If I had to describe a recurring
theme across a number of current science fiction TV shows in three words, it
would be: ALONE, TOO ALONE.
Questions and issues facing humanity
(and hence, the screenwriter) are at the core of a lot of science fiction
television. Sci-fi as a genre is often as fascinated with the human spirit, and
the spiritual, as much as science. Emotionally, one recurring thematic thread in recent times is the desire for, or loss of, a sense of community.
On the technical front, the further
we reach toward science beyond our present understanding, the more concepts
begin to take on an element of mysticism. That’s human nature: our perception
can only stretch so far.
I like giving wild concepts the
benefit of the doubt. Who can guess the future? And the art of a lot of sci-fi is to meld present day
concerns with unexpected possibilities: strange, vivid, often left-of-field
ideas.
Perhaps because of technology, and
the inherent disconnect that seems to have taken place in society, a lot of
recent science fiction television offerings focus on human connectivity. And,
you could argue, empathy: the lack, and the need. The pain of isolation is
everywhere on TV.
The OA
The most prominent example would be
The OA, about a blind missing person who returns years later—with her sight. The
first season aligns us with the lead character’s perspective. The fact she may
be lying, or more accurately, lying to herself about certain aspects of her
experiences, isn’t surprising; sci-fi has long had a passionate
relationship with the unreliable narrator.
Underlying the science (which more
informed minds have covered in other blogs) is a celebration of the power of
community. The physical captives she left behind, and the psychological
captives of suburban life she’s gathered.
Influencing it all is the mystical
presence she envisions as a woman, beyond the everyday world.
The Creator, the Other, the
Universe, the Unknown Entity… Some form of empowered consciousness—even if it’s
just the universe itself—is scattered through a lot of science fiction.
The series Frequency explores the
idea of communication between two time periods. By utilizing a father and
daughter cop combo, both investigating the same serial killer at different
points in history, the audience is reassured by the inference that somehow The
Universe is interested in both karma, and closure.
Frequency
The plot plays with The Butterfly
Effect, but at heart the story puts forth the idea that via a kind of science seemingly miraculous to our heroes, lives can be saved. What our heroine
is really trying to save, is her own community: most notably a lover and mother.
Without them she feels… alone.
Stranger Things
By being set in a small, insular
community, from episode one Stranger Things highlights the idea of The Other
versus those who belong. Most of the people in the town, courtesy of their everyday
lives, already feel like The Other—long before another being shows up to take
that niche. The series includes futuristic science so far ahead it communicates to the
characters as mystical, or supernatural.
Killjoys
Killjoys is set in a space-faring
future and follows three bounty hunters whose primary goal is survival. They form
their own community (in a sense) and try to keep the past from interfering with
the future. It’s a cutthroat dystopian world (well, worlds) with little celebration of human connection;
trust is sparse, so the community they’ve created is of growing importance to
them.
Sense8 focuses less on the science aspect
of science fiction, and more on the human connection present in the story. Individuals
around the globe experience each other’s lives through an unexpected mental
connection, the surreality of which quickly builds bonds.
Sense8
A shadowy group hunt the connected,
but the real focus is on the sense of community the linked “sensates” create despite being from very different cultures (and separated physically at the
outset of the show). In some sense, each character gives the impression of being alone, or feeling
isolated because of their perspective, experiences, or society’s perception of
them.
Westworld showcases a faux community
in the Wild West using androids for entertainment. One of the reasons for
creating pseudo-people is to deny them basic rights, thereby providing an
outlet for darker human impulses, without repercussion.
Westworld
The question is, of course, who are
the androids, who are the people and which of these is showing the most
“humanity”? A human creator provides the mystical, elusive character/persona
here. The role of memory is a dominant theme too: if you don't remember an experience, or the people you're told/programmed to love, or hate, does that make you less human?
