If you’re the homebody type who likes keeping fit by taking the stairs but isn’t particularly keen on having kids, then the Silo is just the place for you. Everyone else, though? Well, they all got totally screwed! In Hugh Howey’s sci-fi novel Wool, humanity has moved underground. Well, the few remaining souls, anyway. The Silo, drilled 144 floors deep into the earth, is the perfect setting for a claustrophobic sci-fi thriller.
Better Stay Inside the Silo
Human nature is predictable: lock someone up, and they’ll want to get out. At all costs. And as soon as you start reading Hugh Howey’s book Wool, you figure that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Surely, the whole story can’t possibly take place in this confined setting. They’ll find a way out.
But Hugh Howey has other plans. He says, “Yep, it all happens right here!” And you can forget hoping otherwise—Howey slams you right back down into the Silo.
Africa in an imagined future apocalypse. The why and how of the apocalypse is not explained, and Okorafor doesn’t delve into its impact on the present, just a few scattered half-sentences and done. But you feel like there’s no need for more; this gives just the right amount of mystery to the book titled Who Fears Death. However, the daily life of the black continent, from tribal hatred to superstitions and child soldiers to the ritual mutilation of women, is just like what you see in the media today.
This picture is complemented by magic, which fortunately is not the Harry Potter kind of spells (Curriculum Vitae, etc.) and the world of childish waving of wands, but rather a well-functioning nature magic within its own framework.
After a promising and magical start, a few chapters into Who Fears Death, the text slows down, everything becomes more insignificant, and it starts to stagnate. There’s a very thin main plot, and Nnedi Okorafor stretches it out with all sorts of childish conflicts, resentments, and sulks. Although the blurb says this is the author’s first novel for adults, it seems more like a slightly overthought young adult novel. Events trickle slowly, neither too interesting nor too boring, but they have little to do with the main storyline, often feeling unnecessary.
Black people shouldn’t feel like a curse is upon them, not now, not in an imagined future post-apocalyptic world, that’s the main message of Who Fears Death. Plus, transcendent femininity (ha-ha) can work wonders if it’s given enough sacrifice. Unfortunately, it won’t work without it. However, these lessons are wrapped in a lot of unnecessary text. (And why the “ha-ha”? Well, because you can put transcendent femininity on your hat while developed countries export weapons instead of knowledge to the black continent… oh, and while the residents there routinely pepper each other with Kalashnikovs and slice each other up with machetes.
And despite Okorafor’s text being imbued with a commendable level of concern for present-day Africa, you still feel like the author will accomplish much less than intended. And the long and drawn-out spiritual wanderings in Who Fears Death only manage to culminate in a feeble, philosophical conclusion.
7/10
Who Fears Death (Who Fears Death #1) by Nnedi Okorafor 386 pages, Hardcover Published in 2010 by DAW Hardcover
If you haven’t seen the 1978 first installment of the film series, where old Max (Mel Gibson) zeroes out a motorcycle gang due to the murder of his family, it won’t be easy to identify with this new Max (Tom Hardy). This new Mad Max is mostly just some random dude, whom Immortan Joe’s somewhat anemic-looking subordinates drag out of his car and reclassify as a pedestrian in the first few minutes of the film. Might as well call him Jimmy the Pisser. Okay, the new Max is still a tad more than your average Jimmy constantly wetting himself, having developed parkour and acrobatic skills in the INFINITE AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK, which come in handy as he’s forced to jump around on various speeding vehicles for the remainder of the film.
And this new Mad Max falls short of the old Max (and Jimmy) in that he’s a jerk.
After realizing they’re in the same (motor)boat with Furiosa (Charlize Theron), Immortan Joe’s silently departing, disgruntled employee, and his former girlfriends, instead of giving them a nod and saying, “Hey ladies, what’s up? Let’s be best buddies from now on,” he pulls a gun on them, robs them, and lets them beat him senseless.
Not that Furiosa is much of a thoughtful personality either: after all, she drags Joe’s supermodel-like concubines out of their comfort zone into the ENDLESS AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK – and the foolish geese blindly follow; when all they should be doing is lounging around in the only remaining habitable place amidst the apocalypse, looking stunning, and occasionally delighting the grateful Immortan Joe (the poor man’s Darth Vader) with a new offspring. Joe, okay, really isn’t the most charming gentleman, but still isn’t lacking in charisma; and after all, they could easily end up with someone a hundred times worse after judgment day.
Immortan Joe
The film’s main merit, the visual world, is okay, and mostly thanks to the former, the film’s atmosphere is as well: Desert, Sunshine, Apocalypse, although Little “M” angrily resented the excessive use of blue filters in the night scenes.
However, the action scenes are very hard to follow, the cuts are too fast, and the camera shakes as if there’s no tomorrow (or yesterday). You might find this especially problematic because the film “Mad Max” consists EXCLUSIVELY of action. If there’s an occasional brief break, it’s used to push you even deeper into boredom with sappy and sensationalist dialogues. And that’s the biggest problem with this film: after about half an hour, the constant action becomes deadly dull, and you can’t wait to finally be done with it.
George Miller couldn’t resist including the biggest cliché of the lonely and tough hero at the end of the film: Max, accompanied by Furiosa’s beseeching gaze, turns his back on his new friends and sets off into the sunset. But you know it’s all just a show, a projection, plain screwing around, because after just 27 minutes of wandering, Max will have to recognize that he’s in the last habitable place in the INFINITE AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK, so he’ll have to turn around and walk back to Furiosa, who, after pulling him close, whispers in her ear:
6/10
Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) (IMDb) Director: George Miller, Stars: Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron
The England of the 1980s wasn’t exactly a cheerful place (hello, Mrs. Thatcher). But Alan Moore anticipated that it will be even less cheerful in the future — although in hindsight, the nightmare vision of complete fascism seems a bit exaggerated. Anyway, the main message of “V for Vendetta,” which essentially says, “Fascism is bad, mmkay?” remains relevant forever. However, the other essential part of the message, which claims, “Anarchy is good, mmkay?” not so much.
