Author: Christian Sauvé

  • Cliffhanger (1993)

    Cliffhanger (1993)

    (On TV, September 1999) This may not be the most convincing thriller out there, but it works despite the numerous logical flaws, editing glitches and coherence problems it contains. The script scream “contrivance!” each time a new oh-so-dangerous situation emerges, regardless of previous continuity. The tough-but-sensitive protagonist role seems custom-built for Sylvester Stallone, who turns in a convincing performance. Director Renny Harlin obviously knows how to build a thriller, and Cliffhanger includes several money shots that elevate this action film from fair to good.

  • Breakdown (1997)

    Breakdown (1997)

    (On TV, September 1999) In an industry often incompetent enough to be unable to turn out decent product, it’s a refreshing change to see a perfectly good thriller so well-done. No earth-shattering villains, no save-the-world histrionics; just an ordinary guy looking for his wife, and battling plain blue-collar baddies. The pacing is superb, the direction is surprisingly competent and Kurt Russell turns in a fine performance. Though not without significant plot flaws (relying too much on coincidences in the first half-hour), Breakdown remains a superior, unassuming little thriller done strictly according to the rules of the genre. And that’s more than good enough.

  • Blue Streak (1999)

    Blue Streak (1999)

    (In theaters, September 1999) This works pretty well, provided you do consider it as what it is; an updated Beverly Hills Cop taking place in the same sunny fantasy Los Angeles world where police headquarters are architectural models and everyone fires heavy artillery at the slightest provocation. Martin Lawrence is surprisingly sympathetic as the protagonist. The script has numerous plot holes, but the comedy is funny and the action scenes are engaging. A perfect example of “a good time at the movies”, Blue Streak is -in the end- just enough fun.

  • The Martians, Kim Stanley Robinson

    Bantam Spectra, 1999, 336 pages, C$35.95 hc, ISBN 0-553-80117-1

    All fans of Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars trilogy, please stand up and be counted. Now allow me to explain how the very number of you standing up constitutes an irresistible moneymaking opportunity.

    By Science-Fiction standards, the Mars trilogy was an enormously successful work, both popularly, critically and financially. All the books of the series won either the Hugo or the Nebula award and the paperback editions of the book are all well into further printings. All books were bestsellers and have already attained something akin to classical status.

    Which, of course, makes it irresistible for both publisher and author to milk out an little “extra”. The Martians is the first such extra, a 336-pages book that brings together several short pieces related to the Mars trilogy. You’ll find here a few short stories, essays, vignettes, poems…

    The book starts with “Michel in Antarctica”, a pre-history of the Mars trilogy that ultimately veers in alternate history. This particular parallel world is further explored in “Michel in Provence”, though -unfortunately- no more.

    Other pieces bring back the characters of the trilogy, often illuminating earlier actions, or simply presenting maybe outtakes from the original text. So we get “Maya and Desmond”, “Coyote Makes Trouble”, “Jackie on Zo”, “Keeping the Flame”, “Coyote Remembers” and “Sax Moments”.

    The Martians reprints two of Robinson’s pre-Red Mars Mars stories, “Exploring Fossil Canyon” and the lengthy novella “Green Mars”. Both of these stories are part of an alternate mini-cycle further explored here with “Arthur Sternbach Brings the Curveball to Mars” (a slight, but fun story about Martian baseball), “What Matters” and “A Martian Romance”.

    There are also a few unconnected short stories here and there, including “Saving Noctis Dam”, “Sexual Dismorphism” and “Enough is as Good as a Feast”. We get twice as many unconnected vignettes, some evocative and some decidedly less so.

    There are also a few pieces commenting on the trilogy, whether it’s “The Constitution of Mars” (annotated), “The Sountrack”, selected poems (including one called “A Report on the First Recorded Case of Areophagy”) and a final poignant piece titled “Purple Mars”, where Robinson may describe his last day of work on the Mars trilogy.

    The result is both more and less of what we expected. On one hand, it is a worthwhile companion to the Mars trilogy, presenting more of what made the trilogy so popular. On the other hand, it doesn’t present what would have been interesting to see in a companion volume: Non-fiction essays on the conception, the writing, the revision of the series. Original plans. Maps and drafts. More substantial side-stories. As such, it almost approaches the “let’s dump cut scenes in the marketplace” approach.

