What Happens When Blade Runner & A Scanner Darkly Get Remade with an Artificial Neural Network

Philip K. Dick, titling the 1968 nov­el that would pro­vide the basis for Blade Run­ner, asked whether androids dream of elec­tric sheep. But what goes on in the “mind” of an arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence designed specif­i­cal­ly to watch movies? Ter­ence Broad, a com­put­ing researcher at Gold­smiths, Uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don, took on a form of that ques­tion for his mas­ter’s dis­ser­ta­tion, using “arti­fi­cial neur­al net­works to recon­struct films — by train­ing them to recon­struct indi­vid­ual frames from films, and then get­ting them to recon­struct every frame in a giv­en film and rese­quenc­ing it.”

Neur­al net­works” sounds like a term straight out of one of Dick­’s influ­en­tial sci­ence-fic­tion nov­els, but you’ve almost cer­tain­ly heard quite a bit about them in recent years of real life. A neur­al net­work, in the words of neu­ro­com­put­er pio­neer Dr. Robert Hecht-Nielsen, “is a com­put­ing sys­tem made up of a num­ber of sim­ple, high­ly inter­con­nect­ed pro­cess­ing ele­ments, which process infor­ma­tion by their dynam­ic state response to exter­nal inputs.” These sys­tems, in oth­er words, imi­tate the prob­lem-solv­ing meth­ods of the human brain as we cur­rent­ly under­stand them, and can, when pro­vid­ed with suit­able data, “learn” from it.

One thinks less of the Repli­cants, Blade Run­ner’s lethal­ly engi­neered super­hu­mans, than of Num­ber 5, the arti­fi­cial­ly intel­li­gent robot star of Short Cir­cuit (co-designed, inci­den­tal­ly, by Blade Run­ner’s “visu­al futur­ist” Syd Mead), with his con­stant demands for “input.” When it came out in the mid-1980s, that goofy com­e­dy once looked like by far the more suc­cess­ful film, but over the inter­ven­ing three decades Rid­ley Scot­t’s one-time bomb has become per­haps the most respect­ed work of its kind. “The first ever film remade by a neur­al net­work had to be Blade Run­ner,” Ter­ence Broad told Vox, point­ing in his expla­na­tion of his project to the movie’s pre­scient treat­ment of the theme “that the task of deter­min­ing what is and isn’t human is becom­ing increas­ing­ly dif­fi­cult, with the ever-increas­ing tech­no­log­i­cal devel­op­ments.”

Dick, as his gen­er­a­tions of read­ers know, had deep con­cerns about the dif­fer­ence between the real and the unre­al, and how human beings can ever tell one from the oth­er. He tack­led that issue again, from a very dif­fer­ent angle, in his 1977 nov­el A Scan­ner Dark­ly. Richard Lin­klater turned that book into a movie almost thir­ty years lat­er, one which Broad also fed as input into his neur­al net­work, which then attempt­ed to recon­struct it. Though still the­mat­i­cal­ly appro­pri­ate, its col­or­ful roto­scoped ani­ma­tion posed more of a chal­lenge, and “the results are less tem­po­ral­ly coher­ent than the Blade Run­ner mod­el.” But “on the oth­er hand, the images are incred­i­bly unusu­al and com­plex, once again pro­duc­ing video with a rich unpre­dictabil­i­ty.”

At the top of the post, you can watch Broad­’s Blade Run­ner-trained neur­al net­work recon­struct Blade Run­ner’s trail­er, and below that his A Scan­ner Dark­ly-trained neur­al net­work recon­struct A Scan­ner Dark­ly’s trail­er. Curios­i­ty demand­ed, of course, that Broad let a neur­al net­work trained to watch one film have a go at recon­struct­ing the oth­er, and just above we have the A Scan­ner Dark­ly-trained neur­al net­work’s recon­struc­tion of Blade Run­ner. He’s also giv­en Scot­t’s famous 1984-themed Super Bowl Apple ad and God­frey Reg­gio’s Koy­aanisqat­si the neur­al-net­work treat­ment. We read so often, these days, about arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence’s grow­ing abil­i­ty to out-think, out-work, and one day even out-cre­ate us. What on Earth, the Philip K. Dicks of our day must won­der, will the neur­al net­works come up with when they can final­ly out-watch us?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch an Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Rid­ley Scott’s Blade Run­ner Made of 12,597 Water­col­or Paint­ings

