants him to stop.  Her dead friend Gracchus urges him to give her up and move on with his life.  He tells Jorge that he can do anything he wants to do.  He explains to Jorge that a massive gulf exists between the warms and the deads.  There is but one way to cross it: to die and be rekindled.  Gracchus then shows him the self-defense darts carried by the deads.  He offers to kill Jorge with it, and oversee an immediate rekindling.  When Jorge awakens in a Cold Town, he can then visit Sybille.  Once they both reside on the same side of the gulf that currently separates them, perhaps they will find they have something in common.  Perhaps not.  But that is the only way Jorge can find out. 

This incident in Silverberg’s story strikes me like a knife.  For so long I have attended science fiction conventions.  Yet I have never really connected with the fans.  That was…okay, as my primary purpose was to connect with the authors.  Yet the moments I shared with my writing heroes were all too brief.  Our discussions left me (largely) unsatisfied.  What I sought from them they could not offer me.  For the answers I seek have, and always will, reside inside me.  

For too long now I have traveled between two worlds, belonging in neither.  Stung by past rejections, I have left finished works unsubmitted.  I have abandoned promising stories because they seemed to grow beyond my ability to complete.  Rather than finishing and submitting, I have put myself through countless cycles of story revisions.  Yet the key to unlock my success has always resided in my pocket.  No author can tell me how to pull the key from my pocket, place it in the lock, and turn it.  That much I must do myself.  After I battle past my fear and walk through that door, perhaps then I can find other published authors with whom I share something in common.  Perhaps not.  But that is the only way that I can cross the gulf that separates me from my literary heroes.

What fears separate you from your achievements?  What dangers must you brave, to cross the gulf to your new tomorrow?

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True Vision

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Internet Links

Some Silverbergian quotes

Some Silverberg wit: video from 2009 Worldcon

Obsession with an Unconventional Zombie

As I mentioned in April’s blog post, “Addicted to a Good Book,” our normal practice at bedtime is to read a story together.  Currently, my wife and I are enjoying the Robert Silverberg story “Born with the Dead” in his collection Phases of the Moon: Six Decades of Masterpieces by the SFWA Grand Master.  He wrote this story in the early 1970s, a period of great transition for our country.  American had pulled out of Vietnam, yet our culture was being rocked by continual changes in clothing and hairstyles, recreational drug use, and sexual experimentation.  In his own life, Silverberg had moved from New York to California, his marriage was crumbling, and he was considering abandoning his writing career.  While he could produce high quality prose, his output had significantly fallen.  It seemed as though his creative juices were little more than traces of liquid at the bottom of a formerly full glass.  

But he was not finished as a writer of fiction.  He wrote his novella “Born with the Dead” during this period.  The story went on to win the Nebula award, the Locus award, and garnered second-place votes for the Hugo award.  Regardless of what was happening to American culture, and regardless of what he was personally going through, the story demonstrated one unarguable fact: Robert Silverberg still had the ability to communicate essential truths about human nature through his fiction.

Robert Silverberg:
One of the all-time greats

The story concerns Jorge Klein’s obsession with his dead wife Sybille.  Although her funeral took place years ago, she still lives.  Well, sort of.  It seems that someone, somehow, has invented a process whereby the dead are rekindled.  These reenergized deads are not the zombies of ancient lore.  Nor do they resemble the ones so popular now in movies and novels.  Unlike the zombies recently depicted on the “Castle” episode “Undead Again,” their bodies do not decay, and their minds remain active.  Their judgments are sound, their memories whole.  Yet death has changed them.   Everyone recognizes this: even Jorge accepts this fact.  At least he does intellectually.

Both sides voluntarily segregate themselves from the other.  The "deads" live in their own communities, called Cold Towns, and call the living “warms.”  Interaction between the deads and warms is rare, and unsettling for both sides.  Hence Jorge has not seen Sybille since her rekindling.  Although he recognizes that she is no longer the person he knew, still he yearns to see her again.  To talk with her.  To share even a brief moment of real communication.

