• loss of self or identity,
• loss of autonomy or freedom,
• loss of values held dear,

and more. One of the classics that has been reinterpreted numerous times, including last year’s Nicole Kidman and Daniel Craig film, The Invasion,, is The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney.

Written in 1955, the book has inspired four films and, doubtless, more to come. I found this very interesting article about the history and the different ways in which human duplicates have been used in fiction and film at the National Post. Check it out — it is quite interesting:

Scott Van Wynsberghe: A brief history of body-snatching

This Christmas I asked for and received the Starman DVD set. For those of you who do not know of which I speak, Starman was a Japanese superhero created in the late 1950s and based on Superman. In Japan, he was known as Supergiant and was the star of several 50-minute serials. In the early 1960s, Walter Manly Enterprises acquired the U.S. right and cut them together into six 75-minute films, dubbed in English for American television consumption.

These were the films I grew up on. I loved Starman — I think I had a pre-teen crush on him. I used to play Starman at recess and pretend that I was a part of the films I watched on the weekend.

Anyway, I watched the first film on the DVD the other day and it totally brought me back. Also included on the DVD was an essay about the films, which is where I gleaned the above information.

Yes, the films are dated and a bit hokey — they were made for children. But they are surprisingly entertaining to this day. Or maybe I’m just a SF geek who like anything with an SF twist.

Nah!

But I must admit that nostalgia does play a fairly big role in why I loved watching that film. I loved the crazy looking aliens from the Emerald planet. I loved the evil look in the alien captain’s face when he’d order someone to kill Starman. I loved the choreographed fight scenes with the mannequins thrown through the air. I even loved the too-long scenes of Starman flying through space and “realizing he would have to risk his life to save the Earth.” What magnanimous creatures those Emerald planet aliens are!

Japanese science fiction, according to Wikipedia, grew out of its technology and mythology. However, it didn’t really get started in a modern sense until the Meiji Restoration, which occurred in the later half of the 19th century, and the importation of Western ideas. Like so many other cultures, it began with the translation of works from Jules Verne.

I remember reading somewhere, and can’t for the life of me find it again, that if you look at where the center of science fiction has been it would follow this path: It got its first big start in the United Kingdom, then in the 1930s moved to the United States, and now, for all intents and purposes, innovative science fiction has moved its base to Japan. I’m really going to have to find that, because I don’t think that is necessarily the case any more, although Japan does have a very vibrant SF sub-culture, most notably in anime and games.

For more information on Japanese Science Fiction and Starman, visit these resources:

Wikipedia: Science fiction in Japan

STARMAN a.k.a SUPERGIANT

Wild Realm Reviews: The Starman Series

“Farewell to the Master” first appeared in the October 1940 issue of Astounding Stories. You can find a copy of it online at The Nostalgia League’s website.

The Day the Earth Stood Still was directed by Robert Wise and released in 1951, starring Michael Rennie and Patricia Neal. You can find more information at IMDB. If you would like to purchase a copy of this movie on DVD, click here to go to Amazon.com.

The Robot

The robot played a much more important role in the short story than it did in the film. In both the short story and the film it was a symbol of raw, unadulterated, and incomprehensible power. In an effort to render Gnut harmless, the scientists in the short story “sent electrical currents of tremendous voltages and amperages through him. They applied terrific heat to all parts of his metal shell. They immersed him for days in gases and acids and strongly corroding solutions, and they … bombarded him with every known kind of ray.” In the movie this wasn’t done, but in both, the robot was encased in a clear block of solid plastic or glass-like material. And in both the short story and the film, the robot broke free of this prison.

The robot’s name changed from story to film, I think, was a good move. When I read the word “Gnut” I get a different image than if I just heard it. In the movie, “Gnut” would have sounded more like “newt,” which doesn’t imply the same sense of the unknown. “Gort” was appropriate because there is not a common word, “gort,” that means something in English. It sounds alien.

