And Archimedes wept…

Oh, Eureka. How you disappoint me so.

The show, not the town. The show about the town in the show. By which I mean: I’m not talking about the real town in California, where I go to buy groceries.

Although it, too, is a bit disappointing, as towns go.

Let’s just start over.

(Warning: here there be spoilers.)

I just finished watching season five of Eureka. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show crash and burn as hard as this one did. I should maybe do some research, see if they switched producers or writers or something. Because it was a spectacular trainwreck, and things that awful don’t happen in a vacuum. Writing, characters, the space-time continuum – all out the proverbial window.

The bitch of it is the show had such potential. I really enjoyed the first three seasons. Basic rundown: there’s a little town hidden (literally, by a force field) somewhere in the Oregon forest, which is home to the world’s most advanced and most top-secret research laboratory. The only people who live there are genius scientists and their families. A federal marshal (Jack Carter, played by Colin Ferguson, who is funnier than you’d think he would be) stumbles into town while chasing down his delinquent daughter, and ends up unwillingly becoming the sheriff. The place is full of wacky mad scientist types, so there’s always something blowing up or an experiment gone horribly wrong. Hilarity ensues.

And here’s where it all goes bad: in the first episode of season four the five main characters get transported back to 1947, when the town was just beginning to be established as a safe haven for postwar scientific experimentation. I thought it was a cool little story arc and a nice period piece. (There were a lot of awesome sciencey things going on in America after we stole all the best scientists from the Nazis. Good times.) But they kept it going. It wasn’t just a cool little story arc. The characters got back to their own time period but they never fixed the fucked up timeline. Never. After a few episodes, they didn’t even try anymore.

Which is downright maddening! It’s like the network or the writers or whoever’s in charge wanted to make a completely different show, so instead of trying something new they decided to ride the coattails of a show that already had a following and just retconned the shit out of it. Lame. And I loves me some time travel. I’m not suggesting that time travel is inappropriate in a show like this. It seemed in line with all their other epic experimental fuckups that had happened up until that point. But again, it felt like they should’ve made a whole different show instead of completely changing the one that we all liked just fine the way it was.

Having said that, once I got over the burn of having my fandom stepped on, I liked the end of the series alright. I was waiting for them to fix it the whole time, but they could’ve done worse as far as stories go. Felicia Day and Wil Wheaton made good additions to the cast, of course. And the part where they stuck everyone in a computer generated alternate reality was pretty great.

I think it’s interesting that so many scifi shows are all doom and gloom. Maybe that’s a byproduct of most of those storylines being action-oriented? And dire situations create a certain type of conflict which can be amplified or enhanced by running and explosions? Which look awesome, and which I quite enjoy, but there’s not a lot of giggles in scifi tv. Eureka was refreshing because it was funny. Not Joss Whedon funny, not witty or clever in the same way, but chuckle-worthy, for sure. But there’s a bigger question hiding in there somewhere. And it’s one of those questions that makes me think I might be an asshole.

A lot of the comedy in this show comes from Sheriff Carter being the only normal guy in a town full of super geniuses. A typical interaction: he doesn’t get whatever science jargon they’re babbling about that will fix the problem of the week, and everyone pauses and takes a breath and someone tries to bring it down to his level, inevitably ending in him saying some variation of “Well, why didn’t you just say that?” Or, he inexplicably understands what they’re saying by making an oversimplified analogy to something that they never would have been dumb enough to think of, like baseball or beer, and he gets a happy because he figured it out. Adorable.

Now, we all know that science lingo is not my bag. I get the concepts, but I don’t get all the inside jokes that I’m sure are lurking there for the in-crowd. But I still laugh when that happens to Carter. I’m smart, but I’m not super-scientist-working-at-a-top-secret-think-tank kind of smart. I have no room to giggle at him not understanding a string of jargon that I don’t understand either. It’s a base reaction, a reflex. Laugh a the dumb guy. Intellectual slapstick, basically, and it makes me a little disappointed in myself. It’s a lot like my reaction to The Big Bang Theory, actually. The difference being, for me, that I couldn’t do astrophysics or whatever in Eureka or at CalTech, but I could talk about comics and movies with Sheldon and Leonard. The folks on Eureka lack that common man quality, probably because of the nature of living in a secret town hidden inside a force field. Makes sense. In a meta way. Maybe. Or I could just be trying to validate my own insufferable behavior.

Anyway, check out Eureka for sciencey funnies. I know this doesn’t read like a glowing recommendation, but it really was worth my time. And if anyone has any suggestions for other good scifi/fantasy comedy, let me know. I think this is one of the few times in my life I’ve actually had an excuse to use the word “dearth.” Yes! Bonus. Score.

On the nature of blood-sucking serial killers…

Guess who has watched almost every episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the past two weeks? (Helpful hint – it’s probably me.)

Yes, yes. Good old Buffy. Always there when you need some cheesy 90s junk food for your brain. Reliable, you know? Dependably Joss Whedon-tastic. I heart Whedon so much. I’m actually glad that The Avengers has (almost) made him a household name. His writing is witty and pun-ful in a way that I think really appeals to the nerd brain. While the words themselves are sometimes clunky in the mouth, they’re extra clever, even if you have to wait until the end of the sentence for the pieces of the joke to click together. Smart humor. Which makes for smart characters, and shows a kind of trust in the audience’s intelligence. I appreciate that. I do not, however, appreciate yet another shitty theme song. Seriously, Whedon, what the hell?