Jorge and Sybille were academics, and now that Sybille has died, she is free from the ordinary constraints of the living.  She moves from Cold Town to Cold Town with her new friends, and travels the globe to research aspects of her former vocation that still interest her.  Jorge pursues her as best he can, but he is weighed down by the necessities of his job and finances.  When he locates her in a specific Cold Town community, the deads refuse to admit him.  When he tracks her down on one of her research trips, she refuses to see him, and slips away before he can force the issue.  Finally, through his contacts, he gains access to a drug that can mimic the appearance of the deads.  He falsifies his records to show that he has died and been rekindled.  He gains access to the Cold Town she currently inhabits.  The next morning, a meeting is arranged.  She spends the entire time telling him a story supposedly discovered during her researches.  Then she tells him she is going away.  

“May I accompany you?” he asks.

“Don’t you have your own research to resume, Jorge?” she responds, and leaves before he can answer.

Jorge is well off financially.  He is still young.  He is highly regarded in his field.  There are, no doubt, many women who would find him appealing.  It has been years since Sybille has died and been rekindled.  He recognizes that she has undergone profound change, yet cannot let her go and get on with his life.  

What goals are important to you?  And are you really making progress toward them, or merely obsessing over getting something that you can never have?  

Related Dragon Cache entries

We are what our deeds make us: Vena

When All Hope Seems Lost

Addicted to a Good Book

Related Internet Links

Born with the Dead’s publication history

Watch the Castle episode “Undead Again” 

Those Fearsome Daleks

The Guardians of my CD Collection

While most Daleks bark and shout, 

These ones remain mute.

Do we really find them fearsome,

Or think them kind of cute?

What is it about these aliens,

Who shout “Exterminate!”

Who in killing without mercy,

Become monsters we love to hate?

Any thoughts?  

(I mean, other than about my future prospects as a poet).

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Lions and Daleks and Wizards, oh my!

A History of Conflict

Related Internet Links

Extermiknit!

Knitted Dalek Dog costume

Knitted Dalek on Patrol

The Power of “Star Wars:” Part 2

My friend had talked me into going to see “Star Wars.”  After waiting in a long line that wound around the block, we filed into the cinema and selected our seat.  While I might have seemed calm, my mind was fixated upon a moral dilemma.  For I had been told repeatedly, by so many at my church, that attending the cinema was not merely wrong, but evil.  My parents never said this, nor had they explicitly forbidden me to go.  Part of me wanted to attend a movie and see what that experience was like.  The other part of me preached that what I was doing was morally wrong, and that I was descending upon the road to Hell.

I won't deny it: as we filed into the cinema and took our seats, I scrutinized those I passed by.  Did any of them look like thieves, murderers, or in any other way morally corrupt?

  

Before the movie started, a couple stopped in the aisle.  The woman asked me, “Are those seats next to you saved?”  Saved?  For the life of me, I couldn’t understand how the spiritual process of Salvation could be applied to a cinema chair.  This was the last place I would associate with an unbeliever begging forgiveness for past transgressions and making a life-changing commitment to the Divine.  My friend leaned past me and told her, “No, they're not saved.”  As the couple sat down next to us, my face grew warm.  So that was what she had meant by her spiritual-sounding question!

I had been taught that any willful act of disobedience against God’s law would separate me from Him.  In consciously withdrawing from my covenant with God, were I to die without recommitting myself to Him, my soul would go to Hell.  But Salvation was not an electric switch, to be turned on and off at one’s leisure.  To repeatedly sin would harden my heart against the Creator.  With each act of disobedience, I would grow less capable of returning to him, until, my heart completely hardened, I could never again receive Salvation.  With such thoughts in my head, the lights dimmed, the 20^th Century Fox logo appeared on the screen, and the introductory music blared.  I prayed that if I had done wrong, then God would make my error apparent to me.  After the movie.  

I resigned myself to my fate.  I vowed to judge the movie on its own merits.  Afterward, I would determine whether or not it was wrong for me to attend the cinema, and abide by that decision.  As the Blockade Runner hurtled over Tatooine, pursued by an Imperial Star Destroyer, I settled back to watch the movie.

