My Professor of Ionic Greek was a very funny guy. He said that the charm of reading Herodotus is that his prose reminds you of your Great Aunt telling family history. The whole story is one big run-on sentence meandering back and forth and including everything from news of the great war to gossip about somebody’s wife cheating with the milkman. And sometimes it’s difficult to tell which part she feels is more important.
In the same way, Herodotus starts off the history of the Persian War by claiming its origin was the kidnapping of Helen by the Trojans! From there we get a family history of the first Asian ruler to conquer the Greeks living in Asia Minor. Apparently, the origin of this dynasty involves a King allowing his wife to be seen naked by a commoner. This triggers his wife’s anger so severely that she conspires with the commoner to kill her husband and usurp the throne. All of these stories are given with either a tongue in cheek or a storyteller’s desire to be complete.
But in between all this chatter you get some stories that are told nowhere else and that record the (mostly) accurate exploits of the ancient world’s greatest generation. You’ll hear about Marathon and Thermopylae, Salamis and Plataea. You’ll meet Leonidas and the Spartans, Themistocles and the Athenians and Xerxes and the Persians. And mixed in with that you’ll hear unlikely stories of the origins of historical nations based on the amorous adventures of Heracles and other demigods. And you’ll feel that you’re in the midst of a tumultuous time full of heroes and villains. And you’ll discover the ancient dichotomy of the East vs. the West. It’s freedom versus slavery. It’s nation versus empire. It’s intelligence versus brute force.
There are places where the story bogs down. You see Herodotus was a world traveler and he relates all the tales he was told in his various travels. During his time in Egypt he collected much material on the rulers and doings in Egypt. Sometimes it gets to be a little much. But mixed in with this minutia will be stories that sound like they came out of the Tales of the Arabian Nights.
In terms of historical accuracy Herodotus was far inferior to his successor at Athens, Thucydides. His history chronicles the aftermath of the Persian War. This was a sort of Cold War between Athens and Sparta that eventually went hot. Thucydides provides precise details of the military and political actions and forgoes all mythical and religious causes. But the content is basically the story of Athens committing suicide. I much prefer reading the story of its finest hour.
Every summer I read from two greek classics. I read the Odyssey and I browse Herodotus. Those two books give me hope that the legacy of the West isn’t a myth. Odysseus tells me that the value of the brave man and the faithful wife can overcome the chaos and nihilism of the world. And Herodotus tells me that freedom reappears in this world from time to time and that it is the most valuable substance in the universe.
In future installments, I’ll select some of the stories that I think make the case that the gossip Herodotus is still relevant and interesting 2,400 years later.
As our first official classic movie review, I’ve picked a beaut. “The Caine Mutiny” is a World War Two movie made nine years after the war had ended. It is an adaption of Herman Wouk’s novel and stage play. This movie has a cast that included star, Humphrey Bogart, veteran actors like Van Johnson, Fred MacMurray and Jose Ferrer along with character actors like Lee Marvin and Claude Akins. It follows the crew of the USS Caine, a minesweeper under the command of a very difficult captain, Philip Francis Queeg played by Bogart. A series of incidents convinces the officers that Queeg is a dangerously paranoid lunatic. It all comes to a head during a typhoon when the officers relieve Queeg of command. This sets up the finale of the movie, a court martial of the officers who mutinied against their captain. Jose Ferrer portrays the defense counsel and his part is a tour de force. He dominates the end of the movie and resolves the conflicting faults of the main characters by identifying “the true author of the Caine Mutiny” and placing blame where it was deserved. All of the veteran actors perform admirably with Fred MacMurray being especially notable for his character portrayal against type. There is one weak aspect to the movie. One of the primary strands of the plot is the story of young Ensign Willis Seward “Willie” Keith played by neophyte actor Robert Francis. A love story between Keith and his girl at home, May Wynn, is woven into the plot. In my opinion it is a weak element and a distraction. Some of the stronger elements involve humor stemming from the crew’s experience of Queeg’s erratic behavior. But for all of his extreme behavior, Bogart comes off as a strangely sympathetic character and the lack of a truly heroic character seems fitting and realistic. I think Wouk was capturing the actual experience of war. The fear and uncertainty that even the sane individuals felt humanizes the behavior of someone like Queeg. I think it will strike a chord for many people who have had to work together under crisis conditions.