This is the first time that I’ve re-watched the series in quite a while. I’ve seen the first three or four seasons a bajillion times, but I don’t think I ever got around to watching the last couple of seasons more than once. So those episodes are new and exciting. Thanks, Netflix. The seventh season aired in 2002 (which may be a contributing factor in the simultaneous failure of Firefly, that split focus of the creator and producers). So I went on a little googling mission to see what everyone on the cast is up to these days. Because they were in their twenties playing high school characters, right? I think those kinds of actors are typically pretty fucked up after the show ends (see also: 90210, Saved by the Bell, etc). And we all know fucked-up-ed-ness interests me greatly.

And lo! The internet did give unto the blogger sweet, sweet rant fodder. I found this little niblet of awesome. (Fair warning, if you watch the video part of that: it is beyond weird to hear James Marsters speaking in his real voice. Just so you know.) First of all, how great is it that he found such an insightful connection between Spike and Spock? And secondly, the man makes an excellent point about the many and varied cultural uses and impacts of vampires.

I know I don’t talk about it much here, but I’m a pretty tremendous horror fan. It seems tangential to the science fiction and fantasy thing, somehow. Not quite as squarely geek-centric on the pop culture Venn diagram. My first paid writing gig was actually doing online movie reviews of B and C (and sometimes Q or W) grade zombie films. It was great fun, but it’s taken me years to get the taste of some of those movies out of my eyeballs. You know when movies are so bad that you watch them on mute and fast-forward? Yeah, those. Anyway, zombies aside, I love horror of all flavors. And I think Marsters makes a good point in that interview, that vampires are the most versatile of the horror monsters. Because, at their center, they’re the monsters who retain the most humanity. Ghosts are incorporeal. Werewolves are essentially pure beastly instinct. Frankensteinian monsters are, in my opinion, just mad robots. And zombies are mindless eating machines (no wonder they’ve become so beloved here in ‘Mericuh of late).

Vampires are mostly still people. Problem is, they’re junkies. And if you’ve ever hung out with junkies you know that they’re basically just whiny, needy babies. Gimmegimmegimme, wantwantwant all the fucking time. Vampires are driven by need, by hunger. They’re always incomplete. Some are depicted as more evil, taking enjoyment from the thrill of the hunt. And some are just looking for their next meal and kill because they have to. But they all want to eat you. That’s their job. They’re not, by and large, hunting wild animals or sucking alley cats dry, right? What’s interesting about vampires as a cultural construct is that their food is sentient. (And don’t give me that “cows have feelings” crap. I know you’re out there, vegetarians, and I respect your lifestyle choices, but we’re talking about monsters here.)

That’s why they’re so alluring, isn’t it? They’re tricksy and false, those vamps. They have to talk you into getting close to them. In the dark. And then they suck on your neck. It’s all very sexual. Sex and death have always been intertwined. Sex can kill in many ways. Childbirth, disease, murder, madness – all deadly to varying degrees. In the middle ages, orgasms were even euphemized as “the little death.” So it makes sense that vampires would be these romantic figures, doesn’t it? They’re always young and strong and beautiful, but they carry the wisdom of old age and much practice. It’s a very appealing combo. In some lore, they have the power of hypnotism or mind control, but I argue that that could just be an extension of animal sexuality if one has the right victim. We’re weak creatures. Food, sex, and death are all that are required of us, and vampires wrap it all up in a hot little package of social commentary.

Having said that, I’m annoyed at vampire love stories. Vampires in love with each other I have no problem with. But vampires and people? My mama always told me not to play with my food. The basic, fundamental glitch in this trope is that there is a huge difference between your run-of-the-mill bad boy type and someone who has the potential to drink your fluids until you die. It’s all about difference between sex and love. It makes perfect sense that vampires would use their sexuality to tempt and beguile in order to achieve their junkie goals. But they’re not built to love you. They’re monsters, finely tuned killing machines. Con artists and serial murderers, all. I think that jumping from using sex as a weapon to equating sexuality with love is an insurmountable intellectual leap, and one I’m not willing to make.

And here’s the thing that really bugs the shit out of me: in my experience, these stories are one-sided. It’s always some dark and brooding and suave dude vampire who gets romantically involved with some impressionable young lady who doesn’t have the wherewithal to separate sex from love. It’s never a hot lady vamp trying to play house with a teenage or twenty-something guy and live happily ever after, is it? No. Because young men are much less likely to make that emotional connection. They listen to their junk and it gets them eaten alive, possibly literally. Female vampires, therefore, come across as much more ruthless. Their use of their sexuality as a ploy to attract victims, as bait, if you will, seems starkly weaponized and tactical. There’s no room in the mythology for this particular gender role reversal. Hardly seems fair, both to vampires and to readers/watchers of those piece of shit love stories.

“Oh, you can trust me. I’m a good guy. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ve changed.” It’s a bullshit line. Why do people fall for that? Supernatural monsters or no, if anyone ever tries to feed you that line you should turn and walk away as fast as possible. This moony, swoony girl character that we’re showing to a whole generation of young women and that they’re going to take as both pop culture icon and role model? I want to smack those characters in the mouth for being weak and stupid and insipid. That whole “he won’t hurt me because our love is stronger than his animal nature” thing? It’s just as much bullshit coming from someone who wants to beat you or cheat on you as it is from someone whose only goal is to eat your face. Fuck. That. Noise. You’re deluded! Grow a spine! Maybe find a man with a day job. Who’s not a junkie. Who can grow old with you. Who doesn’t have a century’s worth of dirt-filled baggage and a strong need to use human people like juice boxes.

