Bahar Orang
Senior ANDY Editor
A few nights ago, I watched Pan’s Labyrinth for the first time. It’s a Spanish film about a young girl who escapes her broken family and war-torn environment by indulging in fantasies that come from her many fictional books.
The story inspired in me a kind of emotional turmoil that can only be matched by my frustrated hate-love affair with the likes of other extremely sad films (e.g. Life is Beautiful). The movie was shocking and made me cry, but I was also left feeling sorely confused. The young female protagonist triumphs in the face of imaginary evils and emerges as the princess of a fictional realm, but in “real life,” she is not so lucky. In fact, her desperate desire to engage in her fantasies ultimately leads to the film’s tragic ending. I was left, heartbroken and distraught, wondering – what was the purpose of it all? Her beloved books gave her moments of happiness, but – they were ineffective as a means of contending with her reality. For the first time ever, I was convinced – maybe she should have read less.
The film is far more intricate and gorgeous than this brief description of my own personal struggle with the story. It is likely that I have missed the point. Please watch it, come find me in the Silhouette office, and convince me that I am wrong. I can be very easily convinced that reading is what saved her, and not what killed her.
This is a work of art that has deeply affected me. In this semester’s final issue of ANDY, we have included works of art that have moved our writers in some way. Send us yours?
Cooper Long
Assistant ANDY Editor
Not many movies play at Westdale Theatre, but the select few that do are almost always high calibre. Unfortunately, The Way Way Back was an exception. I saw the film this summer and was unimpressed by its clichéd coming-of-age story about a teenager vacationing with his family in a sleepy seaside town.
I was surprised, then, when David Sedaris used a similar premise to craft the most affecting thing I read this semester.
In his autobiographical essay “Now We Are Five,” which appeared in The New Yorker on Oct. 28, Sedaris chronicles a recent family trip to a beach house off the coast of North Carolina.
Sadly, Sedaris’ family is incomplete. His estranged adult sister Tiffany committed suicide shortly before the vacation began, and her absence lurks underneath Sedaris’ characteristically wry anecdotes about beaches and BarcaLoungers.
Even though summer vacation is far from mind in first semester, Sedaris’ piece struck a chord. I am happy to be back in school and reconnecting with the people that I have gotten to know over the past four years. Yet, I am also always mindful that at this time next year most of these same people will have graduated and scattered in different, far-flung directions.
I do not want to liken anything that I have experienced this semester to the loss of a family member to suicide. Nevertheless, Sedaris’ delicate balance of humour and pensiveness absolutely captured my current state of mind.
When I look back on the first three months of my fourth year, I think about “Now We Are Five.”
Cooper Long
Assistant ANDY Editor
When Tom Murphy was growing up in Pittsburgh in the 1950s, his mother warned him that if he went near the city’s polluted rivers he would melt. Today, those same rivers are surrounded by 13 miles of continuous parkland and host one of the largest one-day rowing regattas in the United States.
As the mayor of Pittsburgh from 1994 to 2006, Murphy personally oversaw much of this remarkable transformation. Last Friday, he was in downtown Hamilton to share some of the lessons from his three terms in office.
Pittsburgh’s similarity to Hamilton gives Murphy’s insights particular weight. Indeed, the two are sister cities. Like Hamilton, Pittsburgh was formerly a centre of steelmaking. As Murphy put it, Pittsburgh’s steel mills were once so productive that “you didn’t know the sky was blue or there were stars at night.”
The city reeled when the steel industry began to collapse, but Murphy entered city hall insistent that he would not simply “manage decline.” Under his leadership, Pittsburgh turned to universities and hospitals as alternative economic engines. Today, more than forty percent of its population is employed in the technology sector.
There was another potential economic engine, however, that did not receive much attention in Murphy’s presentation. Given that he was speaking under the auspices of Supercrawl, I expected that Murphy would emphasize the role of the arts in urban redevelopment. Admittedly, he referred to the nebulous idea of “vitality” and discussed building symphony halls in Pittsburgh’s former red light district. Yet, he never made an explicit link between civic prosperity and the arts.
I was left to draw such a connection myself.
In his address, Murphy repeatedly teased the audience about a surface level parking lot visible at James North and King William. Frequenters of Motown or Homegrown will know it well. Murphy described this type of lot as “the worst use of public space in a city.” In his opinion, however, the barren lot represented not just a failure of urban planning, but also a failure of imagination. According to the veteran mayor, those in charge of a city have to “know what you wanna be.” In other words, prosperous cities demand a comprehensive creative vision.
