Reviews

  • Carnosaur (1993)

    Carnosaur (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, September 1998) Above-average B-movie if it wasn’t for the ending, which is one incredible downer. The paranoid view of government agencies doesn’t help either. Still, if the science is complete nonsense, the themes explored in Carnosaur are unusually chilling. The means, however, aren’t very convincing. To its credit, Carnosaur goes much further beyond the usual “monster-eats-people” film. Part of it may be because it’s adapted from a novel. Indifferent performances, save for the mad scientist and the Clint Howard semi-cameo. Not really recommended, since in my view, good B-Movies let the lead couple survive. Trivia: The mad scientist is played by Diane Ladd, who’s the real-life mother of Laura Dern… who also played the scientist in 1993’s other dino-flick Jurassic Park!

  • American Graffiti (1973)

    American Graffiti (1973)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, September 1998) Of mainly historical interest, American Graffiti is false nostalgia, presenting an idealized view of the early sixties. Seen from 1998, the nostalgia appears more pitiful than justified. Still, it has its moment, especially near the end. (If nothing else, the soundtrack is superb, bringing together many hits from that period.) Otherwise, watch it to see younger versions of Richard Dreyfuss, Harrison Ford and director Ron Howard in a starring role. Most importantly; American Graffiti was George Lucas’ second movie, just before Star Wars. THX-1138‘s grimness is on the way out, and the willingness to be accessible is in…

  • Abraxas, Guardian Of The Universe (1990)

    Abraxas, Guardian Of The Universe (1990)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, September 1998) Anyone who claims that “Spawn was the worst movie ever!” or that “All summer blockbusters suck!” should be forced to watch this atrocity and finally learn the true meaning of a bad movie. Abraxas starts off with a monologue containing the following gem “We Guardians renew our vows every hundred years. I have renewed mine ninety times. That’s right: I am nearly ten thousand year old.” The following scenes show burly guys with dinky guns running around in a forest while cheap-looking explosions appear beside them (we’re supposed to figure out that the dinky guns cause the explosions, but it’s a testimony to the ultra-cheap special effects that we’re not convinced). The bad Guardian then impregnates a girl with a wave of his magic hand (don’t ask) and three minutes later the girl gives birth to a baby, in the snow in the middle of the forest. She then picks up the baby and goes home, where she’s thrown out by her parents. Folks, the movie doesn’t get any better than this afterward. Subsequent howlers include the line “Parsecs aren’t appropriate Earth Time Units!” and a mild-mannered policeman pulling an Uzi from under his jacket and firing at the alien. (The alien’s comment? “Interesting, but inefficient”.) It’s a movie so bad it’s bad. James Belushi has a thirty-second cameo as a school director (Belushi: “Your child is strange. We want him to go away. Bullies are picking up on him.” Mother: “Have you thought about telling them to stop beating my child?” Belushi: “Uh, no.”) Don’t bother even to look at it; this review contains all the fun parts. I don’t plan on ever looking at this again, except on MST3K.

  • Antarctica, Kim Stanley Robinson

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Bantam, 1998, 511 pages, C$34.95 hc, ISBN 0-553-10063-7

    Kim Stanley Robinson has done it again.

    If you loved the Mars trilogy, you will like Antarctica. If you thought Robinson paid too much attention to detail in his trilogy, you will feel the same way with Antarctica. If you liked the political theory in all Mars books, there more of it in Antarctica. If you like his newly-matured stylistic techniques exhibited in the martian trilogy, rest assured that he’s doing much of the same thing here. In short, Antarctica is one of the most obvious follow-up possible to the Mars trilogy. Fans as well as non-fans will find what they expect here.

    Antarctica is a cold, vast, lonely place. One of this planet’s last frontiers (it was only explored at the beginning of this century), it remains, even today, quite mysterious. Far from being a vast plain of eternal ice, Antarctica proves itself a varied, fascinating continent.

    In his latest novel, Kim Stanley Robinson tells us about the Antarctica. It’s a book best compared to lengthy travelogues written by explorers: Not much of a plot, but a wealth of details.