I guess I just don’t get it. Maybe I don’t understand romance. Maybe I’m a cranky old lady who’s been with the same guy for half my life. Or, perhaps more interestingly, maybe I’m secretly the kind of racist who doesn’t believe in hypothetical monster-human love. Any of these is possible. I think the real point here is: how much longer can I put off watching Angel? Because I’m pretty sure it’s going to suck. No pun intended.

Hell hath no fury like a woman shorn

Here’s what happened (don’t you love how I preface every rant with a story, and preface the story with “Hey I’m going to tell you a story now,” like you don’t know it’s coming? Fucking hack writer, jeez): I was watching The Big Bang Theory the other week and the first line of dialogue was (from Bernadette, to Amy Farrah Fowler) “We’re so proud of you, Amy. Your first bikini wax.” Now, that got me a little irked, but I was willing to let it go. And the episode continued, and the conversation wandered, and the A story took over. Sitcoms, you know how it goes. It’s pretty much always the same.

But they kept coming back to it. And it just kept bothering me.

First of all, you guys know I like The Big Bang Theory quite a bit. So I’m not saying it wasn’t an alright episode overall. Not one of my favorites, but solidly ok (it was The Parking Spot Escalation, just so you know which one I’m bitching about). A bit more low brow than usual, but whatever. We all have bad days. No, what I’m pissed about is this whole B story interaction between the female characters about their lady bits. And if you’re an adult female and you want to shave or wax or have a full-on marauding gorilla down there, I honestly don’t give a shit. It’s your body, do your thing. I don’t care.

My point is this: since the introduction of Amy Farrah Fowler as a character, she’s been a drooling Penny disciple. And Bernadette, while still being sort of nerdy, is usually more identified with Penny, right? She’s still depicted as “more normal” than Amy. It’s always two against one, with Amy being the weirdo. Having her go with the other girls for a bikini wax, and then using words like “proud of you” about it? That shit pisses me off. Because it’s reinforcing this ideology about what women “should” do. The idea that body hair is gross or unseemly makes me really agro. And I’m making this argument not because I’m one of those militant non-grooming type women (I’m really not, except in the winter when I stop shaving my legs because it’s fucking cold outside and I’ll take free insulation over having to buy long underwear any day), but because the show depicted Amy as being naïve or immature for having not done this procedure yet. Like getting rid of all this hair, which is itself a mark of physical maturity, is the actual milestone of adulthood. It’s peer pressure on a base level and it makes me really mad.

I’ve been avoiding going off on a rant about sex and the depiction of women in the media for quite some time. It’s just such a complicated issue, you know? The sort of thing that people write thick books and PhD dissertations about, not lowly blog posts. But it’s important. And while my mission here may seem like a somewhat shallow examination of trends in pop culture, I think we all, as consumers of that culture, have an obligation to try to understand the underpinnings of it.

An example. Back in the summer, there was a bit of a feminist kerfluffle over this advertisement. (Sorry you have to click on it, I can’t get it to embed the photo.) It’s for an east coast chain of wax/nail/tan shops. But let’s consider the language used here: Freedom, independence, safe, natural, and pleasant. Putting aside the fact that it was for a Fourth of July promotion that the company was having, “freedom” and “independence” are words that are misleading to teenagers. They imply adulthood. And this promotion was a discount for girls under fifteen years old. Now, I know that the times they are a’changing and whatever, but if you’re under fifteen? You probably don’t need to concern yourself with a bikini wax. Because, to put it bluntly, bikini waxes are strictly for the purposes of A) making vaginas prettier, in order to B) increase their fuckability. And to take a little girl into a place like that and tell her it’s normal, that it’s right, that it’s “just what you do,” that’s gross. I hope all the parents who do that to their little girls feel gross. And don’t you dare come crying to me when she gets knocked up at too young an age, because you’re the one who taught her how to sexualize herself when she should’ve been doing little kid stuff instead. Furthermore, the words “safe,” “natural,” and “pleasant”? Waxing is none of these things. It hurts like a motherfucker, so “pleasant” is out. The hair on our genitalia (male and female) is not vestigial; it is there for a very good reason, so getting rid of it is anything but “natural.” Those shops, even the cleanest and most expensive of them, are riddled with germs, fungus, hair, nail trimmings, dead skin pieces, and blood. Actual human blood! Not “safe.” Disgusting. I’m not being a germaphobe here, for real. That shit’s nasty. And if you’re a grownup, fine, whatever, do what you like. But to show our kids this stuff, to advertise directly to them, to tell them that if they don’t do it they’re missing out on something – that’s just sick.

“What does this have to do with that episode of The Big Bang Theory, Vanessa?” Yeah, I know. I actually have a point. The point is that they really do use things like this to show Amy as childish by comparing her Penny. She’s an accomplished doctor of neurobiology (as is Mayim Bialik, the actress who plays Amy – fun fact). She’s successful and self-reliant. But she’s quirky and awkward and, at least at the beginning, desperately lonely. And being the most socially inept character on the show (I think, although it’s arguable that she’s on par with Sheldon) makes her vulnerable. Because, unlike Sheldon, she does want all those “normal” experiences, and is willing to go to great lengths to fit in. She never had friends before, and is going through a sort of delayed adolescence wherein she’s easily manipulated. Meanwhile, while the show’s writers have continuously made her act more and more like Penny and Bernadette, even changing her speech patterns and reactions to situations, they have kept her in the same wardrobe throughout. Now, if any of you were ever tortured teenage girls, answer me this: Don’t you think that if Penny and Bernadette got a hold of Amy in real life, the first fucking thing to go would be the six layers of wool and polyester? But it’s an easy visual trick to set her apart, make her the odd man out, the ugly duckling. That may seem like a small detail, but it’s lazy writing, and a glaring incongruity in the character’s development.

