Andrew Legge's alternate history science fiction film LOLA can still be seen in the IFI and Light House. The IFI is also showing three of Legge's short films as part of their Archive at Lunchtime strand: The Unusual Inventions of Henry Cavendish (2005), The Girl with the Mechanical Maiden (2013), and The Chronoscope (2009). They are free to see (just pick up a ticket from the box office) and are being screened in two programmes on Monday, Wednesday, and (possibly) Friday this week. They're worth seeing on the big screen and would appeal to anyone who liked LOLA as the aesthetic is quite similar (altered archive footage and newly shot material features). For someone curious about LOLA they would also serve as useful tasters.
Two of the three films are actually available to view on YouTube (though I still recommend seeing them in the cinema if at all possible). The Unusual Inventions of Henry Cavendish is a steampunk adventure set in 1895, in which the eponymous inventor seeks to win the heart of a beautiful heiress with his fantastic inventions while battling against a caddish rival. There is a cat.
The Chronoscope meanwhile is effectively proto-LOLA, only with a device that allows people to view the past rather than the future. Like LOLA, it features a lady inventor in the 1930s and is also presented as a documentary.
Directed by Andrew Legge, this is an Irish-made found footage film combining material shot on 16mm film with digitally manipulated archive footage. It follows Mars and Thom, two sisters who in the late 1930s develop a machine that can receive radio and TV signals from the future (the first signal they receive is David Bowie performing "Space Oddity"). When the Second World War starts they use the machine (christened LOLA) to help the British war effort. At first LOLA provides the British with such an edge that they look increasingly invincible, but then things start to go wrong.
I think it is staple of time manipulation stories that foreknowledge becomes a curse. Either people discover that the future has a terrible fate in store for them and in attempting to escape it they cause their doom to happen, or their acting on information from the future causes that future to change. LOLA goes down the second of these roads, and the moment when the sisters realise that things are going wrong is a very striking one. The film is drenched in music, with it initially being the crazy sounds of future pop that attracts the sisters to exploring the future. There is an amazing sequence in which they introduce the Kinks' "You Really Got Me" to the 1940s, with the song becoming a massive hit and a kind of anthem for the British war effort. But then, after another use of LOLA-derived information to thwart a German attack, Mars tunes LOLA into the mid-1970s, expecting to hear and see David Bowie. Instead she gets some other guy singing a song about how he loves the sound of marching feet, with a TV announcer mentioning his other big hit, "To the Gallows", about how he loves seeing traitors being brought to the gallows. Part of the weird unease these songs engender derives from how Bowie-esque they sound. Viewers will of course be aware of Bowie's own mid-1970s flirtation with far right thinking, something that adds a certain frisson to the catchy tunes. Credit must go to the Divine Comedy's Neil Hannon for creating the Nazi pop tunes, and it is shame that their problematic but appropriate (in context) lyrics means they are unlikely to be released as singles.
While this is a film that touches on big themes, it was made during the pandemic with a pretty small cast, so it feels almost like a chamber piece. Stefanie Martini and Emma Appleton are great as the sisters, evoking well the hermetic world of young women who have grown up alone together after the death of their parents. Extra praise is due to Martini for doubling up as a camera operator, for she shot much of the film's 16mm material, for reasons relating to the story (the footage is meant to have been shot by her character) and to the pandemic and perhaps budget (one less person on set). Rory Fleck Byrne is solid as their liaison with military intelligence, the only other character in the film with significant screen time. But what stops the film being a couple of people sitting in a room is the use of doctored archival footage, which goes into overdrive when we have the Nazis invading England and Hitler leading a victory parade through London. Credit is also due to whoever designed the LOLA machine itself, as it is an amazing piece of retro-futurist technology. Nevertheless the film retains its human scale and feels like something of a cross between low-budget time travel film Primer and the disturbing but relatively obscure Nazi Britain picture It Happened Here. It does not get lost in its alternative history narrative, instead focussing on the sisters' attempt to undo the horror unleashed by their faustian pact with LOLA.
Octocon is the Irish national science fiction convention, which takes place each year in October. After an interlude as an online con, Octocon resumed as an in-person event this year, with fans of science fiction and related genres gathering in a Croke Park conference facility. Others joined us online, as this was a hybrid convention. I have already written about some of the programme items that I unfortunately missed, so now it is time to look back at some things that I was lucky enough to witness or even in some cases take part in.
After a brief stint on the Octocon information desk (where I fear that every piece of information I gave out was incorrect), I found myself moderating a panel entitled Crafting Non-Human Worlds and Societies, with the panelists all being people who had created non-human societies in their own works. This was my first time moderating an in-person panel, so obviously there was the fear that angry attendees would take a dislike to the way in which discussion progressed, blame me for their disappointment, and then chase me from the venue with threats of violence. Fortunately the panelists (Máire Brophy, Michael Carroll, Peadar Ó Guilín, and Jo Zebedee) were all dream programme participants: the kind of people who could talk knowledgeably on the subject, illustrating points both from their own works and those of other writers (including Jack Vance, Piers Anthony, R. Scott Bakker, Adrian Tchaikovsky, & Ted Chiang (in particular for "Story of Your Life", which was adapted into the film Arrival). Discussion of animals that a writer might usefully adapt into an alien civilisation naturally turned to cats but also to the octopus and rabbits (with Richard Adams' Watership Down receiving a favourable mention).
Subsequently I sat in the audience for Movie Monster Mash, which looked at cinematatic monsters. I liked the discussion of how some monsters go through cycles of being seen as irredeemably terrifying before shifts present them as either sympathetic or comical before they go back to being terrifying again, with vampires being an obvious example here. I also agreed with those panelists who argued that the 1992 Bram Stoker's Dracula is an absolutely terrible film. I was not sure what to make of the revelation that there is now a revival of interest in werewolves, those most rubbish of monsters.
I missed the start of Fictional Words to Live By, a panel on the way in which fictional works of science fiction and fantasy can contain philosophical nuggets that gestate in our brains. I was interested by the point that much of SFF has now become contemporary myths, with superhero comics & films and Trek Wars being specifically referenced here; given that all of these have gone on far too long and fallen into cosy self-plagiarism I'm not entirely convinced of the quality of myth we are bequeathing to future generations.
And then two readings, firstly by RB Kelly and Jonny Nexus. Kelly's was from the recently published On the Brink, in which the characters are on a Dutch space station. Science fiction usually imagines US or sometimes Chinese controlled space programmes, so it was nice to see some of the smaller nations getting their go (I feel like I should go away and cobble together a series in which some technological breakthrough leads to Ireland colonising the moons of Jupiter). Nexus's first reading also gave us the space programme of a small-ish nation, in this case the United Kingdom in an alternate history where it somehow managed to get an exciting space programme going much earlier than anyone else did in the real world. The setting reminded me of Ministry of Space (by Warren Ellis & Chris Weston), though it felt tonally different, as befits his description of the setting as Dan Dare meets James Bond. The excerpt had an appealing retro-future ambience. Nexus also read a snippet from a work about the Olympian gods playing a table top roleplaying game, which was every bit as bizarre as that sounds.
That took me to the end of Octocon's first day. There was a social event in the evening sponsored by the 2024 Glasgow Worldcon, but I couldn't face the prospect of trying to socialise while wearing a mask (unlike the rest of society, Octocon sees the Covid pandemic as very much still with us). Also I had a cat to feed. And I had to get up early in the morning, as I was appearing on a 10.00 A.M. online panel Monarchy and Nepotism in Fact and Fiction, looking at the fondness of SFF for narratives based around monarchy. Ably moderated by Cheryl Morgan, this saw Jean Bürlesk, Aliette de Bodard, Gillian Polack and myself grumbling that creators all too often misunderstand what they are bringing from the real world into their history, in this case tending to present absolute monarchies and never considering the kind of constitutional or constrained monarchy seen in Europe past and present (to say nothing of monarchies further afield). And while the panel generally felt that the absolute monarchies of SFF are generally not great, it didn't really turn into republics-are-best panel either, for all that I lean that way myself. Jean Bürlesk even went so far as to argue the case for constitutional monarchies, though maybe if I lived in the world's only grand duchy I might do similar.