While some might consider it wrong to compare the spiritual process of Salvation in the believer’s life with a young boy’s first cinema experience, there’s no doubt that watching “Star Wars” that evening changed me forever.  Had I seen a lesser movie, one with a less-positive message, or one in which the protagonists exhibited loose morals, I might have accepted everything I had been told about the cinema and never returned.  Instead, “Star Wars” expanded my worldview.  Previously I had enjoyed sci-fi as merely one form of entertainment.  Suddenly it became, if not the only form, then certainly the ultimate kind of story.  I fell in love with the cinema.  I fell in love with movies.  More importantly, I learned to trust my own instincts and judgments as to what was right or wrong for me.  

Just a few of my early acquisitions
(I probably read Splinter a dozen times)

I was always a voracious reader, and my parents supported this interest.  Some of the first books I purchased from the grocery store spinner-racks were “Star Wars” books.  I also bought “Star Wars” trading cards, comic books, magazines, and action figures.  I even painted my own ceramic R2-D2.  There were not enough “Star Wars” books back then to satisfy me, so I explored everything in the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre that I could get my hands on.  This, by extension, eventually inspired me to write my own stories.  This desire transported me on a wonderful journey of transitioning from adoring others' creations to attempting to craft my own.  

I’m still traveling down that road.  One day, I hope to complete my stories and see them stacked on bookstore shelves.  I hope those novels will bring happiness to many, including fans of “Star Wars” such as myself.

On this thirty-fifth anniversary of “Star Wars,” I want to thank George Lucas for preserving and building upon his immortal creation.  His movie has brought joy to millions, and transformed many viewers' lives for the better.  Including my own.

Related Dragon Cache entries

A Journey into English Fiction Part 2

A Surprising Discovery

A Completely Different World

Internet Links:

The ultimate Star Wars party (this is crazy fun)

The original Star Wars trilogy: the Despecialized Edition (this seems a worthy effort)

The Power of “Star Wars:” Part 1

As I mentioned in the previous entry, when I was growing up, Steve Austin was one of my heroes.  Along with the characters from “Star Trek,” I remember roleplaying “The Six Million Dollar Man” on the playground with my friends.  My parents had no problem with my love of characters on TV shows: in fact one of my precious childhood memories involves watching “Six Mil” with my father.  But then a strange pattern started.  I would see advertisements for movies, and ask my parents, “Can we see that?” and get a hedgy, noncommittal answer, if not just silence.  

I don’t remember when I finally realized the reason behind their unease.  At that time, good members of the Nazarene Church simply didn’t go to the cinema.  One powerful memory—an image really, nothing more—is of seeing a movie advertised in which Lee Majors, the star of “Six Mil,” would play a lead character.  I couldn’t understand my parents’ reticence to go see the movie.  After all, we watched Lee Majors on TV.  We enjoyed “Six Mil” together.  Why couldn’t we go see this movie, and enjoy that experience as a family?  

None of their answers satisfied me.  Finally, my mother brought me before an old Sunday School teacher.  

“Tell David why we don’t go to the cinema,” my mom requested.  This lady turned her wizened expression upon me and said, “Because that’s where all the thieves and murders hide out.”

It’s fine to look back now and laugh at such an assertion, but in that era, her declaration would have raised few eyebrows in my denomination.  Perhaps the majority of church members would have seconded her with a resounding “Amen!”  But something in her answer struck me as wrong.  While I couldn’t accept her pronouncement, I had no evidence with which to contradict her.  

Well, eventually it came to pass that we moved to a new town, and my parents brought me back to my former neighborhood to spend a weekend with a friend.  I was looking forward to an evening in his den, shooting pool and watching a “Charlie’s Angels” special on TV, when my friend asked me, “Do you want to go see ‘Star Wars?’”  I’m not sure if I had heard of “Star Wars” or not, but from his description of the movie, I could detect no harm in seeing it.  So I allowed myself to be talked into going.

The next hour or so proved extremely uncomfortable.  We drove to the cinema, and stopped along the way at Baskin Robbins.  Over ice cream and lighthearted conversation, my nerves grew progressively shakier until I admitted to my friend’s father that I’d never gone to a cinema before.  He frowned.  “Are you sure your parents wouldn’t object to your going, then?” he asked.