    In 1995, Robinson went to Antarctica courtesy of the National Science Foundation, as part of the U.S. Antarctic Program’s Artists and Writer’s Programs. It obviously shows. Whatever tax dollars were spent in order for Mr. Robinson to spend some time down under, they were well-invested. The resulting book is a solid testimony of the beauty of the continent.

    Even though it’s marketed under the mainstream Bantam logo (not the Bantam Spectra SF imprint), Antarctica is straight science-fiction. Not only because it takes place sometime in the early twenty-first century but mostly because it espouses and deals with the themes dearest to SF: the nature of scientific change, the effect of technology on humans and the environment. It’s as if Robinson applies the talent he has sharpened in SF to a problem that’s almost contemporary. The result is awe-inspiring.

    Antarctica contains some technological gadgets, some sociological innovations but many digressions about the history of Antarctica and the human presence on this decidedly difficult continent. Robinson effectively creates and sustain a mystique about Antarctica through historical digressions and carefully selected vignettes. We’re not there, but we get the sights without the frostbite.

    Characters are well-handled. Although the usual “visitor” character is kept suitably under-developed (a must if he is to be the reader’s fictional surrogate), the two other main protagonist are well-sketched, and elicit our sympathy. The assortment of secondary characters is also developed with great care. There are no outright villains, Antarctica being formidable enough as opponent.

    The fiction content of the novel is less impressive. The story doesn’t revv up until half the book has passed, and then mostly resolves itself in barely more than 150 pages, leaving characters around for almost another hundred pages. This is where fans and non-fans of Robinson will diverge opinions: Fans simply don’t care because they like what they’re reading anyway while non fans won’t care because, effectively, they don’t care. Caveat lector, or so to speak.

    Antarctica is a good follow-up to the Mars trilogy. Of exceptionally worthy docu-fictive value, it will please those who like this kind of stuff. Robinson really makes Antarctica come alive in his novel. Well-written if thin plot-wise, it’s nevertheless one dense, satisfying read. Try not to miss it.

  • The Moon and the Sun, Vonda N. McIntyre

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Pocket, 1997, 421 pages, C$31.00 hc, ISBN 0-671-56765-9

    I’m mad, and I’m going to tell you about it.

    A few months ago, members of Science-Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) decided that The Moon and the Sun was the best Science-Fiction or Fantasy novel published during the preceding year, beating out such contestants as A Game of Thrones (George R. R. Martin), Ancient Shores (Jack McDevitt), Bellwether, (Connie Willis), City on Fire, (Walter Jon Williams), King’s Dragon, (Kate Elliott) and Memory (Lois McMaster Bujold).

    Leaving alone the issue that these were most definitely not the worthiest books published in the oh-so-confusing Nebula period of eligibility (which here seems to go at least from April 1997 to September 1998), was The Moon and the Sun the best of the seven books? Of course not. Let me tell you why.

    The Moon and the Sun is the story of a young woman in King Louis XIV’s court in 1693. Her brother has captured a sea monster, and various royal things happen around her. Eventually, she figures out that the sea monster is intelligent. Of course, she’ll try to free it.

    I have seldom had as less motivation to read a book. It takes almost half the book to get out of the historical details and get on with the “fantasy” element. Despite a certain elegance of the prose, this novel is a colossal bore. If this hadn’t been a Nebula-Winner, I would have likely abandoned it well before the end. McIntyre mentions in her after-word that this has also been written as a movie screenplay: I would have rather read that than the book.

    The overemphasis on explicit feminism is annoying. The problem isn’t with the idea of feminism, but the treatment. McIntyre should have remembered to show, not tell. Far better to keep the heroine trying to acquire freedom and go against obstacles rather than make a few speeches about it. It’s ridiculous to see concerns of the nineteen-nineties clash with the historical atmosphere in this way.

    Then we come to the difficult question of the genre. The Moon and the Sun is a novel billed as an alternate history that won an award by and association originally founded by Science-Fiction writers. Problem is, it’s neither SF nor alternate history.

    There is nothing “alternate” about the history presented here: What are the repercussions of the sea monsters? The divergences with our history? Unseen, untouched, unimagined. This is historical fantasy.

