Archive for the ‘Features and opinion’ Category


Terry Pratchett had a big influence on me; reading his work was one of the prods that poked me in the direction of the career I now have, so I’m going to join my voice to that of the rest of the world and mourn his passing.

I remember first being exposed to Sir Terry’s work by reading an excerpt back in the 1980s in White Dwarf. The scene was the one featuring the gnome in moleskin trousers (The Light Fantastic, I think. Aficionados may know better, please set me right if it was The Colour of Magic). I picked up his first two Discworld books on the back of that, and for several years read everything he wrote. Eventually I moved on, simply because I wanted to experience other authors’ voices and worlds. But years after, when I read some of his later books, I was delighted to see that they retained their quality and wit. He did not seem to grow tired or jaded with Discworld, it was an engine of endless creativity and satire, and in that it seemed to be as much a source of delight to him as it was to his readers. (more…)


I wrote this because of Reaper, and my interview with Ray Wise. This piece appeared in Death Ray #21, the very last.

Old Nick, Scratch, Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, he has many names and, it would appear, many faces. The Devil has been with us for all time, either as the supernatural tempter of man and architect of all evil, or as a metaphor for our tortured psyches. Evil’s out there, whatever.

As a core figure in all three Abrahamic religions, the Devil’s been popping in and out of folklore for a few thousand years. And though a lot of us might not go to church any more, the horn’ed beast is top favourite – in tales of terror (and humour) to our very day. (more…)


Last April I wrote a review of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug.  Do the thing and click the words to read it. Yesterday, I went to see The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. This is the only one of the three that I saw at the cinema. I kind of wish I hadn’t. Partly for parenting reasons; having watched the first two and found them adventurous romps more or less suitable for six-year-old Benny (as with many other 12 certificate films featuring fantasy fights), we took him with us. He loved it, but my wife was quite shocked at how much more violent than the other two it was, and that made me a bit uneasy. There is a shift in tone between films two and three. That’s a failure of judgment on my part, though. It says 12 on the packet for a reason, kids.

Despite my shocking parenting, Benny will be okay. He’s only ever been frightened of Spooky Spoon from the Numberjacks, and not even that any more. I pointed out to Emma that much of our formative viewing experiences were super-violent Westerns, where although the many men that died fell bloodlessly and easily, they still died. Furthermore, such films and shows culturally sanctioned racist violence by celebrating the genocide of the original Americans. No one in fifty years, I think, will pen a post-post-modern retrospective on the unjust portrayal of the orc as Savage Other.

Instead they’ll bemoan the awful CGI said orcs were presented in, but more of that later. (more…)


Here’s my penultimate “Ten Minute Guide” from Death Ray, this one from issue #19, very near the end. This one is on that most Victorian of SF subgenres, Lost Worlds.

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Move a rock in SF or fantasy and you’re likely to come across anything from a tunnel that leads to fairyland to a rabbithole that twists down to a late-Victorian smack dream. Secret places, they’re big in Death Ray‘s little world. But there’s one peculiarly scientific form of the hidden realm that we’re interested today – The Lost World.

Lost Worlds are a very specific subgenre of SF (and it is SF, no two ways about it), one born in the 19th century out of man’s growing mastery of science and a shrinking world where real wonders had fewer and fewer places to hide. For all that progress was doing back then to throw back the covers of ignorance, the human need for the soft downy bed of the amazing is a persistent one. When we run out places to put dragons on the map, it’ll be a sad day.

Lost Worlds are funny little nooks of the imagination, a blend of fairyland and lecture hall, where scientists can stop between awesome sights to exclaim “Why, it’s a plesiosaurus!”. But unlike a lot of this SF stuff we write about, they are relatively easy to delineate. They’re places that are out of place, out of time, or both. They owe as much to the myths of El Dorado and lost African Kingdoms brimming with gold as they do to Victorian scientific advances. There’s a recipe. To make a lost world, you need: A) An expeditionary team, shipwreck survivors or other ensemble group, to include one scientist, one inquisitive yet poorly educated damsel, one square jawed hero, one traitor, and sundry bipedal examples of dinosaur food. Alternatively or additionally, one ‘Lord of the Apes/Beasts/Dinosaurs’ or other noble white savage type, B) Dinosaurs or other prehistoric beasts to be explained by said professor and to eat said dinosaur food, C) An ancient tribe of humans, lost native kingdom or remnant of an antediluvian civilisation (or all three, at war), one preferably comprised of an extinct branch of humanity that can also be explained by the professor. One member of which to be friendly D) To be lost, naturally…

Ten Essential Questions

 So, where do these ideas come from?