After that I made the relatively short journey from my home to Croke Park, and somehow managed to miss all programme items until a post-lunch panel entitled A History of Irish Fandom. This to some extent turned into a history of Irish SFF cons, with zines and the like receiving relatively short shrift. There was a bit of talk about the now moribund Irish Science Fiction Association and how it performed a useful role, with Philippa Ryder suggesting that it would be great if someone were to revive it. Having an organisation for science fiction fans sounds amazing — I am imagining membership books, badges, secret codes, possibly uniforms — but I didn't really get much sense from the panel of what ISFA actually did. I should perhaps have a look at FANAC and see if there are any scans of ISFA publications there.
It was fun hearing about the cons of yore though, with the mention of the 1992 Trincon being a particular highlight for me as that was my first (and for a long time only) experience of organised science fiction fandom. One thing I don't think the panelists really touched on is that there was a definite arrogant Trinity student aspect to Trincon, which might have jarred with the wider SF community. It's been a long time but I remember there being panels at Trincon that you would never get at Octocon today (I can't imagine Octocon ever running panels on how Star Trek is stupid or how film science fiction is mostly just a facile dumbed down version of what appears in print). But the Trinity students got their comeuppance in 1997 with Trincon 2, which attracted so few attendees that there was one guest of honour for every five paying punter.
I arrived slightly late to Comics Is Literature, discovering subsequently that the cavalier approach to subject-verb agreement in the panel's title references an internet controversy. This explored the recurring SFF question: "why don't the squares in the literary establishment take our genre stuff seriously?" One thing I did like was the mention of how comics have always been a somewhat disposable medium, with the transition from print to online distribution not necessarily changing this: previously people bought monthly comics that had a tendency to fall apart, now they often view them on a website that might well disappear in the morning. There was also discussion of how comics have long been seen as primarily a medium for children, which undermines their acceptance as something adults can unproblematically enjoy or take seriously.
I was struck though by how the comics panel only really talked about comics in the anglophone world, as my understanding has long been that on the European continent and in Japan it is far less the case that comics are seen as things exclusively for the kids. It would be interesting to look at why there might be that divergence. Also, given that the kids' comic market has now largely disappeared (apart from The Beano), the idea that the problem with comics is their association with children might be something that will no longer hold in the future.
One other point made by the panelists interested me, the idea that comics are a form, not a genre. That is obviously true, with comics covering a range of subject matters, even if ones about guys in funny costumes punching each other are still rather dominant. But I think there is still an extent to which people who like comics and people who create them do kind of see them as effectively a genre. Even the fact that you can have a comics is literature panel without panelists saying "I've nothing in common with you guys because I write romance comics while you are writing crime comics" suggests a certain collective appreciation. There is something a bit circular here of course: regardless of genre, comics are sold in comics shops or in the comics section of bookshops, which reinforces the idea that they are a thing apart from true literary works like the latest Andy McNab tome.
For me though a gap in the comics panel was any discussion of what constitutes literature. Is literature anything with written text? Or is literature a qualitative term (something only becomes literature if it is… literary)? If you take the first approach then any comics that have text are literature, but there is a certain so-what quality to this as the same would be true of a shopping list. If you go down the second road then it becomes possible to argue that some comics are literary enough to be classed as literature, but this also implies that there will be some comics that will not make the grade.
The panel also has me thinking that it is really time I got back into buying monthly comics. It further reminded me that I should be checking out IrishComics.ie on a more regular basis.
I then took a break from panels to attend Half a Man in a Trenchcoat: Network Theory and Storytelling. This was a talk by Harun Šiljak, who took ways of modelling real-life human interaction and then applied them to works of fiction. He began with such mythic works as Beowulf and the Táin Bó Cúailgne, noting that the networks between the characters are statistically similar to those observed in real life networks, once the main characters are excluded (this had me wondering if real life social networks might look a bit unrealistic if mapped from one person's point of view). He then went on to the core of his talk, applying network theory to the first season of Twin Peaks. There was a lot to unpack here — the change in the way the character interactions work once Dale Cooper appears in the first episode (which in turn sees about half of the main characters appearing before and after Cooper first hits the screen), and then the way Cooper and Sherif Truman frequently appearing together skews the network in a way that can be resolved by treating them as one person. The thing I found myself wondering was whether in a show with a whodunnit element like Twin Peaks do the character networks provide clues to the killer's identity.
And then the closing ceremony saw the announcement that Sakura is stepping down as chair, with the new occupant of the hot seat being Paul Carroll. Onward and upward.
I should also mention the trade hall at this year's Octocon, which was perhaps in a smaller space than the last in-person con but which felt like it was completely jam-packed with product. I came home with a pile of stuff. And I should note that I missed the non-appearance of the Golden Blasters and the Vault of Horror. The Golden Blasters was a short film competition and festival that always featured some amazing stuff, while the Vault of Horror saw John Vaughan playing clips from terrible films while drawing attention to their awfulness (this was way more entertaining than I am making it sound). Good things cannot last forever.
One great thing that was back at Octocon was the Lally Wall. This a wall featuring hand-drawn posters by Dave Lally outlining ways people can travel to other conventions happening in Britain and Ireland (and sometimes further afield). No online con has ever managed to replicate these successfully.
So that was that. It was great being back at an in-person science fiction con. Croke Park felt like the nicest venue I've experienced Octocon in (the right size, useful layout, convenient location), with the one caveat about the pretty terrible catering options (for vegetarians: the options were cakes of various kind (all of which ran out by Sunday afternoon), chocolate bars, crisps, manky pre-made sandwiches, and potato wedges (which rapidly ran out); I don't think the meat people did much better.
If you've got this far you might have noticed another thing about Octocon: everyone was wearing masks. This was mandated by the conrunners as an anti-Covid measure, to protect vulnerable attendees. That it was enforced for programme participants was non-ideal for attendees with hearing impairments. The mask requirement seemed a bit strange to me, as by the time Octocon took place almost nothing else in society was enforcing a mask mandate. Was Octocon being excessively cautious, or is the rest of society insanely reckless? I'm not sure how we could answer this question.
For another view of Octocon, check out this report on File 770 by James Bacon: Octocon 2022
Some things stopped during the Covid pandemic, but not Octocon, Ireland's national science fiction convention. It just went online for a couple of years, but earlier this month it made its triumphant return as a live in-person event in Croke Park. Or rather, a hybrid event, for as well as the programme items taking place in Croke Park there were ones taking place online, and some of the in-person events were also streamed for the benefit of the folks at home.
I was there in Croke Park and I attended programme items, even taking part in one or two. But I'm not going to start with those. Instead join me as I look at some of the programme items whose descriptions intrigued me but which I had to miss for one reason or another.
Abandoned Landscapes: As a secret goth I thought this panel sounded fascinating, whether it would be looking at ruined castles or crew-less spaceships orbiting dead planets. But alas, I was serving a stint on the Octocon information desk.
Colonialism in Science Fiction: In science fiction the idea of humanity expanding into space and establishing itself on other worlds is such a staple that it is hard to step back and wonder whether this kind of interstellar settler colonialism is perhaps a bit problematic. I'm not sure if the panel was actually going to look at this kind of issue (the programme notes suggested that it was more likely to be an emo panel in which people pondered their own place in the sinister history of terrestrial colonialism); it would nevertheless have been interesting to see what roads the panelists went down. Sadly this online panel also occurred while I was on the information desk (and while it was recorded and is available to watch online, I'm a great believer in never going back).