    Then there’s the astonishingly positive advance blurbs on the back cover of the book, by author friends of McIntyre who should know better. “The finest alternate history ever” (Le Guin), “One of the best novels I’ve read” (Preuss), “engrossing story” (Gabaldon)… ack, ptui! Even granted that I don’t even like these authors, what were they smoking?

    In a sense, you could say that it’s fortunate that The Moon and the Sun won the Nebula: Otherwise I would not have read, or finished, the book and would not have anything to complain about. It still doesn’t erase the boredom and the pain.

    The Nebulas have a substantial history of choosing The Wrong Book as a winner; boring, stuffy fantasy novels that are neither remarkable or especially meritorious. Years later, who still remembers the unspectacular Where the Late Birds Sang (Kate Wilhem) or the incredibly boring The Falling Woman (Pat Murphy) or the rotten The Einstein Intersection (Samuel Delany)? I confidently predict that The Moon and the Sun is headed straight for this memory abyss. The infuriating thing is that the novel will bore generations of Nebula completists. Forever and ever.

  • The Callahan Chronicles, Spider Robinson

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Various, 1977-1997, ???? pages, C$??.?? mmpb, ISBN Various

    Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon: Ace, 1977
    Time-Travellers Strictly Cash: Ace, 1981
    Callahan’s Secret: Berkley, 1986
    Callahan’s Lady: Ace, 1991
    Lady Slings the Booze: Ace, 1992
    The Callahan Touch: Ace, 1993
    Callahan’s Legacy: Tor, 1997
    Off the Wall at Callahan’s: Tor, 1994

    Somewhere along highway 25 in Suffolk County, Long Island (Spider Robinson tells us) once existed an inauspicious bar called Callahan’s Place. That bar wasn’t your average neighbourhood drunk-hole, however. Robinson chronicled the weird, strange and marvellous incidents that happened there: Time-Travellers, Aliens, People with special talents… or just plain unfortunate folks in need of cheering up.

    As a non-drinker, non-bargoer, non-whatever, I’m far from being the ideal target audience for Robinson’s own brand of uber-hedonistic philosophy that permeates his work in general and the Callahan chronicles in particular. Despite his well-meaning tone of desolation, I like being a product of the conservative eighties, with all its petty monetary concerns, monogamous sexual relationships and cautious attitude toward alcohol.

    And yet, there is a definite charm about the Callahan sequence that is very, very hard to resist. Although it’s a definite possibility that reading these books will infuriate you, you will still come away from it with a sense of goofy satisfaction.

    Not least among Robinson’s many talents is the effortless prose and the engaging characters. Simply put, it’s a pleasure to read these books. When this pleasure fades -see below-, we can see the holes in the stories.

    The sequence is composed, quite neatly, of three epochs:

    The first one comprise the stories contained in the three earliest books. It’s the Callahan’s Place era. This period is characterized by a collection of several short stories setting up of the divergent rules that eventually coalesce to make up the universe in which the Callahan sequence takes place. In many respects, this is the best Callahan’s period: It’s fresh, exciting, invigorating and not too silly. (Fortunately, it is now contained in an omnibus volume from Tor called The Callahan Chronicles.)

    The second era takes at about the same chronological time, but at another place: Lady Sally’s House, the best… er… house of pleasure in New York. The two “Lady” books are far more prurient than the opening trilogy and written as novels, not an assembly of stories. The result is more coherent but less impressive. For some reason, Robinson decides to save the world from nuclear terrorists late in Lady Slings the Booze, and that particular plot clashes badly with the remainder of the sequence. Generally speaking, Callahan’s works best when dealing with small-scale weirdness and personal problems: It’s when it tries to be too ambitious that the problems arise.

    Finally, the narrator of the first trilogy decides to go in business for himself, and the two more recent books of the series chronicle his time at Mary’s Place. In a way, these two are a return to the familiar environment of the first three books. While written as novels, they’re far less linear than the Lady Sally books. Unfortunately, silliness happens (like the cluricaune and the oh-so-sensual-group-telepathy/orgy-to-save-the-world) and the effect is more ridiculous than uplifting. A curious tendency to showboating and unarguable sermonning by Robinson also diminishes the effect of the later books.