Philip K. Dick Pre­views Blade Run­ner: “The Impact of the Film is Going to be Over­whelm­ing” (1981)

Rid­ley Scott Talks About Mak­ing Apple’s Land­mark “1984” Com­mer­cial, Aired 30 Years Ago on Super Bowl Sun­day

Watch Sun­spring, the Sci-Fi Film Writ­ten with Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence, Star­ring Thomas Mid­dled­itch (Sil­i­con Val­ley)

Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Pro­gram Tries to Write a Bea­t­les Song: Lis­ten to “Daddy’s Car”

Two Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence Chat­bots Talk to Each Oth­er & Get Into a Deep Philo­soph­i­cal Con­ver­sa­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear J.G. Ballard Stories Adapted as Surreal Soundscapes That Put You Inside the Heads of His Characters

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Image by Thier­ry Erhmann via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“This enor­mous nov­el we’re liv­ing inside thrives on sen­sa­tion,” J.G. Bal­lard once said. “It needs sen­sa­tion to sus­tain itself.” The author of nov­els like High-RiseCrash, and Empire of the Sun knew how to deliv­er a cer­tain kind of tex­tu­al sen­sa­tion, and he often under­scored (as first evi­denced by his exper­i­men­tal text col­lages) that he pos­sessed a com­mand of visu­al sen­sa­tion as well. Bal­lard’s use of son­ic sen­sa­tion has tak­en longer to gain a wide appre­ci­a­tion, but the BBC has fur­thered that cause with two new radio dra­mas adapt­ing his sto­ries “Track 12” and “Venus Smiles.”

These pro­duc­tions debuted togeth­er this past week­end on “Between Bal­lard’s Ears,” an episode of the pro­gram Between the Ears, which for twen­ty years has show­cased “inno­v­a­tive and thought-pro­vok­ing fea­tures that make adven­tur­ous use of sound and explore a wide vari­ety of sub­jects.” They both make use of a tech­nol­o­gy called bin­au­r­al audio, sound record­ed just as humans hear it. The process involves an arti­fi­cial head with micro­phones embed­ded in each ear, the indus­try-stan­dard mod­el of which comes from a com­pa­ny called Neu­mann. (You can see a gallery of the cast and crew of “Between Bal­lard’s Ears” using, and hang­ing out with, their own Neu­mann head here.)

All this has the effect of putting you, the head­phone-wear­ing radio-dra­ma lis­ten­er, right into not just the set­ting of the sto­ry but into the very head of the char­ac­ter — in the case of J.G. Bal­lard, as any of his fans know, a trou­bling place indeed. We hear 1958’s “Track 12” from with­in the head of Maxted, a for­mer ath­lete turned com­pa­ny man invit­ed over to the home of Sher­ing­ham, the bio­chem­istry pro­fes­sor he’s been cuck­old­ing. Sher­ing­ham sits Maxted, and us, down to lis­ten to his great­ly slowed and ampli­fied “microson­ic” record­ings of cells divid­ing and pins drop­ping. We won­der, as Maxted won­ders, when the inevitable con­fronta­tion will come, though none of us can fore­see what form Sher­ing­ham’s revenge will take.