To me, this sense of imagination and possibility is also the essence of the arts. The mentality that allows a mayor to envision 13 miles of verdant parkland along once toxic rivers is the same impulse that compels someone to splash green paint on blank canvas. Indeed, the performers and artists at Supercrawl vibrantly showcased this creative spirit.
There is a lot of academic literature about how cultural workers contribute economically to the growth of cities. To me, however, civic prosperity and the arts have an even more profound connection. Fundamentally, both are exercises of the imagination.
This may sound somewhat starry-eyed. Urban redevelopment is almost always contentious, and I am not advocating that we transplant all of Pittsburgh’s strategies. Yet, if Hamiltonians and local government can keep up a bold, artistic mindset, then the city’s future at least has the potential to be a masterpiece.
This weekend, McMaster is going to be invaded. The infiltrators will take over classrooms, lecture halls, and council chambers, all for their own purposes. Yet, these invaders are not malevolent extra-terrestrials or androids. Rather, they are enthusiastic writers, editors, professors, and fans of science fiction.
Starting on Friday, the university will host “Science Fiction: The Interdisciplinary Genre,” a conference in honour of renowned Canadian author Robert J. Sawyer. Sawyer recently spoke with ANDY about his archival donation to McMaster. The weekend’s conference will focus on his oeuvre, but will also include appearances from a long list of other important figures in the Canadian science fiction community. Scheduled guests include authors Julie E. Czerneda, Élizabeth Vonarburg, and Robert Charles Wilson, as well as editors John Robert Colombo and David Hartwell.
According to conference co-organizer Dr. Catherine Grisé, Sawyer’s papers should give scholars “a better sense of how the science fiction community in Canada works and how people worked together.” Grisé also noted that this community is surprisingly active. Her co-organizer, Dr. Nicholas Serruys, teaches and researches French Canadian science fiction at McMaster.
In Sawyer’s archives, scholars are also likely to find voluminous research notes. “One of the hallmarks of what [Robert J. Sawyer] does,” she said, “is to take on a topic and then do all the science reading and research behind that particular topic as he is preparing his novel or series.” For example, his most recent novel, Red Planet Blues, discusses fossilization and paleontology on the planet Mars.
To Grisé, another distinctive quality of Sawyer’s writing is his strong interest in ideas of interdisciplinarity. “What he is interested in is the way that science connects with ideas of humanity, religion, and philosophy, so that you get a richness,” she said.
As the title of the conference suggests, the opportunity to combine different disciplines can be seen as a strength of science fiction literature in general. In Grisé’s experience, undergraduate electives on science fiction always attract students from a wide range of departments.
Yet, despite its popular appeal, science fiction has not always been similarly embraced by academics. In Grisé’s opinion, however, attitudes are changing.
“We’re hoping to add to that momentum of dispelling that myth and seeing science fiction as very much something that is worthy of being studied,” Grisé said.
The organizers also hope that the conference will inspire discussion and community engagement. In keeping with this goal, admission to the conference will be free and open to the general public. “Academics might have more jargon or more specific ways of talking about [science fiction],” Grisé added, ”but there are also lots of ways we can celebrate those kinds of works together.”
In the galaxy of science fiction writers, Robert J. Sawyer is a particularly shining star. Author of 23 novels, Sawyer has received all three of the most prestigious awards for best science fiction novel of the year: the Hugo, the Nebula, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award. The Mississauga-based writer is one of only eight people in history to accomplish this feat, and the only Canadian.
Soon, the documents that gave rise to this body of work will reside at McMaster. In November 2011, it was announced that McMaster would be the official repository of Sawyer’s archives. In honour of the donation, this weekend McMaster will host a conference entitled “Science Fiction: The Interdisciplinary Genre.” In addition to Sawyer, the guest list includes several other heavyweights of Canadian science fiction, such as authors Julie E. Czerneda, Élizabeth Vonarburg, and Robert Charles Wilson, as well as editors John Robert Colombo and David Hartwell.
The Robert J. Sawyer Archives at McMaster will include manuscripts, correspondence, working papers, journals, and other materials. Yet, this massive transfer of documents began with just a single email. In March 2008, Carl Spadoni, former Director of The William Ready Division of Archives and Research Collections at McMaster, contacted Sawyer in conjunction with former University Librarian Jeffrey Trzeciak. “I was delighted to get this letter,” said Sawyer, “[Spadoni] went on to explain why he wanted the archives and he wanted them as part of McMaster’s very extensive holdings in Canadian literature.”
