Aboriginal Science Fiction, Issues 57–58 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Snowman. How dodgy is this set- up? Well, director Sam Raimi ankled the production when Warner suits decided that they wanted the project to follow the template of George of the Jungle. (Come again? Raimi’s_ been replaced by Troy Miller.) If that doesn’t get you sweating, consid- er that this is being produced under the aegis of the Canton Company. As in Mark Canton, the man who brought us The Cable Guy and The Last Action Hero. Uh-oh. On the already-released front, Lost in Space becomes a chore about forty-five minutes in, ‘round about the time that the Flintstones factor (that rush one feels in first seeing some bit of Sixties trivia retooled with a mega-budget) fades and the plot is supposed to kick in. There is no plot, by the way produ- cer/screenwriter Akiva Golds- man, who also committed Bat- man Forever and Batman and Robin, doesn’t write scripts, he writes scenes. He writes enough of them to total 120 pages, then he puts them in a cover and calls it a screenplay. The result is a film that leaps from set-piece to set-piece a virtual-reality desert, a rampaging robot, a swarm of nasty, metallic spiders — with no modulation in its hec- tic pace and no sense to its story arc. Director Stephen Hopkins does give the production a luxuri- ous gloss, but has decided on a dark, shadowy mien for the Through the Lens ae Danger, Will Ro Jupiter 2 and a wardrobe (by Batman costume designer Vin Burnham) that places emphasis on form-fitting rubber and matte- black leather. Given the film’s trite family-values theme, the Goth look seems at best weird. On petite Lacey Chabert whose young-teen Penny has been daubed with heavy eye $ £ od shadow and slipped into a set of lace-up bondage overalls — it’s downright creepy. By the time Lost in Space 2 rolls around, I fully expect the Space Family Robinson to have broken out the whips and nipple clamps. Lends a new dimension to the phrase, “Oh, the pain, the pain.” On a personal note, I have to say I was more than a little embarrassed by the glowing profile Laurel Lucas gave me in her Aborigines column last ™, issue. What makes it . doubly embarrassing is that I now have to relinquish this post in order direct my full energies to editing a new animation maga- zine that will be com- ingoutattheendofthe 4 year from the good folk *— at Cinefantastique. I depart with some = . regret: I’ve been an \ | AbSF fan and sub- scriber since the early, hey-look-it’s-a-tabloid Aboriginal Science Fiction — Summer 199£2@ binson ... danger ve He ? days, and plan to keep rifling through the issues long after the first edition of AnimeFantas- tique hits the stands this November. I wanted to express my appreciation to Charles Ryan for giving me this space to vent my impassioned, and sometimes eccentric, point of view, and wish him the best of luck with one of the best SF magazines around. Infinite thanks. Charlie. Next Lunacon, we can both sit down and grouse about the difficulties in getting writers to meet their deadlines. Wer, * en A new Babylon 5 movie 0)(0)(6) ANG SoGOMN