Humans
The show Humans also focuses on beings
of artificial intelligence, this time designed as a stopgap for problematic areas of society. A dominant plot issue is that when human characters fill a
duel role, i.e. work and home, replacing them with an android in one of these environments
threatens their perceived place in a particular community. AI’s in this future are used,
not integrated: the ultimate outsiders.
The Expanse
The Expanse is incredibly
technically accurate, from a scientific perspective.Alongside
politics and intrigues, the rejection, adoption and valuing of communities,
some separated by space, is paramount to the plot. A ragged band of outsiders—survivors of a conspiracy that killed their crew—are forced to become a community, and peel back the layers of duplicity to
figure out WTH is really going on.
Not a series, but a movie made for Netflix, iBoy is an interesting exploration of early (accidental)
transhumanism. A teen is beaten and a part of his mobile embeds in
his head. After the sexual assault of a friend, he takes on a local gang with
his new “powers” i.e. the ability to interact with wireless technology via his mind.
It could be argued the lead’s most
extreme state of information connectivity created a self-deception of
empowerment and personal connectivity; when in reality, the character was at
his saddest, and most isolated.
iBoy
The people in the flats he calls
home in are the focal point; they’re his community, the ones he wants most
to both protect, and punish. Yet when his actions lean more to revenge than
empathy, a temporary disconnect from loved ones occurs. He feels—despite the
flow of info available to his mind—alone.
Sci-fi flavored entertainment can reflect the
current cultural clime, and it’s clear that as we move forward the quality of
human connection remains a contentious and worrying issue.
Whether flying through space,
traveling through time, or deciding who qualifies as human, feeling emotionally
isolated and unable to connect with, or rely on a sense of community, is a
persistent concern.
Casual use of the term empowerment
has come under scrutiny in recent times; female empowerment especially is a bit of a minefield, and on television everyone has different ideas as to what
constitutes empowered female characters.
Telling people they should like a
character or program for politically correct or “empowering” reasons is
pointless. A television series involves hours of viewing, possibly spread
across years. If the audience doesn’t connect in some way with at least one
character, they won’t continue watching. The harsh truth is you need viewers to
feel engaged, not obligated. And that’s complicated.
People recommend a series and assume
I’ll love it because the female lead “kicks ass.” But lately my reaction has
been disappointment for the most part. When a trend in entertainment takes off,
new tropes and stereotypes evolve, and the current lot hasn’t been holding much
appeal.
Discussing with a friend how
“empowerment” for female characters seems to translate as a penchant for physical
violence and more aggressive language, she pointed out these are characteristics
traditionally viewed as masculine traits, and in today’s world are still more
admired than attributes considered traditionally feminine.
This got me thinking: empathy,
kindness, tolerance and gentleness, historically considered feminine traits
(however right or wrong an assumption) aren’t really celebrated onscreen. Great
for brief humanizing moments, or when displayed by the support cast, but they
aren’t the dominant aspect of leading female characters currently on TV. Aggression—whether
physical or verbal—is generally the popular trait.
At present, I dislike the Passionate Idiot trope most. She’s found not just on television but in film and
fiction too. The Passionate Idiot is often dressed in skin-tight jeans and a
singlet, is a heavy drinker, and always mouthing off. Basically she acts like a
bitch because she’s been hurt in the past. Usually good in physical fights, and
often involved in them, being aggressive both physically and verbally.
With this emerging stereotype
“passion” replaces intelligence as an admirable quality; the passionate idiot
is brave but not too smart, missing vital clues, often
forgoing a plan and leaping into dangerous situations without thinking. But
loyalty to friends, combined with an aggressively “passionate” nature, is apparently
more appealing in terms of hero qualities than an intelligent woman who uses
her brain, and occasionally practices restraint.
Have you ever heard the argument
most TV and film is written to appeal to the inner 12-year-old boy of the male
audience? I feel like the “empowerment” female heroes of today are written to
be in-ya-face cool as imagined by the inner 12-year-old girl of the female
audience.
