When I contemplate how this rag came into being, I'd have to accuse Ray Radlein and Cheryl Morgan of being its parents. Why? Well...
Cheryl Morgan, in case you haven't had the pleasure, is a wonderful fan-about-town who originated in England but tends to find herself shuttling between the UK, the USA and Australia these days for reasons not really of her own choosing. When she's here in the States, her usual haunt is the San Francisco Bay Area. This is how I was exposed to her fanzine, "Emerald City" (available at http://www.emcit.com/).
Before I'd found out about EmCit, my primary exposure to fanzines had been via the group efforts published in furry fandom, including my own contribution to the genre, a hardcore 'zine called "FurNography" (more on that another time). I thus ended up operating under the delusion that fanzines had to be group efforts with contributions and subscriptions and similar nonsense or they couldn't be worth much to anyone. When I was handed my first issue of EmCit, I was given concrete proof that I was completely off-base. Outside of the rare appearance by one of her friends or fannish acquaintances, Cheryl writes the whole thing herself. And it's an entertaining read.
Being a typical fan, I decided that I could at least try something similar. The biggest barrier to my doing so was a name for it. I wanted something reasonably generic without being boring. Eccentric would be even better. This is where Ray Radlein, a fan with whom I only have an electronic acquaintance, comes in.
One day, I was reading the Usenet group rec.arts.sf.fandom, and someone quoted a book review which referred to an element in a story as a ferret which needed unravelling. A short-lived thread was created from this called "The Unravelled Ferret," in which Ray said what I had been thinking that phrase would make a good name for a 'zine. I declared my attraction to the idea, and the rest has been a matter of me gathering up the nerve to do it.
You are, therefore, reading the product of a slightly unusual coupling between two fen who may never have met and may never meet. Of course, they may both want to do me harm for this, but I believe in giving blame credit where it's due. I'll just make sure to be wearing appropriate body armor the next time I see either of them.
The usual reviews and con reports will make up the bulk of this project, however long it lasts. I'll probably tend toward movie and other media reviews, mostly because the books I'm currently reading aren't recent enough for me to feel they're worth reviewing. If I happen to nab a hardcover edition of anything, though, I'll definitely write it up.
I'll try for a once a month turnaround, but if I'm having a particularly boring or busy month, it may take a little longer. This is why I'm taking a page from EmCit and declaring this 'zine to be occasional.
And no, I don't own a ferret. Doing such a thing is illegal in California, and besides, I don't have enough room for a decent fish tank in my apartment, let alone running room for a ferret. While waiting for the laws and my living space to change, I get my ferret fixes via a website called The Ferret Cam (http://pbob.speeder.com/ferret).
Because of my involvment with the San Francisco in 2002 Worldcon bid, I'm travelling to conventions more frequently than I ever did before. This is why I went to Westercon 51, aka ConCept, in San Diego over the Fourth of July weekend. My husband Bob and I drove down there from the San Francisco Bay Area in a rental car to save on the airfare and spare our dying Ford Torino from the injustice of it all. We'd have ended up renting a car down there anyway, even if we never moved it from its original parking space at the hotel. The hotel was a bit sprawling compared to some conventions I've been to, with the masquerade having to be held off-site due to space considerations and multiple events taking place in an outdoor pavilion for similar reasons, but I've seen worse.
The low point of the driving, there or back, was the speeding ticket we received. The high point was sharing the ride with my girlfriend, Seanan McGuire. She brought along some wonderful CDs and her addictive personality. Traveling with my husband is always a pleasant experience, but I definitely enjoyed the qualitative shift to the experience that happened because Seanan was in the back seat. We're going to have to take her places more often.
And if you want a truly rare steak and find yourself at the Stockdale Highway exit on I-5, go to Perko's. I'm not kidding. I think their cooking process involved having the cow perform a firewalk before killing it and putting the requested cut on my plate.
As for the convention itself, I'm afraid I didn't really see much of it past the dealer's room and art show, unless you count the parties. I attended a panel on the impact of the Internet on publishing, another one on how to bid for a Westercon, spent five minutes in the business meeting, and listened to an interview with the Fan Guest of Honor, Dave Clark.
