Paris – mostly revolutionary, mostly morbid, but with a hint of nudity

This statue stands on the spot where the guillotine was erected to execute Louis XVI in January 1793. guillotine a Somewhere near these gates, the guillotine was erected to execute Marie-Antoinette in October 1793. guillotine b Jean Sylvain Bailly was an early leader of the French Revolution and the first mayor of Paris. He was guillotined during the Reign of Terror. guillotine In April 1834, a workers uprising broke out against new laws limiting the activities of Republican organisations such as the Society of the Rights of Man. 13,000 police took four days to quell the uprising. On the Rue Transnonain, police massacred all the residents of one apartment building. transnonain Not even a fucking plaque. rue_transnonain_le_15_de_avril_1834 Honoré Daumier’s lithograph Rue Transnonain, le 15 Avril 1834 appeared in the journal La Caricature. When the original was discovered, he was imprisoned for six months. In the the Musée d’Orsay, we found Maximilien Luce’s Une rue de Paris en mai 1871. painting We also, I kid you not, saw a hipster find a portrait of a 19th century man with a similar beard to his own and take a selfie in front of it. The whole city groaned. In spring 1871, the last of the communards hid out in the Père Lachaise cemetery. The victorious Armée versaillaise put one hundred and forty-seven Fédérés up against the wall and shot them and threw their corpses in a trench by the wall. communards communards a Opposite this simple memorial is the grave of Marx’s daughter Laura and her husband Paul Lafargue, who wrote among many other things the excellent The Right to Be Lazy. In old age, they committed suicide rather than be a burden on the revolution. lafargues a     lafargues           Nestor Makno, the Ukrainian anarcho-communist revolutionary was cremated here, too. makhno   I guess I’m wilfully mistranslating/misunderstanding the inscription on this. mistranslation On a cheerier note, this is the bar where Lenin and Trotsky used to hang out in 1915/16 to play chess. lenin I guess it was a little less blandly bourgeois back then. The current management are less inclined to recall Bolshevik grandmasters than to boast that Pierce Brosnan once ate there. Lenin, mind you, can pop up in the least expected places (as, indeed, can Stalin). lenin penis

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Paris – mostly science-fictional, mostly morbid

The grave of Georges Méliès...
The grave of Georges Méliès…
...and stumbled upon by chance the next day, the site of Théâtre Robert-Houdin
…and stumbled upon by chance the next day, the site of Théâtre Robert-Houdin
The graves of François Marie Charles Fourier and of
The graves of François Marie Charles Fourier and of
Claude Henri de Rouvroy, comte de Saint-Simon, utopian socialists both
Claude Henri de Rouvroy, comte de Saint-Simon, utopian socialists both,
of Louis-Sébastien Mercier,
of Louis-Sébastien Mercier,
author of L'An 2440, rêve s'il en fut jamais (1770),
author of L’An 2440, rêve s’il en fut jamais (1770),
and of Gérard de Nerval
and of Gérard de Nerval
and of Nadar (Gaspard-Félix Tournachon), pioneer of aeronautics, photography and, perhaps unsurprisingly, aerial photography.
and of Nadar (Gaspard-Félix Tournachon), pioneer of aeronautics, photography and, perhaps unsurprisingly, aerial photography.
Fellow balloon pioneers, Joseph Crocé-Spinelli and Théodore Henri Sivel, fared less well,
Fellow balloon pioneers, Joseph Crocé-Spinelli and Théodore Henri Sivel, fared less well,
reaching 28,000 feet but dying in the attempt.
reaching 28,000 feet but dying in the attempt.
A plaque for, not the  grave, of Vercors (Jean Bruller), author of Borderline, The Imsurgents and Sylva.
A plaque for, not the grave of, Vercors (Jean Bruller), author of Borderline, The Insurgents and Sylva.
Back to graves. Jean-Marie-Mathias-Philippe-Auguste, comte de Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, author of The Future Eve.
Back to graves. Jean-Marie-Mathias-Philippe-Auguste, comte de Villiers de l’Isle-Adam, author of The Future Eve.
Raymond Roussel, author of Impressions d'Afrique and of Locus Solus.
Raymond Roussel, author of Impressions d’Afrique and of Locus Solus.
Émile Souvestre, author of The World As It Will Be.
Émile Souvestre, author of The World As It Will Be.
Paul Éluard, who did not write sf, but whose poetry collection Capitale de la douleur features heavily in Godard's Alphaville.
Paul Éluard, who did not write sf but whose poetry collection Capitale de la douleur features heavily in Godard’s Alphaville.
And, of course, Oscar Wilde.
And, of course, Oscar Wilde.
Étienne-Gaspard Robertson,
Étienne-Gaspard Robertson,
physicist, stage magician,
physicist, stage magician,
balloonist (inevitably) and
balloonist (inevitably) and
phantasmagoria pioneer.
phantasmagoria pioneer.
The Tomb of the Biologically Divergent Working Class.
The Tomb of the Biologically Divergent Working Class.
A little something...
A little something…
...for fans of...
…for fans of…
Harry Potter.
Harry Potter.
Some good old-fashioned surveillance.
Some good old-fashioned surveillance…
...and a remind of Muybridge.
…and a reminder of Muybridge.
An sf shop,
An sf shop,
an sf bar and...
an sf bar and…
...a bunker anti-zombies.
…a bunker anti-zombies.
And this is where we stayed. The hotel where Breton and Soupault (before his expulsion from the Surrealists for pursuing individualist and stupid literary projects) invented automatic writing and co-wrote The Magnetic Fields.
And this is where we stayed. The hotel where Breton and Soupault (before his expulsion from the Surrealists for pursuing individualist and stupid literary projects) invented automatic writing and co-wrote The Magnetic Fields.
Not just in the hotel, mind, but in the actual fucking room where they did so.
Not just in the hotel, mind, but in the actual fucking room where they did so.
The room with this creepy-ass shit directly above the bed.
The room with this creepy-ass shit directly above the bed.