I read a blog recently (and I honestly don’t remember where or I’d post a link to it) about how The Big Bang Theory has changed since the beginning. The writer was saying that at first, the audience was more inclined to identify with the nerdy guys because Penny was the oddball. But as the show has progressed, more and more we’re being fed jokes at those guys’ expense, rather than just having them make jokes that we nerds would get. We’re laughing at them now, and no longer with them. And while I won’t say that I agree that’s true across the board – I mean, Penny’s outnumbered by geniuses by six-to-one now instead of four-to-one – I think that the writers have definitely made Penny the alpha female, if not the outright alpha dog. Obviously, this would probably be the case amongst a real group of friends. It gives them room to make her opinions and actions seem correct to the viewer and to the other characters, her opinions and actions usually being those of mainstream America so as to give the audience someone to relate to. It gives her license to peer pressure them, basically, and to be credible about doing it.

I guess the bigger point that I’m trying to make here is about the idea of “normal” as it applies to the young women of the world. We try to teach them to be strong and self-sufficient, to be independent and successful and happy people. But they’re also learning, just by being exposed to the media, that in order to do that they need to be beautiful and thin and appear sexy to a certain type of man. They’re being taught that they need to tread a very fine line between, on the one hand, smart and talented and hard-working and nice and chaste and, on the other hand, pretty and stupid and bubbly and fun and slutty. That is an impossible combination of factors, people. You can’t do both. You get to pick, possibly mix and match. But don’t try to convince me that you’re both madonna and whore. Don’t tell me you’re smart and independent and then, as soon as an attractive penis comes around, act like you’ve lost all your faculties and are suddenly an imbecile who needs to be taken care of by a big strong man because you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s embarrassing. It’s beneath you. As if young girls don’t have enough problems, right? Let’s not give them a socially sanctioned case of multiple personality disorder on top of all that hormonal adolescent bullshit, hmm? Perhaps, if we teach them how to accept themselves and rely on their strengths, maybe nurture some self-confidence and some sense of trusting their own decisions, they’ll grow up and be pretty ok.

And I know some of you might be thinking that I’m bringing a lot of my own awkward teenage baggage to this conversation. And that might be true, but I will say, in my defense, that that sort of subjectivity is kind of unavoidable. We all speak from experience. And having been picked on and made fun of as a kid I know that it’s hard as hell to be the one who’s different, the one who’s always wearing the wrong clothes or saying the wrong thing. Children are vicious, nasty creatures. They’re terrible to each other. It’s an intrinsic, hierarchical pack mentality thing they’ve got going on. And if all the other little slutty girls are getting bikini waxes, maybe it would make a girl who doesn’t want one think about getting one anyway, and not consider why she wants it or what they’re for. I get it. Peer pressure is a part of growing up. But hopefully we learn, eventually, to not give a shit what other people think and just be who we are. What I’m saying is that if we teach our kids that at a younger age, maybe we won’t end up with a planet full of useless pieces of shit who can’t think for themselves.

To Boldly Go…

Oh, Star Trek. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways: Original Series, Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, and Enterprise. Plus the novels and comics and movies. I’ve been on a mission lately to submerge myself in Trek, and it’s becoming all-consuming. I’ve got OCD. I’ve got to see them all. Preferably in order. Earth-chronological, not stardate-chronological. Ahem. Anyway. Remember forever and a weekend ago, in my very first post, when I said I was buying Star Trek DVDs? Oh, those fateful DVDs. That’s what started all of this. But there’s a good reason.

I am a child of the 1980s and 90s, right? Therefore I’m a Next Generation fan by default. My dad and my sister were sort of geeky, in their own ways, so we watched when it was on, when we weren’t talking about books or music or playing endless, mind-numbing, torturous games of Monopoly. But I never watched the Original Series. Remember that my childhood was during an era of television that was pre-interwebs or DVD. If it wasn’t on in reruns or out on VHS, you didn’t get to see it. Period. My crime of omission was a crime of lack of opportunity, really.

So in an effort to rectify this hideous gap in my geekdom, I bought those DVDs of season one and decided to have a Star Trek marathon over Christmas while all my housemates were gone home. And I’ll admit I was perhaps a little heavy on the egg nog on the first watch-through, so I had to rewatch them. (Yes, I spent Christmas alone, drinking and watching Star Trek. It’s pitiful and we don’t need to comment on it.) I’m in the process of watching them a third time now. And simultaneously gorging myself on TNG on Netflix while I wait for my TOS seasons two and three to show up in the mail.

Also, this is probably a good point to say: I freely admit that I have nothing new and exciting to add to the age-old Star Trek conversation. I’m finding the old show super interesting, but I’m not going to break any new ground here, say anything that hasn’t already been said. I humbly bow to those Trekkers who came before me and discussed every nuance and detail and minute piece of trivia. I’ll get there, maybe, someday. And I’ll keep you guys posted as I go through all the different series. I’m betting it’ll take me another year. We shall see.