The Internet and publishing panel wasn't bad, but the classism displayed by one of the panelists disturbed me. There is this presumption amongst some of the computer-literate that the gadgets will take over the earth. None of them seem to understand that unless and until there is no such thing as poverty, there will always be people for whom the old tech will be an easier investment than the new. Always. Besides, paperbacks don't need to have their batteries recharged, and I dare you to find a compatible electric plug in the Amazon or the outback without a long hike.
The panel on how to bid for a Westercon was full of strong cautions against doing so because of the time and expense involved. It almost turned into a verbal brawl when one of the audience members took umbrage at remarks about how you can't really do a 350-person Westercon, LoneStarCon being invoked on both the pro and con sides of the argument. This diversion was completely off-topic (the panel was on how to bid, not run, a Westercon) and something I managed to tune out for most of its short duration. I only really looked up when accusations of snobbery started being flung around. Thankfully, this was the point at which the discussion was redirected. By the way, I'm considering launching a bid for Colma, CA. I figure with all of the cemeteries they have there, we can save tons of money by having all of the guests of honor be dead ones.
That panel leads me to a small tangent to discuss the vote for the 2000 Westercon that took place in San Diego. A lot of people have been claiming that Hawaii in 2000 pulled a fast one on fandom by tinkering with the voting procedure via their all-powerful SMOFfish connections. They did nothing of the sort. According to the Westercon by-laws, the site voting must be conducted between the first day of the convention and the third-to-last day. This allows for Westercons of three days to still have time for the business meeting at which the formal results can be announced, and also requires longer Westercons to hold the vote for a reasonable length of time during the convention. The only reason the vote wasn't carried over to Saturday was that regulation. Changing it would have been a very nasty exercise. This brouhaha in a beanie would have been a moot point if San Diego had held the convention Friday through Monday instead of Thursday through Sunday, and I'm sure the ConCept people had good reasons for doing so. Anyone who could have voted by mail (read everyone who bought memberships sufficiently in advance) but didn't has no excuse to complain. If you didn't like the results of the 2000 voting, vote for Phoenix the next chance you get. It's the only thing you can do at this point short of launching some preposterous bid for a West Coast SF Interim Convention and creating a schism in West Coast fandom. The concept of banning sites not contiguous to the North American continent is less explosive, but tacky. Not everyone can attend every Westercon. It's a fact of existence. Or would you rather see it held in Fresno every year so the location would be centralized? Or LA so it's accessible by car to the largest percentage of Western fans? The rotation was put into effect because the former solution was being done in the latter city, and fans north of San Francisco and east of Phoenix were getting a bit frustrated.
Back to the convention. What little I saw of the business meeting looked like the sort of thing I've grown used to at the local fan club meetings I've gone to. It consisted of Kevin Standlee presiding and either much fun being had despite the business needing to be attended to or business being attended to despite the fun being had, depending on your perspective. My husband Bob facilitated the continuation of a subcommittee by proposing that the rule which states that 24-point bold type should be used for the names on convention badges be modified to declare that the point size be determined with a typographer's rule instead of relying on the vagaries of a computer fontmaker's whimsy. The subcommittee had previously been discussing whether all of the occurrences of the word "obligatory" in the bylaws should be changed to "mandatory." That was finally killed. I suspect that, despite his best intentions and the inherent soundness of the rule (picayune nature aside), Bob's rule proposal will meet a similar fate, probably in 2000 or 2001. I'm told that another modification to the constitution which was proposed and actually passed after I left set things up so that should the US ever annex Australia, or vice versa, Australia will be eligible to host a Westercon. You can thank DUFF winner Terry Frost for that one.
The Dave Clark interview was conducted by perennial Hugo nominee Mike Glyer, and had a light attendance. This was a shame, as both Dave and Mike had interesting things to say, drawing from their shared experiences as longtime fans. One of the most visible things Dave has done in fandom thus far has been to take over ConFrancisco after a series of previous chairs either quit or died unexpectedly, the latter having happened to both of his immediate predecessors. I suspect his life insurance agent will want to have a long talk with him if he ever even fantasizes about running a Worldcon again, since you can only beat the odds for so long. During the interview, Dave brought up a very interesting discussion he had once with author Dick Lupoff. Lupoff observed that, when the pulp SF 'zines died, many people were terrified that the death of fandom was near. This obviously did not come to pass. Worries on the part of current fandom that the media fen will kill what we cherish remind Dave of that conversation. He thinks that media cons will bring more people into mainstream SF fandom, and I think he's right. Of course, I take pride in the fact that I am a Renaissance fan, comfortable dealing with television, movies, literature, and comic books, so the fuss over mediafen vs. litfen just confuses me.