Who will like this movie? I guess folks who like court room dramas are likely candidates. Even though it’s a WW II movie and mostly takes place on a war ship it’s not really a war movie. But it is about navy men and it does reflect the time when it took place. One interesting historical detail is the social reality of the place of black sailors in the US Navy of the time. The mess-boys are the cooks and all of them are young black men. They have an important plot element and I’m sure if Alec Baldwin and Dave Letterman ever review this movie on TCM they’ll denounce the rabid racism of the United States and the military then, now and forever. Luckily for all of you I just think it’s an interesting footnote on a different time.
In conclusion, to quote from Captain Queeg, the Caine Mutiny can be counted among “the greatest, I kid you not.”
Okay, The Lord of the Rings, the big enchilada. Tolkien wrote about a half a million words about his war of the ring. His son Christopher has made a cottage industry of publishing every scrap of draft paper that his father ever scribbled and analyzing them as if they were papyrus palimpsests of the lost plays of Sophocles. In the last sixty plus years an unending stream of analysis both professional and personal has been generated about these books. Everything that could be said has been said and about a million times. So, what possible justification is there for me to add to the ocean?
Well, it’s my damn blog and I want to. So, without further ado…
I read the Lord of the Rings when I was about twelve. I was highly impressed. Obviously as I matured my opinion of the story was based on an evolving baseline of experience with fiction and personal experience of the world around me. Over the years my personal preferences among the various characters and scenes have altered somewhat. But my overall opinion of the work is still very high and very enthusiastic.
Over the course of the time I have been a fan of the Lord of the Rings, Hollywood has from time to time attempted to produce motion picture versions of it. Some of these were animated films. One was drawing superimposed over live action frames of film (Ralph Bakshi’s film). Recently a sophisticated live action and CGI combination was produced by Peter Jackson and managed to win the Academy Award for best picture. The relationship between these films and the text is the subject of this post.
I will state categorically that none of the film versions of the Lord of the Rings before Peter Jackson’s version ever succeeded (except in very small sections) in capturing the feeling of the book. The inability to draw the viewer into the reality of the story was always too strong. But in the Jackson version it succeeded.
Okay, here come the qualifiers. Do not confuse the above statement with an unconditional endorsement of every aspect of the movie. There are any number of things about the movie that I object to (some extremely strenuously). For instance, Denethor is rendered as a terrible man. I do not think that reflects Tolkien’s intent or description. Also, some aspects of the treatment of Frodo and Sam’s friendship is oddly portrayed and off-putting. The super human abilities of Legolas seem exaggerated and some of the silly treatment of Gimli are annoying. A hundred little and not so little problems exist.
Getting that out of the way I will say that Jackson’s movies bring the Lord of the Rings alive. In a certain sense these films will give Tolkien’s work a chance to become part of the mythology of the whole human race. Because although millions of people have read the books, billions of people will see the movies. Not every viewer will be impacted deeply by the story but enough of the books comes across in the films that the films will act as an amplifier of the story in the digital realm we now inhabit. So, on balance the Jackson films are a net positive for the Tolkien lovers of the world.
I’ll cut this first Tolkien post short here. After all this is an endless pursuit. Best not to drone on too much. But I’ll end with my opinion on the best scene in the Jackson films. And I’ll specify I’m talking about the extended versions. The best scene is the Ride of the Rohirrim at the Battle of Minas Tirith. It was stirring and well done. Feel free to leave your opinion on the best scene in the comments.
Like many right-wing folk I was raised on the movies that were made in the Golden Age of Hollywood. Many of the movies made in the ‘30s and ‘40s possess a charm and appeal completely lacking in later decades. They reflect (or maybe echo) qualities of a culture and people that are appealing even to the decadent descendants of that world living in the tattered remains of today.
