Science Fiction TV Turns Toward Biology

Rather than the coldness of computers, imaginative organic science has been popular in scifi TV recently, the prevalence of machinery giving way to a more biological interpretation of the mysteries of the universe. To put it bluntly, spores, trees and fungi infect our perception of the future.

Imagining Future Science

What will science allow humanity to do in the future? That is the core of science fiction. For many years the focus was on projecting a version of current technology. Yet recently it feels like a more imaginative interpretation is happening.

Plants and organisms, even if they're made of light and data rather than solid matter, are everywhere. Has the way we think about what is possible, changed?

Contrary to popular belief, science isn't linear. It experiences trends. One recurrent theme has been time, or the manipulation of time, and that has bled into our entertainment, bringing with it an almost spiritual aspect.

Below are some popular television shows that include an organic element (for want of a better term). Perhaps organisms are the ultimate storytelling metaphor for life and a sense of mortality. Maybe, like time, they are symbolic of the boundaries that fascinate humanity the most.

12 Monkeys

The red forest is an integral part of this show's mythology.

12 Monkeys is a beautifully written series. Time travel is a twisting concept and it can be difficult to maintain a narrative hold. The show begins with the character of Cole being sent back in time to stop a plague that wipes out humanity. He partners with the virologist Cassie, and they encounter resistance from a group called The 12 Monkeys.

The 12 Monkeys are revealed to be fanatics dedicated to bringing The Red Forest into existence. The red forest exists beyond time. At certain points characters drink tea made from leaves sourced in the red forest, and experience visions.

The scenes in the red forest are eerie and compelling. They tie in with science but seem to speak to a primal part of the mind.

Star Trek Discovery

A recent addition to the Star Trek television universe, Discovery moves beyond the standard ways of navigating through space that have been created by Star Trek over the years, and introduces the Spore Drive.

You'll see a lot of debate online regarding the plausibility of this tech. The Spore Drive takes the ship from one place to another in an instance. Basically the idea is the technology utilizes a network of spores to move across the galaxy.

Rather than arguing the logistics or potentiality, my interest is focused on the fact it is a spore-driven concept: modeled on an organic idea. That at the heart (or should that be seed) of Star Trek's greatest engineering technology, are spores.

 The OA

An alternate reality thriller, The OA follows a lead character that inadvertently travelled across dimensions, a journey kick started by a series of body motions that need to be carried out by a group.

The recent season introduced the idea of a giant tree network that spreads across dimensions. The tree communicated with our lead. Seeds and branches are utilized as a way of explaining a complex multiverse reality. The tree also represents a continuing thematic thread for the show: that community is essential to survival.

The OA is at heart a series about alternate realities but it uses this exploration of a possible corner of science to also explore the concept of self. The OA appears to blend science and the spiritual, but it's interesting that a large reveal in regards to interdimensionality takes science to an organic place.

The Expanse

A brilliant example of science fiction TV, one of the story cornerstones to kick start the show is Detective Miller's hunt for a missing woman. By the end of the first season we see that she has been taken over by a seemingly sentient organism.

The Expanse includes a lot of political drama. Conspiracies abound, thanks to a book series that provides fantastic fodder in terms of complex narrative. But it was the futuristic organism (I've seen it referenced online as protomolecule) transforming people that cements an organic element within a series that prides itself on scientific accuracy.

Aliens are behind the infectious construct. The plot is quite complex and becomes more so when it's revealed humanity has begun its own experiments using the protomolecule. But a protomolecule that manipulates biomass, with references to seeds and infections, makes it a great example of an organic representation of futuristic science.

In conclusion…

What messages are currently echoing across small screens in the science fiction genre?

Perhaps that everything in the universe is interconnected. That our minds relate to plants and living organisms as representations of life and death, themes that are always a human preoccupation even when we're travelling the stars.

It's interesting to see where our cultural imagination takes us. Here's to constantly intriguing unfolding scifi stories on the small screen.

My Half a Dozen Fave Female Characters on TV Right Now

Scream Lydia, scream.

Television is a fickle thing: while on paper the concept of a female character can seem ground-breaking, inspiring, and/or relatable, often a viewer’s interpretation doesn’t align with critical consensus.