    (Off the wall at Callahan’s is a compendium of quotes, puns and jokes from the first five books. It’s recycling, but great recycling.)

    Still, readers will be hard-pressed to find this sequence other than enjoyable and refreshing. Reading another Callahan book feels exactly like coming back to a place where everyone knows your name. And that’s probably exactly what Robinson intended.

    Cheers!

  • Tesseracts^6, Ed. Robert J. Sawyer & Carolyn Clink

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tesseracts, 1997, 297 pages, C$8.95 mmpb, ISBN 1-895836-32-8

    Next step in my Aurora-nominee reading program this year: The sixth Tesseracts anthology of Canadian Speculative Fiction. A tradition has been established that each successive Tesseracts volume has a different set of co-editors. This year, the husband-and-wife team of Robert J. Sawyer and Carolyn Clink are serving their tour of duty at the forefront of what has become Canada’s most celebrated SF anthology series.

    They say that an anthology is well-served by great stories in the opening and closing slots. In this regard, Tesseracts^6 succeeds admirably well. The opening fiction is by Eric Choi, a promising hard-SF author. “Divisions” tackles a very-hard-SF story upon an alternate history where Quebec secedes in 1981. The result is very satisfying. At the other end of the book, Robert Charles Wilson delivers the kind of fiction that has made his reputation with Protocols of Consumption, a character-based tale with adequate scientific content and a surprising amount of paranoia.

    For the most part, you get what you expect from Tesseracts^6: The top authors keep their level of quality. I have yet to read a boring story from Andrew Weiner, as he proves with “Bootlegger”. James Alan Gardner is also a reliable author, and his “Love-in-Idleness” is one of the best stories of the volume. “What Goes Around” (Derryl Murphy) doesn’t quite lives up to its premise but remains a fun read. Yves Meynard enhances his reputation as a fantasy author with the curiously pleasing “Souvenirs”.

    But there’s also some good material from newer names (at least to me): Catherine McLeod’s “Skulling Medusa” is an excellent hard-boiled action featuring a futuristic Private Eye. Douglas Smith’s “Spirit Dance” does interesting things with a love triangle, were-animals and the CSIS. (!) Additionally, Tesseracts^6 might make you realize that some of the latest novels seen in libraries are in fact from Canadian authors, like Scott Mackay (Outpost) and Nalo Hopkinson (Brown Girl in the Ring).

    Four of the stories are from French-Canadian authors, although it seems like two of them (Yves Meynard’s “Souvenirs” and Jean-Louis Trudel’s “Where Angels Fall”) were written directly in English. Annoyingly, like the previous Tesseracts anthologies, there is no mention of where the two translated stories (Sylvie Bérard’s “The Wall” and Élisabeth Vonarburg’s “The Sleeper in the Crystal”) originally appeared.

    Due to poet Carolyn Clink’s co-editorship, this Tesseracts volume contains a fair amount of poetry. As a reader, I have seldom been attracted to this genre, and have to report that I have not been convinced by what I have seen here. Readers with different background can feel free to disagree.

    On another register, I am happy to report that the interior typesetting is greatly improved over the past few Tesseract publications: The font is crisper (though still not heavy enough) and the margins are adequate. It’s a shame that the page header doesn’t indicate each story, though. The curiously unfamiliar paperback format (halfway between mass-market and trade paperbacks) takes a while to get used to. Unfortunately, the cover illustration is one of the worst I have seen in recent memory. It’s probable that the awful colour balance and the amateurish collage of elements will keep this book away from a few prospective readers. An unfortunate change from the beautiful cover of the previous volume.

    Tesseracts^6 proves, if it was still left to be proven, that Canadian SF is strong enough not only to be fill a volume of good stories, but to do so at a yearly rate of publication and with different sets of editors. It also provides good reading… so what more is there to say? Bring on the next volume!

  • Trader, Charles de Lint

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 1997, 464 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-812-55157-5

    Many cinephile will remember a spate of body-switching “comedies” around 1988: BIG, LIKE FATHER LIKE SON, VICE VERSA, 18 AGAIN… Along with 1977’s FREAKY FRIDAY, these movies used body-switching as an excuse for character-driven comedies of, mostly, mutual redemption. (The latest film of note in this sub-genre, 1997’s FACE/OFF, used slightly-more-plausible face switching as an excuse for a rather good guns’n’mayhem movie.)