That’s why even though Robert Osborne, the late host of Turner Classic Movies, was an obvious member of the Hollywood leftist fraternity it was still worth my while to tune in to TCM and watch the films. For the most part I didn’t even mind listening to him discuss the movies either directly to the tv audience or as a dialog with some other Hollywood boob. As annoying as it was to hear Osborne discussing aspects of the film with the likes of Alec Baldwin or Sally Field it was still bearable for the most part. Osborne rarely went full tilt commie during these discussions so the tooth gritting quotient was still acceptable.
As Osborne aged, management must have decided that they needed a succession plan. To this end they installed an auxiliary host in the person of Ben Mankiewicz. Ben is the grandson of a Hollywood screenwriter and a strident leftist who appeared alongside the “Young Turks” during the 2016 presidential election results while they were melting down on camera. Occasionally his moonbattery has been on display but like Osborne he was usually able to keep his affliction under control.
Well, last month Osborne died. I guess Mankiewicz is nominally the host now. But several new hosts have been trotted out. Diversity, of course, is being touted in the choice of genders and races on display for these new hosts and based on the complete lack of name or face recognition associated with them I’m guessing they are essentially unknowns and therefore extremely economical employees for TCM to utilize. Well, what can you do? It’s not as if Osborne was any big star. I think his claim to fame was that he knew some of the golden age actresses personally and was able to get them to appear on the show for interviews. These new hosts blather on from their points of view but they’re not that much worse than the old act.
But now we’re reaching a new level of abuse. Tonight, the presentation of “The Bad and the Beautiful” was co-hosted by Alec Baldwin and David Letterman. Now this is a level of toxic television viewing that I would compare with having to listen to Sauron chatting with Saruman about the latest advances in orc breeding. We have reached the limit. I assume a meltdown is imminent. It will probably occur during a John Wayne western and will involve words like imperialism, cultural appropriation, patriarchy and racial genocide. At that point, I’ll either have to cancel TCM or shove my foot through the LED screen.
To combat the sense of loss I feel at having to cede yet another familiar cultural facet to the leftist demolition brigade I have decided to add classic movie reviews as a regular part of this blog. In the past I have endeavored to mix in a few sci-fi and western movies into my normal “current events” posts. Going forward I propose to increase them and expand the selection to golden age and equivalent quality later films that I think will be of interest to my readers (and you know who you are!).
So farewell Robert Osborne, you were a mostly benign lefty host of TCM. You are sorely missed now that we know what’s coming next.
I have a relative, a boy in seventh grade, who is a ravenous reader of science fiction and fantasy (among other things). Being a conservative and being allergic to anything smacking of political correct narrative fiction I have made it my practice to pass along the older stuff that I grew up on back in the time before fun was banned. He digests these old books at a rate that seems almost supernatural. But recently I bought something modern to see how that would fly.
I had heard good things about Dave Freer’s “Changeling’s Island.” I ordered it on Amazon but instead of the usual two days, it took about two weeks. I guess it had to be printed on order. I did a quick read of the first couple of chapters and found it engaging and appropriate for my young reading machine. I dropped it off a week ago and hoped he would like it.
Well, I spoke with him today and discovered that not only did he like it, he wanted more of the same. Apparently, this was good stuff. I told him I didn’t have any more at the moment but would check for more stuff from Freer. He was unpleased at my unpreparedness to feed the machine with its new fuel of choice. In desperation, I foisted off a set of the Foundation trilogy on him that I had been holding onto since 1970, and told him I’d try to do better in the future. So now I have to find out if Freer has any other young adult sf&f available. If not I’ll be responsible for disappointing the next generation. Wish me luck.
Back on March 14th 2017 I reviewed favorably Mr. Vega’s novella “The Pink Beetle”. That was the third installment of his “The Young Men in Pain Quartet Book Series.” The Eclectic Prince is the first installment but the grouping is only thematic and not sequential so you may sample in any order. As I noted in my earlier book review, Mr. Vega has a very distinct writing style. He makes sudden transitions and violent plot shifts. His characters are not introspective but very impulsive and action oriented. The plot progresses rapidly but rarely linearly.