What I’m finding really interesting about Star Trek: TOS is that it was so ahead of its time, while still being very much a product of its time. In 1966 they had a cast that included both an African-American woman and an Asian. Not to mention the fact that they stuck a Russian character on prime time during the cold war. That alone is pretty astounding. And I know that the goal was to depict a sort of semi-utopian galactic future, but still, ballsy. Go, Roddenberry. (And don’t send me hatemail for being racist. I’m not. 60s tv is about as whitewashed as it gets. Every show looks like Friends. That’s history. Look it up.) Conceptually it’s pretty far out, too. Think about the other shows about space from the 1960s. They were all basically just sitcoms in an offbeat setting, right? Or pulp-style adventure stories. Or The Outer Limits (which I also love dearly for its weirdness). Star Trek was innovative because you got to know the insular community of characters, became absorbed in their lives and not just in their shenanigans. It’s a little claustrophobic, actually, the way that the ship is this sealed, safe place floating through deadly, frozen space, danger lurking around every corner.

The effects and makeup are super cheesy, and the acting is hammy hammy hammy, but that’s the way every show was back then. It’s an affront to our modern sensibilities, what with our CGI and our realism and whatnot. But in the 60s every actor seemed to be acting, whereas now we appreciate more those actors who appear to not be acting. Like wearing a lot of makeup so you look like you’re not wearing makeup. Sort of. It’s just a quirk of the time period. And you get used to it pretty quickly. Because the writing is so good and the stories are exciting, you forget that the acting is…what? Not bad. Just different.

I will say, though, as a person who grew up with TNG, that TOS seems to take itself very seriously. There are a few moments of humor between characters, but when you compare the general tone of the two, TNG just comes across as more light-hearted. Maybe it’s Patrick Stewart’s accent or something. I don’t know. I’m not saying that one approach is better than the other, I’m just saying that the difference is striking. Kirk and Spock and McCoy are pretty stoic. That may be a result of the writing. The guys in TOS were on a new and scary mission, while the crew on TNG had the Federation and all its accompanying history already behind them for quite some time. That way of life was their paradigm, while in TOS they were just building that paradigm.

Am I getting too meta? I feel like I’m getting too meta. Overthinking this maybe a little.

Also there are too many acronyms in this conversation.

Anyway. That’s the thing that makes this whole immersion experiment hard. I’ve got spoilers, you know? I know what happens. I’m making backwards comparisons. Not that that ruins my enjoyment of the old show, but it makes it hard to look at it for what it is, for what it was supposed to be. Also, I don’t watch a lot of old stuff. I do like The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone. Alfred Hitchcock Presents is fucking great. But I don’t really watch old movies very often or enjoy many old tv shows outside of scifi or mystery. Especially those horribly cheesy comedies. It’s probably just a preference thing, a genetic predisposition or whatever you want to call it. I just don’t find that old slapsticky stuff funny, so I skip it. It’s all so goddamn wholesome, too. Towns were never that clean. Families were never that happy all the fucking time. The world was never that perfect. The story doesn’t always end well. It’s all a big fat lie. Maybe that’s why I like scifi. It’s ok to lie. The lie is the point. The lie is essential. Take realism and shove it, then kick back and see what happens.

The whole universe was in a hot, dense state…

I like theme songs. Can you tell?

People have been telling me for forever that I need to watch Big Bang Theory. Like, a lot of people. They say things like “Why isn’t this your favorite show?” or “I needed you there to explain that joke to me.” It’s not that I was opposed to watching it. I just don’t have tv, you guys. Yes. Still. Yes, really. Nor do I want tv, for that matter. I do have the interwebs, but apparently Big Bang Theory is one of the last shows in creation to jump on the free online content bandwagon. I finally found a website with all the episodes, but for questionable legal reasons I’ll keep my mouth shut about it. For the record, I’m not a pirate. I just stream, I don’t download, I swear. Frankly, I don’t have the hard drive space. But my birthday’s coming up if anyone wants to buy me the DVDs.

Ahem. Anyway.

I get it now. I totally do. It’s a hilarious show. Remember Friends? Or Seinfeld? Maybe you liked them, maybe you didn’t. Doesn’t matter. Any of those ensemble cast sitcoms about a group of friends that can only function successfully as a unit? Safety in numbers, maybe? That’s the dynamic we’re working with here. But the thing is, Big Bang Theory is a little more geared towards our generation in its complete and utter geek love. But not in a pandering kind of way. The show doesn’t condescend to its audience, in my opinion. Point is, Big Bang Theory doesn’t say “Hey, here’s a bunch of geeks. Let’s all point and laugh. Hahaha.” They’re just folks, doing normal stuff – going to work, falling in love, dealing with their friends and their drama. They just happen to all be genius scientists with comic book collections and video game addictions. Who seem to eat an ungodly amount of takeout Chinese food. They’re just people, like we’re all just people. Nerds gravitate into groups for social reasons just like any other demographic. I like that about this show. It normalizes. A pop culture joke followed immediately by a physics joke and then all leveled out with a comic book reference? That’s good geekery. I love that that’s ok on primetime. In all honesty, though, that may be a chicken-or-egg question. Is our generation pro-nerd therefore there is Big Bang Theory? Or is there Big Bang Theory therefore it’s ok to be openly nerdy? Good question.

Were you waiting for an answer? Because I don’t have an answer. Sorry.

I also dig all the sciencey science. Once again I’ll admit that I’m totally lost when it comes to following those technical conversations, but I think it’s awesome that they keep it all accurate, even down to the ridiculously complicated-looking math problems on the boards in the background, a lot of which are apparently very high-level physics jokes. I don’t get it, but somebody does, and I like that the people who make the show think enough of their audience to include those fans and not overlook them. (Good on you, CBS. Never piss off the fans. Or underestimate them. Because they keep you in business. Could you tell Fox, please? That’d be great.)