While it was not their practice, neither had my mother or father condemned the cinema, or declared that it would be wrong for me to go.  Still, religion was strong in my family: our entire social life revolved around church.  “Is there anything wrong with it?” I asked my friend's father.

“Of course not,” he replied.  “It’s a PG movie.  It’s made for kids.”

“Oh.  Well, I’m sure it’s okay then.”

And so I smiled, and nodded, and acted as if nothing bothered me.  He must have bought my act, because he didn’t bring up the topic again.  Still, I was anything but at peace over my upcoming visit to the cinema.

This blog entry will conclude in The Power of “Star Wars:” Part 2.

Related Dragon Cache entries

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A New Guru

R2-D2 in Adrilanka

Related Internet Links

The R2-D2 Builders Club

The Stormtrooper Shuffle

The Resurrected Woman

Recently, my wife and I have been watching series one and two of the original “Bionic Woman.”  I’m not sure what motivated us to pick up the DVDs: perhaps just fond childhood memories of the show.  Like most boys of my era, I watched “The Six Million Dollar Man” religiously.  Steve Austin was my hero.  No, not just a hero, but a superhero.  With his bionic legs, arm, and eye, he could accomplish feats that mere unbionic people could never hope to accomplish.  It didn’t matter who was in danger, or where they were, or how badly the odds were stacked against him: he could always save the day.  When Jaime Summers came along, she became a hero in her own right.  While softer and more feminine than Steve, her bionics also allowed her to accomplish the unimaginable.  

In watching the extras, what surprised me was how "The Bionic Woman” series came about.  Producer Kenneth Johnson was trying to establish himself as a writer in Hollywood, and pitched stories to “Six Mil” executive producer Harve Bennett (Yes, the Harve Bennett who later oversaw the “Star Trek” movies).  Kenneth suggested a “Bride of Frankenstein” episode.  He dubbed it “Mrs. Steve Austin.”  Harve Bennett liked the idea so much that he authorized a two-part story eventually entitled “The Bionic Woman,” and in due course Lindsay Wagner was chosen to play Jaime.  But there were no thoughts of taking the character beyond that.  It was just a two-part episode, no more.

The script went through several rewrites until they got the story exactly right.  Kenneth Johnson went along with all the suggested changes, but on one point he dug in his heels.  In all his scripts, Jaime Summers survived her problems with “bionic rejection.”  Yet the executives remained steadfast in their demand for a tragic ending.  So Jaime was finally condemned to death, her body incapable of adapting to the bionic legs, arm, and ear.  Steve Austin would mourn the passing of the woman with whom he had planned his future.

This is the way the story was filmed; this is the way the story aired.  The executives reveled in the ratings.  Yet, as high as the ratings climbed, the “Six Mil” fan letters piled higher.  

“How dare you kill her off?” fans wrote in.  

“Don’t you realize how much we loved her?”  

“My children are traumatized over Jaime’s death!”  

Realizing their mistake, the executives turned to Harve and Kenneth.  

“Why’d you guys kill her off?” the executives asked.  

“Uh, excuse me?  What do you mean, we killed her off?” 

“Well, bring her back!” the executives demanded.  

“How?” cried Harve and Kenneth.  

“Who cares?  Just find a way, and we’ll build a series around her!”  

So this woman—just a fictional character—was brought back to life, a new series was created out of nothing, and America had another superhero: Jaime Summers.

We can never know what will catch on in our lives.  It may be that something we thought would be of little value to others proves tremendously important to people’s lives.  No job is insignificant; no task beneath us.  Those who seem so important and popular now may be forgotten tomorrow, while those who perform the seemingly mundane tasks may later be lifted up, their achievements celebrated, and their worth realized.  So regardless of what you do, or the tasks that lie ahead of you this day, remember how Jaime Summers became so important to a nation that she was resurrected.  She made Kenneth Johnson’s career in Hollywood.  Perhaps her example can inspire you to success as well.

Now, if only I hadn't given away my original Steve Austin action figure!