Unreliable Narrators and Other Tricks: Unreliable narrators are one of the great tricks of modernist literature (for all that they go back long before the 20th century), though I'm not sure they have been used that much in science fiction, so it would have been interesting to hear how the panelists talked about how this kind of device might be used in our genre fiction. But I was moderating another panel and so missed this.
The Storytelling Legacy of Science Fiction and Fantasy Television: There is something heroically ambitious about attempting to cover the entire 84 year corpus of TV science fiction in one 60 minute panel, for all that I suspect in practice it probably featured a lot of yap about Star Trek and Doctor Who. I was lunching while it was on.
Glasgow 2024 Book Club — Walking On Glass: I would have gone to this if I had read the book. I probably should read some of Iain Banks' non-Culture books sometime.
Nosferatu Watch Party & Zoom Social: I love Nosferatu, F. W. Murnau's brilliant but unauthorised 1922 adaptation of Dracula, the first film to bring a version of the popular count to the screen. In fact Nosferatu may even be the film I have seen the most as I rarely turn down an opportunity to view it. But I was a bit *tired* when it was being streamed and I had a sneaking suspicion that the Zoom social aspect of the screening might feature a lot of people chortling at the 1920s visual effects.
Irish Horror Films: This panel sounded like it was right up my alley and I understand they did talk about Sea Fever (very good) and You Are Not My Mother (initially very good) as well as various other films. They probably didn't mention The Eliminator (very very good). I missed this in-person panel because it was on too soon after an online panel I appeared on from the comfort of my home.
Reading: Gareth Ryder-Hanrahan: I am fascinated by Gareth Ryder-Hanrahan's work on Cthulhu City and The Dracula Dossier, two next-level roleplaying game supplements, but I was lured away by the cheap thrills of a panel on the history of Irish fandom. I was nevertheless sorry to miss this and all the others I failed to attend, as readings are always one of the best things at SF cons.
Dead dog: This was basically people who had been at Octocon going to the pub on the day after the con finished, presumably taking off their mandatory masks and coughing in the face of Octocon's strict Covid rules. But I was doing an Irish class that afternoon and somehow convinced myself that the event would be over by the time my class finished.
Join me real soon for an account of some programme items I managed to actually attend.
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In the zone (Guardian: "The powerful resonances of Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker")
This is a charming French film that begins sadly. Marion goes with her husband, and daughter Nelly to clear out the house of her mother, who has just died. It all proves a bit too much for Marion, who returns home to leave her husband to the task at hand. Nelly goes wandering in the nearby woods and meets a little girl her own age. Going back to the other girl's house she realises it is her grandmother's house, but in the past, and that her new friend is her mother when she was a child. Because she is a small child she is able to roll with this far better than an adult would.
In the hands of an American director I suspect Petite Maman would be a terrible confection of twee sludge, but thanks to Céline Schiamma's understated direction and subtle but impressive performances by twins Joséphine and Gabrielle Sanz as the two girls it remains something gentle and quietly poignant. I recommend this one highly.
There is one odd musical bit. Eventually Nelly explains to little Marion what is going on. Then at one point she is listening to music on headphones and little Marion says "is that the music of the future?" and then asks to hear it. We then get this sudden burst of euphoric electronic music, which might be the only music heard in the entire film (Schiamma does not do soundtracks), which continues playing while the two girls paddle off in a little boat around some weird concrete structure in a lake. For the first time it becomes possible that the bit with little Marion is actually our present and Nelly is living in the future.
As a timeslip fantasy, Pettie Maman was eligible for this year's Hugo Awards. I nominated it in the Best Dramatic Presentation (Short Form) category, but due to biased political voting it failed to make it onto the list of finalists.
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Nelly & Marion (Guardian: "The 50 best films of 2021 in the UK, No 3: Petite Maman")
These are two BBC radio adaptations from 2015 of much older teleplays by Nigel Kneale. They are not available to stream or download on the BBC's own website, but they can be found on shady websites like the Internet Archive or YouTube.
The Stone Tape
This one was adapted from Kneale's 1972 original by Peter Strickland (who also directs) and Matthew Graham. The basic set up is essentially the same as in Nigel Kneale's original: some scientists move into a Victorian mansion to do research and discover that it seems to be haunted; they stumble onto the "stone tape" theory of hauntings (that traumatic events of the past can somehow be recorded in their surroundings). And computer programmer Jill Greely (Jane Asher in the original, played this time by Romola Garai) seems to have a special sensitivity towards the ghostly manifestations.
If you've seen the TV drama then the way this one ends will probably not surprise you. What is maybe interesting is the way in which it deviates from the TV version. For one thing, it is set in 1979 rather than the early 1970s. Also the scientists are working on using sound waves in mining or something, rather than trying to make a breakthrough in recording technology. But the really striking difference for me is the lack of the original's all pervasive racism. I'm guessing that comes from the march of progress and a sense that having a play full of characters who make jokes about "the Japs" or their Irish employer would be a bit problematic in our more enlightened times. Yet it feels like a retreat, not because I am a colossal racist but because the original characters' racism struck me as a marker of weakness and unease on their parts, whether over having to take orders from an Irishman or the imminent destruction of their industry by Japanese competition.
Still, this remains an impressive work, thanks to strong direction and acting bringing out the best of the source material. The play also features striking electronic music by James Cargill of Broadcast and Children of Alice.
The Road
The TV version of this was broadcast in 1963, but no recordings of it survive. For this radio version, Toby Hadoke adapted Nigel Kneale's original script and Charlotte Riches directed. Actors included Mark Gatiss and Hattie Morahan. Set in 1768 this centres on an investigation of mysterious phenomena in a wood by the local squire (one of those gentleman scientist types, played by Adrian Scarborough) and a visiting urban philosopher (Gatiss); the philosopher seems to be carrying on with the squire's wife (Morahan), or maybe I am supposing too much here.
The phenomena being investigated see strange sounds manifesting in a local wood, but only on one night of the year. People report hearing unfathomable and disconcerting noises, but also the sound of screams and people in extreme terror. And a local girl reports that she also heard the sound of people moving over a paved roadway, even though the wood has been there since time immemorial. There are stories of Queen Boudicca's followers being massacred in the woods during Roman times; the squire thinks the sounds might be a stone tape echo of this but the philosopher dismisses such ideas as superstitious nonsense. He sees the supposed haunting as the product of over-active imaginations. It turns out both squire and philosopher are wrong: the actual nature of the haunting may surprise you. The ending packs a considerable punch; rather than spoil it I encourage readers to listen to the audio drama themselves.
Like everyone my age I have not seen the original television version of The Road, but I did find myself wondering how Toby Hadoke's version might have varied from the source material. My suspicion is that Nigel Kneale's philosopher probably did not have a West Indian former slave as a manservant, although it's not impossible that someone of his class at that time might have done. It pleased me that the drama presented 18th century race relations in a reasonably realistic manner and did not present us with a fantasy bollocks utopia version of such things (as seen in popular drama Bridgerton).
These are all BBC audio dramas that I listened to on lunchtime walks while working from home. Some are better than others.
Body Horror (2020)
This was written by Lucy Catherine, who also wrote Harland, which disappointed me. I liked this a bit more. It is set in the near future when the march of progress means it is now possible to perform full body transplants. The main character is a middle aged woman who is less than comfortable in her unfit overweight body. She wins the lotto and has her head grafted onto the body of a young woman who died in a tragic accident. She also has some kind of remould to de-age her face. So all is good. Except she starts feeling ghostly impressions of her new body's former owner. And she begins to hear suggestions that the body transplant clinic might have its own dark secrets.
