ALPHA LEADER BEATS TOP GUN

Capt.Sam Murphy, alpha team leader

A recent blog post  here at Spacefreighters Lounge addressed something called “top gun SFR”. Author Pauline Baird Jones and my blog partner Laurie A. Green, both of whom write SFR focused on military-type space adventures, discussed the term, which they use to refer to not just pilots, “but also ship’s captains, fleet admirals, rogue privateers, crack navigators, or anyone who knows their way around a space vessel and how to use their skills and their ship to the fullest potential.” They named the obvious folks—Jim Kirk, Han Solo, Mal Reynolds or Starbuck—as examples.

The template for this “top gun” hero (or heroine) in their argument was, of course, a guy we’ve seen make a recent comeback on the big screen: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Tom Cruise), the hot-shot Navy pilot first seen in 1986’s TOP GUN and now making a re-appearance in the hit sequel TOP GUN: MAVERICK. Of course, Maverick outflies and outguns any other pilot in the Navy’s elite Miramar Fighter School. And he has the attitude to match, going his own way in everything.

The Top Gun SFR theory says that folks like Kirk, Solo and Reynolds—and their counterparts in space opera novels written by us lesser folk (“pew-pew” SFR, as Pauline lovingly calls it) follow in Maverick’s brash footsteps, whether the foe is an alien warship or an ion storm. They find their own solutions, Starfleet, the Empire, the Alliance (or whoever) be damned.

To a certain extent that’s true. The Enterprise, the Millennium Falcon and Serenity are a long way from anywhere, and their captains can’t wait for someone to tell them what to do (not that Han Solo would listen, anyway!). But there is something else at work on at least two of those ships that the Top Gun SFR theory doesn’t take into account, something, indeed, that was at the heart of the original TOP GUN story.

The military, in fact, hates a genuine maverick. In the original movie, Pete Mitchell nearly screws the pooch several times by showing off and does get his partner “Goose” (Anthony Edwards) killed in an unnecessary hot-dogging maneuver during training. The point of the film is that Maverick must learn the hard way to work as a member of a team. Real fighter pilots have scads of group rituals—from barroom songs to games where everyone is forced to their backs on the floor whenever someone calls out “dead bug”—meant specifically to build team spirit. The military is all about teamwork, not individual performance. It values leadership within a structure, not independence.

We’ll leave out Han Solo, because he seldom worked within such a structure. But even Mal Reynolds was former military, and he insisted on a strict hierarchy on his ship. He was captain, his word was law, and he relied on his team to follow him. His team members had defined roles to play within that structure, and woe betide anyone who stepped outside the lines he’d drawn. (He almost sent Jayne out an airlock for betraying another member of the crew.)

Somehow, too, James T. Kirk has gotten a reputation as a maverick, but this, I think, is due more to J.J. Abrams’s reinterpretation of the character than Roddenberry’s original World War II-based concept. As William Shatner played the character, Kirk was a brilliant strategist, an intuitive tactician, capable of seeing options no one else could see in both diplomatic and battle situations. But he relied on his crew, and particularly on his senior officers McCoy and Spock, to give him the information he needed to make those decisions. The Enterprise operated like a well-oiled machine. Like a team, directed by a man who knew how to lead. Yes, there were instances where he ignored or defied Starfleet orders (mostly in the movies, when he was an admiral, or when a Starfleet bureaucrat was trying to insert himself where he didn’t belong onboard ship). But that was rare and justified.

In my own space opera novel, Fools Rush In: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3, Captain Sam Murphy runs his own ship with military discipline, though he’s a pirate, with a reputation in the spacer bars for loving only profit, adventure and women. Like Kirk, he relies on his crew and his first officer for the data he needs to make his decisions. Also like Kirk, he’s a quick thinker, able to synthesize information from many sources to get his ship out of tight spots by either talking or fighting. That’s a good thing, because like Mal Reynolds, he doesn’t associate with the, uh, best elements in the galaxy. The authorities of the Consolidated Systems aren’t the only ones who’d like to get their hands on Murphy.

Still, he’s a man of principle and, like both Reynolds and Kirk, his crew will follow him anywhere. It’s no wonder Interstellar Rescue Agent Rayna Carver figures he’s the man to help her infiltrate an enemy arms factory to turn the tide in an alien civil war. And, of course, to be her own personal hero.

So, top gun? Maybe, but I prefer the alpha team leader, the one who has learned to rely on and command others with confidence.

Cheers, Donna

 

 

 

Writers, Bullies and Heroes

I’m a trained martial artist with almost 30 years of experience and I’m proud to say I’ve never been called upon to defend myself or others with my skills. Something about the confidence my training gives me allows me to follow the first rule of self-defense, which is to avoid the situation. If I find myself in danger, I’ve learned to talk my way out of it, or walk my way out of it, before I start throwing punches.