The biggest indulgence I took part in aside from spending a few well-placed dollars in the dealer's room was a Friday night outing to Hooters. In case you've never heard of this restaurant chain, it specializes in American grill cuisine and pub grub, a modest but respectable (for the US) assortment of beers, and very cute waitresses in tight clothing. The party consisted of myself, my husband, Seanan, Seanan's significant other Steve Wade, and our mutual friend and conversational grandmistress Jane Mailander. I believe all of the people in the party, male and female alike, would not recoil at the thought of being called feminist, but we enjoyed ourselves immensely despite the apparently sexist nature of the place because it was done in a very lighthearted manner. I wouldn't call it a self-parody, but it didn't feel exploitive. Our waitress turned out to be a regular at the San Diego Comic Con. It was nice to find a sister con-goer in the place. The food was good, and the atmosphere was infectious. Seanan and I ended up jitterbugging for a short while. That is, Seanan was jitterbugging. I was doing some freaky combination of West Coast swing and Faking It. Good thing she was leading.
The room parties, which were scattered all over the hotel instead of concentrated on one floor (why, I don't know), were a pretty fair mix. The two competing Westercon bids threw the best parties they could. Phoenix's would have been quite a bit better if the hotel hadn't yanked their suite out from under them at the last minute, but the free food they were given as an apology helped. Hawaii's party had plenty of plastic leis and native recipes to help set the mood, and the most convenient party location of all, just a short hop down from the ConSuite. The most raucous party I can recall was the EmpireCon (Westercon 52) bash, but that's what happens when you have free beer. The Portland in 2001 Westercon bid had a positively gorgeous setup, with fresh roses and rose-shaped candles floating in cups of water. I'd comment on the SF in 2002 party, but that would be hopelessly biased of me. The one thing I screwed up on in relationship to the parties I visited was failing to catch the Boston for Orlando in 2001 Worldcon bid party. My badge is lacking a pretty pink flamingo to balance the kite I received from the Philadelphia contingent. I even picked up a Seattle in 2002 sticker for sake of completeness. Oops.
I missed most of the panels because my husband and I were in charge of the fan table for the SF in 2002 bid. While sitting there, my position allowed me a really nice view of the variety of fans in attendance. Out of the 26 people who signed up for pre-supporting memberships while the bid table was open, the one person whose signature and $20.02 I was most pleased about was that belonging to Fred Patten, Big Name Furfan. Of course, the assurance that furry programming was in the cards which persuaded Fred to sign all but sealed my fate as to what I'll be doing at ConFrancisco in 2002 if we win. It was my willingness to open my big mouth and volunteer to do it that got him to pay up. It's what comes of being one of the more well-known furry fans on the committee, I guess. Any protests I may make about my attempts to gafiate from furry fandom would sound even more hollow than usual after that stunt.
There are a few more things I want to note quickly. First, kudos to San Diego for picking a hotel close to Qualcomm Stadium. Two nights' worth of fireworks is a glorious thing. Second, I'm pleased to say that my one major complaint with the convention was what appeared to be a miscommunication between the hotel liaison and the Mission Valley Marriott. The hotel was so overwhelmed by late checkout requests that they ended up issuing a blanket refusal to everyone who asked, regardless of when they asked. I'm wondering if either the liaison didn't warn them about this peculiarity of congoers, or if instead it was an issue that was sacrificed in the name of other concessions. Either way, it was the only truly bad spot for me that weekend, including the ticket. I was also able to finally put face to name for some people I've only spoken to online. Specifically, I identified if not met Seth Breidbart, Janice Gelb, Ben Yalow, Mike Glyer, and Chaz Baden.
