Say you're happy now - once more with feeling

Today's entry may turn into something of rant. For today I wish to touch upon a very delicate, oft controversial topic.

Remakes.

I bring this up because today I discovered that they (the mysterious, amalgam Hollywood "They") are remaking Starship Troopers. This is on top of Total Recall (coming out 29th August in the UK) and RoboCop (no release date as of yet as far as I know). The first thing I noticed here is the disturbing trend - these are all Paul Verhoeven films. And the first thing I want to say here - Leave Paul Verhoeven alone!

Okay, so I'll admit, I'm actually conflicted. First off, the trailers for Total Recall look pretty damn cool. I'm a little disappointed by the fact that there won't be any mention at all of Mars as there was in the 1990 Arnold Schwarzenegger version because I'm quite fond of Mars as a planet and general sci-fi locale. But because of the lack of Mars, I'm intrigued as to what they're going to do with the film's plot. What is it that Doug Quaid has inside that head of his, eh? In the five seconds of that sentence I came up with a strange idea - are they going to go down a Prometheus-style route, have them discover (on Earth though) some kind of mysterious alien artefact that explains human existence or something like that? Or are they going to run away from that aspect of Total Recall (1990)?

From the look of the latest trailer though (kindly furnished by SFX magazine) it appears that, with the exception of Martian locales, Total Recall (2012) will be a straight up remake. Ish. Again, I'm conflicted. There are elements in the trailer that you can connect straight to the 1990 movie, but the sticking point for me is Mars. Without Mars, this should be an entirely different story. Also, they've cast Bill Nighy as Quato...or, well, the Quato-esque character as they appeared to have renamed him. Either way, Bill Nighy is in this film. I'm going to see it.

Next on the list of conflicted emotions about remakes is RoboCop. Now, the title of this blog is Sufficiently Cyberpunk. RoboCop is quite possibly one of the best existing examples of the cyberpunk genre in movies. It's a classic, a true product of the 1980s, where fear over escalations in the Cold War seemed to produce the perfect mindset for cyberpunk to arise - it was in this very decade that William Gibson wrote the iconic Sprawl Trilogy, the definitive starting point of cyberpunk, a vision of a decaying, dystopian future. A future everyone back then thought they were heading too.

Now the classic 1987 RoboCop wasn't 100% dystopia - okay, so Old Detroit, the movie's primary setting, was a crumbling, decaying cityscape that provided quite a beautifully gritty backdrop for the whole affair. No, the cyberpunk aspect that RoboCop elegantly captures is corporate greed and domination - represented perfectly by Omni Consumer Products and their Senior Vice President, Richard "Dick" Jones, wonderfully portrayed by Ronny Cox. If there was ever a definitive, vile corporate stooge villain, it's Dick Jones.

If the last two paragraphs haven't given it away yet, I love RoboCop. It's an incredible piece of cinema and like I've said, a brilliant, shining example of cyberpunk at work. Which is why I really, really want to say HELL FRAKKIN' NO to a remake. But from what I've read online about it, this isn't going to be a straight remake. It's apparently going to be set in the time between Alex Murphy being brutally murdered by Clarence Boddicker and his gang, taken to the hospital, then built into RoboCop. On some levels, this does sound intriguing - the director, José Padilha - has talked about exploring how OCP stripped Murphy of his humanity, thus turning him into RoboCop.

The other conflict - a similar one discussed about Total Recall (2012) - is casting. First off, we have Gary Oldman as an OCP scientist in charge of the project. This is good - we like Gary Oldman. Second and most conflicting is something of a casting rumour, but if it turns out to be true, I might be broken by this film.

Hugh Laurie as the villain.

Whether he plays it with his native British accent (Hollywood seems to love those British villains) or his gruff, American House accent, I will need to see this film. If the rumours are true. If Hugh Laurie is the villain...well, there's a Futurama meme going around, a picture of Fry, holding a fistful of dollars (yes, deliberate pun), with the words -"The Dark Knight Rises? Shut up and take my money". Confirmation of Hugh Laurie will result in a similar scene from me, substituting The Dark Knight Rises for, obviously, "Hugh Laurie in RoboCop".

It goes without saying that The Dark Knight Rises has already laid claim to my money.