I thought maybe this unfolded in a somewhat predictable manner, but for all that it was well made and packed a few punches as it rolled along. Try it for yourself and see what you think: Body Horror
Power Out (2020)
And this one is about a kid hacker who gets involved in a radical group who decide to bring down the UK national grid as a protest against environmental destruction or something. The characterisation is pretty good but I thought the kid hacker was portrayed too positively; the programme did not really engage with how many people would die or see themselves fall into destitution if the UK power grid was brought down. But you can listen to it yourself here.
Steelheads (2021)
This one starts off with an up and coming star tennis player who has an inoperable brain tumour. She agrees to be placed in suspended animation in the hope that the passage of time will mean that future science be able to cure her. But when she awakes, the world has gone to complete shit despite it being only a couple of years into the future.
It is by the same people who created The Cipher but is much better than that, with the plotting carrying things along in an enjoyably relentless manner while Jessica Barden is impressive as the lead. But when they finally reveal what has happened to the world I didn't really buy it. I found myself thinking that a problem with mystery dramas is that too often the writers make them up as they go along, coming unstuck when they have to pull an explanatory rabbit out of the hat.
I have saved the best till last, and it is an odd one. Written by Natasha Hodgson and with creepy narration by Alice Lowe, it presents itself as being a kind of programme to help people sleep, combined with some kind of semi-scientific study of people's dreams. So it starts off with Alice Lowe talking about how worried she is about how the listener hasn't been sleeping too well lately and how we should sit back and let her help us, but then it switches into what seems to be re-enactments of people's dreams. At first these are bizarre but comic, with the kind of surreal logic found in real dreams. A writer finds himself being berated by an interviewer after he has written a book so big that it won't fit in his house. A couple go for a picnic in the woods in an attempt to save their troubled relationship but then encounter a man who has got stuck while taking part in a fun run in a "Sonic the Hog" costume; their efforts to help him trigger the destruction of their relationship. And so on. But the mood begins to shift, with things becoming noticeably more ominous when one guy asks another, "Did a bird man ever come to your school?" After that it becomes impossible to miss all the references to birds peppering the various dreams.
What it's all actually about remains a bit arcane but the journey is a fascinating one. And I find myself thinking that I should give it a re-listen while lying in bed falling asleep, letting it seep into my dreams. Maybe you should do that too, but be careful of the Bird Man.
Did anyone else ever have the bird man come to their primary school? WITH THE PHOTOS OF OWLS AND HUMMINGBIRDS? AND WE BOUGHT THEM. SO MANY.
One great thing I discovered subsequently is that back in 2012 Natasha Hodgson tweeted about how the Bird Man did actually come to her primary school. So clearly this drama was a long time hatching, making her an obsessive hero for our sleep deprived times.
I went to London for a celebration of the centenary of the birth of screenwriter Nigel Kneale. Organised by Jon Dear, with the glamorous assistance of Toby Hadoke, Howard David Ingham, and Andy Murray, this was a day of screenings and panel discussions in the Crouch End Picturehouse.Nigel Kneale is not a household name by any means, but in his long career he produced striking work for television and cinema. He started writing for television in the 1950s, when TV drama was starting to become a thing, and while he initially wrote all kinds of stuff it is his science fiction and horror writing that he is remembered for. His best known works probably being the three 1950s series of Quatermass (a kind of proto-Doctor Who, except for grown ups), though he was still writing into the 1990s.
The first panel looked at Kneale's early work with the BBC, which started with literary adaptations and then moved on to The Quatermass Experiment in 1953 and its follow-up serials in 1955 and 1958, as well as his adaptation of Nineteen Eighty-Four in 1954. These were the event television of their time, with questions being asked in parliament about Nineteen Eighty-Four and the streets reportedly emptying when Quatermass was on, though of course this was also a time when there was only one British TV channel. The details of television's early years brought up the panelists were fascinating. At that point television, even drama, was still mostly broadcast live; pre-recording was only used for material shot outside, which was still a bit of a novelty. Drama was also conceived in very theatrical terms, with Reginald Tate, the actor playing Quatermass in the first series, taking a bow at the end of the last episode.
One of the panelists had looked up what was actually shown on the BBC on the day the first episode of The Quatermass Experiment was shown. Initially there was alternating coverage of Royal Ascot and Formula One motor racing, then a short piece of children's programming, more Ascot and motor racing, and a news reel, all interspersed with interludes when nothing was being shown. And then a warning from the announcer that the following programme might not be suitable for children or those of a nervous disposition, before the ominous tones of Holst's "Mars" brought us into the world of Professor Quatermass and his experiment.
Another point made by the panelists (and one repeated through the day) was that for all Nigel Kneale's best remembered work dealt with science fiction and horror themes, he never thought of himself as a genre writer and was indeed very dismissive of science fiction. Partly that derived from his having a somewhat limited sense of what constituted science fiction, seeing it as something characterised by the US pulp tradition and screen material inspired by it. Science fiction fans will rightly grumble that the genre has so much more to offer. And yet if you look at what passes for screen science fiction now you see that it is dominated by films in which people in stupid costumes punch each other or by formulaic Trek Wars crap that is cosily familiar rather than in any way challenging. It's like the pulp tradition has taken over science fiction, so maybe Kneale was right to dismiss the genre entirely.
This discussion preceded a screening of "Contact has been established", the first episode of The Quatermass Experiment. Professor Quatermass is the director of a British space programme that has sent a manned rocket into orbit, but something has gone wrong. Eventually the rocket crash lands in south London, but inexplicably there is only one of the three astronauts left inside the capsule.
One thing that struck me with this episode was how the shadow of the Second World War hangs over Kneale's early work. After the rocket lands on a residential street displaced locals reference the Blitz, with one confused woman seeming to think that the V2 rockets are back. The later Quatermass and the Pit sees people finding something during tunnelling that they initially think is an unexploded German bomb (that drama's nightmarish climax sees people consumed by an urge to exterminate the different, which also evokes the horrors of the Third Reich). And Kneale's Nineteen Eighty-Four feels very much like it is set in a world where the Second World War never stopped (which I think was Orwell's intention but it is maybe less obvious to us when reading his book). I suppose in the 1950s the war was still very recent, with some food rationing still in place when the first Quatermass episode was broadcast. That the war, or something like it, could start up again must have been a fear forever lurking below the surface. The depiction of a street destroyed by a rocket must have triggered uneasy memories on the part of many viewers (and for all the studio bound nature of the first Quatermass episode, the ruined house set is surprisingly effective).
"Contact has been established" was followed by Tom Baker reading Kneale's short story "The Photograph"; the story is from much further back but this was broadcast in 1978, when Baker had only recently departed from Doctor Who (ironic in that Kneale thought Doctor Who was rubbish but also resented how its producers lifted his plots and themes). After a short break Jon Dear talked to Douglas Weir of the BFI about the restoration of Kneale's Nineteen Eighty-Four (out now (finally) on DVD and Blu-Ray); having seen that some years ago at Loncon I am looking forward to catching it again in all its restored glory.
Then we had a panel on Nigel Kneale in the 1970s. This was Kneale's folk horror period, with ancient evils supplanting the dangers of science gone wrong in his work (though arguably the danger of chthonic terrors from the past was also a theme appearing in some of his earlier work, notably Quatermass and the Pit, while the 1970s still saw Kneale engaging with science fiction themes in the likes of The Stone Tape and the final 1979 Quatermass series). By now of course television was a much more mature medium, broadcast in colour with drama no longer going out live. And there were more channels in Britain (three, to be precise). TV was also edgier: for all that Mary Whitehouse was clipping its heels, much more could be shown now than in the 1950s. There was an interesting point made by Una McCormack about how not all of this lack of inhibition in the 1970s was necessarily great, with the television and cinema of the era sometimes seeing sexism slide into outright misogyny (think about how common sexual assault of women is in notable works of the decade); she talked of Kneale acknowledging this and reacting against it in the likes of Murrain or the Beasts episode "Special Offer". You could see something similar in The Stone Tape, where Jane Asher plays almost the only woman in a drama otherwise featuring a lot of often boorish men.