The first piece of information to convey is that this is an adult book. There is a fair amount of sexual content that would be entirely inappropriate for even teenagers (in my opinion). And there are some situations that are fairly disturbing from the point of view of conventional social mores.
Now for some personal information as a point of reference on my taste in books. Full disclosure, I’m not typically a consumer of dark fiction. I mostly inhabit the sunnier climes of story-telling. I will indulge in something like Red Dragon or Silence of the Lambs if it’s very well written but it’s not my usual fare.
The Eclectic Prince is relatively dark. There aren’t any good guys to cheer. The protagonist at various times indulges in violent assault of a stranger and murder of a family friend. And there are even darker doings that I will not mention so as not to spoil the story. Suffice it to say he’s not such a nice guy. And he’s not even justified in the sense that he’s getting revenge on someone who committed a terrible wrong against him. He’s just a sociopath.
The outline of the story is episodic and consists of different vignettes that are tied together by the fantasy mechanism that underlines the story. This mechanism isn’t entirely clear from the text and this vagueness adds to the seeming randomness of the plot.
Let me sum it up. It’s a dark disturbing story of an unsympathetic protagonist, a kind of story that I would not typically choose to read.
But it’s well written, original and engaging in a transgressive way. Once again Mr. Vega is in the tradition of a noir type story with a fantasy framework to remove the bizarre story from the realm of reality. This allows some justification for suspending a very heavy bias against such a disagreeable protagonist. For those who seek out this type of story I can wholeheartedly recommend it. It is not for the faint of heart.
I haven’t decided whether to delve deeper into his quartet. This type of story is, as I stated above, not my typical choice. But maybe when I’m in a darker mood I’ll venture in again for another dose.
I’m going to reference this post under both Science Fiction and Fantasy and Current Events. Under either category an error is being committed. But that’s the great thing about being the proprietor. You can break the rules when it suits you. Frank Buck was a wild animal importer back in the nineteen twenties and thirties. He brought back never before seen creatures to Europe and America for zoos and circuses and other exhibitors. He brought in the first Indian rhinos out of Nepal when that country was as isolated and inaccessible as the Moon is now. His stories are full of hair-raising escapes from tigers and cobras and he fills them with exotic people from India and Southeast Asia. The language and the characterizations of these non-western people is extremely politically incorrect even by the standards of fifty years ago. But they are probably closer to reality than the current over-sensitive portrayals of non-western customs in the “thou shalt not offend the non-westerner” popular press.
Now the case for putting this under sf&f is because it ties into the movies King Kong, Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young. These movies are demonstrably some amalgam of sf&f. The fantasy of an adventurer heading off into the uncharted jungles of the still partially untamed world and bringing back some fantastic and almost mythological creature is in part based on the popularity of Frank Buck’s stories in “Bring ‘em Back Alive.” He goes into these jungles and using contacts with the local inhabitants locates and captures these legendary creatures. Now granted, capturing a verified man-eating tiger or the largest orangutan is a lot less spectacular than fighting dinosaurs or shooting a fifty-foot gorilla off the Empire State Building. But in the imagination of kids in the 1930s both were more exciting than going to school or working at a shoe factory.
Reading these stories recently, I am struck by the certainty that many of the details have been exaggerated to make the story more exciting. This is especially true of the poetic justice that catches up to a cruel Maharajah in the story Tiger Revenge. Also, it is amazing to see how primitive the methods for transporting these amazing creatures were back in the 1920s. Tropical primates like orangutans were loaded onto freighters that took weeks to cross the Pacific Ocean and the conditions in the hold or on the deck were pretty bad. Add into this equation storms or even typhoons and it’s amazing that he got anything “back alive.” If any of the practices employed in those times were used today the ASPCA and the local animal welfare agencies would call for the death penalty for the importers.