Instead of a blog disagreeing with certain much-touted female characters pushed upon audiences as positive representations, I thought I'd write about six female characters that engage and interest me to the point where I never miss an episode of the series, in the hopes they make an appearance.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Maintaining an audience is important, and unless people find characters appealing—whether cruel or kind, devious or honest—interest in the show will wane.

A great female character is the culmination of a few factors (all of which apply to male actors/characters as well)*:

-Firstly, impeccable casting. An actor who completely embodies the character understands the person they're portraying on a deeper level, and communicates this to the audience. 

-Writing that creates a multi-dimensional, believable person is (of course) paramount. It's easy to create a character, but taking it to another level, where they seem like a person, is the challenge.

-A show with a framework that provides a wide scope of plot opportunities for the character to grow. 

-Excellent direction. Now and again a director of a tv episode understands the character and the actor so well they help guide a performance from great to phenomenal.

-On point costuming, hair, and makeup. Visual cues can help with characterization, and subtle changes are a great external signal for inner turmoil.

Quinn King in UnREAL
played by Constance Zimmer

I agree with the critics on this one (Zimmer won a Critics' Choice Award for her performance). As the Executive Producer on a Bachelorette-style reality show, Quinn King is a manipulative, ruthless, and complex character. Professionally she's a survivor (reality tv pun) in a male-dominated field, and most of her days are spent avoiding the sharks. 

Relationships with Chet, her lover, and Rachel, her producer, offer insights into the woman behind the ambition. The episode where Quinn was caught reading a bridal magazine was proof even the most cynical and world-weary can occasional fall to the allure of Happily Ever After, no matter how toxic their relationships (or work environment!). Quinn's professional trajectory is achieved through sheer will power and hard work, with ethics more often than not taking a backseat. Guessing Quinn's next move is relatively impossible, which makes for great television.

The key here is believability: Zimmer makes Quinn into an incredibly engaging character you find yourself empathizing with, despite the havoc she's sometimes causing in other people's lives. Her motivations, and her perspective, are so well sold by the ever-impressive Zimmer that in the hyper-world of UnREAL, Quinn feels like a real person.

Mona Vanderwaal in Pretty Little Liars

played by Janel Parrish

Speaking of hyper-realities, Mona Vanderwaal is one of tv's most compelling teenage characters (pre time jump). Over the years Pretty Little Liars has evolved into a complex web of subtext, gender issues and social commentary, to the point where it's bound to end up the subject of a college course - and I'd be happy to give a lecture.

Mona is a dork who transforms herself into an It Girl after the disappearance of queen bee Alison. When Alison's friends are bullied and blackmailed by cyber-presence "A", it turns out to be Mona, who is then admitted to a psych ward; the girls became her dolls, but Mona's actions stemmed from insecurity, and revenge. Thanks in part to a genius IQ, Mona is a manipulator and a survivor. Kidnapped in later seasons, she spends weeks in an underground bunker, forced to pretend to be Alison - blonde wig and all.

Five years into the future and Mona is still brilliant, yet still obsessed with the schoolmates she never managed to make into friends.

The point is you're never quite sure where Mona stands, and Parrish's performance has made Mona arguably the show's most popular character. When Mona smiles she's either happy, hoping to fit in, gloating over secrets (knowledge is power for this clever hacker), or mimicking human emotion for her own ends. The few times the character is truly emotionally vulnerable, Parrish's delivery hits it out of the park.

Dr. Cassandra Railly in 12 Monkeys

played by Amanda Schull

What I love about Cassie Railly in 12 Monkeys is that on paper she is not a character I would relate to, yet the no-nonsense doctor (well, virologist) is portrayed in such an emotive and subtle way by Schull that the audience can't help becoming instantly invested. 

Cassie is kidnapped in the pilot. The guy, Cole, turns out to be time traveller, and tells her where he will be in one year's time before disappearing into thin air (literally). When we next see Cassie, a year has passed and she's a bit of a mess: both her professional career and her personal relationship have unraveled. Still, she's determined to help Cole stop the plague that has almost wiped out humanity in the future.

Cassie really holds her own in this plot. There is an eventual romantic development between Cassie and Cole but it's natural and organic, and doesn't overwhelm the dominating storyline (i.e. saving humanity). Cassie has to do the best she can in her timeline to help Cole with his mission, as he is regularly pulled back to the future. Some of her choices are tough, and occasionally Cassie's responses are unexpected but in some sense understandable (thanks to great writing). 