Scriptwriting is key to creating
interesting female characters onscreen, but glossing a PC veneer of
“empowerment” onto the surface doesn’t an in-depth and fascinating character
make. So what makes a female character on TV qualify as empowered? Tough
question, since it involves breaking down actions and motivations, onion-style.
A flawed character is immensely
appealing and always has been, but why are some deemed annoying while others
become TV icons? At what point, and why, does a representation of a woman on
television leap out of the screen, making the viewer want to see the rest of
her journey? And does a female character need to be “empowered” to be popular?
Life experience impacts audience
response. That’s what I like about television: it’s just you, the story, and a
whole lot of twists and turns, in terms of reactions. Sometimes
people can’t verbalize why they love a show or character, possibly because
they’re not consciously aware of the reasoning; the subconscious has it’s
own agenda, and often doesn’t like to share.
Considering my own response to female
characters on the small screen seemed a good way to ponder empowerment, and
appeal. Below I’ve listed a few shows, characters, and scenes that have stuck,
in the hopes of breaking down where exactly empowerment and engagement cross
for me as a viewer (that will hopefully help me as a writer).
Orphan Black
The clone premise of this program
provides even better storylines than identical twins with opposing
personalities (here’s looking at you, Wakefield sisters from Sweet Valley
High). They say everyone has a doppelganger in the world, and this is a
nightmarish/futuristic interpretation of the idea.
Orphan Black isn’t my favorite
science fiction series but I think the writers play with expectations of
womanhood and a woman’s concept of identity marvelously. Part of Orphan Black’s
success is the way the narrative plays with tropes. Storylines we’re
traditionally used to seeing on TV get flipped on their head. A dark sense of
humor balances out heavy themes; I love the occasionally whacky messes this mob
gets into alongside the intense dramatic moments.
Most notable characters (for me)
include clone Alison Hendrix, a suburban housewife whose desire for Brady-like
perfection turns out to be just one facet of her nature. On her journey
of “empowerment” Alison found time to fit murder and a drug-dealing
career into her busy lifestyle.
Then there is Helena. Trained to be a
killing machine, Helena enters the story as an assassin attempting to eliminate
her fellow clones. Raised on warped religious dogma, she’s hilariously funny in
a deeply shocking way, but at the same time her unique perspective and
experience of the world makes for a fascinating character.
What I like most about Helena is how the evolution of her empowerment is choice in the form of mercy, and
empathy—especially in a maternal sense. And viewers are never 100 per cent sure
which path Helena will take (as shown by her surprising soft spot for Alison’s
fumbling husband Donnie).
The clone club also includes gay
clone Cosima and transgender clone Tony, and the idea the clones have different sexual orientations along with varying personalities is intriguing. Some of the
clone club are extremely intelligent, and I like that while Rachel uses her high IQ without empathy to further her own agenda, Cosima primarily uses her intelligence
to help others.
Being more emotionally open and
connected to each other is part of what empowers the surviving clones; aggression
and physical violence are tools but they also utilize careful planning and choose to practice
kindness, even to the detriment of long-term goals. In summary, Orphan Black
offers a wide spectrum of empowered female characters.
Slap Scene In Pretty Little Liars
Pretty Little Liars is rife with
interesting female representations. Jenna is an intriguing character, blinded
by a prank attributed to the Pretty Little Liars crew (although Alison is primarily
responsible). As a result Jenna is a prime suspect in the hunt for mysterious cyber-bully
A.
In the bathroom scene I’m
referencing, Jenna smirks because she recently paid new character Caleb to spy
on Hanna. Hanna fell in love and lost her virginity to Caleb before discovering
he was in Jenna’s employ.
Upon crossing paths, Hanna, who hasn't employed physical violence up to this point, impulsively slaps Jenna,
who becomes disoriented and frightened; a slap would be shocking for anyone,
but more so for a blind character. The other Pretty Little Liars present are
stunned, displaying neither condemnation nor approval.