Disney's animation division has been a burr under my saddle ever since I became a feminist. Every last human heroine they've shown since 1938 has, to a large degree if not exclusively so, required a Prince Charming to save her from her dreary existence. This continued after the new crop of films started coming out, starting with Beauty and the Beast and progressing through The Little Mermaid and Aladdin. But after that, the mold started to crack. Pocahontas didn't get to keep John Smith. Megaera not only started out with the intention to ruin Hercules' life, she wasn't even a virgin. Now, with Mulan, Disney's taken their usual heroine mold and shattered it like cheap pottery.
Based on the Chinese legend of Fa Mu Lan, our heroine is the only child of a retired soldier in the Chinese army, and she can't seem to fit the standard social mold. Incapable of being demure and retiring, she causes dishonor to fall on her family when she makes a royal mess of her visit to the matchmaker. While this is going on, the emperor of China calls upon every family in China to send one man to his army to fight the invading Huns. Mulan's father readies himself to go, but Mulan disguises herself as a boy and takes his place without consulting the family first. The rest of the film constitutes one of the most daring experiments Disney's done since The Black Cauldron, with greater financial success.
Mulan's status as hero makes this one of the few action movies with a female lead that I've seen in years which lets the woman save the world. In almost every other action film I know of in which there is a man and a woman fighting the same enemy, the man does the final butt-kicking (see Terminator 2 for a blatant example of how scripts can set this up). While some might quibble that the dragon delivers the final blow, Mulan is the one who concocts the plan and sets it in motion.
Another oddity about this movie as far as previous Disney efforts go is the lack of music. There are only four songs sung by the characters during the course of the film. I've been told that the lack of songs is due to a composer change partway through filming. Regardless of why, I was glad it turned out that way. There are at least two parts of the movie where I could tell the original idea was to have someone singing, and it would have dragged the movie down if they had. Mulan's departure scene, for example, was stronger for being conducted in relative silence.
One detail of the movie which pleased me but hasn't been noted frequently is its quietly fat-positive moments, such as the "Girl Worth Fighting For" sequence's well-rounded fantasy women. This also has to be the most pagan, or at least non-Christian, movie Disney's done yet. The ancestor worship common to Chinese spiritual practice was a vital element to the film, along with the concept of animal guardian spirits.
This being an imperfect world, Mulan is still an imperfect movie. The Western moments that popped up in the film, from Eddie Murphy and June Foray's voices to the fried eggs and bacon topping Mulan's rice porridge, showed that Disney was worrying a bit too much about how it would play in Peoria. Also, with all of the lip service being paid to the concept of honor, the ramifications of losing same were never demonstrated. Honor just started sounding like another word for self-esteem after a while instead of the social make-or-break force the dialogue initially makes it out to be. I realize that a lesson in Confucian philosophy and Chinese social structure is hard to weave into a 90-minute cartoon, but some kind of business within a scene demonstrating the meaning of losing face would have helped. The songs, few though they were, had little in their favor beyond their lack of frequency. There's a reason Michael Wilder only had one hit single.
Overall, however, I'm glad I saw it twice, I'd see it again, and I intend to buy it when it comes out. Preferably in widescreen on laserdisc or DVD. This was a landmark film for Disney. I hope it doesn't turn out to be a fluke. But since their next release is going to be a musical version of Tarzan, I'm not exactly counting on miracles.
One amusing point about Small Soldiers is how badly its ads represent it. From the looks of the television ads and movie trailers, it should be an all-ages comedy about talking toy soldiers. In reality, the film is a humorous action/horror film which is definitely not for younger viewers, and one of the better members of the "small creatures take over" genre since Gremlins, for very good reason.
Due to a combination of moves by an overly enthusiastic toy designer and a boy who wants to prove to his parents that he's not a complete failure, a set of toys capable of independent thought and action are set loose in a small town. In a twist from the standard formula, the humanoid toys are the bad guys while the freaks need defending. This twist is emphasized by using the voices of Tommy Lee Jones and several cast members from The Dirty Dozen for the Commando Elite, while perennial movie villain Frank Langella handled the part of the leader of the Gorgonites. Movie in-jokes fall from the film like rain, including several references back to Gremlins, which was the first major film created by the people behind Small Soldiers. I found myself frustrated that I couldn't remember half of what I was hearing well enough to completely understand the gags. I also felt the film could have been paced a bit more tightly. The special effects were quite excellent, though. I'd say CGI was made to be used for animating dolls.