    But really, The Martians couldn’t be anything but a disappointment for fans of the trilogy, knowing that this is pretty much the last of what Robinson has to say about the place. As such, it’s a fitting -if uneven- tribute. Non-fans already suspect that they shouldn’t begin here, but fans should be advised that The Martians is a decent sideshow to the main event.

  • Black Dog (1998)

    Black Dog (1998)

    (On DVD, September 1999) This manages to build three-quarters of quite a good B-grade action film before completely losing it in the finale. Patrick Swayze does a good job as the trucker action hero—looking disturbingly like Kurt Russell. (Meatloaf’s character, however, ends on a cringe-inducing over-the-top mode.) The truck stunts are really enjoyable: make no mistake, this is a truck movie, probably the best since Convoy and/or Smokey And The Bandit. (Feeling nostalgic, yet?) The plot is serviceable, but takes a turn toward both the gee-that’s-boring and the where-did-THAT-come-from in the schizophrenic finale. Worth a look for action/truck junkies, but you might be better off rewinding the cassette at the one-hour mark and making up the ending in your own head.

  • Billy Madison (1995)

    Billy Madison (1995)

    (On TV, September 1999) Here’s a splendid example of a comedy that loses “it” completely and repeatedly. “It” being wit, development, arc, punch lines and cohesiveness. Not the ingredients needed to build a successful comedy, you’ll say… and yet compare the silly throw-stuff-at-the-audience-until- something-sticks “philosophy” of Billy Madison with the meticulously constructed and developed comedy of, say, Shakespeare In Love and see if one isn’t funnier -and more satisfying- than the other. Even Adam Sandler’s latter Happy Gilmore is more focused and thus more enjoyable. Still, there’s no denying that there are a few good laughs out of Billy Madison, though they won’t make much of an impression… and won’t quite stop to make you wonder how on earth would someone like Madison would end up with someone like Brigitte Wilson.

  • Apocalypse Now (1979)

    Apocalypse Now (1979)

    (On VHS, September 1999) Often-impressive war drama that unfortunately bogs down in useless vignettes and an empty last thirty minutes. Some of the combat scenes are truly stunning, and deservedly attain classical status. On the other hand, the film as a whole is a disappointment; a series of hits and misses, ending on a big miss.

  • American Beauty (1999)

    American Beauty (1999)

    (In theaters, September 1999) Even though Oscar buzz for this film is pretty high, I can’t say I’m cheering for it. Yes, Kevin Spacey is magnificent as the curiously sympathetic protagonist. But, -and this is almost certainly an age thing- I wasn’t deeply affected either by the middle-age crisis theme nor the adolescent-angst subplot, leaving me hanging straight in-between these two age groups. Granted, the movie is at times spectacularly funny, but then it predictably veers into the melodramatic and the deliberately-artsy, making me wish it would go back in comedy territory. The final line is pretty good, though.

  • Deep Time: How Humanity Communicates Across Millennia, Gregory Benford

    Bard Avon, 1999, 225 pages, C$26.00 hc, ISBN 0-380-97537-8

    We human critters have a few deficiencies, and one of them is certainly our lack of capacity for long-term planning. Try as we might, our day-to-day combat through life almost invariably relates to the next meal, the next paycheck, the next project, the next summer vacations.

    The problem is not as much with human individuals, but with the realization that no one else is making long-term planning either. Organized groups usually think too much in terms of upcoming elections, end-quarter results or continued sources of funding to be concerned about long-term perspectives. This is not exactly a bad thing (given the rate of technological and social change, most plans will crumble at long range anyway) but it can certainly become a problem in a few situations.