“Venus Smiles,” which Bal­lard first wrote in 1957 and rewrote in 1971, takes place in his fic­tion­al desert resort town of Ver­mil­lion Sands. This sto­ry opens with the instal­la­tion of a new piece of pub­lic art, a “musi­cal sculp­ture” that makes me think of the Tri­fo­ri­um in Los Ange­les. But unlike the lone­ly Tri­fo­ri­um, neglect­ed and ignored for most of its his­to­ry, this sculp­ture caus­es pan­de­mo­ni­um from day one, pip­ing out quar­ter-tone com­po­si­tions pleas­ing to the ears of the Mid­dle East, but appar­ent­ly not to those of Ver­mil­lion Sands. When one com­mis­sion­er trans­plants the hat­ed sculp­ture to his back­yard, it reveals its true nature: much more com­pli­cat­ed than that of a big music box, and much more inter­est­ing to hear besides. As much as the bin­au­r­al pro­duc­tion will make you feel like you’re stand­ing right there beside it, Bal­lard makes you feel relieved, as the sto­ry goes on, that you’re actu­al­ly not.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Very First Film of J.G. Ballard’s Crash, Star­ring Bal­lard Him­self (1971)

Sci-Fi Author J.G. Bal­lard Pre­dicts the Rise of Social Media (1977)

J.G. Bal­lard on Sen­sa­tion

J.G. Ballard’s Exper­i­men­tal Text Col­lages: His 1958 For­ay into Avant-Garde Lit­er­a­ture

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

H.G. Wells Pans Fritz Lang’s Metropolis in a 1927 Movie Review: It’s “the Silliest Film”

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When we watch Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis now, we see an aes­thet­i­cal­ly dar­ing land­mark work of sci­ence-fic­tion cin­e­ma. When H.G. Wells watched Metrop­o­lis back in 1927, the year of its release, he saw some­thing very dif­fer­ent indeed. “I have recent­ly seen the sil­li­est film,” wrote the author of The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine as an open­er for his New York Times review. “I do not believe it would be pos­si­ble to make one sil­li­er.”

Despite its giant bud­get, Metrop­o­lis gives “in one eddy­ing con­cen­tra­tion almost every pos­si­ble fool­ish­ness, cliché, plat­i­tude, and mud­dle­ment about mechan­i­cal progress and progress in gen­er­al, served up with a sauce of sen­ti­men­tal­i­ty that is all its own.” His­to­ry remem­bers Lang and Wells both as vision­ar­ies who looked, often with lit­tle opti­mism, to the future, but clear­ly they had a dif­fer­ence of opin­ion as to how that future would actu­al­ly play out.

The sci­en­tif­i­cal­ly-mind­ed Wells took the impres­sion­is­tic Metrop­o­lis lit­er­al­ly, tak­ing issue with — among oth­er things — how its air­planes “show no advance on con­tem­po­rary types”; its “motor cars are 1926 mod­els or ear­li­er”; its vision of a ver­ti­cal­ly strat­i­fied city look, “to put it mild­ly, high­ly improb­a­ble”; the appar­ent con­di­tion that the city’s “machines are engaged quite furi­ous­ly in the mass pro­duc­tion of noth­ing that is ever used”; and the sen­ti­men­tal­i­ty of its mak­ers, “who are all on the side of soul and love and such like.”

Metrop­o­lis opened to mixed reviews at first (some of which you can read here), but no con­tem­po­rary crit­ic could match Wells for sheer dis­dain. “Nev­er for a moment does one believe any of this fool­ish sto­ry; nev­er for a moment is there any­thing amus­ing or con­vinc­ing in its drea­ry series of strained events,” he wrote, steer­ing his point-by-point take­down to its con­clu­sion. “It is immense­ly and strange­ly dull. It is not even to be laughed at.”

Strong stuff, but the high­est form of film crit­i­cism, as the French New Wave would lat­er artic­u­late, is film­mak­ing. And so, in 1936, came Things to Come, anoth­er cin­e­mat­ic spec­ta­cle of the future, this one built to the osten­si­bly more plau­si­ble spec­i­fi­ca­tions Wells laid out as its screen­writer — that film itself just one more pre­de­ces­sor to the unend­ing series of dystopias, utopias, and every kind of future in-between to appear on the screen over the next eight decades.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read the Orig­i­nal 32-Page Pro­gram for Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis (1927)

Fritz Lang Invents the Video Phone in Metrop­o­lis (1927)