Related Dragon Cache entries

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Audrey, Richard, and the Unknown Constable

Doctor Who, Ling, and the No-Win Situation

Suggested Internet Link:

Kenneth Johnson’s website: This is a treasure trove of information regarding his career.  If you loved any (or all) of his shows, write him and let him know.  He cherishes hearing from fans, and he will write you back.

Watch episodes at “The Bionic Woman” website.

Five Essential Ray Harryhausen Films

In the beginning, there was “Clash of the Titans.”  Or perhaps I should say, at the end, there was “Clash of the Titans.”  The movie seems destined to go down in history as Ray Harryhausen’s most remembered film, and arguably represents his best, and therefore “the best” example of classic stop-motion animation.  Given the success of the 2010 remake, and the recent release of “Wrath of the Titans,” its popularity seems assured.  But what of all the other great movies he made?  

“Clash of the Titans” was the only Ray Harryhausen movie I saw in the cinema.  Although I might have subsequently seen it once or twice on TV, I never bought a VHS recording.  But one day, as I perused the DVD store, I happened upon it, remembered how much I had enjoyed it, and brought it home to enjoy.  Even well into the era of modern special effects extravaganzas such as the Star Wars prequels and The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Ray Harryhausen’s artistry served as a refreshing reminder that one doesn’t need teams of digital artists, warehouses of computers processing millions of lines of code, and unimaginable amounts of money to make a decent Sci-fi movie.  (Nor does one need a team of animators or other special effects people, at least not if you've got someone with Harryhausen's creativity and focus working for you).  The extras on "Clash" also served an important purpose: they highlighted other great movies that Ray Harryhausen had made.  Suddenly, I had the catalogue of another great artist to explore!

In the intervening years, I’ve seen lots of this pioneering master’s work, and am always looking for more.  Yet, with all the new movies that get released each year, and all the movies that are reissued on DVD every week, it would be easy for the next generation of Sci-fi fans to ignore his earlier work.  This seems a shame, as his work made such a huge impact on the film industry.  Therefore, I’ve assembled a list of the essential non-“Clash” movies that any lover of stop-motion animation should see.  I call it:

Five Ray Harryhausen Films That Must Not Be Missed!

1. The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms

2. It Came from Beneath the Sea

3. Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers

4. Mysterious Island

5. The Golden Voyage of Sinbad

The first two movies play on the 1950s concern regarding the unintended effects of nuclear radiation due to atomic bomb tests and explosions.  Today’s filmmakers remember the third as one of the best Flying Saucer movies ever made.  Each of the three, in a metaphorical way, plays to mankind’s eternal fears of what dangers might suddenly overtake us, without warning, whether we are on land, at sea, or from the skies.  All of them also address Cold War era fears through metaphor.  

The latter two, while more Fantasy than Science Fiction, play to the child in all of us.  “Mysterious Island” was based on a Jules Verne novel involving an island where gigantic creatures exist, and included his character Captain Nemo from 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea.  “The Golden Age of Sinbad,” the second of three Sinbad movies, brings gigantic creatures from myths and classic fantasy stories to life.  Both make us ask what wonders might still await us, as we continue to explore our world.

Well, there you have it: five classic Ray Harryhausen movies that I feel must be seen.  That is, in addition to his triumphant swan song, “Clash of the Titans.”  The latter, as I said in the beginning (and I’m sure that Tina Turner would agree), is simply the best.  But then again, when it comes to stop-motion animation, so is he.

What are your favorite Ray Harryhausen films?  What movies of his do you feel should have shouldered their way past the others on my list?  While I always welcome readers’ comments, I’m particularly interested in hearing from any passionate Ray Harryhausen fans out there.

Internet Links for Harryhausen fans

The Official Ray Harryhausen Website

Movie Trailers That Turn Us Off

I used to look forward to watching movie trailers in the cinema.  On TV, trailers for an upcoming movie generally last only twenty or thirty seconds, whereas cinema trailers can extend up to two-and-a-half minutes.  Like miniature movies, movie trailers employ a three-act structure, and are crafted to tell a story that entrances the audience while leaving them hungering for more.  But nowadays, when cinemas screen TV-style ads, promote special one-night-only shows, then follow these up with eight or ten trailers, I’m sometimes exhausted, or at least annoyed, by the time the feature starts.  