But the stories are interesting and exciting on their own terms. In one story a tiger trapper is caught in his own leg trap. He is trapped out in the jungle at night with mosquitoes torturing him, ants attacking his wounded leg and the threat of jungle predators all around him with nothing to defend himself with if they attack and no way to escape. Is the story true. I doubt there is any way to know. But the tale is compelling.
There are about twenty of these stories. Most linked only by the presence of the author and a few other supporting characters like Frank’s Malay “boy” Ali (actually a man in his fifties) who assists him in his adventures and the directors at the zoos and circuses that were his clients.
My father read this book in the 1930s. He gave it to me in the 1960s. And I’ve given copies to my grandsons and nephews in the 2010s. It seems to have a universal appeal to the male animal. I recommend it highly.
Last week I was watching the movie Ninotchka. Greta Garbo portrays a scowling Russian envoy who’s in Paris to negotiate the sale of jewels confiscated from the aristocracy to provide hard currency to capitalize the communist regime. There she meets Melvyn Douglas playing the French nobleman Count Leon d’Algout. He is working to return the jewels to his friend the former Grande Duchess Swana. And of course, he falls in love with Garbo. As a good soviet citizen, she despises his mercenary business practices. But he does what he can to ingratiate himself to her. Finally, he manages to manufacture a “coincidental” restaurant encounter. While attempting to lighten the mood he offers to tell a joke to get her to laugh. Several attempts fall flat without even a smile from her sullen face. Finally he tells her his best joke:
“A man walks into a restaurant, calls over the waiter and says I want a cup of coffee without cream. The waiter goes into the kitchen and returns a minute later and says I’m very sorry but we’re all out of cream can it be without milk?”
The rest of the patrons of the restaurant overhear the joke and all burst out laughing at the punchline. But from Ninotchka, nothing. Leon is incensed. He hectors her, “Everyone else laughed. Why didn’t you?” She replies, “Because it isn’t funny.” He becomes flustered and says he’ll tell it again more slowly and make sure she understands it. He retells it, stumbling over the details and finally asks, “Well?” “It’s not funny” she says. Exasperated, he tells her she doesn’t have a drop of humor in her. He leans back in his chair puts his elbow on the table behind him and goes crashing to the floor along with the table and chair. The whole restaurant bursts out in laughter at him. Leon gets off the floor and tries to gather his shattered dignity in the face of the uproar of laughter. And then he sees that Ninotchka is almost falling over with laughter at his plight. He looks down with a scowl that combines anger and hurt pride. Ninotchka stops laughing and seems slightly contrite when Leon bursts out laughing himself and they share a good laugh.
So why am I telling you this old movie scene? It’s a good enough scene and the acting was fine. But retelling movies is a waste of time. I relate it because it occurred to me that it illustrates a dichotomy that I have seen in my own acquaintance.
The world divides itself very clearly into two groups. People who find that joke at least slightly amusing and those who see absolutely no humor in it at all. Within my own marriage this difference exists. Even among my children, the dichotomy is there. Among friends and colleagues the same thing . Two camps. So, what is this characteristic? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it has to do with the way people use language. It seems that those who are quieter do not find the joke funny. It may be something well known or maybe it’s meaningless. But I throw it out there and encourage you all to try it out. Tell someone the joke and then ask him if it is not at all funny or at least somewhat funny. See if you can determine some grouping within these camps that explains the dichotomy. If you come up with a theory pass it along to me. And tell me who you think are the happier group. Those that laugh at it or those that don’t. For the sake of complete disclosure I think it’s funny.
In the first installment of this post I documented my education into the real world of scientists, how they saved the world from giant mutated insects and invented important stuff like flying cars. That time period was the 1960s. It was a carefree time full of youthful high jinx such as race riots and the Manson Family. Fast forward thirty years to 1993. A little movie came out called Matinee. It was about the 1960s. The movie employs a device that I like to call “a movie within a movie.” It’s called that because within the movie you are watching there is a movie being watched by the characters in the movie! It’s a wild concept.