Things to Come, the 1936 Sci-Fi Film Writ­ten by H.G. Wells, Accu­rate­ly Pre­dicts the World’s Very Dark Future

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Sci-Fi Icon Robert Heinlein Lists 5 Essential Rules for Making a Living as a Writer

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So you want to be a writer? Good, you’ll find plen­ty of advice from the best here at Open Cul­ture. Oh, you want to be a sci­ence fic­tion writer? The great Ursu­la K. Le Guin has offered read­ers a wealth of writ­ing advice, though she won’t tell us “how to sell a ship, but how to sail one.” But wait, you also want to know how to pub­lish, and make a liv­ing? For that, you’d bet­ter see Robert Hein­lein, one of the acknowl­edged mas­ters of the Gold­en Age of sci­ence fic­tion and a huge­ly pro­lif­ic author who pio­neered both pop­u­lar hard sci-fi and what he called “spec­u­la­tive fic­tion,” a more seri­ous, lit­er­ary form incor­po­rat­ing social and polit­i­cal themes.

In his 1947 essay “On the Writ­ing of Spec­u­la­tive Fic­tion,” Hein­lein refers to these “two types” of sci­ence fic­tion as “the gad­get sto­ry and the human inter­est sto­ry.” The lat­ter kind of sto­ry, writes Hein­lein “stands a bet­ter chance with the slicks than a gad­get sto­ry does” because it has wider appeal. This advice sounds rather util­i­tar­i­an, doesn’t it? What about pas­sion, inspi­ra­tion, the muse? Eh, you don’t have time for those things. If you want to be suc­cess­ful like Robert Hein­lein, you’ve got to write sto­ries, lots of ‘em, sto­ries peo­ple want to pub­lish and pay for, sto­ries peo­ple want to read.

Hein­lein spends the bulk of his essay advis­ing us on how to write such sto­ries, with a pro­vi­so, in an epi­gram from Rud­yard Kipling, that “there are nine-and-six­ty ways / Of con­struct­ing trib­al lays / And every sin­gle one of them is right.” After, how­ev­er, describ­ing in detail how he writes a “human inter­est” sci­ence fic­tion sto­ry, Hein­lein then gets down to busi­ness. He assumes that we can type, know the right for­mats or can learn them, and can spell, punc­tu­ate, and use gram­mar as our “wood-carpenter’s sharp tools.” These pre­req­ui­sites met, all we real­ly need to write spec­u­la­tive fic­tion are the five rules below:

1. You must write.

2. You must fin­ish what you start.

3. You must refrain from rewrit­ing except to edi­to­r­i­al order.

4. You must put it on the mar­ket.

5. You must keep it on the mar­ket until sold.

You might think Hein­lein has lapsed into the lan­guage of the real­tor, not the writer, but he is dead­ly seri­ous about these rules, which “are amaz­ing­ly hard to follow—which is why there are so few pro­fes­sion­al writ­ers and so many aspi­rants.” Any­one who has tried to write and pub­lish fic­tion knows this to be true. But what did Hein­lein mean in giv­ing us such an aus­tere list? For one thing, as he notes many times, there are per­haps as many ways to write sci-fi sto­ries as there are peo­ple to write them. What Hein­lein aims to give us are the keys to becom­ing pro­fes­sion­al writ­ers, not the­o­rists of writ­ing, lovers of writ­ing, dab­blers and dilet­tantes of writ­ing.

Award-win­ning sci­ence fic­tion writer Robert J. Sawyer has inter­pret­ed Heinlein’s rules with com­men­tary of his own, and added a sixth: “Start Work­ing on Some­thing Else.” Good advice. Hein­lein’s rule num­ber three, however—“the one that got Hein­lein in trou­ble with cre­ative-writ­ing teachers”—seems to con­tra­dict what most every oth­er writer will tell us. Sawyer sug­gests we take it to mean, “Don’t tin­ker end­less­ly with your sto­ry.” Writer Patri­cia C. Wrede agrees, but also sug­gests that “Hein­lein was of the school of thought that felt that ‘good enough’ was all that was nec­es­sary, ever.”