    Charles de Lint’s Trader is markedly different. Not only is it decidedly not a comedy, but it actually treats the improbable subject of body-switching with a certain realism that always seems to be sorely lacking is the afore-mentioned movies.

    For one thing, this isn’t a kid’s story: Trader is mature, comfortably adult fantasy. The hero of the tale is Max Trader, a renowned, introvert maker of guitars. When he suddenly wakes up in the body of an unemployed, despicable loser named Johnny Devlin, he has to face the fact that he has not only inherited Devlin’s problems, but that Devlin (now Trader) doesn’t want anything to do with him. After a fight with Devlin’s old girlfriend, being kicked out of Devlin’s apartment and being unable to return to his old home, Trader finds himself on the streets. What follows is his journey toward redemption.

    In a lesser story, Trader could have been faultless; a quiet, introspective man not given to meanness. But part of what gives Trader its power is the realization that Trader himself isn’t as perfect as we could think. We realise that even as average and mild-mannered as Trader is (or we are, for that matter), he still has things to learn to enjoy life at its fullest.

    Trader doesn’t only tell a story; without bashing the reader over the head with it, it also contains a surprising amount of not-so-conventional philosophy. Trader is about life, what you make of it, and the friendships that let you go through it.

    de Lint’s prose is typically engaging, effortlessly drawing the reader into the story. Characters are very well handled. While this critic isn’t a de Lint reader, the comments read elsewhere about him returning to old friends in Newport seem dead-on accurate.

    The novel does have its flaws: part of the last third venture more in some sort of fantasy dreamland where almost anything can happen; a departure from the relatively realistic remainder of the novel. In retrospect, one character’s aggression also seems unwarranted.

    With good characters, easy prose, a lot of heart and an undeniable maturity, Trader shows why de Lint is at the top of his field. A strong contender for this year’s Auroras, and a worthwhile read, it is hard to ask much more of this book.

  • Snake Eyes (1998)

    Snake Eyes (1998)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, August 1998) This film starts off with an impressive seemingly-uncut, very complex 12-minute scene. Nicolas Cage also starts off grand, but loses a lot of energy as the movie advances. Not coincidentally, the movie also settles down after a while, causing considerable disappointment. A whodunit becomes procedural thriller, then degenerates in late-night movie fare. Beautifully shot by Brian de Palma, but finally quite average. The most-charitably-described-as- deus-ex-machina ending is adequate in the theatre, but doesn’t survive the trip back home. A shame, considering the talent involved.

  • The Silence Of The Lambs (1991)

    The Silence Of The Lambs (1991)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, August 1998) Adapted from the Thomas Harris novel of the same name, this movie suffers a lot from a recent reading of the book. Punches are known, and a lot of the tension is absent; a fatal flaw in a suspense thriller. Still, well filmed (though with an overuse of the looking-at-the-camera angle) and very well acted. No wonder this movie won a few Academy Awards. The adaptation is loosely faithful (cutting some material along the way) and adds a clever last scene.

  • Night of the Living Dead (1990)

    Night of the Living Dead (1990)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, August 1998) Almost a bore. What happens when you’ve got a horror movie that’s not horrific? You begin to laugh. What if there’s nothing to laugh about? You start to wish you were watching another movie. Fortunately, the finale is a bit better than the rest -and Babylon-5 fans will appreciate seeing a lot of Patricia Tallman- but there are far better choices than this for a B-Movie night.

  • King of the Killing Zone: The Story of the M-1, America’s Super Tank, Orr Kelly

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Berkley, 1989, 288 pages, C$5.75 mmpb, ISBN 0-425-12304-9

    With a title like that, you can bet it’s not a book about fluffy rabbits.

    No, King of the Killing Zone is definitely a book for the intellectually macho guys among us, the ones who also devour Hustler magazine for the military hardware articles, who buy Tom Clancy novels in hardcover, who don’t quite think that an obsession about military hardware is somehow unhealthy.

