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blue_green_dream) wrote2022-08-14 10:01 pm
blue_green_dream) wrote2022-08-14 10:01 pm
Entry tags:
There and Back Again - Part 1
I'm fairly active on Twitter these days, thanks to friends from my gaming group that frequent the site. A while back I created a thread in which I noted a certain degree of disdain for more recent sci-fi, specifically sci-fi films. It was inspired by a screenshot of an Ursula K. LeGuin interview that struck a chord with me; I used it to explain that the sci-fi genre seemed hellbent on advocating for dystopian futures, which would inevitably lead sci-fi fans to desire such futures (or at least allow for them) in the real world. I've copy/pasted it below the cut, for anyone who is interested in reading it.
What LeGuin dicusses here reminds me of why I've shifted from sci fi to fantasy over the years. It's unfortunate, but it seems that sci fi has become dominated by creators who feel a need to tell you that the present sucks, and the future is going to suck even more.
I started getting into Terry Pratchett in 2019. (Late to the party, I know.) I play fantasy TTRPGs on the regular. Neither Pratchett nor our homebrew world is free of darkness, inhumanity or horror, but the one constant is that there's always a way to fight for progress.
(Side note: The people I game with are all fiercely dedicated to creating better futures in both our fantasy and material worlds. Thanks to all of them for keeping the dream alive.)
I'm not denying that dark fantasy exists, nor am I saying that the fantasy genre is sparkles and unicorns. (I've read the Game of Thrones series.) But it seems that many sci fi fans enjoy reveling in visions of a dystopian future. And over time, their visions have become reality.
LOTS of sci fi features oligarchy, corporatocracy and environmental collapse. For example: while I love the Blade Runner films, its themes disturbed me and made me want to fight against such a future. But it seems a lot of sci fi fans think that setting is cool.
As in, "I wish I could live in Blade Runner world!" There are also lots of people who loved Mad Max because it's, "so cool!" When you start falling in love with a fictional dystopia, you may not be inclined to lift a finger when the real world starts to head in that direction.
And that's easy to see in everyday life. Popular media sets the cultural zeitgeist, and at some point a lot of cynicism took over. You see it in almost every bit of media, every bit of fiction. When people can't see a better way, they decide to shrug and roll their eyes.
"It's not like anything will change." Well, yes. If all of your cultural touchpoints boil down to, "People can't solve problems, and you're an idiot for trying, so shut up and buy something and never mind the dead planet," then nothing will change because you can't see a way out.
There are some real world movements that are working against this cynical apathy. Solarpunk (and the super niche lunarpunk) are, but I have yet to see any written or film/TV media that works with these visions of the future. (If you have, PLEASE recommend them to me.)
So what am I getting at? We need more media that fights for hope, and we need more positive futures in fiction. Fantasy by its very nature harkens to an idealized, magical past. That's all well and good, but it feeds into the "things suck now and will in the future" viewpoint.
Fantasy says that the past was perfect, full of nature and magic and wonder, before it was all paved over for factories, parking lots and McMansions. It's tempting to want to "go back," so to speak, but we can't go back to something that never really existed.
We need to start demanding better visions. More than that, we need to help people experience those visions outside of political frameworks. As LeGuin indicates, there's nothing wrong with giving people comfort. There's nothing wrong with giving people hope.
Recently - very recently, in fact - I've realized that I may have to reassess my thoughts about the genre, or at least admit that I had a serious blind spot regarding a particular sci-fi franchise. But to get there, I'll have to start with something that happened almost a month ago - namely, the Cleveland Orchestra's performance of The Fellowship of the Ring: In Concert.
aseanchai and I had waited two years to see this show. The films originally came out in the early 2000s and were an integral part of my college experience. The music, of course, was incredible - I'm not ashamed to say that I had more than a few emotional moments as I listened to the orchestra and two(!) choirs bring the score of the film to life. When the concert ended, both aseanchai and I were surprised to remember just how much we loved the film, along with the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. But what really shocked me was how deeply the themes of the film resonated now that I was older. World events seemed dire when the films were originally released, but it sometimes feels that things are even worse in many ways now. (The concert took place right around the time it seemed that Joe Manchin would doom climate legislation; I was feeling particularly on edge about that.) On the way home, both of us decided that we would need to give the original trilogy a rewatch, if only to provide some distraction from all manner of bad news.
We did just that. I'd purchased the Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings years ago, but I'd never really had much of an opportunity to watch them. (I had moved home after college, and neither my family nor my old high school friends were at all interested in viewing them.) I was struck by how much of a balm the movies were, how so much of the overall story of the trilogy is about retaining hope, even in the most seemingly hopeless of circumstances. (It's no secret that Tolkien's Catholicism influenced his writing, but perhaps I needed time to grow and mature in order to really see it.)
And there were other themes as well. At a time when I was despairing about whether or not my attempts at political and social activism were truly making any difference, it was nice to see films in which "small" people can have outsized influence, and where mutual aid is seen not just as an obligation but a literal lifeline in trying times. One scene in particular struck me - that of the warning beacons of Gondor carrying their wordless message across the countryside to Rohan, where Aragorn sees them and sprints into the throne room of Théodin. "The beacons are lit!" he shouts, running to the leader of Rohan. "Gondor calls for aid."
There is a pause, and then Théodin stands. "And Rohan will answer!" he proclaims.
That moment stuck with me. So often we see beacons these days - on Twitter, on Facebook, on Reddit, via so many other sites and means. So many calls are made every day, and we must make the decision to answer. I decided I wanted to, the next time a major disaster came up. Even if it only meant carrying messages along.