That was followed by a screening of Murrain, originally broadcast by ITV as part of the Against the Crowd anthology series. The film is based on two conflicts: the young vet representing science and modernity versus the superstition of the country folk, and then same superstitious country folk versus the eccentric old woman they believe to have cursed them. It makes for disconcerting viewing as it is never quite clear where your sympathies are meant to lie. Well, the vet is always operating with the most noble of motives, but beyond that it gets more complicated. Are the countryfolk bad because they are persecuting an old woman for no crime other than being a bit odd? Or is the old woman actually an evil witch who has brought a curse down on her neighbours? Or is she a woman of power who is merely striking back against her neighbours' persecution? The drama also retains an ambiguity as to whether the old woman is actually possessed of sinister powers, or whether the various ailments afflicting those who have slighted her are psychosomatic (which could be the case even if the old woman thinks she has cursed them). On the other hand, the farmer's pigs are actually suffering from a mysterious sickness (the murrain of the title), something that for them is unlikely to result from a belief in witchcraft.
Murrain is also surprisingly funny. Not funny all the time, but it has its moments. Like when the vet is in the village shop trying to buy stuff for the old lady. He asks the shopkeeper if she has any olives or chorizo; she gives him a look suggesting there is not much demand for such fripperies in these parts.
Murrain also gives us the great phrase from the vet, "We don't go back", with which he asserts his confidence that science will always provide the answers and that the old ways of superstition have nothing to offer us. The phrase gave Howard David Ingham the title for their book on folk horror, because the whole genre is largely based on the idea that maybe we will go back actually. By the end of Murrain even the vet's confidence in science seems to be shaken, for all that the drama's climax remains ambiguous.
That was followed by a panel on Kneale on film. For all that he wrote primarily for television, there are a good number of films based on his work or else scripted by him. Hammer made films of the three 1950s Quatermass series, the first two in the 1950s while Quatermass and the Pit (the best by a considerable margin) did not appear until 1967. He wrote some other films for Hammer (Abominable Snowman and The Witches) as well as an adaptation of H. G. Wells' The First Men in the Moon (which seemed to be always on television when I was a child). And he did some non-genre work (including, surprisingly to me, adaptations of John Osborne plays). But it was hard to escape the feeling that film was not really his medium, with his writing for the big screen being littered with projects that were stillborn or ended up as compromised failures (e.g. Halloween 3). Cinema is a more difficult medium for writers, with the amount of money riding on a picture meaning that someone like Kneale was never going to be given the kind of free rein he had on television.
And then we had a short clip from The Quatermass Xperiment [sic], the 1955 Hammer film adaptation of the first Quatermass series. A little girl playing on her own meets what we know to be a man transforming into something else, in a scene that cannot but evoke a disturbing counterpart in the 1931 film of Frankenstein. The girl was played by Jane Asher, who started out as a child actor. We then had the excitement of Jon Dear interviewing Jane Asher (Jane Fucking Asher!) as an introduction to a screening of The Stone Tape, in which she played the leading role.
Asher lent the day an air of star quality and was an engaging and entertaining interviewee. I was particularly amused by how one of her anecdotes pivoted to "He was a lovely man" when she discovered that its subject (a Stone Tape collaborator) was still alive. I had to admire her making a long round trip to attend the event, particularly given that she did not stay for the screening (she mentioned hating seeing herself on screen, something which I understand is not uncommon among actors). I was also struck by how there was an accidental echo of The Stone Tape in her appearance in the Picturehouse. In the TV drama she plays almost the only female character, isolated in a world of blokey blokes, while the Nigel Kneale Centenary event was also a pretty male-dominated affair, both in terms of the audience and the programme participants (there were several manels and no panel with more than one female participant); hopefully this event went better for her than The Stone Tape did for the character she played.
And so to The Stone Tape itself. As with almost all the screenings, this was my first time seeing this, though it is something I have heard discussed at folk horror online events. It is a feature length TV play first broadcast on BBC 2 in 1972. It mixes science fiction and horror, being in part a ghost story but also attempting to offer a scientific explanation for hauntings (the idea that places can somehow record events that have taken place in them, now often referred to as the Stone Tape theory, for all that the idea preceded the drama). And the play itself is about recording, as its premise is that a team of recording engineers are setting up in a country house to research new audio technologies. The house being haunted presents some challenges, but when they hit on the Stone Tape theory they start thinking that this could maybe be harnessed into a revolutionary new audiovisual recording medium. But this is horror so things do not entirely work out.
I mentioned that Jane Asher plays (almost) the only female character in The Stone Tape, a computer programmer. The sexism of the era is a bit of a theme to this one, with the married head of the project in a problematic relationship with her, while she often finds herself patronised by her colleagues. But what is really striking about the drama is the racism. The researchers are in competition with Japanese rivals, and every time they are mentioned (usually as "The Japs") the characters switch into the kind of parody Asian accent and facial contortions that would disbar you from public office if a recording of you doing it were to surface. And also the company they work for, Ryan Electrics, is owned by an Irishman; he never appears but whenever he is invoked the characters switch into stage Irish accents. Yet it is hard not to see all this as signs of weakness rather than confidence. It must gall these arrogant Englishmen to be taking orders from the scion of one of their former colonies. And for all their mocking of the Japanese, it is stated fairly explicitly that unless the team achieve their sonic breakthrough the British audio industry will be soon wiped out by its East Asian competitors. The sexism might also mask a blokey unease that women are now moving into the workforce and occupying roles that would previously have been the preserve of men.
I should also mention that The Stone Tape features an amazing BBC Radiophonic Workshop soundtrack.
I was talking after the screening to one of my neighbours about how Ireland and the Irish people are a bit of recurring theme for Kneale. As well as Ryan, he mentioned how in Quatermass II the revolt against the alien invaders begins on St. Patrick's Day and is spearheaded by Irish labourers. And there is an Irish drunk in The Quatermass Experiment. Irish names show up throughout Kneale's work. I'm not sure what the significance of this might be. Kneale was not from Ireland and as far as I know he did not have ancestors from here; he may never have visited the island. But maybe this is not so remarkable: there are lots of Irish people in Britain after all, and they are an easy kind of slight other to represent.
And then we had an odd thing, a live performance of You Must Listen a lost Nigel Kneale radio play broadcast in 1952. Again it combined technology and hauntings, with an initially comical tale of crossed telephone lines becoming more macabre as the intruding voice is revealed to be that of a dead person. It had a lot of characters, who were performed by programme participants and a few professional actors (these were not mutually exclusive categories). I was impressed by how Mark Gatiss, probably the most famous participant, took a relatively minor role.
You Must Listen reminded me somewhat of Robert Presslie's short story "Dial 'O' for Operator", in some respects a similar tale of crossed wires and temporal distortion, though in other ways rather different. Presslie's story did not appear until 1958, so it is possible Kneale's drama planted the seed in his brain.
The final panel looked at Kneale's legacy. Stephen Gallagher compared Kneale to Stephen King, in that both writers revolutionised horror by placing it in everyday contemporary settings (sadly no one noted that we were attending an event in Crouch End, setting and title of one of King's most effective short stories). There was also reference to the disturbing prescience of his late 1968 TV play The Year of the Sex Olympics, which prefigures much of the reality television that blights our age, with something like Naked Attraction almost looking like it took Kneale's play as a template. Mark Gatiss mentioned that at the peak of The League of Gentlemen's success, he tried to push the BBC's controller to commission a new series from Kneale, still living at the time. However, he was told that there was no place on the BBC for someone whose career started before the invention of the remote control.