Or slaps, as the case may be. In case you’ve been on some far-off planet in another galaxy, actor Will Smith (of INDEPENDENCE DAY and MEN IN BLACK fame, among others) caused a sensation last Sunday night by defending his wife Jada Pinkett-Smith in a manner more appropriate to the movies than to real life. He smacked Chris Rock in the face onstage at the Dolby Theater in front of an audience of his Hollywood peers and a worldwide audience of millions. He then followed it up with a shouted warning to “keep my wife’s name out your @#$% mouth!” Twice.

What could have occasioned such a display of street justice? Again, in case you missed it, Chris saw fit to mock Jada’s shaved head in a tasteless joke about a remake of Demi Moore’s G.I. JANE movie. Since Jada has been very open about her struggle with the scalp condition alopecia, which is the cause for her very short hair, Chris was mocking a disability, one which affects millions of primarily Black women. Which was clearly wrong. Will’s attempt to shield his wife from Chris’s bullying led to a violent response, which was also wrong and has had innumerable consequences for him and his career, no doubt. I’m sure he’s wishing he had one of those memory-blanking pens from MEN IN BLACK right about now.

His unthinking action took away from Questlove’s triumphant moment as the winner of the Best Documentary Film Oscar for SUMMER OF SOUL, which Chris Rock was supposed to be onstage to introduce. (Chris marred that moment with another tasteless joke about the only people who watched documentaries being “stoned on the couch.” Nice. There’s a reason Chris is no longer invited to host the Oscars.)

Worse, the whole kerfuffle took away from Will’s own well-deserved moment in the spotlight for winning the Best Actor Oscar in the role of Richard Williams in KING RICHARD. It’s too bad that win will always bear an asterisk created by his violent response to Chris Rock’s bullying big mouth.

Hollywood's solution: Ralphie deals with a bully.

It’s supremely ironic that this incident took place at an event honoring Hollywood and a culture that glorifies violence. A man leaping up to defend his disabled wife with his, uh, palms is the stuff of Hollywood legend, after all. It’s pretty rare when the movies celebrate the quiet types, the ones who can walk or talk their way out of a situation. Take THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE (1962), for example, a classic of the Western film genre. Jimmy Stewart talks a great line throughout the film about how violence isn’t the answer to Lee Marvin’s bullying. He restrains John Wayne from taking the villain out several times. But in the end, Jimmy is the one who shoots the bully! Audiences cheer!

Then there is one of my favorite Christmas movies, A CHRISTMAS STORY (1983). Our hero, Ralphie, can only take so much from the school bully before he cracks, attacking him in a blind rage and taking him down, to the relief (and cheers!) of all the other kids who have been the victims of this kid. (I won’t even go into the violence that another kid perpetuates on two adults in HOME ALONE. I thought it was funny the first time around, but on repeated viewings, I’ve found it completely over the top.)

My point here is that the movies (and television shows) we watch don’t encourage us to “use our words” to solve disputes. Far from it. Where’s the drama in that? Even Star Trek’s cerebral Jean-Luc Picard needs a Commander Riker to handle the action. With plenty of punches and phasers and so on.

We, as writers, are complicit in this culture, creating stories full of alpha males more than ready to protect mates and partners (even if they don’t ask for it), giving bullies and villains their just desserts in violent endings. We love our swashbuckling heroes and hissable villains. The possible legal, moral and ethical consequences of satisfying physical action are just complications that don’t fit a good story.

No matter what you might otherwise think of Will Smith’s action on Sunday night, it was quick and effective, as far as the story went. Perhaps if I was writing it, I might have had Will climb up on stage, put an arm around Chris’s shoulders and tell him, “Hey, man, that’s my wife right there. I love her and I’m going to ask you to treat her with respect, along with the millions of other women who share her disability. Be a man. Or I might have to come back and kick your ass.”

He would have left the stage to thunderous applause. And a happy-ever-after ending.

But, alas, Sunday night was real life, not one of my romance novels. So, Will and the rest of us will just have to live with the consequences of his action.

Cheers, Donna

*For a complete rundown on the Oscars ceremony, including more on the slap heard around the world, listen to my podcast on SoundCloud or on my podcast website mymoviehousemyrules.com

IT'S STAR TREK BIRTHDAY WEEK!

 

 Nimoy, b. 3/26/31, d. 2/27/2015, and Shatner, b. 3/22/31.

It’s Star Trek OG heroes’ week here on the blog, a time for those of us who are fans of The Original Series to honor two actors who made the franchise the success it was. Both William Shatner (who played Captain James T. Kirk) and Leonard Nimoy (who played Lieutenant Commander Spock) were born during this week in 1931—Shatner on March 22, Nimoy on March 26. Shatner celebrated his 91^st birthday Tuesday in his usual flamboyant style. Nimoy, of course, passed away in 2015 from COPD.

Both men had a huge impact on hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of fans, myself included. As Spock, Nimoy spoke for many who felt alienated from the society they had been raised in, for the introverted, the nerdy, the conflicted. The actor had been born in Boston to Jewish immigrants who had made a harrowing escape from—wait for it—Ukraine. He recognized early on that acting was the only thing he wanted to do and, despite a three-year detour in the Army Reserve, he pursued that career with dedication through drama classes, bit parts in B-movies and TV shows and roles as villains and heavies. His Star Trek role as the Vulcan Spock was his breakout role.