The name of this internal movie is MANT. That’s a portmanteau for man-ant. The eponymous victim of this movie has been transformed from a man into a hybrid man/ ant creature. Once again radiation is involved and eventually the MANT reaches gigantic proportions. And right on schedule arrives the scientist that has glasses and a beard and explains all the technical jargon about this scientific problem. And by an amazing coincidence it’s our old friend Dr. “You’re Wiser Than We Are” from “The Thing from Another World” (Robert Cornthwaite). I mean, what are the odds? He makes such valuable pronouncements as “human/insect mutations are far from an exact science” and “My friend, you’ve suffered some of the worst that our little friend the atom has to offer. It can power a city or level it!”
I was fascinated by the changes I noted in Cornthwaite between the time he was in “The Thing” and “Mant”. No longer was he sympathetic toward the monsters. His allegiance had shifted back to humanity. I attributed this change to the smoldering resentment he felt after the Thing back-handed him into a wall in the earlier movie. Such ingratitude by the monster pushed our friend back into the Humanity First camp once again. I knew this was valuable information. I wrote it down!
Outside of the movie Mant (but inside of Matinee) a teenage girl (played by Lisa Jakub) is swept up in the drama surrounding the Cuban Missile Crisis (and the premiere of Mant) in the southern Florida town of Key West. This girl is the daughter of beatniks and she has her world view changed by exposure to a young Navy brat who also happens to like horror movies. When the movie ends Lisa has gotten over her prejudices against military families and monster movies. What does this have to do with this post? Well it does link us back to the military but hang in there. I have another half-baked segue coming up.
Fast forward to 1998 and a blockbuster called Independence Day erupts onto the cinematic stage. Now it just so happens that there is an ex-Navy pilot named Russel Kay and by a strange coincidence (or is it) his daughter is played by Lisa Jakub! But her love of a navy brat in the last movie has landed her in this movie in a family headed by a delusional alcoholic ex-military flier. Although it’s not apparent how she feels about horror movies she definitely suffers some of the worst of what our friends the aliens have to offer. In Independence Day, the role of scientist is handled by Jeff Goldblum. He is an environmentalist computer scientist who’s always worried about recycling and is totally opposed to nuking the aliens. He’s worried that fallout is worse than extermination of the entire human race by death rays. But by the end of the movie he comes around and cheerfully nukes the aliens on their home base.
I was thinking of dragging this forward by following President Whitmore forward into Lake Placid (well the crocodile is very large) or following Jeff Goldblum into Jurassic Park and Independence Day 2 which has all kinds of scientific mumbo-jumbo and giant creatures but I’m getting tired.
Suffice it to say that even really stupid people and fat-headed scientists can see reality if monsters and giant insects start slapping them around.
And now my patient readers, the payoff.
All of this research has allowed me to formulate a unified theory of scientific behavior. Apparently all scientists are morons and can only learn about reality by being hit over the head by it. Therefore, I propose a new policy. Whenever a scientist dictates a policy based on fat-headed stupidity he should be forced to endure the solution himself until he either sees the error of his way or dies from the paradox of settled science.
For instance, if a climate scientist declares CO2 the death of the planet then he should not produce any of it himself. Now, I don’t propose that he cease breathing. Even though technically respiration is nothing but exchanging O2 for CO2. Let’s just let him slide on the breathing. But that’s all. No internal combustion engines or heating systems or electricity. In fact, nothing produced by technology supported by the industrial revolution. So that also eliminates batteries and solar cells and everything else made in a factory. And finally, I remind everyone that burning coal or oil or even wood produces CO2. So, this scientist is telling us to give up every bit of science going all the way back to the paleolithic age. So, let us limit our friend the scientist to killing fur-bearing animals and eating their flesh and wearing their pelts for warmth. Of course, he’s probably a vegan but we all have to make compromises when inconsistencies crop up.
That’s my plan in a nutshell. It should be amusing to see Al Gore dressed like Fred Flintstone and trying to catch a squirrel for breakfast.