Like 19th cen­tu­ry writ­ers who churned out nov­els as seri­al­ized sto­ries for the papers and mag­a­zines, Hein­lein and his fel­low Gold­en Age writ­ers made their liv­ing sell­ing sto­ry after sto­ry to the “pulps” and the “slicks” (prefer­ably the slicks). One had to be pro­lif­ic, and being “’pro­lif­ic enough’ often involved not hav­ing time to pol­ish and revise much (if at all).” So rule num­ber three may or may not apply, depend­ing on our con­straints. The lit­er­ary mar­ket has changed dra­mat­i­cal­ly since 1947, but the rest of Heinlein’s rules still seem non­nego­tiable if we intend not only to write—speculative fic­tion or otherwise—but also to make a career doing so.

via Ken St. Andre

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Writ­ing Tips by Hen­ry Miller, Elmore Leonard, Mar­garet Atwood, Neil Gaiman & George Orwell

Ray Brad­bury Gives 12 Pieces of Writ­ing Advice to Young Authors (2001)

Stephen King’s Top 20 Rules for Writ­ers

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Very First Illustrations of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds (1897)

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H.G. Wells’ tales of fan­tas­ti­cal inven­tions, nev­er-before-seen beings, time trav­el, and alien inva­sion prac­ti­cal­ly cry out for visu­al and son­ic accom­pa­ni­ment. Of all the oth­er artists’ inter­pre­ta­tions of his 1898 nov­el The War of the Worlds, Orson Welles’ infa­mous Hal­loween 1938 radio broad­cast remains best known, but var­i­ous illus­tra­tors have also brought the sto­ry of mer­ci­less­ly destruc­tive Mar­tians’ arrival on Earth to equal­ly vivid life. Last year, we fea­tured Brazil­ian illus­tra­tor Hen­rique Alvim Cor­rêa’s hor­ri­fy­ing work for the 1906 edi­tion; today, we go back before The War of the Worlds’ first edi­tion to behold the aliens as ren­dered by War­wick Gob­le.

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“I’m doing the dear­est lit­tle ser­i­al for Pear­son­’s new mag­a­zine,” Wells wrote to a friend, “in which I com­plete­ly wreck and sack Wok­ing — killing my neigh­bours in painful and eccen­tric ways — then pro­ceed via Kingston and Rich­mond to Lon­don, which I sack, select­ing South Kens­ing­ton for feats of pecu­liar atroc­i­ty.” That dear­est lit­tle ser­i­al, after its 1897 run in Pear­son­’s Mag­a­zine in the U.K. and Cos­mopoli­tan in the U.S., appeared the next year in book form as The War of the Worlds, a com­mon pub­li­ca­tion pro­ce­dure for pop­u­lar Eng­lish-lan­guage nov­els in the 19th and ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry.

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“The sto­ry is still a bit rough round the edges,” writes sci-fi author John Guy Col­lick, but “what makes the mag­a­zine spe­cial are the fan­tas­tic illus­tra­tions by War­wick Gob­le. These are the first pic­tures of the Mar­tians and their tripods and, I think, the best.” He prais­es their low-tech style and their faith­ful­ness to the text: “in the nov­el Wells is at pains to point out that the Mar­t­ian legs are rigid,” not artic­u­lat­ed as the films and oth­er illus­tra­tions have tend­ed to por­tray them.” The Mar­tians them­selves he con­sid­ers a “bit too cute, though they are the first attempt to visu­alise beings from anoth­er world,” and these depic­tions of ter­ror from anoth­er plan­et (more of which you can see here) cer­tain­ly marked a depar­ture in Gob­le’s chil­dren’s book-ori­ent­ed career. Even an artist of whim­sy has to cause a few night­mares once in a while.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hor­ri­fy­ing 1906 Illus­tra­tions of H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds: Dis­cov­er the Art of Hen­rique Alvim Cor­rêa

The War of the Worlds on Pod­cast: How H.G. Wells and Orson Welles Riv­et­ed A Nation