    Deep Time, by noted scientist and SF author Gregory Benford, takes a look at a few concerns that will require more than our usual attention span. In the process, he raises some fundamental issues about the environment, technical progress, civilization lifespan and how even long-term science is conducted by short-term humans. The book is divided in four parts:

    The first segment begins as Benford is asked to be part of a study team, mandated by the American Congress, to study ways of ensuring that nuclear waste sites will remain undisturbed for more than the 10,000 years required for their degradation to harmless levels. Putting “Dangerous stuff; keep out!” signs obviously won’t do, especially when we consider that 10,000 years is lengthier than the span of recorded human history. Benford’s team had to consider such cheery subjects as complete civilizational collapse, language drift, evolving digging technologies, relic hunters, etc… The team ended up proposing massive, eerie sculptural features, multiple-language messages with iconographic support and a host of other neat features. This is by far the most fascinating piece of the book.

    The second quarter concerns the efforts of a group of scientists to compose an “ultimate” message-to-others to be carried on the Cassini space probe. Though most of us are familiar with the gold plaque loaded on the Voyager probes, this was meant to be an updated version of this effort. Unfortunately, even though an interesting message was developed, the effort was doomed and replaced by a politically-neutral DVD containing an utterly meaningless list of names…

    [March 2009: I wrote this review in 1999 and, along the way, touched upon a conflict between Gregory Benford and Carolyn Porco described in the book’s “Vaults in Vacuum” chapter. In September 2002, Carolyn Porco wrote to me to explain that she disagreed with her characterization in Benford’s book and allowed me to post a few corrections. In March 2009, Gregory Benford wrote to me to explain that he disagreed with the corrections and suggested corrections of his own.

    You know what? Life is too short, I respect both Benford and Porco (from afar) too much, and I’m too ignorant of the matters discussed to try to abitrate. All three of us have better things to do. So I have removed both the original content and the corrections (the most curious of you know where to go to find the archives), and would rather leave you with the smartest thing I’ve learned from this decade-long episode. In the (last) words of Carolyn Porco:

    Next time, reserve judgement until you’ve met and spoken to the individuals involved.

    The book become less interesting as Benford gets on a high environmental soapbox in the last half of the book. The third part still turns around a worthwhile idea, as Benford tells of his proposition to build a “Library of Life”, a repository of DNA from most of today’s species of plants and animals threatened by extinction. Though not a startlingly original project, Benford uses this as a springboard to other related subjects (conservationism, taxonomy, scientific politics, etc…).

    But the fourth quarter grates as it veers off in a well-intentioned, but strikingly unoriginal rant about how humanity is already sending deep-time messages by environment degradation. Though Benford keeps things interesting with little-known facts, the impression left by this section is one of déjà-vu: Not exactly why one would pick up the book in the first place.

    Additionally, Benford leaves out an important part of any deep time projection: The very real possibility of increased lifespans and of political stabilization. While this isn’t a flaw by itself, this omission does get a bit suspicious after the umpteenth time Benford talk about short human lives. Wouldn’t longevity undermine his thesis? Maybe…

    Still, despite a rather heavy-handed environmentalist screed in the second half of the book, Benford keeps thing interesting, and Deep Time fulfills the goal of any decent non-fiction science vulgarization: Make us discover thing we didn’t know before. Or cared about.

  • MTV: The Making of a Revolution, Tom McGrath

    Running Press, 1996, 208 pages, C$22.95 hc, ISBN 1-56138-703-7

    If ever some future historians decide to study my life in detail, they’ll probably abandon before my twenty-fifth birthday out of terminal boredom. They’ll quickly conclude that I missed out on sex, drugs and most of rock’n’roll. It speaks volume that I’ve never seen a straight ten minute of MTV, and that was an accident. For all their much-vaunted influence, MTV and its Canadian equivalents (MuchMusic and MusiquePlus) are remarkably easy to avoid if you don’t have cable.

    And yet, even I can’t argue with the impact of MTV and video clips. From the business side of things, it has produced a discontinuity in the way popular music is marketed. There is very literally a pre-MTV and a post-MTV era as far as selling pop music is defined. Before, you produced some songs, played them on the radio and hoped for the best. Now, with the artist in everyone’s home through video clips, the image is an integral part of the process. Is it any wonder that pop-phenomenons like the Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys can succeed today on unimaginative musical content? (Indeed, looking at today’s female singers, one can wonder if musical success is somehow genetically linked with attractiveness.)