le hipster parisienne 2015 – un essai photographique dans le français execrable

dans le matin, le hipster parisienne salue le soleil  et chills sur sa balcon (sans underpants)
dans le matin, le hipster parisienne salue le soleil de son balcon, sans le underpants
après un petit déjeuner tardif, le hipster parisienne...
après un petit déjeuner tardif, le hipster parisienne dans le underpants comicale aime à contester …
...avec ses amis imaginaires: qui a ordonné le espresso Guillermo?
…avec ses amis (imaginaires): qui ordonné l’espresso Guillermo?
le hipster parisienne dédaigne ironiquement chaussures afin de cacher à son engagement à consommer des produits masculins de toilettage
le hipster parisienne disdainé (ironiquement) les shoes en order de concealé son passion à consommer des produits masculins de toilettage
le hipster parisienne, il transpire, est...
le hipster parisienne, il transpire, est…
insufférable totalement (sans underpants)
…insufférable totalement. Sans (ou même avec) le underpants.

The Monuments Men (George Clooney 2014)

MV5BMjMxMjk4NTM1M15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNjg0MjQ3MDE@._V1_SX640_SY720_and so anyway it turns out that the best thing about The Monuments Men (2014), George Clooney’s oddly uninvolving war movie about the unit attempting to retrieve the masterpieces of European art stolen by Nazis before they fall into the filthy red paws of the Soviet army sweeping into Germany from the east, is the long comedy sequence – cut from the cinematic release but now  available as a DVD extra – in which Bill Murray and John Goodman, mangling Gallic vowels in abominable stage French accents, disappear off on a side mission in a valiant effort to recover Van Klomp’s The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies…

Transcendence (Wally Pfister 2014)

transcendence_ver11and so anyway it turns out that the best thing about Transcendence (2014) is not the sub-Kubrickian but nonetheless quite fascinating commutative editing, which results in a film with only half a dozen scenes dispersed among its 105-minute stream of images replacing one another with no memory of what appeared before each of them and no necessary connection to what appears after each of them, nor is it the the moment when you begin to imagine an alternative version in which Rebecca Hall’s character was played by Miranda Hart, nor the moment when you begin to imagine Johnny Depp’s character was played by an actor and resembled a character, nor the bit when you start aching for the AI, having hooked itself up to the internets, to come across an online copy of Colossus: The Forbin Project and become depressed or The Lawnmower Man and become really depressed or Demon Seed and start building something really nasty in the basement, nor is it the end credit which says ‘A WALLY PFISTER FILM’ when even then surely they must have know it was really a case of ‘THE WALLY PFISTER FILM’, no, the very best thing about Transcendence is the bit right near the end when the soldier played by Cole Hauser exclaims ‘it didn’t kill anyone’, which was basically my complaint, too…