On that same note, there are undoubtedly some pop culture references that I missed or that someone else would have found a reason to bitch about, but if they’re there then they’re outside of my frame of reference. Which is probably even more true for most Americans who don’t read comics or watch scifi. Although I will be that asshole who points out that when they were sitting around watching Doctor Who (sometime in season five, I don’t remember which episode) Amy called him “Doctor Who” instead of “The Doctor.” But that’s not too bad right? One mistake in million billion references over a hundred and something episodes? Could be so much worse.

I think the lynchpin of the whole concept, though, is Penny (played by Kaley Cuoco) – the non-nerdy pretty girl neighbor character. If it weren’t for her, this group of friends would just be off in their own little world. She’s the conduit between them and the audience, the one they have to explain stuff to so that the entire script isn’t just in-joke after in-joke. The Spock. The Teal’c. The one who puts things in perspective and creates a middle ground. The show wouldn’t work without her. Because let’s be real: how many times have we all said something tremendously geeky and it falls flat because we’re in a room full of Penny-types? Happens all the time. To me, anyway. I like that Big Bang Theory flips that around, makes the “normal” one the odd man out. (By the way, I’m not trying to enforce any stereotypes here – I firmly believe that there’s no such thing as “normal.” Let’s say “average.” Or “typical.”)

Oh, Christ. I really want to use this last little bit of space to go off on a rant about how hard it was to be a geeky kid in the 80′s and 90′s. But I’ll spare you my bullshit. For now. We’ll talk about it later. I actually do have a birthday coming up, so maybe we’ll do a maudlin turning-thirty-bitchstravaganza. Meanwhile, the culture shift away from that asshat bully behavior continues to interest me. Makes me happy. Gives me hope that we can get over ourselves and just let each other be whatever we want. Mean kids have no reason to pick on kids like that anymore because they’re cool. Like, really fucking cool. Glasses are cool. Computer programmers are cool. Scientists are cool. Gaming and physics and comic books are nothing to bite your thumb at here in the digital age, and I’d like to think that that’s at least partly because of things like Big Bang Theory. Because obviously if there are nerds being positively portrayed on a hit tv show, they’ve got to be ok, right? This is America (or ‘Mericuh, if you prefer). By the way that last couple of snarky sentences was all about me trying not to say “role model.” Didn’t really work, huh? Mer. Oh, well.

Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey Stuff

I finally started watching Doctor Who. And then I didn’t stop for a solid week. It is totally obsession-worthy. Once again I’m pitifully behind the curve on the Doctor Who love. But there’s a good reason for it this time, I swear. I’ve wanted to watch it for a really long time, but I’m a hopeless perfectionist and wanted to start at the beginning. Almost impossible, let me tell you. The show is British, right? One of those quintessentially British things. They don’t number their episodes like we do, and their seasons run differently. Doctor Who also has special episodes between regular seasons that aren’t part of either season. All of which adds up to a huge, confusing mess, which is then further compounded by the DVDs being released out of order and taking a million years to come out here in the Colonies. And then there’s the extra added bonus fact that this show has been on since the sixties and half of the old episodes are not on DVD and are probably lost to time altogether (haha, time – get it?). It’s really daunting and frustrating. Putting all of that behind me, I bit the bullet and A) got Netflix and B) started with the new episodes. I can watch the classic ones later when I get a region-free DVD player.

Whovianism is relatively new in the US, pretty much blowing up with the new Doctors. Sure, we got some of the old ones on PBS back in the day, but I was just a kid back then and I checked out of PBS programming as soon as Fraggle Rock was over. I do remember watching a few of the Tom Baker (the 4th Doctor) episodes. But it’s practically been a religion in Britain since the get-go. And I can totally see why. It’s terribly funny. The writing is great. It’s cheesy, but not hard-to-watch cheesy. Hey-those-rubber-masked-aliens-are-super-fun kind of cheesy, which may just be because so many plot points had to carry over from an era of television that was camp before camp was camp. Most British scifi is as corny as Adam West’s Batman, but that accent makes it seem so much more sophisticated. Weird, that. But cheesy scifi is great, because the humor of it makes you love the characters, so then when something awful happens you have a genuine emotional response.

The space ship vs time machine convention of scifi is that usually the vessel is either one or the other, barring some horrible accident or unavoidable natural phenomenon. But the Doctor’s ship, the TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space – a horrible acronym) is both! All the time! It’s fantastic. Which is probably the thing I love most about this show, honestly. That great big “fuck you” to the rules of scifi. He’s the Doctor. He does whatever he wants. So there. Take that, universe. And besides the occasional dark or serious moment, the Doctor himself seems to be having an absolute blast all the time. Almost reckless, his time-and-space-trotting fun. How can you not love that? So yeah. Now I’m hooked. I don’t know how long you have to have watched to say that you’re a huge fan of something, but I feel like I’ve definitely crossed that line. When you find yourself wondering which bills you can blow off so you’ll have the money to buy a t-shirt that says “The Angels Have the Phone Box”? That’s fan territory, for real. Also? I want a sonic screwdriver. I want one. I do. The 10th Doctor’s, though, not that weird pinchy one that the 11th Doctor has. I don’t care how over-the-top geeky that is.