Lost Worlds (great white hunter shoots prehistoric monsters) are a sub-genre of Victorian Romantic Adventure (great white hunter shoots elephants and, er, the locals). Unsurprisingly they became popular as real adventurers were filling in the last bits of the world map. They bear the heavy hand of three sciences: Archaeology – Victorians were uncovering fantastic ruins from bygone eras, like Troy and the jungle-hidden temples of Khajuraho in India. Paleontology – the world was marveling at dinosaurs for the first time, and geology. And by gad, those Victorians liked to educate us!

Who wrote first one?

The first book that has the whole shebang was Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864), which, at its core (arf!), is a platform to explain the scientific ideas of the day. They were a bit off. Arthur Conan Doyle further defined the genre, and Edgar Rice Burroughs exploited it.

There are several kinds of Lost World, aren’t there?

There’s your archetypal Lost World, which is in some isolated spot. Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World (1912) being the paradigm – that’s on a plateau deep in the jungle. Another popular kind is the ‘hollow Earth’. This was actually a scientific theory for a few hundred years, and as an idea was allegedly popular with Adolf Hitler. Edgar Rice Burrough’s Pellucidar, a Mongo-like realm that first appeared in At the Earth’s Core (1914) is the model here. A third predominant sort is ‘The Lost Kingdom’, where a hidden society, often antique in style, exists in the mountains, jungle or under the sea. Atlantis, DC’s Themyscira (home of the Amazons) and Marvel’s Nova Roma are examples of this.

These lost kingdoms, they’re not always SF are they?

No, not always. A non-fantastical example is that of Kafiristan in Kipling’s The Man Who Would be King (1888), which is populated by descendants of Alexander the Great’s army. H. Rider Haggard’s King Solomon’s Mines sits in the middle, the kingdom in that has no real fantasy elements, but the book is part of a series in which the fantastical frequently occurs. Others are full on unreal places, like James Gurney’s Dinotopia.

It’s not a dead genre then? I mean, all that stuff is old!

Far from it! There was a big revival of lost world fiction in the 1970s, mostly through films starring Doug McClure, as well as Jim O’Connolly’s fantastic 1969 cowboy effort, Valley of the Gwangi, with its ace Ray Harryhausen dinosaurs.

That was quite a while ago…

Okay more recently, the Indiana Jones films and Peter Jackson’s King Kong both fit into the genre.

But it is trapped in aspic – Kong was a remake, Jones a rehash of old serials…

Michael Crichton created a truly modern ‘lost world’ with his Jurassic Park books. (He had already more directly tackled the genre’s heart of darkness with the not-so-good Congo in 1980). There were ‘hidden kingdoms’ in The Man from Atlantis in the ’70s, Mysterious Cities of Gold in the late ’80s, and 2001’s Atlantis: The Lost Empire from Disney. The idea is alive and well in comics. Just ask Ka-Zar, Lord of the Savage Land, or Wonder Woman.

That’s not really a thriving oevre now, is it?

By Jove, you are argumentative this month! Okay, it is perhaps slightly unmodish, but its appeal remains: the tantalising idea that there might be more to the world than we know about. It’s the same imperative that sends people looking for the Yeti.

I remain to be convinced.

Fair enough, most of the new stuff will always be fond remakes and Victoriana pastiches, but look at Lost. That’s surely the post-modern version of the ‘lost world’ story. The island is the ultimate hidden kingdom – so secret, it moves!

Yeah? So what?