 

African Science Fiction 101: update

This is really just a note listing some of the African sf that has been published since I wrote ‘African Science Fiction 101’ – and some of the books I just plain missed when I researched it. Hopefully, this summer I will have time to read them… 51BDxwqGg+L

Dr Satan’s Echo Chamber – double issue (12/13) of Chimurenga (2008). An all-faxion issue on black technologies no longer secret, plus 13 associated documents. Copies still available.

Khairy Shalaby, Travels of the Pickle and Sweet Vendor (1991; trans 2010). Egyptian timeslip narrative, which seems to have a different title on the cover than in the listings where I found it, and my copy is still in the post, so this mystery will remain temporarily unresolved…

Iain S. Thomas, Intentional Dissonance (2012). Post-apocalyptic dystopia by South African author.

Sofia Samatar, A Stranger in Olondria (2013). Debut fantasy novel written in South Sudan by a remarkable American short-story writer of Somali and Swiss/German heritage.

Rachel Zadok, Sister-Sister (2013). A road-trip through an apocalyptic alternative (or near-future) South Africa.

Chibundu Onuzo, The Spider King’s Daughter (2013). This keeps being recommended to me – but I cannot find any reference to it containing fantastical elements (despite the title), so I guess I should read it and then either replace this explanation or cut it from this list… 0987019872.02.LZZZZZZZ

Dilman Dila, A Killing in the Sun (2014). Solid collection of ten short stories playing across distinctions between sf and fantasy, modernity and tradition, superstition and indigenous knowledges, by the Ugandan author and filmmaker. I think this is the first single-author collection of African sf.

Nerine Dorman, ed., Terra Incognita: New Short Speculative Stories from Africa (2015). Anthology of nineteen stories – the third to come out of Short Story Day Africa’s annual competition – at the more literary end of genre. Only a couple of duds in it. (I should have a review of it – and the previous entry – forthcoming soon.)

Nnedi Okorafor, The Book of Phoenix (2015). Prequel to Who Fears Death.

In terms of short fiction, issue three of Omenana has just come out, and the second volume of Ivor Hartmann’s AfroSF: Science Fiction by African Writers is imminent. There is also forthcoming this year an anthology called Imagine Africa 500, which apparently will contain ten sf stories by writers from Malawi and ten from writers from other African countries.

Crumbs (Miguel Llansó Ethiopia/Spain/Finland 2015) is currently doing the rounds of film festivals before, hopefully, a wider arthouse and DVD release. According to imdb, ‘Our figurine sized supermen hero embarks on an epic surreal journey that will take him across the Ethiopian post apocalyptic landscape in search of a way to get on the hovering spacecraft that for years has become a landmark in the skies’.

In ‘Africa SF 101’, I mentioned A Beast in View (1969), by exiled anti-Apartheid activist Peter Dreyer, and Nadine Gordimer’s July’s People (1981), set in a near-future in which resistance to Apartheid is becoming open revolution. 752297331.0.mWhat I missed completely were a number of novels by South Africans anticipating the end of Apartheid, ranging from the earnest to the satirical to the trashy: Anthony Delius, The Day Natal Took Off (1960) Gary Allighan, Verwoerd – the End (1961) Andrew McCoy, The Insurrectionist (1979) Frank Graves, African Chess (1990; recently revised and reissued).