And then the day closed with a screening of Quatermass and the Pit, the 1967 Hammer film version of the 1958-59 TV series. Directed by Roy Ward Baker and with a strong cast including Andrew Keir as Professor Quatermass, James Donald and Barbara Shelley as palaeontologists, and Julian Glover as an army officer. Like much of Kneale's work, this combines science fiction and horror, with Quatermass's space research interrupted by the discovery of strange hominid remains during construction work on an extension to the London Underground's Central Line; that initial find is followed by ever more disturbing revelations about the true history of humanity.
It is a stunning piece of work, with the tension building as the awful truth is gradually uncovered and the drama moves towards an apocalyptic climax. Maybe the closing section of the film is ever so slightly rushed, but Kneale nevertheless did an amazing job condensing a TV series of more than three hours into a film of 97 minutes, with the propulsive energy of the narrative carrying the viewer along without leaving them time to ponder possible logical gaps in what they are watching. Much of the horror comes from people realising things or just having an idea at the edge of their understanding: there is an astonishing scene early on where a tough policeman comes close to a breakdown merely be viewing odd graffiti marks in an abandoned house. As one of the panellists earlier remarked, The Quatermass Experiment is about an alien incursion happening now while Quatermass II has an invasion that began a couple of years ago, but in Quatermass and the Pit the alien invasion took place five million years ago and basically succeeded, profoundly altering the course of human development but not in a good way (this a year before the publication of Erich Van Daniken's Chariot of the Gods).
The film also looks amazing. It has the saturated colour of Hammer films of the era but somehow this all seems more impressive in what was then a contemporary context rather than being in some backward corner of Mitteleuropa. Like other Hammer films Quatermass and the Pit is also happy to focus much attention on the good looks of a female lead. Yet for all that Barbara Shelley appears in a succession of stunning outfits, she is never presented as the kind of sexy lady seen in other Hammer films (for comparison see her performance in the latter part of Dracula, Prince of Darkness); the film's poster is somewhat misleading in this regard.
And that I suppose was that. I enjoyed the event a lot, with the combination of programming and discussion working very well. The material shown to us was particularly well chosen, presenting a fascinating overview of Kneale's career, building like one of his works to a terrifying climax, in this case Quatermass and the Pit. The panels were full of interesting people whose insights greatly improved our enjoyment of the screenings and had me thinking of more things to watch. Overall the event had the feeling of a cosy SF con (there was even a slightly redux Lally Wall). Looking back though I found myself thinking about two things the panellists did not really touch on. The first was Kneale's non-genre work, only really mentioned in passing. There was a surprising amount of this, including an episode of Kavanagh QC (his last work according to IMDB), an adaptation of Sharpe's Gold, the previously mentioned John Osborne screenplays, and an adaptation of Wuthering Heights (which admittedly is semi-genre). What I was curious about here is whether in his work on these non-genre pieces he still somehow injected some Kneale magic into proceedings, or whether they are essentially pieces of generic hackwork that could have been written by anyone. The other thing I found myself wondering was whether Kneale ever considered moving into direction, thereby trying to become a proper auteur director rather than a writer who had to worry about how his work would be realised. Books like Into the Unknown by Andy Murray (on sale at the centenary event but sadly all copies were snapped up before I could buy one) or We Are The Martians (edited by Neil Snowdon) might provide further insights into these questions.
And now for some items that could be nominated in the best dramatic presentation, long form category in this year's Hugo Awards. These are dramatic presentations that are more than 90 minutes long and which first appeared in 2020.
Possessor - Brandon Cronenberg's second feature deals with a body-swapping assassin whose sense of self is starting to break down. It is grim fare but an impressive piece of work.
Tenet - Directed by Christopher Nolan, this was meant to be the big budget film that would bring people back to the cinema after Covid lockdowns. Its time-travel plot might not bear too much analysis but it looks great and features some stunning action set pieces.
Bill & Ted Face The Music - This however may have been the time travel film we actually needed in 2020. The amiable twosome from the previous films find themselves tasked with writing the song that will unite the world and thereby save it from destruction. Along the way they travel forwards in time meeting possible future versions of themselves while their equally amiable daughters go into the past to recruit the greatest musicians of all time. It's a very likeable film and for me was the perfect antidote to 2020's year of grimness.
Children of the Stones - This audio drama adapts the classic 1970s TV series about a spooky English village set within a stone circle. A strong cast and great sound design make this a worthy updating of the much-loved original. It can be downloaded or streamed from the BBC website.
The Shadow Over Innsmouth - Another audio drama, this is the third of the Lovecraft Investigations directed and written by Julian Simpson for Sweet Talk Productions and the BBC. The story bears a loose relationship to the H. P. Lovecraft story of the same name and like previous series it is presented as though it was a true crime podcast. Aside from the spookiness, part of the fun in this one comes from how it incorporates real events of 2020 into the narrative. It and the previous series also be downloaded or streamed from the BBC website.
I will probably nominate all of the above. My prediction is that only Tenet and Bill & Ted make it onto the ballot.
Nominations will soon be open for the 2021 Hugo Awards, which will be awarded at this year's World Science Fiction Convention, DisCon III (the third Worldcon to take place in Washington DC). Something tells me you would like me to list the 2020 dramatic presentations I have seen. I will do so.
But first a gripe. One thing that increasingly irks me about the dramatic presentation categories in the Hugo Awards is their structural bias against non-mainstream cinema. By this I do not mean the way big budget films and TV programmes are more widely distributed and marketed, making it more likely that people will have seen them and so be able to nominate them. Nor do I mean the sad fact that for many people superhero punch-ups and Trek-Wars are the limit of their engagement with dramatic science fiction. What I am actually grumbling about is the way the nomination rules effectively render many non-mainstream films ineligible for the Hugos.
What do I mean here? Well, to be eligible for the Hugos, a dramatic presentation has to have been publicly presented for the first time in the previous calendar year. That's an easy condition to meet for mainstream cinema and TV works, which tend to be released to great fanfare more or less simultaneously all over the world. Non-mainstream cinema works differently, with films often being shown first at a film festival or two (often the Toronto film festival, which takes place in September) before receiving a proper release in the following year. This means that in the year these works are first publicly presented, hardly anyone will have seen them, and then by the time they have been shown more widely they are no longer eligible for the Hugos.
I know there is a procedure whereby the WSFS business meeting at Worldcon can extend the eligibility of a work that has only received a limited release. However, that can only be availed of if a work has champions who like going to WSFS business meetings. And it can only be done on a case by case basis. All this means that non-mainstream dramatic presentations often have an extra hoop to jump through before they even stand a chance of being nominated.
I don't know what can be done about this. It's hard to see how to re-write the Hugo rules to allow for items to be eligible when they are widely released without getting into horrendous arguments about what we mean by widely released. So I'm not blaming anyone for this sad state of affairs or even advocating for a change but rather I am raging against the cruel fates that have brought this situation into being.
This is all by way of bringing us to three films that were released in 2020 and would be well worth nominating for the 2021 Hugos if they were not ineligible because they were shown at film festivals in 2019. And here they are.
The Lighthouse - Robert Eggers' film of two lighthouse keepers going mad and resorting to onanism deals with themes of isolation that made it very relevant in our year of social distancing. It also features strong performances from Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe. I think the presence of a mermaid and the general warping of reality would have otherwise made it eligible for the Hugos.
