by Timm Frink - November 28, 2007
A confession: I love science fiction. Well, not really a confession. That would imply guilt, and frankly I feel no guilt in the pleasure I get from the genre. Still, our culture demands science fiction be tagged with the label of escapist fantasy, leaving aside the fact that all fiction is escapist and fantasy. As with any other genre, there are works of brilliance and works of utter crap. However, at its core, science fiction is simply a setting: the stories and characters just happen to live in the future. No difference than setting them in the past.
Still, the there are, as in all genres, rules. Guidelines, at the very least. One of these is that that science fiction should look, well, futuristic. In the realm of literature, this is easier, as you have the reader to fill in the blanks. An author can be vague, with no detriment to the story or setting. Not so in the visual media. Particularly television. Here, the details matter. Here, such details will be discussed.
Before the cries of fanboy criticism are raised (or, as is more likely, after), this is not a complaint about the scientific aspects of science fiction. We all know that disbelief must be suspended for the stories to work. We accept the concepts of, say, hyperspace or faster than light travel, despite the obvious implausibility of them. Space is so mind-bogglingly vast, after all, that to have realistic travel times is impossible. We simply cannot have our characters take 15 years to get to the next star, so we accept that they’ve figured out how to get there in a day or two instead. Besides, it’s the future, so why not?
We accept that in the world of Star Trek, there are universal translators. Or, in the case of Farscape, translator microbes. We accept teleportation devices and hand-held lasers. We accept the premise that most aliens are humanoid, because it is an “effective body type” (particularly for the costume and make-up department). Hell, we accept sentient, blue, humanoid plants with breasts. We even accept dialogue written by George Lucas. Yet there still are some things we cannot accept. For me, these are futuristic flashlights and communicators.
I’m blessed, in that I have a lover and mate who shares my tastes in most things, particularly in television shows. Having run through the complete series of Star Trek: The Next Generation and Farscape, we’re now on to Babylon 5. From this, comes my wonder at how, with all the advances in technology, people in these shows are still holding flashlights in their hands. Not just regular ones either: big, honking ones that look like they’ve got car batteries powering them. I know that both budget and current technology limit what “future tech” looks like. Still, it shouldn’t look primitive by today’s standards. It’s not like hands-free flashlights didn’t exist in the 80’s and 90’s. The same for communication devices. These are typically affixed to the front of one’s clothes/uniform or, in the case of Babylon 5, inexplicably stuck to the back of people’s hands. Why not earpieces? Or implants? No prop needed at all for that: just have the actors touch behind their ears. At least some device, any device that doesn’t broadcast your conversation to the whole room would be an improvement.
It may seem like I’m picking nits, and, well, I am. Because they itch and irk me. Most science fiction (television series, at least) tends to be action oriented, and the last thing you want in a fight is to have your hands occupied with something other than a weapon or an enemy’s throat. You certainly don’t want to be bringing it to your mouth to call for backup. Or waving a three pound flashlight around to see who is shooting at you. Attention to detail is what elevates the good to the great, and even prop masters should know that. So it’s jarring to see that, in a world where the stars are in reach, we still use something I could have found in my grandfather’s basement to light the dark places. If we can imagine such marvels, surely we can imagine improvements in the mundane? Even if it means just picking up a couple of head lamps at a camping goods store. After all, the big picture is always composed of the smallest of details.
Timmothy Frink is a software developer and transplanted New Englander living in the DC Metro area. He blogs at This Page Intentionally Left Blank.