This film is also Phil Hartman's last. A couple of months before its release, Hartman was murdered by his wife, who then proceeded to kill herself. This is why the commercials almost never show him. The distributors are sensitive enough to know it wouldn't look good to promote the presence of a dead man in a film that's supposed to be funny. They also dedicated the film to him. Stay until the closing credits so you can see it. It's short but appropriate. As for his work in this picture, it was the usual pleasure to watch. He will be missed. Who else could possibly voice Troy McClure on "The Simpsonsquot; if not Hartman?
While I didn't enjoy this picture quite as much as some I've seen, it was worth going to, both for the story and the effects. I'll probably end up buying it on video.
There are, in this great wide world, bigger Zorro fans than I. For one, if I've seen the Douglas Fairbanks version more than once, I honestly don't recall. I'm also not a Zorro purist. The one film that at least nominally belongs in the canon which I have seen the most frequently is George Hamilton's Zorro, the Gay Blade. This being said, the story has always intrigued me. I approached The Mask of Zorro with a slight amount of trepidation, however, because they'd decided to make it something of a sequel.
Instead of Zorro being embodied by a young and vital Don Diego de la Vega, in this movie, de la Vega is aging inside a prison cell after finally being found out by the Alcalde. When he manages his escape, he manages to meet up with the surviving member of the two brothers who saved his life during his last strike at the Alcalde and takes him on as his replacement. The political landscape of Alta California has changed a bit since de la Vega was imprisoned. Now, Santa Anna is trying to keep his hands on it in the face of American interference, and the Alcalde is smarting from having lost it twenty years ago. The revenge de la Vega seeks to wreak is also complicated by the revenge his new apprentice, Alejandro, seeks to gain against the man who killed his brother. By great good fortune, however, this man is in deep cahoots with the former Alcalde...
One of the wonderful things about this film is seeing a man of Spanish origins donning the cape and mask. The fact that Antonio Banderas got the nod made it twice as sweet. Anthony Hopkins, despite the out of place British stage accent he employs, still made sense as de la Vega because of his presence and consummate skill. I am glad he didn't try a Spanish accent, though. It might have seemed a bit much. And the other addition to the Zorro character stable, de la Vega's daughter Elena, made this movie an eye candy and acting skill trifecta. Catherine Zeta Jones is a woman to watch for more than one reason.
As for the change in the handling of Zorro, it worked well enough. I'm not entirely sure why they felt it necessary to have Banderas playing the inheritor of the mask instead of de la Vega himself, but it made sufficient sense within context. It allowed the audience to see what could contribute to someone becoming a masked vigilante. I must admit, though, that when Zorro/de la Vega rode into that cave under the waterfall, the one thing that came screaming to mind was, "To the Foxcave!" I know it's a standard motif in action stories, but I was so relieved they didn't film that section of the movie in Griffith Park.
No, it wasn't Shakespeare. It's an action film that doesn't rely on car crashes, heavy metal soundtracks, or huge quantities of swearing. It was a wonderful piece of nostalgic film-making, and worth checking out.
Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) is the only person in the world who doesn't know he's the star of a 24-hour television show which focuses on, and tightly controls, his life. His wife, best friend, co-workers, and all the assorted citizens of Seahaven, FL are actors. The sky overhead is a fake. Most of the buildings in town are facades. People the world over base their lives around "The Truman Show," knowing only Tru isn't in on the act and eating it up. Truman lives in this controlled world for almost 30 years, not catching on to any of it, until the inevitable mechanical failure occurs. One spotlight with a bad connection to the roof crashes down right in front of him as he's leaving for work, and the enlightenment of Truman Burbank begins, along with one of the more inventive plotlines I've seen since Robert Altman's The Player.
Carrey's work in this film demonstrates a restraint he has never been allowed to display to such a degree before. His ability speaks to the actor's adage, "Falling down is easy. Comedy, that's hard." The insanity he's portrayed in his Ace Ventura films and The Mask is only glimpsed here, and then as either enthusiastic good will or frustration. I adored his work in this picture, and gained a great deal of respect for its director (Peter Weir) for being able to bring that out of him.