The Color Out of Space - No one ever talks about it but apparently H. P. Lovecraft was a bit of a racist, so maybe no one other than me would have wanted to nominate this adaptation of his classic short story of cosmic horror. Which is a shame, as aside from giving us director Richard Stanley's return to directing features it also boasts some strong performances by Nicolas Cage, Joely Richardson, Madeleine Arthur and the rest of the cast, while the casting of black British actor as HPL analogue Ward Phillips would also irk Lovecraft's racist fans.
Sea Fever - Neasa Hardiman has directed a lot of TV but this was her accomplished feature film debut. It's a pity the pandemic meant that it did not receive a wide release, but its theme of contagion and isolation made it apposite to the times we are living in. A lazy person might describe this as The Thing meets Alien on a boat, but it is a considerably more interesting film than that makes it sounds, also subtly engaging with issues of neuro-divergence, human displacement, and global migration patterns.
Come back tomorrow when I will discuss some items that are actually eligible for this year's Hugo Awards.
image:
The meteorite (Basement Rejects: Color Out of Space (2019))
Popular blog File 770 has a post by JJ on Where To Find The 2020 Hugo Award Finalists For Free Online, a useful resource for anyone wanting to start reading before the Hugo Voter Packet becomes available. But what of the 1945 Retro Hugo Awards finalists? There is unlikely to be a Voter Packet for these, so how are Hugo Awards voters to go about making an informed choice here? Fortunately, many of the works that will be on the ballot are available online, either on the Internet Archive or elsewhere. Below I have compiled links to as many of these as I could find, and provided information about whether items are in print or otherwise. If any of the links do not work, please let me know in the comments.
Best Novel
The Golden Fleece, by Robert Graves (Cassell & Company). Also known as Hercules, My Shipmate, this retelling of the Jason and the Argonauts story is in print and available from book stores and online retailers.
Land of Terror, by Edgar Rice Burroughs (Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc.). Ebook versions of this can be purchased online. It is also out of copyright in Australia, so can be read on that country's Project Gutenberg.
"Shadow Over Mars", by Leigh Brackett (Startling Stories, Fall 1944). Subsequently published as the standalone novel The Nemesis from Terra, which appears to be out of print, but the magazine it first appeared in can be read or downloaded on the Internet Archive.
Sirius: A Fantasy of Love and Discord, by Olaf Stapledon (Secker & Warberg). In print and readily obtainable.
The Wind on the Moon, by Eric Linklater (Macmillan and Co.). In print and readily obtainable.
"The Winged Man", by A. E. van Vogt and E. Mayne Hull (Astounding Science Fiction, May-June 1944). Originally serialised in Astounding, this was subsequently published as a complete novel but appears to now be out of print. It can be read in the May and June 1944 issues of Astounding Science Fiction on the Internet Archive.
"Intruders from the Stars", by Ross Rocklynne (Amazing Stories, January 1944). This has also been published in one volume with Malcolm Smith's "Flight of the Starling", in which format it may be available from online booksellers.
"The Jewel of Bas", by Leigh Brackett (Planet Stories, Spring 1944). This has also appeared in collections of Brackett's work.
"Arena", by Fredric Brown (Astounding Science Fiction, June 1944). This can be read in print in various anthologies, of which The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Volume One, 1929-1964 appears to be readily available. See also its ISFDB entry.
"City", by Clifford D. Simak (Astounding Science Fiction, May 1944). This also appears as a chapter in the readily available novel of the same name. If you want to read all the nominated pieces from City in publication order, read this one first.
"The Big and the Little", by Isaac Asimov (Astounding Science Fiction, August 1944). As "The Merchant Princes", this appears in the novel Foundation. If you want to read the two stories from Foundation in publication order, read this second.
"And the Gods Laughed", by Fredric Brown (Planet Stories, Spring 1944). This also appears in anthologies of Brown's work.
"Desertion", by Clifford D. Simak (Astounding Science Fiction, November 1944). This also appears as a chapter in the novel City. If you want to read the nominated stories from City in publication order, read this third.
"Huddling Place", by Clifford D. Simak (Astounding Science Fiction, July 1944). This also appears as another chapter in the novel City. If you want to read the nominated stories from City in publication order, read this second.
"I, Rocket", by Ray Bradbury (Amazing Stories, May 1944). A replica edition of this issue of Amazing Stories can be purchased online.
"The Wedge", by Isaac Asimov (Astounding Science Fiction, October 1944). This also appears as "The Traders" in the novel Foundation. If you want to read the two stories from Foundation in publication order, read this first.
Best Series
Captain Future, by Edmond Hamilton
Written by Edmond Hamilton (sometimes using the pseudonym Brett Sterling), the Captain Future stories appeared in the magazine of the same name. Wikipedia has an overview of the series, while the ISFDB has a listing of Captain Future stories. A selection of these are available on the Internet Archive:
The Cthulhu Mythos, by H. P. Lovecraft, August Derleth, and others
The deity Cthulhu first made its monstrous appearance in H. P. Lovecraft's 1928 short story "The Call of Cthulhu". Subsequently much of Lovecraft's and his associates' work has been grouped together under the Cthulhu Mythos label. Like many of the horrors Lovecraft deals with, the Cthulhu Mythos is somewhat amorphous and it can be difficult to fix its exact boundaries. Not all of Lovecraft's own stories are unambiguously part of the Mythos, while one can argue as to whether some of the works by his admirers are truly part of the Mythos or deviations from the true path. Wikipedia attempts a rough overview of the Mythos, while the ISFDB attempts a bibliography. Note that the Mythos remains a living tradition, with stories continuing to be published, but only those that had appeared by the end of 1944 should be considered by Retro Hugo Awards voters.
Doc Savage, by Kenneth Robeson/Lester Dent
Published under the pseudonym Kenneth Robeson, the Doc Savage stories were mostly but not entirely written by Lester Dent. Doc Savage novels appeared at a phenomenal rate, starting in 1933, with 142 having been published by the end of 1944. The ISFDB has a terrifyingly vast entry on the series, while Wikipedia has summaries of the novels. The Shadow's Sanctum is currently publishing reprints of the Doc Savage novels.
Pellucidar, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
The Pellucidar stories are set inside the Earth, which in the first instalment is revealed to be hollow. At the Earth's Core, the first Pellucidar novel, appeared in 1914, while Land of Terror, the 6th,was published in 1944. Wikipedia's entry for the series links off to plot-summarising entries for the individual books. These are beginning to slip out of copyright, though the later ones are still not in the public domain everywhere. Readers can access the Pellucidar at these links:
If a whole novel of hollow earth adventure is too much, there were also three pieces of short Pellucidar fiction published in 1942: "Return to Pellucidar" (Amazing Stories, February 1942), "Men of the Bronze Age" (Amazing Stories, March 1942), and "Tiger Girl" (Amazing Stories, April 1942).
The Shadow, by Maxwell Grant (Walter B. Gibson)
Tales of this proto-superhero appeared from 1931 onwards under the pseudonym Maxwell Grant but were mostly written by Walter B. Gibson. By the end of 1944 a vast number of Shadow novels had appeared (286 if Wikipedia is to be believed). The Shadow's Sanctum is currently publishing reprints of books in The Shadow series.
Best Related Work
Fancyclopedia, by Jack Speer (Forrest J. Ackerman). The FANAC Fan History Project has scans of this encyclopaedia of 1944 fandom, as well as a hypertext version.
'42 To '44: A Contemporary Memoir Upon Human Behaviour During the Crisis of the World Revolution, by H. G. Wells (Secker & Warburg). This does not seem to be in print but readers may be able to source copies from libraries or second hand book dealers.
Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom, by George Gamow (Cambridge University Press). No longer in print as a standalone book, this is available as part of Mr Tompkins in Paperback, which can be obtained from Cambridge University Press or online resellers. An edition combining the book with Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom with Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland, another book by George Gamow, can be accessed on the Internet Archive.