Tomb Raider and other games also enjoy plundering this subgenre. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

Four Top Lost World Tales

Lost Worlds in novels

At The Earth’s Core (1914)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Though most famous through Tarzan’s visit there, Burrough’s Pellucidar was actually discovered by inventor Abner Perry and mining heir David Innes, who use an ‘iron mole’ to burrow 500 miles into the Earth’s crust in At The Earth’s Core. Pellucidar is a mirror image of Earth’s outside, with the seas of the surface forming its continents, and vice versa. It boasts a complicated political landscape, with numerous races of men and non-human sentients, including the Mahar, dangerous psychic flying reptiles. The core was later reached by airship through a polar hole, by which means Tarzan, Burrough’s most famous creation, went to Pellucidar to help rescue Perry and Innes.

The Lost World (1912)

by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Sherlock Holmes creator and fairy-fancier Doyle penned this tale about dinosaurs in the Venezualan jungle, isolated atop a plateau for literally thousands of millennia. In the spirit of the genre they share their home with a tribe of primitive natives and another of ape-men. It’s visited by a rambunctious professor by the name of Challenger, and the journalist Edward Malone, eager to impress his girlfriend and win a big scoop. It’s been adapted numerous times for TV, film and radio, with the likes of Patrick Bergin, Armin Shimmerman, Bob Hoskins, John Rhys Davies and Claude Rains, among others, playing Challenger.

At the Mountains of Madness (1931)

by H.P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft made a fantastically oblique use of lost worlds in his fiction. We very rarely get to fully see the worlds of which his dream-voyagers, investigators and academics find hints. But the terror Lovecraft whips up with these tentative glimpses of rotting civilisations and degenerate star beings is extraordinary.

Inspired, in part, by Burrough’s At The Earth’s Core, At the Mountains of Madness has archeologists uncovering a shattered city in the depths of Antarctica. Within, the evidence of ancient struggles between ‘The Elder Things’ who founded the place, the Mi-Go and the Starspawn, other extraterrestrial races who followed later. It’s all presented in Lovecraft’s rolling purple prose via a first person narrative that purports to be the journal of the geologist William Dyer. As always with H.P., the story builds from terse science-speak to a towering mountain of hysteria. It also has six-foot-tall, blind penguins, which is bonus.

Jurassic Park (1990)

by Michael Crichton

More recent times have provided great barriers to the lovers of Lost Worlds, like, there really aren’t many places on the globe left where such things could be found. Michael Crichton got round this by creating his own. In the book, geneticists in thrall to Mammon inadvisedly re-engineer a shitload of dinosaurs for a theme park which, this being a Michael Crichton book, predictably goes wrong. As we all know, the book was successfully filmed by Steven Spielberg, and made veritable piles of moolah.

Crichton went so far as to recycle Doyle’s Novel title for his sequel (produced at Spielberg’s urging), where a second island is revealed. As this Isla Sorna has been abandoned for some time, it is even wilder than the first and the book is therefore arguably more in the ‘lost world’ mould than the original Jurassic Park.

Doug McClure

If one actor epitomises the Lost World sub genre, that actor is Doug McClure. One of the inspirations behind The Simpsons‘ Troy McClure, he was, to be honest, a lesser star, but in the 1970s he appeared in a string of awesome (okay, hokey) Lost World style adventures. Three were produced by the British Amicus Productions, mostly known for being the rivals to Hammer Studios. All three Amicus films were based on Edgar Rice Burroughs novels and directed by Kevin Connor – The Land That Time Forgot (1975), At the Earth’s Core (1976), and The People That Time Forgot (1977). After this terrific trio, Connor and McClure took their peculiar brand of rubber-monster magic to EMI to make Warlords of Atlantis (1978). Unfortunately, there their paths parted. McClure kept up his monster work though, dying in 1996 after a long career in TV and pretty shoddy B-movies.


This is my “definitive” article on Star Wars, the film that made me fall in love with science fiction in the first place. My mum took me to see it in 1978, when I was five. I still vaguely remember the trip. Apparently I talked all the way through. In the weeks before I drew an awful lot of TIE fighters at school, and was very envious of the kids who had seen it the first time around. I got some Star Wars figures before I saw the film. In following years, I built up quite a collection of Star Wars toys, but was forced to sell them after I returned from living in Poland as I was flat broke. This initial handful, however, I kept and passed them on to Benny 35 years later.