Since I've only just discovered they're going to remake Starship Troopers, I feel no conflict. My precise feeling is "HELL FRAKKIN' NO". Starship Troopers is brilliant. As a kid, it was an exciting sci-fi action film where soldiers went around the galaxy killing massive bug-things. As an adult, it's a glorious satire of military fascism, which makes you giggle about the fact that, as a kid, you were totally rooting for a bunch of fascist, oppressive jerks.

Then some jackass went and made a second film. It was awful. All the satire was dropped. I haven't seen the third film. Not sure I want to. So this is the challenge to the poor unfortunate soul who has dared to even consider remaking Starship Troopers. If you leave out the satire, I don't care if you've faithfully decided to stick to the armoured exoskeletons used in Robert A. Heinlein's original novel. No satire, no monies for you. You got that? Good.

So, to sum up: Total Recall, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and watch you. RoboCop, cast Hugh Laurie and my money is yours. Starship Troopers...in the words of the Alan Rickman cut-away gag in Family Guy - "Do not disappoint me".

I treat all my characters badly!

I have this funny feeling I'm about to invoke some mega-nerd rage from those among my readership who weren't at St Michael's Church in Bath last night. There's a particular Battlestar Galactica and Harley Quinn fan stuck in the deep recesses of Wales that I believe was rather angry with me when I visited Caerdydd this one time and showed her the tickets to this event. You see, last night, at the aforementioned church, legendary sci-fi and fantasy author George R.R. Martin (that's right, Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones) was doing a talk and then book signing.


Oh and he read an extract from his sixth book, The Winds of Winter.


*Ice and Fire fans everywhere explode with rage and grab various items of Valyrian steel*


Naturally, in honour of this momentously awesome occasion, my usual Joss Whedon quotation title tradition has been set aside for the words of George R.R. Martin himself. The title was his response to the question "Why do you treat Tyrion so badly?" Despite having only read A Game of Thrones so far (my signed hardcover copy of A Clash of Kings now awaits me on my bookshelf), I think that's a fair assessment.


I also think it's a fair assessment to say that last night was frakking awesome!


Thanks here go to Topping & Company Booksellers, an independent bookshop in Bath (with another shop in Ely, Cambridgeshire) and the ever wonderful SFX magazine, who through means I've not questioned managed to secure George R.R. Martin's visit to Bath. Kudos, ladies and menfolk. Kudos. Also, much thanks to SFX for laying out copies of issues 219 and 220. I'd already bought 220 for the Jane Espenson interview, so nabbed a copy of 219. Discovered when I arrived home that it had an exclusive Joss Whedon interview. I don't suppose, if anyone from SFX reads this, we could get a Joss Whedon event? Or maybe William Gibson? Pretty please?


Ahem.


So, last night.


It was awesome.


Did I mention that before? Yes? Oh well. It's worth mentioning again.


I'm not sure how much to say about the evening, given that I imagine SFX have some manner of exclusive scoop lined up in their next issue (which I'll totally buy so I can say "I should know. I was there.") So I'll just babble. It's what I do in all my other blog posts and it seems to work out well for me.


I'm always a little bit taken aback at how genuinely funny authors are and I don't know why. I'm going to digress a second - about a year ago I read Douglas Adams' Salmon of Doubt and it made me wish I could have seen him giving a talk before he had passed away (sadly, I had no idea about his awesome writing until long after he passed), as the things he wrote that we collected into Salmon of Doubt were absolutely, genuinely hilarious.


George R.R. Martin was definitely not one to disappoint in the "genuinely hilarious" category. His thoughts on what would have happened should Conan have wandered through the Shire were particularly amusing, as was his insight on the difference between plagiarism and research, now immortalised in the back of my notebook (where all awesome lines that I must use one day go). And, somewhat predictably I imagine, as a writer I found myself listening very attentively to the things he was saying about his characters and what he does with them (this being in the elaborated response to "Why do you treat Tyrion so badly?") and thinking "I might need to take some of these lessons on board."


I also found myself entertaining delusions of one day doing a talk that big when I'm a rich and famous sci-fi author. Not sure I should really be admitting to that...