    But the true measure of MTV’s success is that its influence has spread well beyond the confines of music: By linking image and song, it has also boldly redefined the audiovisual universe of popular culture. Squeezing a mini-story in four minutes require some compression, best achieved with quick cuts, fast-paced action beats and the avoidance of subtlety. Television quickly noticed that the same rules could also apply to longer lengths, as initially proven with “Miami Vice”. Cinema took longer to catch up, waiting for clip directors to helm full-length pictures, but when Hollywood noticed the phenomenon, it never looked back. Action films are now filmed like videoclips, their frenetic pacing appealing to jaded viewers. The biggest summer movie of 1998, -ARMAGEDDON, directed by former music-video director Michael Bay- was called “the first two-hours movie trailer” by top film critic Roger Ebert.

    MTV did this. MTV took popular culture by storm and single-handedly changed it beyond former recognition. That’s what Tom McGrath tells us in MTV: The Making of a Revolution. He goes beyond just a straight corporate history of the TV network and places it in context by linking it to other changes in the 1982-1993 timeframe. That’ how we end up not only with a book that decently traces MTV’s ascendancy, but also the associated fields of cable television (actually invented in the 1950s) and video clips.

    As could be expected, MTV lovingly covers the pre-history of the network and its first few moments. (The first video played by MTV was, fittingly enough, The Buggle’s “Video Killed the Radio Star”. MTV Europe began with an even more appropriate clip, Dire Strait’s “Money for Nothing”) Then it’s America’s infatuation with Michael Jackson, Madonna, video clips, and MTV… But the book covers roughly fifteen years, and that’s just enough time for more than a success story. MTV briefly faltered in the late-eighties, as it realized that it could be only “FM radio with pictures”, but had to re-invent itself as a true channel with more to offer.

    This is not a press-release book, nor is it a superficial look at a pop phenomenon. The writing is informative, witty and occasionally very funny. But McGrath has done his research, and the end result is truly a good look at MTV. Even the carefully-wild graphic layout respects the content and tries to spice up the rest. It’s a shame, for such a visual subject, that there couldn’t be more photos, and that the ones that are printed are limited to a bichrome palette.

    In a nutshell, MTV simply accomplishes what it set out to do: Give a good and thorough history of MTV as well as make it clear that the impact of the television channel was significant on more than simply popular music. I was convinced, and that’s all I need to say.

  • Wrongfully Accused (1998)

    Wrongfully Accused (1998)

    (On VHS, August 1999) The biggest problem with this film is that it’s far more interested in being a parody of thrillers than being a comedy. This gives rise to two problems: One, the films feels like a disconnected string of not-so-funny gags rather than a coherent laugh riot and two, the film doesn’t make much sense if you’re not familiar with the source material. Add to that the problem that Leslie Nielsen’s standard bumbling fool comedy personae is wearing thin (even the film’s opening credits acknowledge “Leslie Nielsen As Leslie Nielsen”) and… hmmm… the result is uninspired despite being all-inspired. Some grins, rare chuckles but no belly laughs.

  • The Untouchables (1987)

    The Untouchables (1987)

    (On TV, August 1999) I had heard many good thing about this much-lauded film and frankly, I was caught unprepared at how… conventional it all was. Yes, David Mamet’s macho-guy dialogue is fun, and there are some pretty good set-pieces, but did it have to be so obvious? The infamous Eisenstein-ripped staircase sequence is set up for what seems like five interminable minutes, and it all ends up being barely okay. (The parody in Naked Gun II was far superior) Otherwise, you can pretty much guess what’s going to happen five minutes in advance, and the late-minute gunfight heroics aren’t really as satisfying as they’re made out to be. Good entertainment, but not a classic!