This article was originally published as part of Death Ray #21‘s “Time Trap”, which looked at the year 1977.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, science fiction was about to change forever…

In 1977 the most influential science fiction film of all time came to cinemas. George Lucas’ Star Wars has had such a large influence on the genre it is hard to quantify. Naturally, space opera movies became a dime a dozen in the 1980s, but it had effects as diverse as speeding the restructuring of the way Hollywood financed its movies, introducing the ‘worn’ future, heralding breakthroughs in special effects that were to transform cinema, and cementing the idea of the Summer event movie. Some of these seismic shifts stemmed from 1975’s Jaws, the first modern blockbuster, but Star Wars accelerated them.

Lucas conceived of Star Wars sometime round 1971, when he wrote an outline called ‘The Journal of the Whills’. Some of the ideas that were to later feature in the Star Wars movies were present, including the Jedi, but many were not, including the story. The structure of the first trilogy, even the idea that there were to be more movies, was not present initially, and the reconception of Star Wars as but one part of the life story of Anakin Skywalker, fallen Jedi Knight, did not occur until much later (Lucas has often said that he wrote a massive treatment, then decided to concentrate on the first third as it was too big. There is little evidence for this in Lucas’ drafts). This initial treatment, about the son of a famous fighter pilot who is training to be the ‘padawaan’ of Mace Windy, a famed ‘Jedi-Bendu’ was described as too complex to understand, so Lucas started again, this time basing his story on Akira Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress. Initially, the Star Wars was little more than an SF remake of Kurosawa’s classic, but over time and four drafts it would move further and further away from it, incorporating elements from more science-fictional sources and fairytale, crucially reintroducing the wizard-like Jedi, whose struggle with their own instincts was to form the thematic core of the entire universe. The final draft, with input from Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck, was finished 1 January, 1976. Throughout the writing process the story changed, Luke’s character turned from a 60-year-old general into a dwarf. Right up until filming commenced, Lucas was toying with the idea of making him a woman. Han Solo was supposed to be a green alien with gills, C3PO a car-dealer type… Star Wars was not conceived as a saga, but more as a loosely defined universe inspired by Saturday serials, Japanese cinema and World War II movies, whose story was subject to revision right to the very last minute. There will never be a definitive version. The genesis of the film is steadily sliding into the realms of apocrypha, with the imperfect human memory the main culprit, aided by deliberate misdirection here and there. George Lucas has made many contradictory statements about the conception of the film, while stories from different people involved do not entirely match up. Was Alec Guinness as uncomfortable on set as he always maintained, requesting his own death so he could stop saying such “rubbish lines”, or was the characters’ death down to Lucas, and Guinness mostly happy at work as the director maintains? Was David Prowse dubbed because there were no black characters, as he maintains, or was it because he, like many of the other dubbed actors in the film, sounded too British? This are but a couple of examples of the many stories surrounding the film’s production, alternative versions of which can be found in numerous media.

What is certain is that it could so easily have not happened. Universal and Paramount passed on the film, seeing it as high-risk and high budget. Alan Ladd Jnr at Fox, however, saw promise in Lucas and the concept, and took it on.

The complex production was tense, and for the crew involved, bewildering. Stories about these difficulties include the crew members ridiculing the production, extras whispering ‘wanker’ at Mark Hamill as he walked past the crowd at the medal giving climax, Lucas tearing out his hair at endless British tea breaks, and union interference with the nascent ILM being seen off with a showy display of computer controlled camera work. No-one had ever made a film like this before, and many made fun of the avalanche of outlandish names that accompanied it. ILM were brilliant but disorganised, and spent half their budget on four shots Lucas rejected. The actors complained about the dialogue and about Lucas’ direction (“Faster” and “More intense” were his sole phrases). Lucas argued with cinematographer Gilbert Taylor, who thought the young director was overstepping his bounds in requesting specific shot set ups. Accidents dogged the production – on the first day of shooting in Tatouine, the area of Tunisia standing in for Tatooine, there were the worst torrential downpours in 50 years. Props didn’t work, and Anthony Daniels’ C3PO costume broke and speared his left foot.