Now I'd like to digress and take the opportunity to talk a little bit about my thoughts on the Song of Ice and Fire series...well, I say my thoughts on the series. My thoughts on A Game of Thrones.


I came to Song of Ice and Fire sort of through the TV series Game of Thrones. I will say now, I haven't watched it, but my housemates have, they raved about it and when one of my best friends thought she couldn't make the talk yesterday because of a Korn concert (conveniently the day before, it turned out), I offered to go in her stead and get her book signed. From what everyone had been saying, I was kind of intrigued by the sound of Game of Thrones (TV series) and since we'd bought one of our housemates the paperback boxset of the books, it was only natural that after buying tickets for the event that I borrowed A Game of Thrones.


This was, conveniently, around the same time my laptop died.


With nothing to while away the hours I wasn't working but the pleasure of reading, I powered through A Game of Thrones in about a week. I loved it. I geeked out with a regular customer (now good friend) at work about my progress through the book. I found myself rooting for individual characters, not their houses. Definitely despise the Lannisters, with the obvious exception of Tyrion. He's an intriguing, brilliant and devious character, but above all it's his perceptiveness that I enjoy most of all. He has an incredible eye for the frailties and strengths of those around him. His rapport with Jon Snow, another favourite character, is definitely one of the more interesting character dynamics. But above all, I found myself really rooting for Daenerys. It might be that I like dragons. It might be that the word Targaryen rolls off the tongue so nicely that I think she should take the Iron Throne back. Maybe it's the fact that, in the beginning, you're keenly aware she's a thirteen year-old girl who matures into this incredibly strong and wise woman - I could easily believe she aged ten years through the course of the book, even though I'm pretty sure she's fourteen by the end of things.


There's so much more to say, but I fear saying it will risk spoilers, so my digression ends there. In fact, I think this a good place to wrap things up, so it's time for a Jerry Springer-style final thought.


Seeing George R.R. Martin speak last night and briefly meeting him as he signed my book...AWESOME!


*Alien Dave now goes into hiding to avoid geek-rage backlash...*

I'm lost. I'm angry and I'm armed...

First, some clarification. I'm not lost. Well, not geographically anyway. Metaphysically, maybe. I'm not angry, despite a day in the basement and the relentless tide of idle humans who had the opportunity to lounge about in the sun today while the rest of us pandered to their caffeine-craving whims. Also, I apologise for the bitterness. The heat makes me cranky.


However, I am armed.


Sort of.


I have to say, FedEx are frakking awesome. While the impending letter on import duty to be paid will likely put a downer on things, from shipping to delivery, it took them four days. Four days to get my latest item of QMx swag from California to Somerset.


Ladies and menfolk, I am now the extremely proud owner of a replica of the stunt pistol used by the one and only Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the Firefly-class transport Serenity.


All I need now is a long coat of a brownish colour.


But most importantly, I have my replica of Mal's pistol. It is sufficiently, if not - scratch that, IT IS - frakking exceptionally gorram awesome!


As has been promised, pictures will follow eventually. My dear friend Phoenix is still buried under mountains of work, but after that, a photo of me wielding Mal's pistol with the tagline "I aim to misbehave" (predictable, yes, but entirely necessary!) will be forthcoming.


In other news, still no new computer. Once again, a blog post is being composed from my housemate's Mac. Current soundtrack: Ketto - Bonobo. Always makes me think of jPod (series, not the book, though both are awesome) and Kam Fong. I swear, every time I hear this song I feel I'm about to bundled into a Chinese mafia kingpin's limo. To date, this still hasn't happened and as my iPod headphones died around the same time as my computer, these fears won't be surfacing on my walk to work. Or general walks into town. I do miss my soundtrack...


There's not much other news from the land of geekdom. It's pretty much my ownership of Mal's pistol. So let's talk about it some more.


It's a strange thing, finding such fondness and beauty in a weapon of all things, but from the first moment I saw it in Serenity (yes, I did the whole Firefly-Browncoat-fandom a bit backwards), I loved that pistol. From an aesthetic standpoint, it's a beautiful thing. It's the shape, it has all the right dimensions in all the right places. Though it may also be some kind of spiritual connection to the wielder of the weapon. There's no denying it - Malcolm Reynolds (and, by extension his actor, Nathan Fillion) is a damn fine and handsome man. And there's a little part (or maybe big part), I imagine, of many, many male Browncoats that look at Mal, aiming to misbehave with that pistol of his, wishing that they were him, that suave, down-to-Earth-That-Was and dashing rogue. Or you were me, wishing you were that loveable pilot, cursing dinosaurs for their sudden but inevitable betrayals.


