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Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Analysis: "Shambleau" by C. L. Moore

First appeared in Weird Tales, edited by Farnsworth Wright. Reprinted around twenty times (in English) by Kendell F. Crossen, Donald A. Wollheim, George Ernsberger, Linda Lovecraft, Alan Ryan, Robert Weinberg, Stefan R. Dziemianowicz, Martin H. Greenberg, A. Susan Williams, Edel Brosnan, Greg Cox, T. K. F. Weisskopf, Leonard Wolf, Garyn G. Roberts, Jim Baen, David Drake, Eric Flint, Istvan Csicsery-Ronay, Jr., Arthur B. Evans, Joan Gordon, Veronica Hollinger, Rob Latham, Carol McGuirk, John Gregory Betancourt, John Pelan, Patrick B. Sharp, Lisa Yaszek, and Kristine Kathryn Rusch.

Synopsis:
Northwest Smith rescues a brown-skinned woman pursued by a mob. He has her get behind him and interrogates the mob. They call her "Shambleau" and want to kill her. He protects her, saying that she is his. This confuses the mob, even disgusts them, but they leave the pair alone.

Northwest takes her in and plans to move on shortly, so she'll need to hunt down new digs. When he asks her questions, she is evasive, cagey. He doesn't pursue questioning, in favor of her right to privacy.

He starts to have weird dreams of snakes wrapping around him.

Analysis with Spoilers:
 Of course, the dreams are real. She has been cagey about what she lives on because she lives on humans. Humans are victims who are willing (if not consciously), ecstatically enthralled, and unable to break the spell. A friend, dropping by, finally frees him.

There are a number of fascinating aspects. Probably the first and most obvious point is its nearly overt sexual nature. I suspect this accounts for its initial reprintings: men captured, enthralled by their baser natures. This parasitic race sneaks into their lives, and suddenly what once seemed innocent becomes an entirely different creature.

This enthralling (note the passive sentence construction) builds an inherently passive story structure. While the protagonist acts at the start, his acts dwindle. It isn't that dynamic a narrative. This may account for its not being reprinted that often in its first fifty years (do note, however, that story was popular enough to be recorded on l.p.--see Youtube readings by the author). Suddenly, in the 90s and 00s, it gained respectability. Maybe the reason is that it requires rereading to tap into its power. Still, it's fascinating that a passive construction works so well.

Perhaps it should be enough to say she mined the puzzling nature of human sexuality. But that isn't all. This also maps on to human addiction. Things have a way of asserting control over our lives. We let something into our house whose nature we were unfamiliar with, and we find ourselves mired in a stupor, be it drugs, social media, Twinkies, or whatever has us in its thrall. Northwest is commanded by his pal to kill the Shambleau should he ever come in contact with another alien like it. The beautiful and haunting final lines of "I'll try" said in a wavering voice hint at the fear that one can never be free of one's addiction.

Presumably a case could be made for this tale being racist since she is brown-skinned and wears a turban. But it would be a lazy, partial reading, ignoring first that apparently that turbans are fashionable in this time and place, second that Moore needs the turban to hide the Medusa snakes, and third that such a reading blindfolds itself to the whole story and its broader scope, It's like watching a trailer and judging the film's merit from that (sometimes it works, but that may be chance or some other factor. That said, it often seems like a movie is bad if the trailer cannot hint at the movie's arc). Of course, a reader can read however they choose to, but if it doesn't account for the body of work, it probably maps the reader's own mind, rather than the story.

The prologue is a kind fascinating snapshot into the writer's mind. It feigns to make grand claims about humanity while both hiding and showing her hand that this story explains the myth of Medusa in a future setting, suggesting humanity had been to the stars earlier and the tale of Medusa is just a racial memory of that alien encounter.

A wonderful feature of this tale is that Moore allows this to be a story first, to follow that story no matter where it leads, and to hang willingly in those gray ethical zones. Today we'd too quickly deconstruct Shambleau to represent female sexuality which must be protected, ignoring the parasitism involved (which is a huge chunk of story--also it said that some Shambleau represent themselves as male). Rather, this pits one's desire for life against one's desire for the thrill that can kill them: narcotics, fried chicken, martinis, sex--whatever slakes your thirst for delicious poison.

Monday, April 8, 2019

3 Movies Ruined by their Endings, pt 2: Paranormal Activity, and The Shape of Water

So the first movie, Saturn 3, was damaged by not paying attention to the thematic threads woven together. The next two share their flaws in their characters. You could blame the characters in the first as well, but the issue seems more overarching, more systemic.

Paranormal Activity 
This one bloomed into a franchise, which suggests a certain sustaining popularity. There seem to be at least seven films, but it's hard to tell what belongs and what is a copy-shark, coasting in its wake. Paranormal Activity is itself a copy-shark, but actually better than its predecessor, Blair Witch Project. Both are found footage, but this one is actually spooky with characters you can at least feel for.

The story is simple: A couple cohabit, but she has a supernatural being who follows her. The male partner plans to come up with a way to stop her supernatural being from its pursuit.

Even if the ending flops, the movie is worth watching. The trailer captures the movie's spirit, but I wonder if it shows too many cards. Skip the trailer unless you have no plans of watching it.
Spoilersville
What makes this one lose a few quality points is its unawareness of the characters it's created. The ending has little to do with its characters. Spooky, but doubts linger since this didn't spring from the characters it laid down.