  • This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

    This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

    (On VHS, August 1999) One of my favorite film gems is a little-seen pseudo-documentary comedy about the rise, fall and reunion of a rap group, Fear Of A Black Hat. Many other reviewers dissented, calling it a pale imitation of This Is Spinal Tap, an early-eighties pseudo-documentary comedy about the rise, fall and reunion of a rock group. After seeing the earlier film, I must say that it must be a generational thing: No only is the style of music of Fear Of A Black Hat closer to my rap/dance favorites, but the latter film simply seemed funnier than This Is Spinal Tap, which hasn’t aged very well. In fact, a lot of the film just seems too close to reality to actually being funny. This isn’t to say that there aren’t any chuckles here and there, but the music industry has changed considerably in fifteen years, and This Is Spinal Tap suffers from it. Of course, who’s to say how Fear Of A Black Hat will sound in ten more years? Probably that by then, there will be another pseudo-documentary about the rise, fall and reunion of…

  • The 13th Warrior (1999)

    The 13th Warrior (1999)

    (In theaters, August 1999) This is, from a detached perspective, a pretty bad film. Enormous plot holes, muddily-shot night battles, bare-bone characterisation, straightforward plot… But it does work well when you watch the film, provided you don’t expect much more than a gritty pseudo-realistic medieval battle fantasy. Antonio Banderas’ screen presence adds enormously to the film and the battle scenes are occasionally impressive. Though there are no doubt tons of anachronism, the Viking village looks suitably realistic on screen. Worth the time on TV.

  • The Warrior’s Apprentice, Lois McMaster Bujold

    Baen, 1986 (1988 reprint), 315 pages, C$2.95 mmpb, ISBN 0-671-65587-6

    In almost four years of steady book reviewing, I have somehow managed to avoid talking about Lois McMaster Bujold’s work. This oversight is inexplicable given that I’ve never read anything by Bujold that I haven’t liked. I’ve even had the chance to meet her in 1997, at Montreal’s Con*Cept SF convention (I unknowingly transgressed normal con-going etiquette by asking her to autograph a book while she was browsing the art show. Fortunately, she was gracious enough to sign my paperback copy of Mirror Dance with a smile.) So, allow me to use this review of The Warrior’s Apprentice as a general rave about her work.

    Lois McMaster Bujold is not exactly at the cutting edge of science-fiction. Her books contain few original ideas, her future is comfortably extrapolated according to the old-style rules (no pervasive nanotech, no real infotech impact, etc…) and -if you want to get downright nasty- many of her stories could comfortably be told in fantasy, romance or contemporary settings.

    But that is belittling Bujold’s considerable skills. What she lacks in terms of innovation, she compensate by creating some of the most realistic and sympathetic characters in the genre. Her writing is simple, yet elegant and powerful. Her plotting is meticulously paced to keep the reader racing forward. While her worldview is characteristically positive (the good guys invariably win), she doesn’t hold back on the punishment her heroes have to endure in order to triumph.

    Most of her stories are set in one single universe and feature the same set of characters. This provides her with the opportunity to build one comprehensive universe, and to move her characters across arcs that would be impossible to complete in one single novel. Contrarily to other multi-book universes, hers holds together amazingly well, and seems more logical than most.

    The Warrior’s Apprentice is, from real-world chronology, the first book to star Miles Vorkosigan, the tortured hero of most of her cycle. Published in 1986, it was her second novel, but it remains as good as her latter efforts. Ultra-intelligent Miles is introduced and brilliantly wins both his battles and the reader’s undying sympathy. After all, who else can fail his military academy exams and yet manage to build up a mercenary fleet?

    Despite a few slight flaws here and there (it needed a bit more clarity in some spots, and maybe some fleshing out of the mercenaries), it’s very hard to dislike this novel. Not only is it compulsively readable, but the characters are all-around winners. Miles Vorkosigan’s superior tactical skills could be insufferable if they weren’t balanced by some wickedly funny self-depreciating internal monologue: A typical SF superhero with an atypical lack of pretentiousness. The other characters are well-handled and also made suitably sympathetic. Bujold not only writes good stories, but also has the knack of building up to great scenes. The Warrior’s Apprentice mixes coming-of-age episodes with space battles and one final great courtroom scene in a whole that’s just satisfying.

    After that, it’s no wonder to see Bujold regularly nominated for the fan-selected Hugo awards, and to read some rabidly devoted comments by Usenet fans. She deserves all of it. Though maybe not imaginative enough to be an essential part of the SF panorama, the works of Lois McMaster Bujold are nevertheless worth some attention. And you could do worse but to try The Warrior’s Apprentice as an introduction.