Shatner was born to middle-class Jewish parents in Montreal (his father was a clothing manufacturer). He’s always said he knew he would be an actor when he made the audience cry during a summer camp performance about Jewish refugees when he was only six. His family, too, has a connection to Ukraine, though it’s another generation back; his grandparents on one side were immigrants from that country.

In some ways, Shatner’s career started on a more formal footing, with Shakespearean training at the Canadian National Repertory Theater in Ottawa and the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, Ontario. He was understudy to the great Christopher Plummer, and got his chance when Plummer fell ill, and Shatner took the stage. From there it was Broadway (in THE WORLD OF SUZIE WONG) and Hollywood (in THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV, JUDGMENT AT NUREMBURG) before notable appearances in THE TWILIGHT ZONE and THE OUTER LIMITS.

As Kirk, Shatner may have been typecast, but it was largely because he made the character his own—resourceful, energetic, able to make quick, decisive judgments in the face of chaos, and, most of all, compassionate. Kirk, like all the best heroes, was not afraid to show his emotions, because he realized the value of human feeling. In the end, he even convinced his friend Spock of that value.

So, let’s lift a glass of Romulan ale or Saurian brandy or plain old Terran beer or wine or what-have-you, to the actors who helped create one of the greatest science fiction franchises of all time.

Happy birthday, Bill and Leonard!

Cheers, Donna

WHEN AN MC'S BAGGAGE IS JUST TOO HEAVY

Back to hold the line against moral ambiguity again.

I recently read a mystery novel, the title and author of which shall remain nameless, which kept me on the edge of my seat. Not because of the convoluted plot, which was engaging enough, but because from almost the very first page, I was torn between wanting to find out whodunit and wanting to strangle the protagonist—a former detective pursuing the case—for being so self-involved she screwed up over and over. A flawed heroine I understand, but this character went way beyond the concept of an antihero. She was so unlikable as to seriously interfere with the basic contract of communication that should exist between author and reader.

This is nothing new in modern literature. Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train both used this technique to great effect, presenting an untrustworthy narrator to build the mystery at the heart of each novel. Both of those books were unforgettably creepy because of their skewed points of view. I didn’t read it, but I understand American Psycho was memorable for the same reason. Fair enough.

This is something different, something more insidious and more related to the complaints I’ve voiced before about the absence of the concept of redemption in modern screenwriting. And it is something more than what my writing mentor A.C. Crispin used to describe as chasing your hero up a tree, putting a tiger at the base of that tree AND THEN throwing rocks at him (that is, giving him every problem you can think of and daring him—or her—to work his way out of it). 

The protagonist in the mystery I just read is saddled with more than the usual set of baggage. She was abandoned by her narcissistic mother as a child; is emotionally abused and manipulated by her younger sister, who she protected throughout their youth; she allows her boyfriend and cop partner to do the same, until he actually crosses the legal line to frame an innocent man in a child abduction case; and, on top of it all, she’s a gambling addict. When she outs her partner to the department, she loses her job. Then she loses everything else in a soul-destroying casino bender. Believe it or not, things deteriorate from there until she finally gets a clue (literally) and finds a way to solve the case that started her on her downward slide.

Very little about this heroine is, well, heroic. Or even a little bit likable. For, oh, 75 percent of the book, I was ready to give up on her (and her creator) on nearly every page. I’m still not sure why I didn’t. Maybe I’m as stubborn as she is. Because, in the end, she did prevail. She found the evil perp who did the deed, though she never got her job—or her life—back. 

But to paraphrase a popular saying, with heroines like this, who needs villains? She wasn’t a child abductor or a murderer, but she did lie, cheat and damn near steal to support her habit. (We know this because we’re in her head and we see it all.) And she’s only a little bit sorry about it. Not nearly sorry enough to be ready for the redemption that would make it okay; only enough to make her loathe what she has become.

That, I think, is the problem here. This heroine, this book, is reflective of what is all too common in our society these days. Self-loathing is all around us. People lack self-respect and act out of it all too frequently. But that “I hate me” feeling is not enough to make them reach for something higher; the pain is not enough to effect a change in themselves. Instead, the inadequacy is all to often an excuse to hurt others. Either in small ways—by lying or trolling or turning away from responsibilities—or large ones—by mass shootings or racist political action.

In any case, I won’t be reading another book by this author. I’ll stick to my romance novels where the heroes and heroines must be (at least somewhat) likable, redemption is a given, and a happy ending is guaranteed. That goes for the science fiction romance I write, too. Call me old school, if you will. I don’t mind standing atop the last bastions against moral ambiguity. I suspect one or two of you out there will be fighting there alongside me.

PARTY TIME!

Don't forget tomorrow, Saturday, August 24, is the day for the Sci-Fi Romance Soiree Facebook Party , happening from 12-6 p.m. PDT! My slot is from 4-4:30 p.m. PDT, but don't miss Lea Kirk, Lexi Post and others, too. Tune in to the event site for freebies, contests, author chat and FUN!

Cheers, Donna