Though Star Wars was fairly expensive for its day, Lucas had ambitions much bigger than his budget. Money was tight. He was unhappy with the effects, the costumes and props. Time ran out. Reaching crisis point as shooting fell two weeks behind schedule, Fox gave Lucas an ultimatum: wrap production in a week, or Star Wars will be cancelled. Splitting the crew into three teams, Lucas scraped over the deadline.

Scheduled for release at Christmas of 1976, there were further problems in Star Wars’ post production process. The initial cut was disastrous, prompting Lucas to replace the editor. ILM struggled, Mark Hamill (Luke) was involved in a car crash that made reshoots impossible, while an early screening of the incomplete film to Lucas’ film buddies was unsuccessful with only Stephen Spielberg enjoying the film. The release was postponed until May of the following year.

But it was now that things began to come together. A new edit gave the film its famous pace, Lucas spliced together a load of dogfights from war films to inspire the effects house, while both Ben Burt’s innovative, organic sound design and John Barry’s bombastic martial score, recorded in just 12 days, brought the film to life.

Star Wars‘ final budget was driven from $8 million to $11 million. Lucas was a nervous wreck, suffering from hypertension and exhaustion. He was thus gratified by the response of the Fox brass – they all loved it, and one broke down in tears. The film was a difficult sell to reluctant cinemas. Fox threatened to withhold the more eagerly anticipated movie The Other Side of Midnight if cinemas did not show Lucas’ film.

Star Wars was, as we know, a huge hit, so successful that 20th Century Fox’s share value doubled in weeks. Alone, Star Wars has earned more than $700million dollars in its lifetime. The estimated lifetime takings of the franchise it spawned, merchandising and all, is put at around $20billion.

The cultural impact of Star Wars has been immense, not least in its refocusing of Hollywood on spectacle after a decade of thoughtful, arty films. Some have called this a betrayal, others a re-engagement with the audience. Either way, effects-heavy thrill-rides became the default setting for big-screen success.

The first SF blockbuster’s effect on the genre was complex. It is arguable Star Wars destroyed the credibility of science fiction at a time when it was just becoming an excepted form. Book companies redirected their efforts toward juvenilia, and the more cerebral cinematic SF efforts of the 60s and 70s gave way to numerous Star Wars imitations. Although a wave of great SF films trailed Star Wars’ success, they were outnumbered by cheap, unimaginative copycats. Such movies as Space hunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone did much to earn SF its status as a pariah genre in the 90s. When you hear of critics dismissing SF, it’s not Alien or The Terminator or Mad Max they’re thinking of, but the bad sets, ropey effects and cardboard characters of TV and straight-to-video Star Wars rip-offs. To them, ‘science fiction’ stinks of the unsophisticated mindset of the nursery.

But this was but a reactive dip, one SF has come out of now, in the main, and we can thank Star Wars also for SF’s renaissance, for the creative types who fill our screens and bookshelves with weekly wonders had their minds’ eyes opened wide by Star Wars as children. And that, dear readers, includes your friendly correspondents here at Death Ray.

The Expanded Universe

It wasn’t the films that made Lucas his fortune, but millions upon millions of tiny plastic toys…

When Lucas negotiated with Alan Ladd Jnr. for his fee, he settled on a relatively modest sum of $150,000 in return for 40% of the merchandising rights and rights to any sequels. It is this canny deal that has made Lucas a billionaire, and allowed him to operate largely outside the studio system for much of his career.

At the time, Hollywood made little money from merchandising. The days of themed Happy Meals and action figure toy lines were ushered in by Star Wars. Fox provided little direct marketing support for the film, leaving marketing director Charles Lippincott to find other ways to publicise the movie. He sold the toy rights to Kenner (who invented the three and three-quarter inch action figure size still popular today for the film). Over 300 million of these figures were sold between 1977 and 1984, but Kenner initially under-produced. The toys were so popular that Kenner rapidly ran out of stock round Christmas of ’77, prompting them to fill shops with empty boxes containing a promissory note. The back orders took three months to fulfil.