Nevertheless, I still love trailers, whether I watch them online, in the theater, or on DVD.  Their creators must work to overcome certain limitations, such as making the trailer before the movie crew has wrapped up production.  In addition to piecing together video from rushes (scenes which may or may not make their way into the final movie), they must also serve as their own composers, and create their own sound effects, as the finished sound and score are often not finalized until shortly before the film is released.  The efforts of such unsung heroes are celebrated each year with The Golden Trailer Awards and the Key Art Awards.  Occasionally, such people even find their way onto the big screen: in “The Holiday,” Cameron Diaz plays Amanda Woods, a movie-trailer creator, who find love when she decides to spend Christmas in England.  

Like all art, trailers have gone through notable periods of mutation.  Sci-Fi movie trailers from the fifties, for example, often feature large text punctuated with exclamation marks.  “The flying squid monsters from Venus!  Watch your head!  They’ll eat your brains!”  Movies from the sixties and seventies, and perhaps even the eighties, show scenes from the movie, overladen with a presenter’s rich, deep tones saying things like “See the fantastic world of tomorrow,” “Watch [the hero’s] amazing journey,” “Thrill to his death-defying struggle,” or “Marvel at the spectacular special effects.”  While looking back on the trends of an earlier era can be fun, I wonder how today’s trailers affect us, given the current decline in cinema attendance.

Two years ago, my wife and I saw the movie trailers for the upcoming remake of Ray Harryhausen’s final film: “Clash of the Titans.”  Despite her love for the original story, the tremendously upgraded special effects, and exciting imagery, she refused to go see the 2010 film in the cinema.  This year, I finally convinced her to watch the movie on DVD, and she proved not only an ardent fan of the remake, but the motive force behind getting us out to see the sequel.  Yet, while she enjoyed last weekend’s “Wrath of the Titans,” she found herself losing interest in the upcoming Ridley Scott film “Prometheus.”  While earlier trailers had prompted her interest, she literally could not watch the latest one; she had to close her eyes to keep from growing ill. 

Current big-budget action movies, and particularly ones geared toward the Science Fiction and Fantasy crowd, seem to utilize several common elements.  Some of these techniques involve: interspersing brightly lit scenes with intensely dark scenes; using a moment of black or white to divide two intense scenes; or using black to break up a fast moving scene to produce a stutter-like effect.  Married with such violent exchanges of lighting are sound effects such as deep booms, clanging symbols, electronic wailing, or clashing notes or chords.  Alternatively, the moment of black separating two scenes may momentarily break up loud sound with silence.  The latest trailer for “Prometheus” maximizes the usage of such techniques: while the trailer begins with more sedate imagery, toward the end scenes are interrupted with repeated wailing and strobe-like flashes of white.

While I’m not an expert in any field of medicine, it seems likely that prolonged exposure to such interchanges of light and sound can stress the eyes and ears, tighten ones muscles, and induce headaches.  I’m not arguing that watching a succession of such trailers can provoke an epileptic seizure, or lead to other significant medical conditions.  But there have been a number of times in the past few years that my wife would turn to me after watching a movie trailer and say, “That one looks too intense for me.”  And that's it.  We may watch the movie later on DVD.  Then again, given all the demands of life, we may never see a movie that we might otherwise have fallen in love with.  

As for the 2010 version of “Clash of the Titans,” it may not have been the best movie ever made, but I nonetheless wish we could have watched it on the big screen together.  To a certain extent, I feel like we’ve been cheated.  For we’ve missed out on a unique experience that can never be repeated: experiencing a great film for the first time on the big screen (with or without soda, popcorn, and a box of Whoppers).  I wonder how many other people have been turned off by a trailer's over-hyped intensity, and thus contributed to the decline in overall theater attendance.  

We all yearn for a little intensity to spice up our lives, but as with the level of complexity in the dual-realities of the TV show “Awake,” sometimes too much of a good thing actually turns us off.  

Related Internet Links

A Movie Trailer primer from Wikipedia

An Article on Light Stimulation from the Canadian Epilepsy Alliance

Effects on everyone from Light Sensitivity from the Epilepsy Foundation