Hannah picks up Jenna’s sunglasses
and places them in the girl’s shaking hand, with the line, “This is Hanna, in
case you’re wondering.”
Pretty Little Liars always explores
power dynamics across different types of relationships, especially focusing on
the grey zone. Hanna crosses a line, and in the moment it feels warranted
because the audience sides with her pain. What Jenna set in motion for Hanna
might have pushed another teen to suicide, so it could be argued Jenna's already
crossed a psychologically abusive line.
But hitting
a blind person in the school bathroom is wrong (hey, hitting anyone in the school
toilets seems wrong) and it is one of the first times Jenna appears frightened
in the series. When it comes to lies, manipulation, and bullying, Jenna is
empowered, but in this moment she becomes the victim, and audience empathy
swings to her.
Keeping in
the mind the torment Jenna inflicted, you understand that loss of control even
if you don’t agree with it. Hannah snapped—and slapped! But it’s a simmering
powder keg on both sides. If not for this group of friends Jenna wouldn’t have
lost her sight.
That’s what
I like about the writing: Jenna is a Mean Girl before she loses her sight, and
after. Going blind doesn’t disempower her. In this moment it does place her at
a disadvantage, but overall her personality never loses its vindictive bite. To
paraphrase her stepbrother Toby, she’s a strong person—it’s what she does with
that strength that is the problem.
The confrontation between Jenna and
Hanna has a lot of layers, and history; probably why the scene stuck. In
this moment Hanna leaves veiled and not-so-veiled threats behind, crossing over
into physical violence, but her journey is a result of Jenna leaving veiled
threats behind and crossing into psychologically abusive territory. As with most power plays in the PLL world, nobody wins.
At its core, from day one the show
has been about a group of young women’s struggles for empowerment in the
face of persecution and blackmail, in a largely predatory world.
Women Of The Expanse
Beautiful costuming too.
Most notably, Shohreh Aghdashloo as
Chrisjen Avasarala and Dominique Tipper as Naomi Ngata.
First up, I love the writing on this
show and look forward to the second season. The cultures of the future are
complex, and as a result the politics of the solar system are teetering
on the brink of conflict. Conspiracies abound, and in terms of the main
characters it seems like everybody is hiding something (or maybe the audience becomes
as paranoid as the characters onscreen).
A high-ranking Earth politician, Chrisjen
Avasarala is playing the long game. In pursuit of her goal she has become dehumanized,
or should I say disassociated from the impact of her decisions. Great scriptwriting
lets the audience understand how she came to be this way and why she’s so
blinkered.
Chrisjen Avasarala is also a grieving
mother, and this is worked into the story in a relevant way. The scenes with her
family offer stark contrast to her ruthlessness in the political arena. (Her husband
and grandson can be viewed as embodiments of the Earth First belief system that fuels her actions.)
At present the character is
empowered by her political skills—in the grey zone. Surviving in a morally
bankrupt environment where manipulation is an essential tool, rather than being
a “baddie” the character is presented as an intelligent, complex individual who
has empowered herself in a questionable way. She’s not violent, but has no
qualms ordering violent acts she considers justified. Her empathy is
unpredictable, in terms of the impact it has on decisions, and that’s
intriguing.
The character Naomi Nagata is a bit
of a mystery. She spends the first season trying to stay alive, along with the
rest of the surviving crew, and her interplay with Jim Holden sets up an
interesting power dynamic. Naomi Nagata is intelligent and well liked
on the ship, but she’s obviously got secrets, and when caught up in the fall-out of a
conspiracy the team can’t help being suspicious of each other.
Naomi acts as the moral compass for
the character Amos Burton. Exhibiting sociopathic traits, he has a tendency for
violent responses and only listens to Naomi. In the chaos that erupts, this does
empower her, providing an insta-back-up vote but it’s also a problematic
dynamic, especially under pressure.