Obviously the psychological and emotional pressure on the character is extreme, and there is a sincerity and depth to Schull's portrayal that's made her one of current sci-fi television's most rounded female characters.

Lydia Martin in Teen Wolf

played by Holland Roden

I keep meaning to blog on the modern gothic aesthetic of Teen Wolf; even just in terms of cinematography this is a beautifully presented production. Every episode offers a number of shots that could be printed as stills, framed, and hung in a gallery.

Then there is Lydia Martin. Originally the bitchy, beautiful best friend careful to hide her high IQ, clueless to the existence of the supernatural, Lydia's life is reshaped as she begins to discover the true nature of her friends. But the character truly comes into her own with the revelation Lydia is a banshee.

The writer's take on this mythical creature is unusual and frankly, fabulous, amplifying (bad joke) two elements of the traditional tales: sound and death. Lydia is drawn to scenes of death, or impending death, often in a trance-like state (meaning she's driving one place and suddenly finds herself near a corpse, no memory of her change in direction). She also "hears" premonitions in the form of sound. Since most banshees don't manage to hold onto their sanity, Lydia's journey is not an easy one. 

Roden plays the disturbing scenes with an eerie gravitas. At the other end of the spectrum are Lydia's more comedic/fun moments, delivered with equal pizzazz. The key here is the extremely complex character development the writers have spread over a number of seasons, which the actress's topnotch performance turns into into riveting viewing.

Agent Peggy Carter in Agent Carter

played by Hayley Atwell

Peggy Carter was an unusual choice for Marvel's first female-led series. Not only because of the lack of a modern setting, but Peggy isn't a leather-clad vigilante, alien, mutant, or wonder woman (ha!). She's an educated individual whose greatest fight, it could be argued, is against gender prejudices (as the show is set in the 1940s).

Turns out these elements are what make Marvel's Agent Carter so memorable, and so entertaining. Peggy's head is always held high; she battles both super villains and bureaucracy with focus, inventiveness, bravery, and zest. But Peggy is also human - occasionally she gets hurt, and it's this three-dimensional representation that makes Peggy resonate with viewers.

One of the best moments in the series was a flashback to Peggy as a naive young romantic who turns down the chance to become a spy due to her pending marriage. The stark contrast between the past and present versions of the character highlight how much Peggy has changed over the years, and makes the audience empathize with her more. Atwell's nuanced performance combined with quality scripts make the series one to watch.

Uehara Yuri in Good Morning Call
played by Mori Erika

Good Morning Call is a Japanese series on Netflix adapted from a manga. The story follows the evolving romance of two teens at the same high school who end up sharing an apartment after a real estate scam. Very sweet, and fun viewing. I enjoy noting the cultural differences, and the way the show's pace and visual tone differ from American programs. (Side note: The actors eat a lot onscreen, and I like that food isn't just a prop.)

Yuri, played by Mori Erika, is the sister-in-law of the male lead character Hisashi Uehara. Every now and again the show delves into deeper fare with moments of emotional intensity and complex dynamics between characters that are more implied than explicitly explored in the dialogue, and it's these sudden subtle forays (bold contrast to sillier moments) that make the show entertaining.

Erika's character has a mischievous side, but when the laughing, fashionable, professionally successful young woman turns up at Nao and Uehara's apartment—rain-soaked and devastated—to announce she's getting a divorce, the audience sees a whole other side to Yuri.

Considering the language barrier (meaning for English-speaking audiences Erika is communicating largely through tone, body language, facial expressions, and her eyes), the actress' ability to hint at the emotional depths/inner turmoil of the vivacious character is really impressive.


(*Two shows I haven't mentioned with notable female portrayals are Game of Thrones and Downtown Abbey. Both brilliant, but I find what happens to the character's too sad for regular viewing, so I only catch an episode now and again; not enough to really comment on character development.)

You're Wearing That?

"You have a problem with my Sexy Rogue Ensemble?"