There are several similar novels from outside of Africa: Iain Findlay, The Azanian Assignment (1978) – the only novel by this Australian author 51TPVFXnAWL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_

Randall Robinson, The Emancipation of Wakefield Clay (1978) – looks like a further example of the American cycle of ‘Black Power Sf’, but with the revolution displaced from the US

Larry Bond, Vortex (1981) – about the size of a housebrick, and just as smart; as well as a dramatis personae, it has a glossary giving details of all the different weapons and weapons systems it mentions

In other news, ‘African Science Fiction 101’ has been translated in two parts for the website of the World Chinese Science Fiction Association, China’s largest association for science fiction practitioners and fans. If you want to see it, go here and here.

Update 2

Primer (Shane Carruth USA 2004)

primer-movie-poster-2004-1020241222[A version of this review appeared in Foundation 98 (2006), 152–6]

From a garage in Dallas, four men run a business in their spare time, using scavenged components and their knowledge of physics, computers and engineering to devise patentable tweaks to existing technology in the hope of getting rich. Two years, fourteen patents – and the best they have managed is disenchantment with each other and a marginal mail-order business selling JTAG cards. However, while experimenting with superconductors, Aaron (Shane Carruth) stumbles upon something peculiar – the system they have built puts out more energy than they put into it. He and Abe (David Sullivan) keep it secret from Phillip (Anand Upanhyaya) and Robert (Casey Gooden). They realise that ‘the easiest way to be exploited [is] to sell something they did not understand’ but also, over following weeks and months, that they are ‘out of their depth’. Until one day, Abe takes Aaron step-by-step through what he has learned – they have actually created a kind of time machine. If they switch it on at time A and enter it later at time B, they can return to time A; but this also means that between times A and B there are two of each of them coexisting. Abe is anxious to avoid messing around with causality, but things start to go awry when the much less cautious Aaron begins to fantasise about getting revenge on an investor who messed them around: Aaron imagines assaulting him and then going back in time to tell himself not to do it. He dreams of acting with impunity, of becoming so rich that he is above the law.

Actually, things go awry much sooner (or possibly later) than that: Aaron grasped the machine’s potential more quickly than Abe realised and has been deceiving him, carrying out his own agenda. Aarons and Abes multiply, attacking other versions of themselves. Disagreements escalate. Aaron and Abe appear less frequently in the same shot, and when they do they are often separated not just by distance but by the vertical lines of background architecture or ominous black shapes.

Placing all that has passed under erasure, the story ends – I think – at some point between the start of the film and Abe’s first use of the time machine. An Abe is sabotaging the machine while the original Abe (or possibly the same Abe, only earlier) is building it, in the hope that he will give up (read backwards, his surname, Terger, provides a clue). An Aaron, somewhere overseas and apparently with corporate or state backing, is constructing a much bigger machine, while the original Aaron (or possibly the same Aaron, only earlier) continues to live with his family. I think.

Writer-director-editor and co-star Carruth (he was also responsible for casting, production design, sound design and the film’s original music) is rumoured to have shot a scene in which everything is explained, but if so, he was wise to cut it – and not only because it must have contained long and stilted dialogue (and probably lots of diagrams). The film is effective because of its refusal to clarify what we see and hear. Fresh but often elliptical information demands that we, like the protagonists, revise our understanding of earlier scenes, which in turn alters our understanding of the information. Multiple viewings are required for those who wish to figure it out, but, like Videodrome (1983), I am not certain it can be – and this renders it probably unique among American time-travel fictions. For example, unlike the Back to the Future ( 1985–90) and Terminator (1984–2003) trilogies, it is not easily reducible to an oedipal primal scene fantasy; and however much their final reels might prattle about the future not being fixed, they lack Primer’s more thoroughgoing destabilisation of temporality, duration, narrative, memory and identity. This contingency of meaning and self-conscious ambiguity is more akin to modernist European time-travel fantasies like La jetée (1962), L’anné dernière à Marienbad (1961) and Je t’aime, je t’aime ( 1968) (Primer’s womb imagery, aural rather than visual, seems to allude to the latter in particular).