The Shape of Water 
This one was a critical darling. Having loved Pan's Labyrinth, I swooned to the atmosphere, history, moving plight of its quirky cast, but then the climax hit. The ending was so awful, I didn't know at first what had gone wrong. I must have been swept away by the work that I missed something obvious in retrospect.

This story is also simple. A merman is captured by a mean government man. A mute cleaning maid falls for him. Probably you can guess the outcome.


The trailer here captures the beauty of the film without giving much away--at least that the premise itself doesn't already give away.
Spoilersville
Guessing the outcome is the problem. Sometimes you can see the outcome coming and still appreciate the film. Not so here, the film's defect is laid bare. Our villain, though full of his own quirks, is still a stereotype. The ending hit the expected target and failed to surprise. How many B-movies have used this same guy? If we'd been handed a character of nuance and/or complexity to begin with (or leave out a baddie altogether), we'd have never arrived here. Perhaps we'd have had a work of genius. Right now it's just a beautiful promise. Maybe it's best to turn the movie off before you get to the ending, and imagine your own.

Monday, April 1, 2019

3 Movies Ruined by their Endings, pt 1: Saturn 3

Maybe it's apocryphal or maybe my google-fu skills still wear a yellow-belt, but I'd heard that Raymond Chandler said that a good mystery is one you'd read even if the ending was lopped off. Maybe his aunt said it.

There are a few anvil-like literary novels I wouldn't mind whittled to a Reader's Digest condensed version. One famed author's novels could break toes, but they sucked me in. Nonetheless, three-quarters of the way through, I'd read enough to divine the ending. The characters seemed to be caught up in the same dance routine over and over with different backgrounds. Who hasn't watched a TV series that should have ended a season or two earlier?

Sticking a good landing is hard. It is the culmination of imagery, motifs, plot and character and sense. You don't want to overdo it or under-do it. It's what you leave the reader when he closes the book: the resonant image, the memorable phrase, the embrace of heroes and death throes of the villain.

Because it's hard to do well, it may be one reason so many writers leave it out, making it artful. (I differentiate this from the writer who stops because you can guess the next scene.)

Here are three movies that failed for me, or were merely marred, due to their ending. Although the problems of the ending may have been caused elsewhere, they manifested themselves in the ending.

Saturn 3
Here's a movie that should have been a golden child. You've got John Barry (winner of an Academy Award for Star Wars' art direction), Martin Amis (winner of the James Tait Black Memorial Prize and twice listed for the Booker), Farrah Fawcett, Kirk Douglas, and Harvey Keitel (all nominated multiple times for their acting--whether they deserved it, someone else can decide). So what could go wrong?

It sounds like much did, behind the scenes. Barry's grand artistic vision was nixed, Douglas was blamed (Amis), and Keitel refused to do post-production work. The movie was up for three Golden Raspberries (as one of the worst movies of the year).

But the set-up is actually pretty smart. Captain Benson [Keitel] cannot do space-flights, rated as "potentially unstable." He proves this rating by killing Captain James, taking his identity and place on the flight to Saturn 3. He arrives and builds a robot with an organic brain. He keeps telling Alex and Adam [Fawcett and Douglass, respectively] that Adam will leave and Alex will stay with Capt Benson/James. He has a direct link with the robot which he can control although it appears to have its own intelligence as well. He appears to have a master-plan, and Adam is not included.

What's beautiful here is this battle between the generations which is also conflated to be a battle between man and machine although the promised thematic build never arrives.

I'll add the trailer here, but it makes it look awful, which it sort of is. It is a movie of possibility up until the ending, so don't watch the trailer if you're watching what it could have been because it will spoil your appetite. The IMDb rating of 5 feels about right. Passable entertainment. Unless you're a perfectionist, then by all means, watch the trailer, laugh and skip the movie. Or watch it if you're actively seeking camp.

Spoilers
We the audience await information that is never delivered. What was Benson's goal to begin with? What is his plan? Benson kills James in the opening, but why isn't the body noticed (sliced and diced or not)? Won't he and James be missed?

The robot has a rather short development period and immediately has moral qualms about Benson, but what are the robot's goals? Why doesn't it try to communicate earlier? It's great in terms of plot that he cannot share his intentions, but what stopped him and why is he later suddenly capable? What is the point of putting Benson's skull over his photo-receptors? What does his final goal end up being (if it changes)?

Douglas turns his station into a combat zone, but who knows what is what and why? There is no foreshadowing and explaining of tools and instruments. Make-shift weapons materialize. The worst moment is trying to kill the robot the same way twice. The first attempt failed, but if Douglas sacrifices himself, it will work?

There's Keitel's dubbed voice, which sounds robotic. Is he meant to? Is it because he's cybernetic, part man, part machine? Or is it just bad acting? It seems intended, just as the robot is part man and machine. Moreover, Adam also gets a port. Is he intended to control the robot, too, or... something else not explained?

Even Alex is mysterious. Her back story suggests she has never seen Earth. Is she a machine, created on Saturn 3? a kind of clone? a fertilized egg hatched on Saturn 3? or just the biological child of people in space? Is space that colonized? Who is she and why is she desired by both men and machines? There's a pointless denouement with her going back to Earth, but it had never been her desire, and it isn't clear what it ends up meaning to her.

Did the original story or script explain these things, and some producer, actor, or director pound out the interesting stuff? Or was it never in there to begin with? Stephen Gallagher wrote the novelization, and one wonders if he were allowed the latitude to have the novel make sense. If you can sense an intelligent narrative out of what's here, you'll probably enjoy the film, up until the ending.