The Spaceship

The spaceship in the film was much how I imagined it when I read the story. It was smooth and sleek. It looked like flying saucers are purported to look. “No slightest break or crack marred the perfect smoothness of the ship’s curving ovoid surface,” wrote Bates. The spaceship in the movie was similar, as Sobchack (1987) describes, “treated as a thing of beauty, the … flying saucer … is so pure in line, so ascetically designed … that it concretizes the Platonic virtues of clarity, sanity, reason — virtues sadly lacking in the Washington, D.C., mise en scene in which the saucer comes to rest.” (p. 77.)

Washington, D.C.

The mise en scene, so to speak, for the short story was more the Smithsonian museum than Washington, D.C. However, in both versions, the importance of the place is not necessarily as important as what those places represent. Washington, D.C. is a place where the primary government of a major world power rests. It is a town that is relatively easy to get around in, it has a lair where the primary government of a major world power rests. It seems a logical place for an alien to land. It also has a large press population, and can be considered the seat of American patriotism.

In the story, these aspects of locale took more of a back seat than in the film. In the film, Arlington Cemetery was an important symbol of humankind’s petty wars. The “great words” of Lincoln served as a catalyst to spur Klaatu on to his next contact, Dr. Bernhardt. It would be difficult to find such commonly known symbols in any other town.

What the Printed Word Can Do that Film Can’t

“Bates’ story is a hoary piece of work when read today and Edmund H. North’s screenplay was a great improvement on it.” (Brosnan, 1978, p. 85.) I disagree with this statement. I found the story to be quite riveting and tense. I wanted to keep reading. I felt the fear that Cliff felt, as well as his curiosity. However, I also agree that the screenplay was an improvement for the screen. Bates’ story, as written, would have been a boring movie. The tension was more psychological than visual. It would have been very difficult to get the same emotional impact on screen as there was in the written story.

What Film Can Do that the Printed Word Can’t

I also disagree with Brosnan’s comment about the interior of the ship: “though its interior was a disappointment and showing it destroyed the essential mystery of the craft.” (p. 84.) I thought the use of lighting (compounded by the moody music by Bernard Herman) was quite effective. It adequately gave the impression of sterile science, of the frightening unknown, and of mysterious, alien origin.

Sound is an added effect available to film that the printed work cannot imitate. The music track for this movie was very effective — if not a bit too loud at times. It set the mood of the movie as a whole, as well as for each scene. It made benign images seem terrifying.

Conclusion

What impressed me the most about both the story and the movie was the concept of the robot. In the short story, Gnut was another race. He was another form of life incomprehensible to people with carbon-based biases. He was the “master” in the sense that he was more technologically, and maybe even emotionally, evolved than Klaatu. The story implied, for me, that Klaatu was like a beloved pet. Gnut’s efforts to bring Klaatu back were reminiscent of those many times when I rushed my pet rat to the veterinarian because she was ill. My pet was a life dependent on me and I felt responsible for her. I imagine that Gnut felt the same way about Klaatu, that Gnut felt guilty of putting Klaatu in a situation where he was unable to protect him.

I disagree that this story, and the film as well, was pessimistic; that it portrayed a “brave new world run by robots,” as Healy and McComas (1945) suggested. Brosnan (1978) said that “the idea of placing our basic human rights in the custody of a machine, or any ’superior force’, is not only an admission of defeat but also one which smacks of totalitarianism.” (p. 84.) I think they missed the point. In the story, Gnut was another form of life. Nowhere in the story does Klaatu say that Gnut was manufactured. However, in the movie, Klaatu does say that Gort was made — but to free them. To say that relegating police authority to robots is like acquiescing to totalitarianism is like saying the mechanization of production is also that. Humanity has always sought for easier and faster ways to do things, thus freeing up more time for leisure. Since crime threatens leisure time, as well as other things, it makes sense to mechanize a method for preventing it as well.