By the end of the season it’s clear
how much the team respects this character: calm under pressure, she’s an
independent, clever, loyal, and pragmatic survivor who prefers a non-violent
approach to problem solving. Seeing what Naomi will do next, and whether or not
her secrets will be revealed in Season 2, is one of many reasons I keep tuning
in.
Classic Flashback: Buffy and Co.
Way old skool.
A lot has been written about Buffy
and her friends. Fans will tell you she’s the blonde cheerleader in a horror
movie who is always meant to die… yet didn’t. Instead she becomes the
killer—albeit a righteous one, her victim’s an endless list of supernatural
nasties.
Part of the show’s charm is that people
who love television created it, taking well-known storylines and throwing them
for a loop amidst scripts brimming with pop culture references. More importantly, the
series provided a steady stream of interesting female characters.
In relation to empowerment I think
Buffy losing her supernatural strength (Helpless, Season 3 episode 12), drugged
to the point where she was weaker than the average girl yet still capable of
killing a vampire and surviving to tell the tale, is a standout. The goal was
to show Buffy’s intelligence and survival instinct were the true source of her
power. Episodes like this made the series so phenomenal.
The addition of Faith to the cast
was genius. Faith, a slayer who emerged when Buffy died briefly, came
to be viewed as the dark side of Buffy. Unstable and volatile from the outset,
Faith’s existence allowed larger questions to be worked into the narrative,
like the age-old nature versus nurture.
Buffy maintained friends/family
were the key to her own stability, whereas Willow disagreed, believing Faith’s
violent and destructive tendencies were an innate part of her psyche.
Independence versus responsibility, isolation
versus teamwork: just some of the choices the female lead struggles with. Sexuality and
relationships were also core themes. Angel’s turn to the dark side (a
vampire who loses his soul) as a metaphor for boyfriends who become violent
after sex was brilliantly clever. Learning how to be a woman empowered by a
relationship rather than disempowered was constantly addressed.
I’m not really a fan of the final
season, and dispersing the strength of the slayer to teen girls everywhere is
probably one of my least favorite aspects of the show. But I think any series
that runs longer than half a decade has a season or two less loved by fans.
Aside from Buffy and Faith, Willow,
Cordelia, Anya, Tara, Dawn, Joyce and a heap of other female characters along the way were
on journeys of personal growth. Everyone made mistakes, and evolved.
The women of BTVS were understandably flawed, and that made them endearingly relatable.
Most would say Buffy The Vampire
Slayer had many hits, and a few misses, in terms of addressing female empowerment,
but it was constantly striving to challenge the female characters, and will
always be a standout inspiration for future scriptwriters wanting to create
well-rounded, engaging women of the small screen who inspire their audience.
In the last few years many small screen outings marketed under umbrella term "sci-fi" have seen the genre's reputation take a hit—or should I say laser. Quality has ranged from the meh to the atrocious, with stunning exceptions being 12 Monkeys and Continuum. Thankfully The Expanse makes three: confirmation perhaps that intelligent science fiction television is set to become a welcome trend.
The Expanse is incredibly sophisticated, in
every aspect. I usually equate the Syfy network with clumsier outings where emotional elements of the narrative suffer and the camera work/editing is too blunt and formulaic. This series is so above and beyond (had to work in a reference) the expected standard that I thought it was a cable series. The Expanse is television at a filmic level; stylistically, the fusion of camera work, editing and soundtrack world-build beautifully.
The lighting, the motion, and the angles: all elements glide seamlessly together. Instead of being aware I'm watching a show, I feel like a story is happening in front of my eyes. Having never read the books, I can't comment on the plot transition, but the onscreen narrative is fantastic, and the understated
dialogue in the scripts gives the impression a dozen thematic spider webs are rippling under the surface of
every interaction.