On Saturday afternoons when I was a kid I used to watch Million Dollar Movie on Channel 11 and was able to enjoy such science fiction classics as “Attack of the Crab Monsters” and “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman.” Right away I figured out that really big creatures that had been exposed to atomic radiation really liked to attack. But as I became more sophisticated in my sci-fi viewing I eschewed such childish cinematic offerings in favor of more cerebral tales. No more ridiculous giant crab stories. I graduated to “Them” which is the realistic depiction of an attack by giant ants exposed to atomic radiation. In this classic of the fifties I learned that scientists were old and wore glasses and looked like Santa Claus (except for the girl scientists who were young and didn’t even look like Mrs. Claus and tended to end up with the FBI agent who starred in the film, who in this case was James Arness of Gunsmoke fame). And the best ones had British accents (or at worst New England accents). Also, no matter what their area of specialization (e.g., physics, botany or myrmecology) they were all equally adept at battling giant creatures exposed to atomic radiation. And they were full of esoteric and valuable information. I found out that the plural of antenna wasn’t antennas but rather antennae! This inspired in me a life-long love of the classical Greek and Latin languages. And the most important characteristic of scientists was their love of knowledge. Because of this thirst for knowledge, they were willing to venture into tunnels and basements where even the ubiquitous soldiers in their WWII vintage uniforms were afraid to go. It also meant the scientists were very likely to be munched on by the mutant du jour of the story. But you know, science. So that is how I came to admire scientists. They were cool and smart too. And they always, always, always figured out how to kill the monsters.
But one Saturday, Million Dollar Movie was playing another sci-fi film, “The Thing from Another World.” I was suspicious at first. If it was from another world how did it get here? Had it been exposed to atomic radiation? Would there be enough scientists? These doubts plagued me. But I decided to give it a whirl. Encouraging signs emerged quickly. The creature was indeed radioactive and there was a whole passel of scientists assigned to this movie. One of them even had a New England accent so things seemed to check out. And reassuringly the US military was available for monster eradication duty once the scientists had done the heavy lifting of analysis. Early on a problem arose. This creature was man shaped. He was bald and had strange hands with hypodermic finger nails. But he was no more than eight feet tall. This was highly irregular and seemed to throw into doubt his qualifications for his own movie. Also the scientists in this movie were extremely assertive and gave the military officers a lot of lip. And it seemed they didn’t know their primary function, figure out how to kill the monster. This was very confusing. The leader of the scientists kept saying that regardless of how many humans the creature killed, science demanded that no force should be used against it. He kept saying (in a really annoying intonation) that the creature “is wiser than we are” and that “it’s our duty to die to preserve the knowledge this creature possesses.” Even as a youngster I intuited that this head scientist was what we called back then “a loser.” How could this be? He was a scientist! He had the answers. I found this very puzzling and dispiriting. I searched for some reason for this failure on the scientist’s part to want to kill the monster. Eventually I developed an hypothesis based on a detailed comparison of “Them” and “The Thing from Another World.” At first glance nothing jumped out. But once I checked the cast members it all became clear. As mentioned above, in “Them” the part of the FBI Agent and eventual boyfriend of the scientist’s daughter is played by James Arness of “Gunsmoke” fame. It turned out that the part of the Thing was played by none other than James Arness! Well obviously if Arness was the prospective son-in-law of one scientist, then it stood to reason that a fellow scientist would not turn on him. What was at work here was the kind of professional courtesy that, for instance, police confer on each other’s family members. Now it made perfect sense. Crisis averted. I could become a scientist without becoming a loser. But I was troubled by all that talk of monsters being wiser than us. And not killing them but instead letting them kill us. It was very strange.
Fast forward forty years. I work as an engineer. I am surrounded by R&D PhDs. They all look and sound like the head scientist in “The Thing from Another World.” They drive Priuses and have Tolerance and Coexist, Bernie and Free Tibet bumper stickers on their cars. And suddenly it all makes sense.
Scientists Real and Imagined – Part 2