V, the vengeance-seeking vigilante with a Guy Fawkes mask, sets out to dismantle the system like a crazy kid smashing a snowball, increasing your satisfaction with the repugnant demise of the dictatorship’s revolting figures in the opening chapters. For a while. Then you start to worry that okay, okay, but this is a bit one-dimensional, when the detective subplot intensifies and the mystery factor briefly elevates the whole thing, and you REALLY start to wonder who this immensely theatrical character behind the mask really is:
A mad genius, a master strategist, a bulletproof martial artist, and the luckiest guy alive, who’s good at EVERYTHING? Untouchable by anyone? Yes. And that’s precisely what diminishes the enjoyment of “V for Vendetta.” The many evil bastards are no match for V. The outcome of the game cannot be in doubt.
In the final third of the comic, as V’s master plan reaches its climax, and you observe the machinations of the insignificant, petty side characters, you might start to grow weary of the whole shebang. Especially when you realize that they’re all chess pieces on V’s board. Sometimes, unfortunately, you can’t even distinguish one from another due to the blurred, faded drawings. These drawings, however, provide an excellent BACKGROUND for the dark, gray, oppressive England, where radioactive ash falls from the sky, and Nazi propaganda blares from the speakers.
Regarding Detective Finch’s case, the grand plan stretches the bounds of credibility, as it’s highly unlikely for a drugged, deranged individual to stumble exactly where you cleverly calculated. Likewise, it’s highly debatable whether the most suitable person for the task is the one you’ve prepared for it.
According to Alan Moore’s philosophy, there are two types of anarchy: destructive, which breaks down the undeserving system, and constructive, which ideally follows afterward — during which people take control of their destiny. Now that’s something you really wouldn’t want to bet heavily on. It is highly likely, however, that these upstanding citizens, in the midst of constructive anarchy, would trample over each other’s heels to rally under the banner of the first nauseating figure promising them a “brighter future”.
6.5/10
V for Vendetta by Alan Moore & David Lloyd (Illustrator) 296 pages, Hardcover Published in 2005 by Vertigo
You have no idea what anime is? Neither did I, really. (It’s a cartoon, basically.) But Little EM nagged me for a whole year—well, if you can call open and shameless blackmail nagging—until I had to give in. “Attack on Titan is the best anime! Everyone’s watching Attack on Titan!” claimed Little EM. Maybe so, although the real question is how long they’re watching. If you want what’s best for yourself…
How does the series start anyway? It starts off damn well. Humanity has been living behind enormous walls for a hundred years. Outside the walls, there are naked, androgynous, and horribly stupid giants who hunger for human flesh. It’s like zombies, only bigger than apartment buildings. In the first episode, the giants break through the wall. After watching it, you’ll probably just gawk and say, “I’ve never seen a stronger series opener, not even Lost or The Shield, compare to this.”
Unfortunately, it’s all downhill from there. It feels like the creators locked a bunch of twelve-year-olds in a room, had them compete to come up with the dumbest idea, and the winner’s idea got passed along. There’s no sense to the story; it’s like they’re always trying to make something big happen, and as quickly as possible. The first two seasons could have easily explored how humanity recovers from the initial shock, how they slowly gear up for an unequal fight against the almost unbeatable enemy. Instead, they throw in two twists, right at the beginning (the first being the protagonist’s, uh, transformation, and the other involving the giant girl), which completely undermine the otherwise strong premise. And don’t even get me started on the Abnormals, special giants with unique abilities. Armor, teleportation, who knows what else. All these elements successfully reduce the series to a stupid fairy tale.
And believe it or not, that’s the lesser issue. The bigger problem is that the creators of Attack on Titan are incapable of writing sensible dialogue. All the conversations are garbled, pompous repetitions. Plus, most of the characters, whether necessary or not, SCREAM AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS. Especially Eren, the protagonist, who can ONLY COMMUNICATE BY SCREAMING. So, if his little buddies in the Scout Regiment disagree with him, they don’t politely ask,
“Hey, what the frakkin’ hell are you doin’, chimmy-chummy?”
Instead, they SHOUT in his face, “You’re preparing for the downfall of humanity with your actions. Admit that you’re an enemy of humanity!” And so on. This compulsive grandiloquence renders every conversation completely unbelievable and ridiculous.
But the childishness and thoughtlessness extend to every other aspect of the series as well. Whenever the characters find themselves in a crisis (which happens quite a few times), with about 10 seconds to avert the crisis, you can bet 500 yen against the armored giant’s left testicle that they’ll spend AT LEAST 10 minutes lamenting, philosophizing, or struggling with themselves over what to do—while you angrily pound the armrest of your chair in front of the TV and start SHOUTING yourself: “Your time’s up, you miserable idiots!”
At least one recruit participating in military training has a HYSTERICAL BREAKDOWN due to the bleak future ahead, and a third of the episode is spent with the others comforting them. Meanwhile, in sharp contrast, and only incidentally, it turns out that due to overcrowding behind the walls, 250,000(!) civilians were driven out to fight against the giants—to reduce the population inside. The brilliant plan was a success. The giants ate them all. Problem solved. It couldn’t have been easy to convince these 250,000 civilians to join the action; they were probably all forcibly pushed out the gate and weapons were thrown after them at the end, to prevent any recklessness inside. Or if not, they all were probably EASILY INFLUENCED retirees.