Orson Welles Meets H.G. Wells in 1940: The Leg­ends Dis­cuss War of the Worlds, Cit­i­zen Kane, and WWII

H.G. Wells Inter­views Joseph Stal­in in 1934; Declares “I Am More to The Left Than You, Mr. Stal­in”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

An Animated Aldous Huxley Identifies the Dystopian Threats to Our Freedom (1958)

20 years after Aldous Hux­ley pub­lished Brave New World (1931), he was still the medi­a’s go-to futur­ist. Let me cite two exam­ples:

In 1950, Red­book Mag­a­zine asked four experts (includ­ing Hux­ley) “what the world may look like fifty years hence?,” to which the author respond­ed:

Dur­ing the next fifty years mankind will face three great prob­lems: the prob­lem of avoid­ing war; the prob­lem of feed­ing and cloth­ing a pop­u­la­tion of two and a quar­ter bil­lions which, by 2000 A.D., will have grown to upward of three bil­lions, and the prob­lem of sup­ply­ing these bil­lions with­out ruin­ing the planet’s irre­place­able resources.

Then, in 1958, a young reporter named Mike Wal­lace had Hux­ley play prophet on a 30-minute TV show. Over­pop­u­la­tion gets dis­cussed again. But then Hux­ley returns to some famil­iar dystopi­an themes, iden­ti­fy­ing some emerg­ing threats to our free­doms. 

  • Overor­ga­ni­za­tion: “Well anoth­er force which I think is very strong­ly oper­a­tive in this coun­try is the force of what may be called of overor­ga­ni­za­tion. Er…As tech­nol­o­gy becomes more and more com­pli­cat­ed, it becomes nec­es­sary to have more and more elab­o­rate orga­ni­za­tions, more hier­ar­chi­cal orga­ni­za­tions, and inci­den­tal­ly the advance of tech­nol­o­gy is being accom­pa­nied by an advance in the sci­ence of orga­ni­za­tion.

    It’s now pos­si­ble to make orga­ni­za­tions on a larg­er scale than it was ever pos­si­ble before, and so that you have more and more peo­ple liv­ing their lives out as sub­or­di­nates in these hier­ar­chi­cal sys­tems con­trolled by bureau­cra­cy, either the bureau­cra­cies of big busi­ness­es or the bureau­cra­cies of big gov­ern­ment.”

  • Abuse of new tech­nolo­gies: “There are cer­tain­ly devices which can be used [to lim­it free­doms.] I mean, let us er…take after all, a piece of very recent and very painful his­to­ry is the pro­pa­gan­da used by Hitler, which was incred­i­bly effec­tive.

    I mean, what were Hitler’s meth­ods? Hitler used ter­ror on the one kind, brute force on the one hand, but he also used a very effi­cient form of pro­pa­gan­da, which er…he was using every mod­ern device at that time. He did­n’t have TV., but he had the radio which he used to the fullest extent, and was able to impose his will on an immense mass of peo­ple. I mean, the Ger­mans were a high­ly edu­cat­ed peo­ple.

  • Drugs: I mean, in this book that you men­tioned, this book of mine, “Brave New World,” er…I pos­tu­lat­ed it a sub­stance called ‘soma,’ which was a very ver­sa­tile drug. It would make peo­ple feel hap­py in small dos­es, it would make them see visions in medi­um dos­es, and it would send them to sleep in large dos­es.…

    If you want to pre­serve your pow­er indef­i­nite­ly, you have to get the con­sent of the ruled, and this they will do part­ly by drugs as I fore­saw in “Brave New World,” part­ly by these new tech­niques of pro­pa­gan­da. They will do it by bypass­ing the sort of ratio­nal side of man and appeal­ing to his sub­con­scious and his deep­er emo­tions, and his phys­i­ol­o­gy even, and so, mak­ing him actu­al­ly love his slav­ery.

