Dave Robison is one of the finest people I know. He’s a dynamo of enthusiasm, ideas and energy, always driving forwards, always bringing other people with him and always with something else on the backburner. He’s an inspiration, a man whose absolute faith in other never ceases to humble and amaze me.
A couple of months ago, Dave reached out to me and asked me to join a group of writers he was putting together for a project. Antimatter Press had solicited ideas for ‘serial novellas’, a series of stories set in the same universe and Dave had successfully sold them on a concept. He wanted me, and three other writers, to help bring it to life.
The idea is simple; tell an overarching story set in the same universe using five different writers featuring characters in a common universe.
One of those characters is mine.
Operation Krogan Batman no more. Welcome to the Shattered Worlds. Time to meet The Wane.
The Antoine Fuqua directed version of King Arthur is 10 years old. On release it was gutted, the closing battle so badly censored that it’s literally the same footage re-cut and re-used twice. It was also, at the time, eviscerated critically, because that’s what the industry leaders in film criticism often do; scrabble to be the first to be as creatively unpleasant to a movie that doesn’t fit their definition of what constitutes good as fast as humanly possible.
Then, six months later, when they’ve got over themselves and it’s out on DVD, critically re-evaluate it.
The most important line in both 300 and 300: Rise of an Empire, is one they share. In 300, it’s an iconic moment, roared by Gerard Butler as King Leonidas shortly before he commits the murder that makes war inevitable. The image of McLeonidas, as I like to call him, screaming ‘THIS! IS! SPARTA!’ and front kicking the Persian ambassador into the pit the Spartans keep around for just this sort of occasion is iconic.
COMPETITION’S NOW CLOSED FOLKS. THANKS FOR ENTERING, WINNERS WILL BE NOTIFIED SHORTLY
It’s been a long week. Has it been a long week for you? Definitely been a long week for me. So, as I collect myself a bit, I thought a change of pace would be spiffy. Let’s have a competition! For this!
So, over the weekend, genre fiction Twitter basically burned to the ground. The announcement of Jonathan Ross as celebrity host of the Hugos led to one of the fastest, and nastiest, flame wars in a very long time. Inside eight hours, he’d stood down but the bad feeling on both sides of the debate was, and remains, fairly monumental. To some people, this was a huge opportunity for mainstream appeal torpedoed by genre fiction’s boundless capacity for self-destruction. For others, it was a controversy bullet dodged and a host with an awful reputation successfully removed. Very few people came out of this thing looking remotely good, on either side. Also, there’s now a burning question about LonCon;
Since shortly after the reign of Charles I, the BBC has had a half hour long film review show called Film XXXX. Admittedly the early years were less a show more an elaborate set of tapestries and plays, it is after all difficult to review a medium that’s still several centuries away from being invented, but they persevered. By the time the 1980s, and I, rolled around it was an actual TV show about actual films with an actual presenter; Barry Norman.
Harold Ramis died yesterday. One of the greatest comedians of the modern era, Ramis was a renaissance clown who wrote, directed, and acted. His movies are uniformly worth your time but, if somehow you’ve never seen Groundhog Day, do yourself an enormous favor and start there. It’s a glorious movie with a pitch perfect central performance that, years later, directly influenced one of the best Supernatural episodes ever. Plus you’ll never listen to ‘I Got You Babe’ the same way again.