Rockets: The Future of Travel Beyond the Stratosphere, by Willy Ley (Viking Press). This appears to be out of print, but readers may be able to source copies from libraries or second hand book dealers. It can also be borrowed from the Internet Archive.
"The Science-Fiction Field", by Leigh Brackett (Writer's Digest, July 1944). This was recently reprinted in Windy City Pulp Stories no. 13, which is readily available from online sellers.
"The Works of H. P. Lovecraft: Suggestions for a Critical Appraisal", by Fritz Leiber (The Acolyte, Fall 1944). This can be accessed on FANAC.
Best Graphic Story or Comic
Buck Rogers: "Hollow Planetoid", by Dick Calkins (National Newspaper Service). Originally appearing as a daily newspaper strip, this story appears not to be in print. Art Lortie has however made it available to Retro Hugo voters here.
Donald Duck: "The Mad Chemist", by Carl Barks (Dell Comics). Originally appearing in Walt Disney's Comics and Stories #44, this story has been reprinted but not obviously recently (see entry in Grand Comics Database). It can be read on YouTube or as uploaded by Art Lortie.
Flash Gordon: "Battle for Tropica", by Don Moore & Alex Raymond (King Features Syndicate). Originally a syndicated newspaper strip, this was reprinted by Kitchen Sink in Flash Gordon: Volume 6 1943-1945 - Triumph in Tropica, copies of which can be obtained relatively cheaply from online sellers. You can read William Patrick Raymond's review and summary here and the strip itself here (courtesy of Art Lortie).
Flash Gordon: "Triumph in Tropica", by Don Moore & Alex Raymond (King Features Syndicate). This also appears in Flash Gordon: Volume 6 1943-1945 - Triumph in Tropica and William Patrick Raymond's write-up is here. Art Lortie has again made the comic available here.
The Spirit: "For the Love of Clara Defoe", by Manly Wade Wellman, Lou Fine and Don Komisarow (Register and Tribune Syndicate). This story was reprinted in Volume 9 of Will Eisner's The Spirit Archives, which is available from online booksellers. Art Lortie has made it available here.
Superman: "The Mysterious Mr. Mxyztplk", by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster (Detective Comics, Inc.). Originally appearing in Superman #30, this story has often been reprinted (see the DC Comics Database), most recently in The Superman Archives Vol. 8 (which appears to be in print in expensive hardback). It also appears in Superman: The Greatest Stories Ever Told, Vol. 2, second hand copies of which can more cheaply be obtained. The amazing Art Lortie has posted it here.
Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form
The Canterville Ghost, screenplay by Edwin Harvey Blum from a story by Oscar Wilde, directed by Jules Dassin (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM)). This is available in two parts on Dailymotion, with the image inexplicably inverted from left to right. Part 1 and Part 2. It can also be watched uninverted on ok.ru or as uploaded by Art Lortie.
The Curse of the Cat People, written by DeWitt Bodeen, directed by Gunther V. Fritsch and Robert Wise (RKO Radio Pictures). This film can also be seen on ok.ru. Art Lortie has made it available here.
Donovan's Brain, adapted by Robert L. Richards from a story by Curt Siodmak, producer, director and editor William Spier (CBS Radio Network). This radio drama can be downloaded or streamed from the Internet Archive. Art Lortie has uploaded it in two parts, here and here.
House of Frankenstein, screenplay by Edward T. Lowe, Jr. from a story by Curt Siodmak, directed by Erle C. Kenton (Universal Pictures). This can be viewed on ok.ru or, courtesy of Art Lortie, here.
The Invisible Man's Revenge, written by Bertram Millhauser, directed by Ford Beebe (Universal Pictures). The Internet Archive has this available to stream or download. Art Lortie has posted it here.
It Happened Tomorrow, screenplay and adaptation by Dudley Nichols and René Clair, directed by René Clair (Arnold Pressburger Films). This can be viewed on YouTube.
Oscar J. Friend edited Captain Future, Startling Stories, and Thrilling Wonder Stories. The Spring issue of Captain Future is available on the Internet Archive. The Spring, Summer, and Fall issues of Startling Stories can also be seen there, as can the Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter issues of Thrilling Wonder Stories.
Mary Gnaedinger edited Famous Fantastic Mysteries, whose March, June, September, and December 1944 issues can be read on the Internet Archive.
Dorothy McIlwraith was in 1944 the editor of Weird Tales, whose January, March, May, July, September, and November 1944 issues can be seen on the Internet Archive.
Raymond A. Palmer edited Amazing Stories and Fantastic Adventures in 1944. On the Internet Archive one can see the January, March, May, September, and December issues of Amazing Stories and the February, April, June, and October issues of Fantastic Adventures.
W. Scott Peacock edited Jungle Stories and Planet Stories in 1944. No issues of Jungle Stories are available on the Internet Archive, which may be just as well, but the site does have the Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter issues of Planet Stories.
Best Professional Artist
Earle K. Bergey in 1944 provided cover art for Captain Future, Startling Stories, and Thrilling Wonder Stories. His ISFDB has links to the entries for the issues he provided covers for, where his art can be seen.
Margaret Brundage provided the cover art for the May 1944 issue of Weird Tales and to the story "Iron Mask" within that issue. If her ISFDB entry is to be believed then that is all she did in 1944.
Boris Dolgov did the cover for the March 1944 of Weird Tales. He also provided interior art for every 1944 issue of the magazine, so if you browse through the links given with Dorothy McIlwraith above you will see more examples of his work.
Matt Fox did the cover for the November 1944 issue of Weird Tales. He also provided interior art for the poem "The Path Through the Marsh" and story "The Weirds of the Woodcarver" in the September issue of the magazine.
Paul Orban appears not to have done any cover art in 1944, but he did interior art in every issue of Astounding Science Fiction that year, so check out the links given with John W. Campbell above for examples of his work, which are typically credited simply to "Orban".
William Timmins did all the 1944 covers for Astounding Science Fiction, apart from the July issue, so follow the links given above in Best Editor for John W. Campbell to see examples of his work.
Best Fanzine
Joe Siclari and Edie Stern of the Fanac Fan History Project have put together a Retro Hugo Awards page for Fan Hugo Materials for Work Published in 1944, with links to scanned copies of the finalist fanzines from 1944: The Acolyte (edited by Francis T. Laney and Samuel D. Russell), Diablerie (edited by Bill Watson), Futurian War Digest (edited by J. Michael Rosenblum), Shangri L’Affaires (edited by Charles Burbee), Voice of the Imagi-Nation (edited by Forrest J. Ackerman and Myrtle R. Douglas), and Le Zombie (edited by Bob Tucker and E.E. Evans).
Best Fan Writer
The FANAC Retro Hugo Awards page for Fan Hugo Materials for Work Published in 1944 also links to examples of writing in 1944 by the fan writer finalists, who are Fritz Leiber, Morojo (Myrtle R. Douglas), J. Michael Rosenblum, Jack Speer, Bob Tucker, and Harry Warner, Jr.
And that's it. I hope readers find this useful. Have fun reading and voting in the Hugo Awards.
Andrew Legge's alternate history science fiction film LOLA can still be seen in the IFI and Light House. The IFI is also showing three of Legge's short films as part of their Archive at Lunchtime strand: The Unusual Inventions of Henry Cavendish (2005), The Girl with the Mechanical Maiden (2013), and The Chronoscope (2009). They are free to see (just pick up a ticket from the box office) and are being screened in two programmes on Monday, Wednesday, and (possibly) Friday this week. They're worth seeing on the big screen and would appeal to anyone who liked LOLA as the aesthetic is quite similar (altered archive footage and newly shot material features). For someone curious about LOLA they would also serve as useful tasters.
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