Above, you can watch ani­mat­ed excerpts from Wal­lace’s inter­view with Hux­ley, cour­tesy of Blank on Blank. Find the com­plete orig­i­nal inter­view below, along with a tran­script here

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Aldous Hux­ley Pre­dicts in 1950 What the World Will Look Like in the Year 2000

Hear Aldous Hux­ley Read Brave New World

Hux­ley to Orwell: My Hell­ish Vision of the Future is Bet­ter Than Yours (1949)

Things to Come, the 1936 Sci-Fi Film Written by H.G. Wells, Accurately Predicts the World’s Very Dark Future

“We live in inter­est­ing, excit­ing, and anx­ious times,” declares the boom­ing nar­ra­tion that opens the movie trail­er above. Truer words were nev­er spo­ken about our age — or about the mid-1930s, the times to which the nar­ra­tor actu­al­ly refers. But the pic­ture itself tells a sto­ry about the future, one extend­ing deep into the 21st cen­tu­ry: a hun­dred-year saga of decades-long war, a new Dark Age, and, by the mid-2050s, a rebuild­ing of soci­ety as a kind of indus­tri­al Utopia run by a tech­no­crat­ic world gov­ern­ment. It will sur­prise no one famil­iar with his sen­si­bil­i­ty that the screen­play for the film, Things to Come, came from the mind of H.G. Wells. Watch it in full on YouTube or Archive.org.

Welles had made his name long before with imag­i­na­tive nov­els like The Time MachineThe Island of Doc­tor More­auThe Invis­i­ble Man, and The War of the Worlds (find them in our list of Free eBooks), all pub­lished in the pre­vi­ous cen­tu­ry. By the time the oppor­tu­ni­ty came around to make a big-bud­get cin­e­ma spec­ta­cle with pro­duc­er Alexan­der Kor­da and direc­tor William Cameron Men­zies, con­ceived in part as a rebuke to Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis, the writer had set­tled into his role as a kind of “emi­nent for­tune teller,” as New York Times crit­ic Frank Nugent described him in his review of the col­lab­o­ra­tion’s final prod­uct.

“Typ­i­cal Well­sian con­jec­ture,” Nugent con­tin­ues, “it ranges from the rea­son­ably pos­si­ble to the rea­son­ably fan­tas­tic; but true or false, fan­ci­ful or log­i­cal, it is an absorb­ing, provoca­tive and impres­sive­ly staged pro­duc­tion.” It includ­ed work from not just impor­tant fig­ures in the his­to­ry of film­mak­ing (Men­zies, for instance, invent­ed the job of pro­duc­tion design­er) but the his­to­ry of art as well, such as the Bauhaus’ Lás­zló Moholy-Nagy. You can watch and judge for your­self the free ver­sion of Things to Come avail­able on YouTube or, much prefer­able to the cinephile, the restored and much-sup­ple­ment­ed Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion edi­tion, whose extras include unused footage that more ful­ly shows Moholy-Nagy’s con­tri­bu­tions.

At the time, this much-bal­ly­hooed spec­ta­cle-prophe­cy drew respons­es not just from movie crit­ics, but from oth­er emi­nent writ­ers as well. In his Cri­te­ri­on essay “Whith­er Mankind?”, Geof­frey O’Brien quotes those of both Jorge Luis Borges and George Orwell. “The heav­en of Wells and Alexan­der Kor­da, like that of so many oth­er escha­tol­o­gists and set design­ers, is not much dif­fer­ent than their hell, though even less charm­ing,” Borges com­plained of the envi­sioned near-per­fec­tion of its dis­tant future. Wells, like many 19th-cen­tu­ry vision­ar­ies, instinc­tive­ly asso­ci­at­ed tech­no­log­i­cal progress with the moral vari­ety, but Borges saw a dif­fer­ent sit­u­a­tion in the present, when “the pow­er of almost all tyrants aris­es from their con­trol of tech­nol­o­gy.”