Other institutions, including the University of California, Riverside, the University of South Florida, and the Merril Collection of Science Fiction, Speculation and Fantasy, had previously sought Sawyer’s papers. Yet, McMaster’s pitch was unique. “When I started thinking about what I wanted my legacy to be and how I wanted to be remembered, I decided I wanted to be remembered for my contributions as a Canadian writer. That McMaster came to me recognizing that I was, in their estimation, an important part of the Canadian literary landscape, swung the balance,” said Sawyer.
Even before various groups began seeking Sawyer’s archives, however, the author was already preparing for such a donation. In fact, this was one of the first lessons he learned when he joined the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America in 1983. “Frederik Pohl, the great science fiction writer, had written an article in the handbook that said, save your papers, someday they’ll be worth something. You can donate them for a tax break to some institution. At that point, at age 23, I still had a lot of the stuff that I had written as a teenager,” said Sawyer.
He heeded this advice, even though few of his colleagues were so diligent. “So many science fiction writers that I’ve spoken to have said, wow you kept that stuff. And I said yeah, didn’t you read the handbook when you joined the organization?” said the decorated writer.
Five years have passed since McMaster first approached Sawyer. In the interim, however, he claims to have entered a transitional phase that makes his donation particularly timely. “I’m writing my 23rd novel right now,” he explained. “I don’t have any contracts to write any subsequent novels. Not because I can’t get them, but because I haven’t sought them. Right now, I’m vigorously pursuing more film and television work. I’m at a point where I may or may not continue writing lots and lots of novels.” Although he was quick to add that he was not announcing his retirement, the author felt that it was “a good emotional time and career milestone time to box up, and get out of the house all the things related to that phase.”
McMaster is still completing the archival work necessary to make these boxes available to library users. Nevertheless, Sawyer already has certain aspirations for how the contents will be used. “One of the things I want is for scholars to be able to trace the development of an idea,” he said, “and see how, through successive drafts, I’ve honed in on what the work was supposed to say thematically and philosophically, and got it to a degree of clarity that might not have been apparent in the initial drafts.” In this way, Sawyer hopes to demonstrate that, “fundamentally, science fiction is hard work. An enormous amount of effort goes into creating an ambitious work of science fiction.”
Dispelling the myth that science fiction is lightweight or hastily written literature is similarly a goal of this weekend’s conference. According to Sawyer, “When a big university like McMaster says we’re going to do a big, splashy conference about Canadian science fiction, or about science fiction, that sends a signal that its more than just something to be ghettoized.”
Likewise, Sawyer hopes that the conference will demonstrate the considerable breadth of Canada science fiction literature. “I want to remind everybody who studies Canadian literature, and everybody who teaches Canadian literature, that that field includes science fiction by Canadian authors,” he said, “and hopefully remind them to include it in their course syllabi, or in their research papers if they are students.”
Sawyer cites the interdisciplinary nature of science fiction as another important takeaway for conference attendees. “There is no other field of writing that draws on so many disparate areas,” he said. “I was thrilled by the breadth of academic areas from which we had paper submissions. We have philosophers, theologians, game theorists, astronomers, computer scientists, geneticists; the variety of kinds of people who put in paper proposals was absolutely what we were looking to highlight.”
Among the scheduled presenters is Sawyer himself. In addition to delivering an inaugural address on Friday, Sawyer will also be speaking on Martian geology and paleontology in his most recent novel, Red Planet Blues.
This weekend, these insights into science fiction will be available to all comers. Registration for the conference is free and open to the general public, which pleases Sawyer. “McMaster really came to the table and said, let’s make it free,” he added. “I’m absolutely thrilled that McMaster recognized the value of having this be open to the public, and particularly to students.”
For many McMaster students, daily life at the university may seem humdrum, and far removed from the fantastic visions of science fiction. Yet, with its accessibility, diverse paper presentations, and engaging guest of honour, this weekend’s conference promises to be on-campus experience that is out of this world.
ONLINE EXCLUSIVE: Mac to host a conference for sci-fi community in honour of Sawyer.
In a 1963 interview, Alfred Hitchcock admitted that he occasionally adapted stage plays, such as Dial M for Murder, when “the batteries [were] running dry.” Yet, there is no sign that fatigue turned Joss Whedon towards Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.
On the contrary, the film seems to embody a surge of creativity. Whedon completed filming in only 12 days during a vacation from post-production work on The Avengers. The result is a joyous creation, which combines both reverence to Shakespeare’s themes and Whedon’s own unique flair.