I did have one pretty traumatic moment. There was a particular episode that made me sob and sob and sob. And this is selfish and somewhat unrelated to my otherwise pure enjoyment of the show. I was just going along, digging my marathon, cruising on a really great Doctor Who high, when all of a sudden this episode comes on and the first two minutes or so is (and I’m not even kidding) the entire fucking plot of my novel. My husband looks up at me and grabs my arm and he’s all bugeyed, not sure whether I’m going to cry or scream or what. I chose crying. It’s usually safer and more effective. That damned collective subconscious, man. I didn’t steal the idea from them, and obviously they couldn’t have stolen it from me. We probably all saw the same movies or read the same books and jumped to the same conclusions. Christ, that really hurt. I know I can still write it, the basic idea can still be used. But in the back of my head I’ll always wonder if people think I just copied that one episode of Doctor Who. They’ll call me a hack. They’ll say I have no original ideas. Let me tell you something, folks. There are no original ideas. Every single story that has ever been told by mankind is either a good-vs-evil story or a love story. That’s all we’ve got to work with. That is the human condition. All we are is our words. Make them good ones, right?

Take my love, take my land…

Ok, if you’re already humming the theme song, I sincerely apologize. It is, honestly and truly, the worst theme song ever. And if you get it stuck in your head, I welcome your hatemail.

For those of you not getting the joke, I’m talking about Firefly. One of the most monumental tv fuckups ever perpetrated by the Fox network was cancelling this show. And that’s saying a lot, after the whole Bush/Gore thing.

Quick synopsis: quirky crew living on a spaceship in a post-Earth galaxy, trying to make ends meet via various types of theft and con artistry, while spending most of their time keeping out of the way of an evil overlord-type government (a la the Empire), accidentally take aboard some fugitives running from said government. Everything becomes immediately more intense with the running and the chasing and the outlaw shenanigans. Also, one of them was the victim of a government brain-poking experiment and is now a psycho and may or may not be a psychic.

This does not summarize well. It might be one of those “you had to be there” things. But I can talk around the edges of those things all day long. That’s how I got a Literature degree, bitches.

First of all, let me just get this out of the way: I love Joss Whedon. Love love love. I was a huge Buffy fan. I hate musicals but know every word of Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog. And I’m foaming at the mouth waiting for The Avengers. But I’ve got to say that the best thing in the Whedonverse is definitely Firefly. Because it’s so different. Not only from all of Whedon’s other work, but also from everything else on television. Allow me to qualify that statement. It’s a futuristic space western. That’s right. Space. Western. The only one I’ve ever seen done properly. “Oh, but what about Star Wars?” you say? That was a movie (or three, or six…maybe) and it was more a space opera with a bit of a western-style bent, and a couple of good western moments, mostly evidenced by Han Solo’s leather vest and the whole damsel in distress thing. Firefly is a full-on (hot dudes in thigh holsters, dusty shootouts, stolen merchandise rustling, and an occasional horse battle with laser guns, there are even cows at one point) freaking space western! But it’s not gratuitous. Here’s why not: It’s 2517 and Earth is gone and humans are colonizing the outskirts of space. It’s the American western frontier, but on planets that have been terraformed for human use (consumption?). They speak Chinese every now and then, because when Earth fell it was the other superpower and everyone spoke Chinese. Good future-historical realism. They use awesome Asian-feeling guitar music for the same reason (I would say Country-feeling world music, but I hate the term “world music” – don’t we all live in the world?). There’s a really great conspiracy theory backstory. I’m a sucker for a good governmental conspiracy. The cast is fantastic. The effects are top-notch and the sets are amazing. It’s filmed beautifully. And the dialogue’s so witty. I love witty. (Way to a girl’s heart is to be clever; I don’t care what bullshit society feeds you about being rich or good looking – just be clever.) There’s a very en medius res feel to the writing, no pandering or overexplaining or talking down to the audience. A welcome relief in scifi. Furthermore, it’s Joss fucking Whedon. That should really be enough. And if you don’t know who Joss Whedon is, well, there may be something wrong with your geek nerve. You should have that checked out.

Firefly aired on Fox in 2002. They made fourteen episodes, but only got to air eleven before they were cancelled. This is because Fox are (is?) asshats and aired the episodes out of order, then proceeded to change the night and timeslot numerous times so no one knew when it was on. How is this a good idea? For any show? What the hell were they thinking? Meanwhile, people were really stoked about the show but couldn’t find it to watch it, so the ratings were nothing. Ooh, logic. It’s so complicated. Oy, how I hate red tape and bureaucratic fuckery. Especially when it gets in the way of my scifi enjoyment. “Ok, so what, Vanessa? It’s just an old tv show. There are so many. Why do you care about this one so much?” Because it’s not fucking stupid. I’m an American. I’m inundated pretty constantly by things that are inane and ridiculous and worthy of my considerable scorn. Granted, my tv’s not attached to anything but my DVD player, so it’s not as bad as it could be. But even the History Channel and Discovery have gone all reality programming on us, right? Every now and again I find something that’s well-written, well-produced, and emotionally evocative. And of course they fucking cancel it. Because I’m in the minority. Networks don’t care about me and my intellectual snobbery.

No, you know what? I’m not even going to own that. It’s not snobbery. I do not appreciate that the marketing strategy for the vast majority of the entertainment industry is to account for the lowest common denominator. “Looky here, Bumpkin: bright things! Shiny things! Things that yell! Things that explode! There, there, don’t you worry about real life. Just sit there in your nice, comfy chair and get fatter. Worry about these things that we’re telling you that you want to buy but you can’t because you’re broke. Continue to feel worthless because you can’t meet these material goals. Stress yourself out tomorrow at your job that you hate and that doesn’t pay you enough to feed your family with food that’s not real. And then when your blood pressure goes up and you die of a heart attack, you won’t be miserable about the sad state of your sorry wasted life, because we told you that that’s what your short time here on Earth is all about.”