The Sexy Rogue Ensemble is de rigueur for male characters battling possible supernatural/paranormal foes on television. I was reminded of the less-than-subtle costuming trend when I saw a shot of Duchovny on the set of the new X-Files, because yes, Mulder's in on it too.

Say hello to The Jacket: rugged fabric in camo green or another no-nonsense dark shade, minimal modern interpretation of a collar, and almost a box cut (in that it's not too loose but not too fitted). 

The Jacket borders on a uniform at this point (except sexy rogues are a touch too non-conformist for uniforms), worn with denim jeans and simple tees/shirts. No bright colors in sight. The sexy rogue usually favors short hair, but kind of scruffy short hair. Like they would be in the army if they could handle rules.

I'm callin' it. Urban Warrior all the way.

Traits you can assume any character wearing this clothing trope onscreen possesses (give or take a few points, 'cause rogues are a tad unpredictable):

-Usually hunting something, or being hunted.

-Will step in and save others, if reluctantly.

-Despite sometimes questionable interpersonal skills, deep down has a heart of gold.

-Generally funny (whether intentionally or not).

-Bit of a hit with the ladies.

-Mega hot despite the bad drinking and eating habits. Fit from all the roguein', I guess. (Hey, it's television.)

Yeah, I can see why they'd wrap this costuming trope around Mulder. Frankly, it's an upgrade from his nineties fashion fare...!

Still coming to terms with the lack of red hair over here.

I consider the character of Dean from Supernatural to be the "father" of this trend. Not because he's the first person to wear it like a uniform, but because he cemented SRE in the zeitgeist over a decade of seasons.

"This looks is MINE."

Can another Dean photo reall-y hurt? Wait, how about his brother instead? #keepinitinthefamily

The Jacket lends itself to"supernatural" moves.

...Other hunter characters on the show have tried to channel the look.

Give it up Garth.

Over on Grimm Nick got the memo about the dress code. A cupboard in the creepy Weapons 'n Weirdness caravan is probably full of The Jacket in black, near black, navy, dark blue, and almost black.  

"Should I have gone for a different shade? Maybe charcoal?"

The Secret Circle reminded audiences this dress code applies to teen witches battling witch hunters as well.

A prettier version on Adam, but still The Jacket.

Vampire Diaries fans will tell you Alaric kept his interpretation cleaner. (Keeps? Now he's not dead? #supernaturalgrammarissues). Vampire hunter, sure, but he's also the local history teacher.

Seriously, I can take a class wearing this.

 An invisible barrier like the one in Under The Dome captured a wild SRE. See that sexy rogue in the background?

Barbie should know better. The Sexy Rogue Ensemble
 isn't popular in small towns.

On Beauty and the Beast Vincent's version made it onto the promo poster.

From rooftops to subway tunnels, SRE is all the rage.

Seriously, this look is always in for sexy rogues. Don't believe me? Ask a time traveller.

"I can confirm I've worn this jacket in multiple timelines."

...Annnddd as much as I'd like to spend the rest of my day sourcing examples of Sexy Rogue Ensembles, I think I've made my point xx

Why 12 Monkeys Is The Surprise Sci-fi Gem of The Season

If you haven't checked out the tv adaption of 12 Monkeys, be sure to make the time (pun intended).

My love of time travel material on the big and small screen took a bit of a battering after the disappointment of Looper. Non-linear stories were once the cutting edge of mind-twisting entertainment, yet recent efforts have been halfhearted at best. William Shatner's live tweets convinced me to give 12 Monkeys a try, but it should be noted I was a jaded audience member going into the pilot.

Creating a tv series from a film premise can be rough, especially in a case like this, where the original movie is a trippy cult number from Terry Gilliam starring Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt. A cinematic reputation like that doesn't make for an easy road to adaptation. And the show's on Syfy, which didn't reassure. I haven't been bowled over by the network's recent scripted television offerings: Dominion, Bitten, and Helix, for starters. The quality of the storytelling has fallen consistently short.

I love science fiction (and the paranormal) because the genres allow narrative to wander in unusual directions. Sci-fi and paranormal shows can push boundaries conceptually and structurally: they're free to explore ideas beyond the parameters of everyday television. Comments can be made on complex social, scientific, and ethical issues all while maintaining empathic, emotional connections with the audience–if the writers know what they're doing, that is. These genres should be the antithesis of clumsy storytelling devices and two-dimensional characters, but increasingly this hasn't been the case, and it's a worrying trend. 