Things to Come has, how­ev­er, received ret­ro­spec­tive cred­it for pre­dict­ing glob­al war just ahead. In its first act, the Lon­don-like Every­town suf­fers an aer­i­al bomb­ing raid which sets the whole civ­i­liza­tion-destroy­ing con­flict in motion. Not long after the real Blitz came, Orwell looked back at the film and wrote, omi­nous­ly, that “much of what Wells has imag­ined and worked for is phys­i­cal­ly there in Nazi Ger­many. The order, the plan­ning, the State encour­age­ment of sci­ence, the steel, the con­crete, the air­planes, are all there, but all in the ser­vice of ideas appro­pri­ate to the Stone Age.” Or, in Nugen­t’s chill­ing words of 1936, “There’s noth­ing we can do now but sit back and wait for the holo­caust. If Mr. Wells is right, we are in for an inter­est­ing cen­tu­ry.”

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Great Leonard Nimoy Reads H.G. Wells’ Sem­i­nal Sci-Fi Nov­el The War of the Worlds

H.G. Wells Inter­views Joseph Stal­in in 1934; Declares “I Am More to The Left Than You, Mr. Stal­in”

The Dead Authors Pod­cast: H.G. Wells Com­i­cal­ly Revives Lit­er­ary Greats with His Time Machine

Metrop­o­lis: Watch a Restored Ver­sion of Fritz Lang’s Mas­ter­piece (1927)

Jules Verne Accu­rate­ly Pre­dicts What the 20th Cen­tu­ry Will Look Like in His Lost Nov­el, Paris in the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tu­ry (1863)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

On Star Trek’s 50th Anniversary, Watch New Episodes of Star Trek Continues, the Acclaimed Fan-Made Sequel to the Original TV Show

Today marks the 50th anniver­sary of the pre­miere of Star Trek, and the start of a love affair between fans and the show’s utopi­an promise. With only 79 episodes over three sea­sons in the orig­i­nal 1966–1969 series, it might have dis­ap­peared into pop cul­ture his­to­ry. Instead, it has lived long and pros­pered, with movies and sequels and New Gen­er­a­tions, and reboots and more sequels. And that’s not count­ing the labor-of-love fan films that have spawned around the fringes.

Now, fan-cre­at­ed films usu­al­ly fall down in the act­ing and effects depart­ment, or they try too hard. But even if you’re not a ded­i­cat­ed Trekkie, the inde­pen­dent­ly-pro­duced Star Trek Con­tin­ues holds up as some great sci-fi that recre­ates the orig­i­nal series’ look to per­fec­tion, while skirt­ing par­o­dy. (Plus it got the bless­ing of series cre­ator Gene Roddenberry’s son, who said his father “would con­sid­er this canon.”)

When we first told you about Star Trek Con­tin­ues in Feb­ru­ary, five hour-long episodes were view­able on YouTube or the show’s offi­cial web­site, fund­ed through two Kick­starter cam­paigns and per­son­al mon­eys from exec­u­tive pro­duc­er Vic Mignogna ($150,000) and co-exec­u­tive pro­duc­er Steven Den­gler ($100,000). Above, you can check out the two new episodes, “Come Not Between the Drag­ons” (Episode 6) and “Embrac­ing the Winds” (Episode 7). Or watch the entire series, from start to fin­ish, below.

Despite Star Trek Con­tin­ues’ not-for-prof­it sta­tus, oth­er Star Trek fan films have raised the ire of CBS and Paramount’s legal divi­sions, and may end up harm­ing the future of such endeav­ors. But remem­ber, CBS had no faith in the orig­i­nal series back in the day, plac­ing it in lat­er and lat­er time slots. It was syn­di­ca­tion that made the show a cult hit, and it was those orig­i­nal fans that lov­ing­ly fanned the embers until the show reignit­ed. For them on this half-cen­tu­ry mark, they deserve as much a thank you as the orig­i­nal crew of the Star­ship Enter­prise.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nichelle Nichols Explains How Mar­tin Luther King Con­vinced Her to Stay on Star Trek

Watch Star Trek: New Voy­ages: The Orig­i­nal Fan-Made Sequel to the 1960s TV Series

How Isaac Asi­mov Went from Star Trek Crit­ic to Star Trek Fan & Advi­sor

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

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