Sorry. I kind of took a hard turn there at the end.

And I don’t mean to be so down on the American masses all the time. I’d like to think that most people are smarter than they’re given credit for. It’s a testament to their opinion of us that we think about ourselves this way.

There’s really no way to transition out of this rant. Awkward.

Anyway, despite all my flying off the handle, you should check out Firefly. You can find it on DVD (should I be capitalizing that? I don’t even know) in all its fourteen-episode awesomeness, with the bonus features and all the blah blah. And I recommend that you buy it instead of watching it online or something, because homeboy needs royalties so we can get more geeky things out of him (like The Avengers – have I mentioned I’m excited about The Avengers?).

Wormhole Deliciousness

I know I’ll lose a lot of credibility for saying this (ok, let’s be real – I didn’t have any fucking credibility to start with) but man, do I love me some Stargate. It’s one of those things you know you shouldn’t love but you just…can’t…help it. Like that one-hit-wonder song that you turn way up when it comes on and sing at the top of your lungs. But only if no one else is in the car. Guilty pleasures. And I’m a total fangirl about it. I’ve got every season and every spinoff and all the movies on DVD. I’ve watched all the special features and every episode with the commentary on. I know every character’s whole fucking life story, every alien race, every planet, every contradiction, every hanging lantern (look up that writery term, non-English majors, mwahahaha). I’m probably more of a geek about Stargate than I am about anything else. Except books, but that doesn’t count. Booklove is an overarching, penetrating-every-aspect-of-who-I-am kind of obsession. Scifi fandom is way more focused. It’s the difference between breathing air and loving a particular smell. I’ve really got to stop talking in analogies. Or just find better analogies.

Anyway, Stargate’s underrated. It’s cheesy. Like, really cheesy. But not hammy, like Farscape. And it doesn’t take itself too seriously, like Babylon 5. Admittedly, I like both of those as well. The thing about Stargate is that you get really sucked in by the characters. Each episode is different, more or less, because the story arc follows the people, not the people chasing the story arc (like X-files, say, or Lost). It’s a scifi show running almost entirely on a soap opera dynamic. Which can create massive amounts of cheese, but works really well. In a crack-addict kind of way.

I’ve caught a lot of shit for my Stargate fandom. From geeks and nongeeks alike. Nongeeks (civilians, I call them, which is terribly exclusive and offensive but whatever)  make fun of me for my fangirl gushiness. About all this stuff, not just Stargate. Other scifi fans make fun just because it’s Stargate and not something else. And that, to me, is what’s most interesting. How can someone wearing a Starfleet uniform find any leg to stand on to make fun of me or Stargate? Seriously? (Not that there’s anything wrong with cosplay, don’t send me hatemail.)

At the bottom of it, there are two ways to see this phenomenon:

1) People are viciously protective of the things they love and will defend them as better than other things that other people love. It’s an interesting point of modern human nature and can’t be avoided, so why analyze it? Or,

2) there really is some invisible underpinning of scifi hierarchy. Maybe some things really do mean more to geekdom than others. This could be totally made up, and I’d have to leave my abandoned little corner of the world and venture out into civilization to examine it further. If anyone wants to buy me Comic-Con tickets, I’m totally down for a research trip.

But think about it. When you think “scifi geek” what comes immediately to mind? Star Wars and Star Trek, right? There’s a big beef between these groups of fans, which I plan to dissect another time. Coming soon to a blog near you. Point is, everything else kind of falls below and between these two megaliths of nerdism. But why, damn it, why? There’s structure here. I just can’t quite figure it out. For the record, I love Star Trek and Star Wars equally. But they’re very different. And they’re related. It’s like loving your creepy identical twin sisters the same way even though one’s a goth and one’s a jock. (True story.)

I feel like the things we love in the scifi universe (multiverse?) are more like a spectrum and less like a Venn diagram. Or should be, anyway. Maybe a color wheel. Something less dividey, is what I’m saying. None of them is, intrinsically, any more or less silly than another. We think they are, but they’re not. If we’re talking about production value or acting, some things are definitely “better,” but only in technical terms. Some shows have more money or better marketing or a worse time slot or they’ve been rendered absurd just by virtue of time having passed. But that doesn’t change the content or the intent. It doesn’t change the love of the fans. Scifi is all about suspension of disbelief. If I can buy that a Federation of planets would send out multiple ships to peacefully explore the far reaches of the universe, why would I then turn around and not believe that a telekinetic dictator would want to rule a galaxy far, far away with a Nazi-like iron fist? I wouldn’t. I don’t. Equally ridiculous and fun. So don’t tell me that it’s out of the question for a bunch of American Air Force officers, a clueless linguist/archaeologist, and a rogue alien soldier to go through an ancient wormhole device every week for ten years and explore new planets, under presidential order via a big fat government conspiracy. It could  totally happen.

 

Also, just as a fangirl side note, if you did want to start watching Stargate, for whatever reason, a few points:

- Watch the original movie first. The show picks up right where it leaves off.

- The first season and a half or so is the cheesiest. But it gets way better, and their budget gets bigger. Plus you need those episodes to get a few key story points.

- There are some contradictions in the rules. Ignore them. All the characters do.

- Don’t get attached. Everyone dies at least once.

- Let me know what you think. We can gush together. Or not. Whatever.