Like these nouvelle vague films, Primer is also a meditation on cinema itself. Although it is a coincidence that the Lumière brothers ‘invented’ cinema in the same year that Wells published The Time Machine: An Invention (1895), there is a complex interconnection between time-travel and motion pictures that goes beyond the Wells/Paul patent for a never-constructed fairground ride/exhibition space that reconstructed the Time Traveller’s voyage. The projected representation of past moments, undercranking and overcranking the camera so as to produce fast- and slow-motion, editing out frames or editing them together – these are all experiments in altering time, reconstructing it so as to be experienced differently. (And it is worth recalling that Alain Robbe-Grillet’s script for Marienbad was inspired by Aldolfo Bioy Casares’s neglected sf novel La invención de Morel (1940), whose title nods to Wells but whose story of a man who falls in love with an unattainable woman in a virtual projection of a recorded past was itself inspired by the author’s fascination with silent movie actress Louise Brooks.) Early in Primer, when the garage door rolls shut, the inventors remain visible through four windows in it: the image looks like four frames of film unspooled across a black background. In several scenes footage overlaps, repeats from the same and different angles, the action apparently stuttering; perhaps a consequence of shooting insufficient coverage, it nonetheless disrupts and thus becomes instructive about the ways conventional editing creates the illusion of continuous time and space. Elsewhere, jumpcuts compress time, to similar effect. Reality becomes subject to multiple takes, events can be revised and erased; a key incident is ‘reverse-engineered into a perfect moment’.

Technical errors during filming left much of the sound recording unusable; the post-synchronised dialogue and ambient sound often just don’t sound quite right, further alienating the viewer, especially during scenes dominated by hard-sf speak. The film contrives to hold the viewer at a distance while its characters do little to evoke a sympathetic response, making it something to scrutinise rather than wallow in – not that one would want to: the world it creates is far from appealing (shot on super-16mm, and blown up to 35mm via a digital intermediary, it is dominated by sickly greens and yellows), and not just in terms of its appearance.

Roger Luckhurst argues that the figure of the heroic scientist – whether Ralph 124c41+ or Thomas Edison – emerged in popular culture just as the real-world efforts of the latter and his ilk were industrialising and commodifying the processes of technological innovation, effectively removing it from the realm of the individual creator. Just as La invención de Morel explores capital’s colonisation of the unconsconscious in terms of the articulation of desire through the commodified image of an actress, so Primer sees the logic of capital spread into every aspect of its protagonists’ being. They work 30 hours per week in the garage on top of their day jobs. Robert proposes a project which might be fun, but Aaron and Abe dismiss it because it is unlikely to reach a marketable stage. Alienated from their labour and from whatever pleasure they derived from tinkering with things in the garage, all they want to do is produce the tweak that will make them rich. They have instrumentalised their skills and desires, and compartmentalised their lives. Unable to produce a profitable device, they instead use time-travel to pick up information on stocks and shares. The fantasy of free energy (and self-replication) turns into the fantasy of immaterial capital boundlessly reproducing itself. By explicitly rejecting the lottery in favour of the stock market they throw themselves into capital’s annexation of our future.

That their experiment is doomed is suggested throughout by the sense that life cannot be compartmentalised, that causation is complex rather than linear. At one point, Aaron ‘accidentally’ reproduces his cell phone, and when it rings he has to work out whether the network will contact both identical phones or just search grid by grid until it finds one of them. Elsewhere, inexplicably, the father of a girl they know suddenly appears with two or three days of facial hair despite being clean-shaven just a few hours earlier. ‘There’s always leaks,’ Abe tells Aaron, and consequences seem to come not in chains but webs which reach in all directions.

Ultimately, this is where Primer differs from nouvelle vague time travel fantasies. They are primarily backward-looking, concerned with memory and the props which secure bourgeois identity. Primer looks to the future, but instead finds a complex present already out of control. Its garage inventors resemble the utopian writers described in Fredric Jameson’s Archaeologies of the Future (2005), but unlike them Aaron and Abe are unable to imagine change, the radical break – the first negation – that makes utopia possible. They are so woven into the fabric of late-capital that they can only conceptualise using this fabulous new technology to leave everything – apart from their bank balances – exactly the same. The market might pretend it is homeostatic, orderly and inevitable, but a fragment of hope can be found in how thoroughly Aaron and Abe are made to learn that the status quo is complex, dynamic and riddled with contradiction.