The way the lines are delivered is also note-worthy (which I assume is the director's handiwork): no uncomfortable pauses or loud over-pronunciation from actors wishing they were working in theatre. Naturalness infuses the scenes, something many shows strive to achieve but never attain.
Three locations dominate the story: Earth, Mars, and the Belt (Ceres). Societies on the cusp of war are great
fodder for intrigue, drama, and transformative character development. In The Expanse we meet both the grunts and those at the top of
the food chain.
Cultural prejudices and
philosophies that have sprung up over the years are among my favorite elements. Hearing the word “Martian” applied to humans living on Mars was startling: for a second I thought aliens
were being introduced to the storyline, before realizing the humans on Mars seem
like aliens to the other cultures. (For some reason I kept thinking of Dickson’s
Dorsai, especially Donal, during the scenes with the Mars-ians.)
I hope we get to go to Mars soon. Earth
feels like a cold paradise, empty of initiative and drive, but with the hubris of
history, while the Belters are the grimy, mutated, underbelly survivors. Mars remains relatively mysterious, a closed society whose citizens (so far) display disdain for the other cultures.
The show simmers, a sense of apprehension cloaking every scene. War feels inevitable, but the leads are struggling to hold off the conflict. From the dissension on the Belt to the morally questionable political machinations on Earth, the audience is shown every culture, warts and all—except for Mars.
On the character front, Miller is my least fave, partly because I rarely click with the disillusioned detective character, and partly because he does the man-version of a breathless woman—you know, the husky, soft delivery of lines that people obviously dig since it’s practically part of the trope.
I like Holden. Great to see Steven Strait in a leading role, andthe reluctant hero is one of my preferred character types. Martian officer Lopez was also fantastic; what a performance. Here's hoping he was injured and not dying at the end of episode four. (This show has no qualms killing off seemingly major characters without fanfare, a recent TV trend I can get behind.)
One of the most interesting relationships for me is the Naomi/Amos dynamic. I feel it’s inferred he has a psychopathic personality disorder, in that he cannot differentiate between good and bad reflexively, in terms of moral decisions, and Naomi is his compass.
I’ve seen a lot of comparisons to Battlestar
Galactica and I hope that doesn’t dissuade viewers (like myself) who found Battlestar too
melodramatic and occasionally histrionic, dipping into bouts of grandiose
dialogue. For me, The Expanse is a very different animal.
Criticism of the show as “too
complicated” induces eye rolling. Dumbing down sci-fi is a contradiction in
terms. The greatest works of the genre sweep the audience into an unfolding world. The misguided idea the audience should “know”
everything in the first five minutes, and understand everything courtesy of an extremely limited perspective, is the antithesis of what makes science fiction great.
And to clarify—I don’t find the series complicated
or confusing at all. I find it interesting, engaging, and highly entertaining. Within a sentence or two a character's role is made clear. Each scene offers information on the different societies, and the story. How can people be confused? The world is believable, and the endless shades of grey are fascinating.
If I have any real criticism, I think the
lead-in promotion was problematic. I’m a sci-fi buff, and even I nearly missed
The Expanse. The hero pic of the girl floating in space made me think of Sandra Bullock in Gravity, and most descriptive text
promoting the show online referenced a missing person or heiress, bringing the film with a part-dog Channing Tatum to mind. I filed the series under the
“simple sci-fi” moniker: one of those shows that would be a who-dunnit in space.
In no way did the promotion imply the scope and complexity that greeted me upon
viewing the pilot.
The Expanse feels like a series created by people
who love the genre, and who respect the intelligence of their audience. The
future tech is cool but doesn’t overshadow the story, and isn’t used to fill in
a lack of plot. The expansiveness (accidental pun) is riveting.
Hopefully Syfy will continue to produce this kind
of material, at this level of quality. I think a lot of the show’s success comes from a network placing
their faith in the production team’s talents. Clever, entertaining, complex in an engaging way,
and easily one of the year’s best new shows. Kudos to all involved.