I wouldn't have long to wait. A few days after finishing up the trilogy, Eastern Kentucky would be disastrous and deadly flooding. I set about doing what I could to pass along messages about needs and aid, doing what small things I could for people.
And in doing so, I ended up encountering a group I'd never heard of that was practically in my backyard, and one I never would have expected working with.
They're called The Federation.
What LeGuin dicusses here reminds me of why I've shifted from sci fi to fantasy over the years. It's unfortunate, but it seems that sci fi has become dominated by creators who feel a need to tell you that the present sucks, and the future is going to suck even more.
I started getting into Terry Pratchett in 2019. (Late to the party, I know.) I play fantasy TTRPGs on the regular. Neither Pratchett nor our homebrew world is free of darkness, inhumanity or horror, but the one constant is that there's always a way to fight for progress.
(Side note: The people I game with are all fiercely dedicated to creating better futures in both our fantasy and material worlds. Thanks to all of them for keeping the dream alive.)
I'm not denying that dark fantasy exists, nor am I saying that the fantasy genre is sparkles and unicorns. (I've read the Game of Thrones series.) But it seems that many sci fi fans enjoy reveling in visions of a dystopian future. And over time, their visions have become reality.
LOTS of sci fi features oligarchy, corporatocracy and environmental collapse. For example: while I love the Blade Runner films, its themes disturbed me and made me want to fight against such a future. But it seems a lot of sci fi fans think that setting is cool.
As in, "I wish I could live in Blade Runner world!" There are also lots of people who loved Mad Max because it's, "so cool!" When you start falling in love with a fictional dystopia, you may not be inclined to lift a finger when the real world starts to head in that direction.
And that's easy to see in everyday life. Popular media sets the cultural zeitgeist, and at some point a lot of cynicism took over. You see it in almost every bit of media, every bit of fiction. When people can't see a better way, they decide to shrug and roll their eyes.
"It's not like anything will change." Well, yes. If all of your cultural touchpoints boil down to, "People can't solve problems, and you're an idiot for trying, so shut up and buy something and never mind the dead planet," then nothing will change because you can't see a way out.
There are some real world movements that are working against this cynical apathy. Solarpunk (and the super niche lunarpunk) are, but I have yet to see any written or film/TV media that works with these visions of the future. (If you have, PLEASE recommend them to me.)
So what am I getting at? We need more media that fights for hope, and we need more positive futures in fiction. Fantasy by its very nature harkens to an idealized, magical past. That's all well and good, but it feeds into the "things suck now and will in the future" viewpoint.
Fantasy says that the past was perfect, full of nature and magic and wonder, before it was all paved over for factories, parking lots and McMansions. It's tempting to want to "go back," so to speak, but we can't go back to something that never really existed.
We need to start demanding better visions. More than that, we need to help people experience those visions outside of political frameworks. As LeGuin indicates, there's nothing wrong with giving people comfort. There's nothing wrong with giving people hope.
Recently - very recently, in fact - I've realized that I may have to reassess my thoughts about the genre, or at least admit that I had a serious blind spot regarding a particular sci-fi franchise. But to get there, I'll have to start with something that happened almost a month ago - namely, the Cleveland Orchestra's performance of The Fellowship of the Ring: In Concert.
aseanchai and I had waited two years to see this show. The films originally came out in the early 2000s and were an integral part of my college experience. The music, of course, was incredible - I'm not ashamed to say that I had more than a few emotional moments as I listened to the orchestra and two(!) choirs bring the score of the film to life. When the concert ended, both aseanchai and I were surprised to remember just how much we loved the film, along with the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. But what really shocked me was how deeply the themes of the film resonated now that I was older. World events seemed dire when the films were originally released, but it sometimes feels that things are even worse in many ways now. (The concert took place right around the time it seemed that Joe Manchin would doom climate legislation; I was feeling particularly on edge about that.) On the way home, both of us decided that we would need to give the original trilogy a rewatch, if only to provide some distraction from all manner of bad news.We did just that. I'd purchased the Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings years ago, but I'd never really had much of an opportunity to watch them. (I had moved home after college, and neither my family nor my old high school friends were at all interested in viewing them.) I was struck by how much of a balm the movies were, how so much of the overall story of the trilogy is about retaining hope, even in the most seemingly hopeless of circumstances. (It's no secret that Tolkien's Catholicism influenced his writing, but perhaps I needed time to grow and mature in order to really see it.)
And there were other themes as well. At a time when I was despairing about whether or not my attempts at political and social activism were truly making any difference, it was nice to see films in which "small" people can have outsized influence, and where mutual aid is seen not just as an obligation but a literal lifeline in trying times. One scene in particular struck me - that of the warning beacons of Gondor carrying their wordless message across the countryside to Rohan, where Aragorn sees them and sprints into the throne room of Théodin. "The beacons are lit!" he shouts, running to the leader of Rohan. "Gondor calls for aid."
There is a pause, and then Théodin stands. "And Rohan will answer!" he proclaims.
That moment stuck with me. So often we see beacons these days - on Twitter, on Facebook, on Reddit, via so many other sites and means. So many calls are made every day, and we must make the decision to answer. I decided I wanted to, the next time a major disaster came up. Even if it only meant carrying messages along.
I wouldn't have long to wait. A few days after finishing up the trilogy, Eastern Kentucky would be disastrous and deadly flooding. I set about doing what I could to pass along messages about needs and aid, doing what small things I could for people.
And in doing so, I ended up encountering a group I'd never heard of that was practically in my backyard, and one I never would have expected working with.
They're called The Federation.