If only I could pull off a Hawaiian shirt...


Speaking of these damn fine men, I was reading something rather amusing earlier - SFX magazine's Top 200 Sexiest Characters in Science-Fiction. They've paired their Top 100 Men and Top 100 Women lists and the pairings are more than a little gigglesome. And Number 5...yeah, dude, that is totally destiny.


Until next time my dear readers, I'm going to walk around with Mal's pistol looking gorram shiny.

Now my perfect Sunday...

We're breaking out the Hot Fuzz quotations this time (sorry Joss), as the most prominent subject in my mind is my perfect Sunday. The perfect Sunday that I just had.

So. My perfect Sunday. It kicked off with, as most Sundays do now, with being at work. It was a beautiful, sunny day and anyone familiar with the English weather's current behavioural patterns will know that it just hasn't been sunny for a long while. The typical English response to this - mass exodus from their houses, descend on their town centres and then harass poor, innocent cafe workers with their relentless tide of tedious requests.

I assure you I am not in the least bit bitter about any of this. Honestly.

Anyway, back to my perfect Sunday. So far, you might think it had been a bit pants. I'd been stuck inside all day, serving the general population who were enjoying the sunshine. But strangely enough, that didn't manage to detract from how nice my day became. If anything, it provided a much needed contrast, thus balance, enabling my day to be perfect.

Could I say "perfect" any more? I'll let you keep the running score.

Eventually, work finished, I managed to run away. Now, a bit of context here. My laptop died after three years of noble service (this post is being crafted on my housemate's Mac. The switch around of the @ and " keys is still a little disconcerting). Due to this, when I arrived home on Sunday, I did not automatically switch on said deceased laptop and check my emails. Instead, I made myself a pot of tea (Moroccan mint. Finest kind), stretched myself out on a sofa in our now clean and tidy living room and proceeded to blitz my way through The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov.

About half an hour into these extremely pleasant and relaxed proceedings, I had my epiphany. I was in the middle of my perfect Sunday. Everything was calm and peaceful, I had a good book and some damn good tea (thank you Teahouse Emporium!). All was well. The Universe was in balance. Could it get any better?

Apparently so.

You see, I am a man of infinitely useless knowledge. And that knowledge occasionally finds a convenient outlet in a pub quiz setting. So when my friend Phoenix text me and asked if I wanted to go to the quiz, my evening was pretty much set.

Quick aside: my close friends all have call signs. This is a result of extreme Battlestar Galactica geekdom, which manifested in August 2010. My wingman, Starbuck (so named for the obvious reason of being my wingman...or really wingwoman), was elsewhere while I was at a club, where I was hoping to run into a girl I had met (/Starbuck had made sure I talked to). In a moment of nervous geekdom, I text Starbuck for advice and called her the aforementioned call sign. It stuck. Since then, many people have call signs. I received mine (from Starbuck) in November 2010: Achilles. Why? Because girls are my Achilles' Heel.

They really, really are.

So anyway, pub quiz with Phoenix, Starbuck's boyfriend Wench and two other mutual friends who have yet to receive call signs, rounded off my perfect Sunday. We may have only placed 5th, but it was still an extremely enjoyable evening.

There you have it. My perfect Sunday. Tea, a good book, followed by a damn good quiz. Tradition to continue next week, with different tea, different book, but same quiz and more than likely the same team. But who knows? The future holds many wonderful possibilities. Assassin Girl could come into the cafe and I could finally pluck the courage to ask her out. Kindle Girl might impress me first. A rampaging mob of respectable feminists may murder me for the previous two comments. The editor of SFX could come back in, I would recognise him this time (not just his Mass Effect N7 hoodie) and the resulting conversation could land me my dream job.

If only.

Alternatively, I settle for him noticing the Twitter post linking to this blog, reading it, putting two and two together and then offering me a job...

I get the feeling I'll see Assassin Girl before then...