Turns out, sometimes taking a risk on a new show really delivers. 12 Monkeys is the first series in a while that lives up to the expectations implied by the network's name. Elements of the movie have been reshaped to suit the medium; this is a different animal to the film, and it's a good thing. The storylines for each episode (and the season's arc) are crafted meticulously. What makes 12 Monkeys a beautiful viewing experience is the overall sense of balance. 

Let's face it, when you're watching out for paradoxes and characters are moving all over the (time) board like chess pieces gone rogue, it's easy for the storytelling to stumble. The potential pitfalls with this kind of series are daunting, but 12 Monkeys steps adroitly over any possible chasms. You can tell when writers have faith in their product: there are no empty tricks or desperate grabs for audience attention because they know you're hooked from the first minute, and that sense of confident restraint is what can make a show so addictive.

12 Monkeys has moments of dry, very realistic wit that occasionally break up the intensity: small, well-placed doses of unexpected levity that don't detract from the seriousness of the program, but give the audience time to breathe.

Like all brilliant science fiction, humanity is at the heart of the story. The goal is to stop a virus from wiping out the bulk of human life on the planet (either in the past, present, or future). Here the myriad friendships/relationships between the characters are elegantly handled, and prove to be in as much of a state of flux as the timeline.

Yes, the true star of 12 Monkeys is the timeline that just won't do what it's told. I feel like this show is a puzzle my brain is currently engaged in, and the state of the timeline is the end game. Whenever a piece moves, I try to work out what impact the change will have on the overall solution, but I'm unknowingly skipping variables, or waiting to turn over cards from a pack that's constantly being reshuffled.

(Kudos to creators Travis Fickett and Terry Matalas, who are responsible for a bulk of the writing in the first season. Just imagining the whiteboard in the writer's room gives me a headache.)

There's some clever casting, too. In all honesty I would never have chosen Aaron Stanford and Amanda Schull as the show's leads. I've only really seen Schull as the unbalanced Meredith in Pretty Little Liars (and a beauty pageant contestant in a Castle episode) so it seemed risky giving her what is a difficult lead role as Dr. Cassandra Railly. She's the controlled scientific type, and those parts can come across as dull and unlikeable–not through any fault of the actor. But Schull does a fantastic job. I really like Cassie, a character I generally wouldn't connect with, and it's because of the way she's portrayed as much as the way she's written.

Likewise, Aaron Stanford. The first time he appeared onscreen, I thought, really? He doesn't seem like a tough survivor from the future. But by the end of the pilot he'd hit it out of the park as James Cole, and each episode sees him reveal another believable layer, in terms of the character's psyche, to the point where Stanford has made Cole one of my favorite characters currently on television. 

It's worth noting my sense of solidarity jumps from Cole to Cassie; suddenly I'm starkly identifying with one or the other, completely engaging with their perspective, before swinging back. I love this factor, it's a large part of the show's allure. 

From moment to moment I'm uncertain what my viewpoint is, in regards to the status of a period in linear time: the past as a changeable past, the past as the present, the future as a changeable future, the future as the present. For viewers it's like looking through a kaleidoscope. One tiny twist, and you suddenly have a different interpretation of the point the story is passing through.

My favorite character in any television show is generally the wild card. Here it's Jennifer Goines, played by Emily Hampshire. She reminds me of Drucilla from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, possessing, as I call it, the befuddled clarity of insanity. Hampshire manages to compel that particular unease you feel when someone's reactions imply they're not mentally well, and she does it with just her gaze, or a single line.

There are so many ethical and moral quandaries in each episode, not to mention careful attention paid to detail. Favorite examples? When Cassie tried to make Cole comprehend she'd been waiting years for him, even though he'd seen her minutes ago. When Cole tried to make Cassie understand it didn't matter if he killed someone because to him everyone was already dead. When Cole didn't know what a license plate was. When Cassie was in the red forest (a Twin Peaks-esque homage, intentional or otherwise). When Jennifer learnt who killed her father. 

The audience can't shake the sensation any moment of stability in the story is constantly balanced on the head of a pin, destined to come tumbling down, and frankly, it's a delicious feeling.