The script presents two couples whose love certainly does not run smooth. Don Pedro (Reed Diamond) plots to unite Beatrice and Benedick (Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof), despite their bickering. Meanwhile, Don John (Sean Maher) schemes to drive apart the doe-eyed Hero and Claudio (Jillian Morgese and Fran Kranz). As these romances unfold, the characters partake in almost as much boozing as Gatsby’s guests from earlier in the summer.
All of the partying was captured at a single location: Whedon’s own home in Santa Monica, California. Whedon shoots these familiar surroundings cleverly, however, and the film never feels claustrophobic. The sets only become unconvincing when the action shifts to Inspector Dogberry’s headquarters. Nathan Fillion is delightful as the bumbling lawman, but his precinct is obviously a dining room with filing cabinets and black curtains.
The knowledge that Whedon shot the film in his own home also lends each scene a somewhat voyeuristic quality. I found myself peering around corners, for instance, to learn what type of bath towels the creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer uses. Yet, the audience’s intrusive gaze is perfectly appropriate for a script that turns on eavesdropping.
Whedon’s black and white palette is similarly fitting. The technique imparts a timeless flavour that complements shifting Shakespearean dialogue into the modern era. Shakespeare could never have foreseen an interpretation of his work where plot information is conveyed via smartphone. Yet, this cast delivers the Bard’s lines effortlessly and naturally. Even four centuries later, one cannot resist smirking at Benedick’s inability to stop talking about the same woman he claims to despise.
Although there are no bloody duels in Much Ado About Nothing, Whedon’s adaptation nonetheless represents a gauntlet thrown down to other directors. With a brief shooting schedule, one location, and a cast of friends, Whedon has crafted a work of uncommon vitality. If the film was, in fact, a battery-recharging exercise, it should be thrilling to see what a fully powered Whedon produces next.
The pairing of writer-director Rian Johnson and leading man Joseph Gordon-Levitt seemingly delights in revitalizing old genres. Their first collaboration, 2005’s Brick, transplanted film-noir from the asphalt jungle to a southern California high school. The film’s teenage characters bargained both with the principle and for their lives, all using hardboiled 1940s slang. Now the duo has reunited for Looper, which begins as an old-fashioned gangster movie. With time travel.
Indeed, the screenplay imagines that once time travel is invented in 2074 it is immediately outlawed and falls under the domination of shadowy criminal organizations. The mob harnesses the new technology for one spectacularly uncreative purpose: body disposal. Crime bosses circumvent advanced human tracking systems by zapping their enemies back thirty years, where specialized assassins known as “loopers” wait. The thought of simply transporting victims back to the ice age evidently never occurred to the mafia of the future.
Gordon-Levitt plays Joe, one such looper. He is forced to reevaluate this ingenious, if unnecessarily convoluted, system when his older self (Willis) suddenly materializes in the sights of his futuristic shotgun. Future Joe escapes and his predecessor must race to complete the contract before the mob catches up to him.
The backstory necessary to set-up this pursuit is delivered by Gordon-Levitt in a somewhat clunky voiceover. His matter-of-fact explanations seem more appropriate to a trailer and given Johnson’s impressive ear for dialogue, this exposition could almost certainly have been handled with greater subtlety. The spoon-feeding feels like a concession to filmgoers more accustomed to sequels than original and intelligent science fiction.
Indeed, Johnson presents a distinctive, yet realistic, vision of the near future. In keeping with the film’s time-jumping plot, the production design jumbles past, present, and future. Mob “gat men” fire revolvers from hovering motorcycles, while the time travel apparatus looks like it could be worn by Jacques Cousteau as a diving helmet. Less successful are the special effects applied to bolster Gordon-Levitt’s resemblance to Willis. Although only intermittently distracting, surely both actors portraying the same character requires no more suspension of disbelief than time travel itself.
Look-alikes or not, Gordon Levitt and Willis crackle in their preciously short screen time together. Just as the chase between them is intensifying, they separate and the film settles into a quieter second half. At this point, Johnson shifts his focus from gangsters to another well-worn genre, that of the western. Predicting Willis’ next move, Gordon-Levitt hides out on a farm belonging to a strong-willed woman (Blunt) and her unusual son. The scenario evokes any number of classic westerns, but none more so than 1953’s Hondo, in which John Wayne defends a similarly fatherless farmstead from rampaging Apaches and cavalrymen alike.
It is perhaps only fitting that a time travel adventure should so vividly recall other moments from the cinematic past. Yet Johnson has unquestionably crafted a film that has its own unique appeal. With its genre-bending storytelling, original sci-fi hook, and retro-modern-mash-up aesthetic, Looper is certain to stand the test of time.