The story itself could be interpreted as having several messages. The name of the director of "The Truman Show" being Christof (Ed Harris) has led more than one commentator to remark on its religious parallels. There are some which can be inferred, but if Truman Burbank is supposed to represent Everyman, the worldview which results from carrying this analogy is peculiarly solipsistic. While it can be said that we are all the stars of our own internal dramas, to the rest of the world, we're lucky if we qualify as a speaking extra. I won't even get into where any supernatural deities might or might not enter into the formula. I can definitely see where Christof perceived of himself as some omnipotent father figure to Truman, however. Standing in the moon and looking down on the town you built from the ground up day in and day out would give almost anyone a god complex after a while.
I'd say that the film speaks a lot to how we perceive the world and what kinds of information we'll accept or reject with the right amount of convincing. The control that mass media has on the American mind is also shown very well. In the end, no matter what message may or may not be in it, The Truman Show is a very well-done film. I fully intend to nominate this one for a Hugo. Yes, I do consider this movie to be science fiction. A film which focuses on events inside a town contained in a controlled-environment habitat dome wired with enough cameras and invisible radios to give spy networks wet dreams for centuries qualifies as SF in my book, especially since it explores the social impact of this setup on the world in general and one man in particular.
Too late for the rest of the world, I nevertheless offer up my sentiments about the Hugo awards, to be given out at Bucconeer in Baltimore, MD during the first weekend of August:
· Do the people who nominate for the Hugos have any idea that The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction even exists? Virtually all of the stories nominated are either from Asimov's or Analog, and after subscribing to the latter for two years, I'm rather confused as to why its stories get the nod more frequently than the ones in F&SF. Try reading it, O Great Hugo Nominators. You might be surprised at what you find. And, yes I do believe I recall seeing Harlan Ellison making a similar comment on the Sci-Fi Channel a year or two ago. It bears repeating, especially since it's painfully obvious no one paid attention to him.
· I know this one will label me as disloyal to the Great Maker, but I take some solace in the fact that not a single "Babylon 5" episode made the cut for the Best Dramatic Presentation award this year after J. Michael Straczynski took it two years running. The fact that Starship Troopers made the cut, however, has me worried. Please, gang, give it to any of the other films listed. Please. Honoring RAH posthumously by giving the Hugo to a very bad depiction of one of his novels is like trying to thank a Jewish man for a job well done by giving him an Easter ham. And the reason that I, a loyal B5 fan, would be happy that Joe didn't get a thing out of the nominations this year? Frankly, it was getting ridiculous. The show is quite good, but it's not the Second Coming. Of course, since they're currently airing the last season of B5, it's going to take a miracle to keep a B5 ep out of the running next year. And I don't think that miracle should happen. While B5 isn't the be all and end all of science fiction on TV (JMS is right; he isn't worthy to carry Rod Serling's pencil box), it did prove to the powers that be that good writing and science fiction aren't mutually exclusive, and that contribution should be recognized before Joe tries to get lightning to strike twice and risks being charred by his own Crusade.
Because of the aforementioned release of The Mask of Zorro, my friendly neighborhood classic movie house (the Stanford Theater in Palo Alto) hauled out The Mark of Zorro for a two-night run. I couldn't resist the temptation of seeing Tyrone Power, an acceptable movie fencer, go against Basil Rathbone, champion rapier wielder, and actually win. This Zorro picture may not have deliberately gone for high camp, but it has that flavor to this set of modern eyes.
There really isn't much to say about this film other than to note the above incongruity and the blatant sexism being funnier than perhaps it ought to be. At one point in the film, Diego Vega's mother is told by his father to "go back to the women." I almost yelled out, "Don't forget to dip yourself in the honey vat first!" It's even fluffier than Zorro, the Gay Blade, and the obvious source of several of ZtGB's gags. But the quote I pulled from the movie did give the audience I was with quite a big laugh, too. These days in California, you marry, raise skinny children and watch your stock options grow. I suppose it's not that different, really.
My reading list while compiling this issue was Wagers of Sin by Robert Lyn Asprin and Linda Evans (1996, Baen), The Fourth Guardian: Book One of the Eternal Guardians by Ronald Anthony Cross (1994, Tor), and Reclamation by Susan Zettel (1996, Aspect/Warner). All make decent reading; the quality ranking I would give them is in reverse order of appearance.