    (Am I describing myself? Ahem…)

    King of the Killing Zone is definitely a dream come true for military buffs among us.

    (Which reminds me of the old saying: The difference between a fan and a buff is that the buff in interested in stuff where dying is involved. Witness Military buffs, WWII buffs, history buffs, etc… Are there Spice Girls buffs? There you go.)

    There is a special magic in the creation of an expensive machine. The process leading up to the design, debugging and manufacture of your car is sufficiently fascinating in itself. Now imagine the whole story behind the introduction of a completely new tank in the U.S. Army. That’s the subject of King of the Killing Zone.

    During your reading, you will not only learn about the M-1, but also about tanks in general, major figures in the U.S. Army since WWII, the military equipment acquisition process, intelligence work, tanks warfare strategy and hundreds of small details that you wouldn’t necessarily associate with tanks at first glance.

    This could have been a long, dry read. The drudgery of military administration can be terribly annoying if you’re outside the system. Fortunately, author Orr Kelly has mastered the none-too-obvious trick of writing a densely packed, yet easily readable prose. He obviously knows his subject, and the notes on sources are very complete. A useful index completes an already-great non-fiction account. As a result, King of the Killing Zone moves briskly, yet satisfies the reader.

    Among the highlights of this book are the incredible tale of Chobham armour, the competition between GM and Chrysler to decide who would build the tank, the tactics revolution brought by the M-1’s speed, quiet and manoeuvrability, the man who made “all the right decisions for the wrong reasons”, the debugging of the tank’s most obscure flaws…

    Behind the whole book, though, stands the question: Is the M-1 Abrahms a good tank? To that, Orr answers with a cautious optimism. The publication date (1989) of the book is ironic, coming two years before one of the most significant military event of the late twentieth century. The Gulf War proved to sceptics that the M-1 could deliver what had been promised. Despite heavy use of fuel and problems due to the infiltration of sand in machinery, the M-1 swept the battlefield and erased most doubts concerning the tank’s worth in combat. It would be interesting to see a post-1991 revision of King of the Killing Zone.

    It is only too rare to find a book that lucidly and knowledgeably explains the steps by which new weapons systems are developed, tested and put into service. In an age where the easy 30-second clip on the evening news can weigh more heavily than a thoughtful report, King of the Killing Zone demystifies the process and takes the time to explain. A must-read for techno-thriller fans, and military hardware buffs.

  • The Negotiator (1998)

    The Negotiator (1998)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, August 1998) Surprisingly good entry in the cop genre, The Negotiator would have floundered without the effective, spare direction of newcomer F. Gary Gray and the superlative acting talents of Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey. A friend of mine is fond of saying that Spacey (The Usual Suspects, Se7en, L.A. Confidential) has never been in a bad film; she’s still right. The setup is a bit unbelievable (cops do have an esprit-de-corps, y’know?), some of the dialogue is awful (though the delivery’s perfect!), many of the technical details are flat-out wrong (especially when computer-related) and the ending may seem an anti-climax to those expecting something else. Still, once the movie gets going, it’s an engrossing, fascinating movie that’s well worth your time.

  • Loaded Weapon 1 (1993)

    Loaded Weapon 1 (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, on TV, August 1998) Interestingly, the first time I saw that movie, shortly after its video release, I thought it amusing, but not that funny mostly due to timing problems. At my great surprise, I found myself laughing a lot more than expected during this second viewing. Part of this may have been caused by the increasing awfulness of the latest “satire”-type movies, or being much more familiar with the Lethal Weapon series that Loaded Weapon 1 is so obviously parodying. Whatever the reason, I can only say that this movie’s funny. Try not to miss it.

  • Animal House (1978)

    Animal House (1978)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, August 1998) Far less impressive than it is reputed to be. College comedies have to be really good to succeed, and this one suffers a lot from its bad script and its muddy cinematography. (Sound’s often incomprehensible too) John Belushi is okay, as is Babylon-5 star Stephen Furst. It seems like every single female in the movie takes off her clothes at some point. Of historical value, mostly because it’s the prototype for the much-better The Blues Brothers.