Lippincott also looked to print media to provide a push to the movie, negotiating a pre-release comic adaptation with Marvel. A novelisation of the film was published under Lucas’ name, although it was actually written by Alan Dean Foster. Titled Star Wars: From the Adventures of Luke Skywalker, it was based on the screenplay and released six months before the film. The book interestingly contains several minor departures from the book, including the cut Tosche station scenes filmed for the movie’s opening, and differences in detail here and there.

But it is the book that followed, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, also by Foster, where things get interesting. This novel was intended to form the basis of a cheap sequel should Star Wars perform poorly. When the film became a smash hit, this idea was dropped. Instead, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, along with Star Wars comic issue 7, formed the basis of Star Wars‘ enormous Expanded Universe.

Many popular SF franchises have Expanded Universes, but Star Wars is among the largest of all, rivalled in scale only by Star Trek‘s. It encompasses books, comics, roleplaying and video games, toys, audio dramas, cartoons, and TV shows, telling stories in the Star Wars universe from 10,000 years in the past until 100 years in the future (Lucas, intending to one day make a prequel trilogy, barred authors from delving into the history of the Empire, Anakin, or Palpatine). Like most such things in the genre, these stories are not considered canon, and yet they have had a profound influence on the film series itself, with many characters and locations working their way into the movie series.

The Star Wars expanded universe is remarkably consistent, although not immune to shifts in the story and retconning. This consistency can be credited to West End Games. Their RPG products, beginning in 1987, were so detailed they were often sent out to other licensees as reference materials, leading to a situation where West End found itself, in later years, producing supplements based on stories which had been generated with the help of their products.

After the release of Return of the Jedi, Star Wars fever abated somewhat, though the Expanded Universe remained a lucrative industry. With the release of Timothy Zahn’s Admiral Thrawn trilogy in 1991, the acquisition of the Star Wars comic book license by Dark Horse and renewed speculation about further films, it really took off, paving the way for the return of the franchise to the big screen.

Did you know?

The 1978 Star Wars Holiday Special was the first televisual outing for the expanded universe. A collection of musical skits, comedy segments and unused footage from Star Wars, it featured all the main cast in a story loosely centred on Chewbacca’s return home for Life Day (Wookie Christmas), and the struggle he and Han Solo have as they try to get back to the Wookie world of Kashyyyk. Through the medium of television watched by Chewie’s son Lumpawarrump, we get a musical interlude from Jefferson Starship, a 10-minute cartoon about one of Chewie’s earlier adventures, as well as cameos from various other Wars’ stars, such as Luke, who is shown having mechanical trouble with his X-Wing fighter. This all takes place as Imperial forces search Chewie’s tree house, so there’s an air of totalitarian absurdity to it.

Aside from the cartoon, which introduced Boba Fett, the Holiday Special is widely disliked by fans and those involved, with Lucas himself being particularly unhappy with the show. (he said once he wished he could hunt down every copy. It has only ever been screened once, and has never been released in any home entertainment format. Bootleg copies, however, can be had for the right price. We’d never condone illegal activity, but it is one of the most deliciously bad pieces of television ever to have been made.


I don’t usually talk about contentious issues here. My one attempt left me quivering with anxiety. In general, I dislike arguing over complicated issues on the internet. The medium encourages foolish hyperbole. It is too swift to force proper reflection, too slow to allow timely reaction, too distancing to facilitate rapport. It makes it too easy to see those who disagree with you as enemies. Misunderstanding, tangential ranting, rage escalation, lack of complexity and outright twattery are the sorry results. And that’s just on my side. I avoid it. If you’re brave enough for it, more power to you.

Actually, the above is fairly contentious. I’ll take my initial statement back.

Never mind all that. Today Scotland is voting on independence and I want to say something, hence the exception.

I hope the Scots don’t go. If the UK breaks up, what does that say? The world’s full of states teetering on the brink of fragmentation, and fragmentation increases the scope for conflict. Britain’s time as a world power will be well and truly over. The split will be acrimonious and cripple both nations for years to come. I like Scotland. I like Scots. I never thought I’d see a time when the island of Great Britain played host to two separate states. It makes me genuinely sad. (more…)